Lobsters by Lucy Ivison Page A

man-hater.’ She sounded a bit tired of the whole evening. ‘Right, I’m going to meet Charlie. He just texted me. He’s finished his shift.’
    It was the happiest she’d looked all night. Her plan had worked.
    â€˜Stella, are you kidding?’ I pleaded. ‘You organized this date! You can’t just leave. What about Sam?’
    â€˜Well, can’t you stay and talk to him and say I’m ill, or something?’
    â€˜But I am actually ill.’
    â€˜Hannah, you’re being so weird. You’re always saying weshould try and meet boys and then I introduce you to some and you just act like a freak show.’
    â€˜I just … Please don’t leave me with him. He obviously really likes you. I can tell by the way he looks at you.’ It made me feel flat saying the words out loud. ‘He’ll be gutted if he’s left with me.’
    â€˜He’s a bloke, he’ll get over it … This doesn’t have to be so complex. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘Bye, babe. Shit, your cheek is burning.’
    And then she left.
    I stood in the toilet. I wanted to leave too. But the thought of Sam waiting and waiting and Stella never appearing seemed so cruel. I had daydreamed about bumping into him when I was wearing the Gatsby dress and him falling in love with me. But the dress was wrong for me and so was he. Toilet Boy was just a fantasy. Sam was the reality, and just like every boy on earth, he wanted Stella.
    I walked out slowly. He was still sitting at the table, ripping little pieces off a napkin. He looked lost. I shuffled over to the table and he looked up and smiled at me as I approached. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
    â€˜I’m really sorry, Stella had to leave. She’s … hungover. She got so drunk last night, and it’s just hitting her now.’
    â€˜Oh right,’ he said. ‘Poor her.’
    I suddenly realized how that must have sounded. That she had pulled him because she was so pissed. I didn’t want him to think that. I stared down at the carpet.
    â€˜Not really drunk,’ I mumbled. ‘I mean … I guess she’s a bitburnt out from exams. She wanted to stay.’
    All of a sudden I was just babbling lies. I was painting Stella as some kind of workaholic geek who was in love with him. He looked up from the floor and I met his eyes, then he looked down again. Neither of us spoke. He sat staring at the table and I stood staring at the floor.
    â€˜I really hope Stella’s OK,’ he said with a smile.
    â€˜I’ll tell her to call you.’
    I put my bag over my shoulder. He stood up too.
    â€˜So, what are you doing now?’ he asked.
    Going home to make a wax effigy of you to worship? Getting a giant tattoo of your face across my torso? Going to admit myself to a mental institution? He would probably think all these answers were perfectly possible given the last ten minutes.
    â€˜I’m meeting my boyfriend.’
    The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think about them. It was totally involuntary; a knee-jerk reaction.
    Maybe it was a last desperate attempt to convince him I was a normal person. This way he might think there was some bloke somewhere who thought I was sane enough to go out with.
    His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, so he just blinked up at me. I knew he didn’t believe it. He knew I was bullshitting. Of course I didn’t have a boyfriend. I was a lunatic who was obsessed with him.
    Even last night I hadn’t realized quite how fit he was. Girls like Stella are probably just his average pull.
    â€˜I’ll tell Stella to call you,’ I said.
    And then there was this weird moment where we just lookedat each other. He lowered his head and his hair fell over his face, hiding it from view.
    â€˜See you around, then.’ I held my hand up and waved on the spot, like a