Twenty-Two.
The bartender and owner smiled at me when I got downstairs. He recognised me. A few people seemed to, in fact. And I recognised a few faces here and there as well. I took the seat next to Tom, and ordered a drink. I was happy the bartender didn't ask for ID, though it did surprise me slightly. I glanced at Tom. He didn't seem surprised at all. I wondered how much you'd actually told him about me.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah, heaps. The shower did me a world of good." I smiled.
"I'm glad."
"Where's Harry by the way?"
"God knows."
"Isn't he living with you anymore?"
"He is, but he's having a bit of a get-super-pissed-at-a-dodgy-club-and-wake-up-next-to-someone-you-don't-know- phase."
"Ah. And I'm guessing this isn't the kind of place that presents those kinds of opportunities?"
"Nope."
"I don't get Harry. He scares me sometimes. Like, when I first met him, there was just something about him. It's hard to explain..."
"Nah, I know what you mean. People say that about him a lot. Mainly girls."
"But then he can be so nice too."
"He's a good guy, really. But he'll hit on pretty much anything with a pulse. That's why he would've scared you when you first met him. He's got that sort of quality, where you just know."
"But he didn't hit on me? Or even try, or get close to trying?"
"That's because Luke could kick his ass to China any day of the week. He wouldn't touch you."
In a way, I was more scared of Harry now. In another, I was touched at how protective you were of me. In yet another way, I felt guilt's steak knife digging itself into my stomach. I needed to end things with Benn. For good.
"Bec?"
I realised I had no clue what Tom had just said. Or that he'd said anything.
"Sorry?"
"What are you going to do now?"
"I don't really know. I have to go home again in a few days."
"Oh?"
"Just to sort some stuff out. Pick up my final results, and change my mailing address if they're not there yet."
Tom sipped his beer, and thought on that for a moment.
"You know you're welcome to come back, right?"
"Thanks." I smiled.
We sat in silence for a while.
"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
I was uneasy. I hated this question. And I wasn't sure how Tom would take the truth.
"What'd Luke say?" I avoided Tom's gaze.
"He didn't."
"Seventeen." I said quietly, making sure the bartender wasn't close enough to hear.
Tom bit his lip. Clearly not the answer he was hoping for.
"You can't be seventeen. From what I've heard, you're quite involved in the night life..."
I reached for my fake ID, safely tucked into the front of my bra. It was there pretty much twenty-four-seven these days. I put it on the counter between Tom and I.
