Page 83 of Something Borrowed

Kem shakes his head, the beads in his dreads making a lovely soft clinking noise. “Watch and weep.”

We both catcall as Stan bowls the ball so that it bounces off each side of the barriers before flying at the pins.

“How many?” he calls, his head cocked to one side and the bright lights sparkling on his dark sunglasses.

“If I said none, would you believe me?” I call back.

He snorts. “Nope.”

“Oh well then. All of the fuckers. I might as well go home.”

He punches the air. “Have it.”

Kem shakes his head. “Is that unsporting? I’m never quite sure on the etiquette of bowling.”

Stan laughs, but as he comes towards us, his foot slips, and he lurches to the side, banging his hip on the score table and sending the drinks over. Liquid flies everywhere, and the idiots next to us cheer and holler. Stan’s cheeks flush pink with embarrassment, and I leap up to grab him but then stand like an idiot as Bennett gets there before me.

“Step to your right,” he orders. “Or you’ll slip in it.”

“Sorry,” Stan mumbles, and Kem pats him on the back as I glare at the twats on the next aisle who are still laughing.

“Why? Those wankers next to us couldn’t even aim well enough to hit the table with a ball,” I say in a loud voice.

“Oi,” one of them says indignantly, but Kem and I glare until they turn back to their game.

Kem walks past me. “I’ll just ask for a mop and order more drinks, Raff.”

I nod, unable to take my eyes off Bennett standing over Stan. He’s fussing over him, dabbing at his wet sleeve, and I wait for Stan to snap at him and order him off because he hates this sort of behaviour.

But Stan only gives Bennett a smile. “Sorry,” he says again. “Clumsy, eh?”

Bennett pats his hand. “Maybe you shouldn’t play games like this. There are far too many ways to hurt yourself at places like this, and I don’t think they’ve done their due diligence in making the place accessible.”

“Don’t be silly,” I snap, approaching them.

He’s acting as if Stan is made of the finest porcelain and should be on a shelf. I’d sympathise if it was anyone other than Bennett who was preaching caution to Stan. It never ends well. Only the other week, Kem and I had joined forces to suggest he didn’t rock climb when he had a head cold, which didn’t go swimmingly, but suggest is the operative word, because it’s Stan’s life.

“Stan loves it here,” I explain.

Bennett glares at me. He hasn’t liked me since the first moment he met me, and the feeling is entirely mutual. He’s a colossal tool.

“Well, I’d expectyouto say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you don’t think as I do.”

“Like a senior citizen with a bad hip?” I enquire, but he’s talking over me, telling Stan that he’s booked a nice restaurant for afterwards. I tune in to hear him say, “I’m sure Kem and Rafferty will be going clubbing.”

“What?” I say blankly.

Stan smiles in my direction. It’s almost sad, but it’s gone before I can examine it.

“I’m sure they will,” he says.

I stare at them as Bennett brushes Stan’s hair back. The gesture is tender, and his expression is possessive as he looks down at Stan. Stan smiles in his direction, and my stomach turns over.

How can he smile at Bennett so nicely? When is he going to realise that he’s?—?

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