One

The number of months since the DateMate website went live and the footage of the train stunt dropped on Noted's YouTube channel and other socials.

Two.

The number of hours it took for most of our year level and a chunk of Year 11 and Year 10 to download the DateMate app and activate memberships. By lunch time on day one, DateMate had 223 registered users. Seriously, WTF? This is a school project, people. We aren't trying to build a dating empire.

Even Felix Darver and his mates joined. Which brought on some prickly, stabby feelings that make no sense.

It's not like Felix and I were ever anything beyond party tricks. But he's not even talking to me. At all. I only vaguely understand why. I know he was dark on me at me at Robbo's but I thought that if I just let him cool off, he'd get over it. Apparently not. Which makes me grumpy because the whole point of having a Felix is not having to navigate being disappointed in someone or feeling like you've disappointed them.

Cass thinks that I should try and talk to him about it. But Felix is not deep and meaningful conversations. And I am more than okay with that.

At least, I think I am.

I was before.

Now it's irking me that he doesn't sling his arm around my shoulders when he sees me in the halls. Or wink at me. Or make eye contact at all. Ever. Agghhh!

Three.

The number of days before we received a website inquiry from one of the Year 11s with a boyfriend at another school asking if his boyfriend could join DateMate. Which presented a slight dilemma. Our project planning hadn't contemplated how to vet new members because we'd always assumed that they'd be people we go to school with.

At least, Trav assumed that they'd be people we go to school with. I figured that the only people who were ever going to actually sign up to DateMate were Cass and Chomper.

How wrong I was.

DateMate now has more than 800 registered users and counting. All of them are either students at St Mark's, or have been vouched for by at least two people who are. It's like we're running a secret society. I now know how the Illuminati must have felt.

Four.

The number of weeks since Cassie and Chomper became an official couple. By association, I now hang out with the 'cool crowd'.

Yes, it's weird. Don't judge me. For a total bunch of bananas, they're actually okay.

It's sort of nice to be part of a group again.

Five.

The number of times in any given hour that Trav has to cover my eyes so that I don't have to watch Cassie and Chomper trying to devour each other. Those two are truly nauseating.

Infinite.

The number of filthy looks that Bethany Cartwright has given me since Robbo's party. Which is super annoying, because I've gone out of my way to try and demonstrate that I'm no threat to her relationship with Trav and she's lovely to everyone else.

It's also completely hypocritical because I catch her sneaking glances at Davey Porter all the time. He and Lizzie Chan broke up last week and I think he's attempting to resuscitate his relationship with Bethany. Based on the way she was was rubbing his arm when I walked in on them in the drama studio yesterday, I'm guessing Bethany hasn't killed the idea. Which is all kinds of wrong because Trav and Bethany are still together.

That's it.

You're all caught up.

Time flies when you're accidentally running a successful matchmaking service (even if it is against your better judgement and romance-avoider instincts).

Which leads us to the here and now.

Miss Burton. In the Library. With the House Captain. One month in and I'm yet to kill him with a textbook. It's a modern miracle of epic proportions.

"Okay, so Gem has sorted out the issue with the date review survey for the rock climbing / high tea combo; we have seven new registration requests that we need to verify; and Chomper is really keen on us adding an 'escape room experience' to the date catalogue."

Trav is reading from his spreadsheet. The boy has a spreadsheet for everything. They pivot too (which I'd be impressed by if I understood what pivoting actually was).

The two of us have started meeting in the library before school every day. This works for me because I'm always in the library by 7:30am anyway. Not because I'm a dedicated student but because it's the only place in the school that's open that early. One of the many downsides of being the offspring of the principal is that my mother insists on getting to school before any of her staff. Every. Single. Morning.

Sucks to be me.

Before school works for Trav because he generally does stuff with his family after school. He and Gemma are trying to spend as much time with their Dad as they can. Before... well... you know...

Trav doesn't talk much about what's going on at home but sometimes he gets this really faraway look in his eyes and his face goes sort of slack and I'm taken back to that afternoon in his pool. I wish I could wish it all away for him.

"Earth to Francesca?" Trav waves his hand in front of my face.

"What? I was listening," I bluff.

"So, you don't mind if Gordo changes the website design to up the ante on the pink and the hearts?"

"What? No. I already told you, we are not doing cutesy."

Trav takes one look at my horrified expression and cracks up laughing.

"You should see your face. You look like you're about to vomit." He's laughing so hard that Mrs Phipps, the Librarian, shushes him. Mrs Phipps never shushes Trav. Trav is her favourite. Me on the other hand...

"You were kidding, right?" I look at him through narrowed eyes as he continues to laugh. I'm not really mad. I like making Trav laugh. I figure he needs as many lighter moments as he can get right now.

"Yes, I was kidding." He rolls his eyes at me in a way that is very reminiscent of... well... me. I think I'm starting to rub off on the boy.

"Very funny, Riordan. What were you really trying to talk to me about?"

"I was saying that, according to Gem's stats, we're close to 900 users and the average rating is sitting at a solid 4.8."

Now it's my turn to laugh.

"I don't get it, I really don't. It's a dating app. A way for people to organise awkward, high pressured encounters, where reality is rarely going to match expectations. Why are people so into this?"

"Is that a serious question?" Trav asks, with a weird look on his face that I don't quite understand.

"I guess so."

He reaches across the table and places his hand over mine. When he starts to speak, the raspy tone to his voice makes the spot where my heart is supposed to be flutter just a little bit.

"Haven't you ever been on a great first date with someone you really like?" he asks. "You know, when the nervous anticipation is the worst but it's also the best bit? You plan a slightly out there, potentially ridiculous activity like rock climbing, or ice skating, or coffee-making. You do it because you hope that the other person will think it's quirky and fun and, by association, they'll think that you're quirky and fun and decide that they want to have fun with you again. You wonder if you should try and hold their hand... or touch their knee... or try to kiss them? Maybe you do kiss and there's mad chemistry and you hope that this is just the preview for all the good and tingly things that are still to come?"

"No," I tell him, distracted by the talk of kissing and the thumb tracing lazy patterns on my wrist. Why have I never noticed how interesting the angles of his face are? More importantly, why do I suddenly care about his face at all?

"Well, we'll have to change that, won't we." He stares into my eyes, straight-faced except for the slight upward tilt of his mouth and the quirk of his eyebrow.

I've seen him give that look to a hundred girls and have always scoffed at their giggly, melty reactions. But his grey eyes are like glass in the morning light and he leans in close enough that I can pick out every single one of the freckles across the bridge of his nose. His breath smells like peppermint.

I'm ashamed to say it – I melt just a little bit.

The fluttering in my chest turns to thumping.

"What? But I..."

"Yup, you and me Burton, we're going on a platonic date." He lets go of my hand and cuffs me gently on the shoulder like we're footy buddies. The melting and the thumping in my chest come to a stuttering, spluttering stop.

"A what?"

"A platonic date," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Cec and I go on them all the time. It's like a romantic date but without the romance or the nervous anticipation or any of the kissing. Basically, it's just the fun activity bits."

"Right... sure... okay... a platonic date. Makes sense. Like research for our project paper."

"Exactly. This Saturday. I'll plan it. You don't have to do a thing."

"Aren't we all going to Chloe Schilz's party on Saturday night?"

"We'll do a day date and then head to the party. Prepare to be converted to the wonders of platonic dating."

"Whatever. I'm going to the bathroom."

"You do that Burton. Bathroom away. Don't mind me, I'm just going to ring Gordo and talk to him about the pink and the hearts. How do you feel about rainbows and glitter?"

I respond to that in the only mature way you can when you're in the library with Mrs Phipps and not allowed to yell. I make very rude gestures with my fingers. He just laughs.

In the girls' toilets, I head straight for the basin and thrust my wrists under the cold water tap. I take a deep, shuddering breath. What the actual F was that? Not the charm. The charm was just Trav. He didn't mean anything by it and I know that. But my reaction to the Riordan charm offensive was the total opposite of me.

I. Do. Not. Do. Melting. Or giggly. Or girly. Or bananas.

This is all Felix's fault. If he'd just stop being such a moody git and go back to being excellent kissing on tap, then I wouldn't have to notice that Travers Riordan's lips are just as nice-looking as Felix's. Maybe not quite as full but snackable nonetheless.

If Felix would go back to being flirting and teasing and all the fun stuff then I wouldn't have to think about the fact that Trav is surprisingly funny, or that he's kind or that his obsession with pivoting spreadsheets is strangely endearing.

OMG.

What is wrong with me?

"What's wrong with you Francesca?" The high-pitched, determined voice comes out of nowhere and scares the absolute crap out of me. I jump, whacking my wrist painfully on the tap and flicking water down the front of my uniform and all over the floor.

"Hi Bethany," I say on a sigh, flashing her what is meant to be a friendly and non-threatening smile in the mirror. I'm beginning to think I'm not very good at friendly, non-threatening smiles.

She glares at me in response.

"I saw you in the library with Travvy, Francesca," she says. "I thought I told you to stay away from my boyfriend. Maybe you should sign up for that DateMate thing everyone's going on about. You could certainly use some help now that Felix has decided he deserves an upgrade."

Okay, this girl is really starting to annoy me now. I don't care how sweet she normally is, if there is one thing I can't stand, it's girls trying to tear other girls down over boys. I do not need her bringing all the prickly Felix feelings into this.

"You know what Beth. Trav and I are just doing our homework together. Nothing more, nothing less. You guys might be going out but I'm pretty sure he still gets to choose his own friends. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with Trav. Please, please, please leave me out of your relationship drama. Cause I could not care less."

And with that, I sweep out of the bathroom.

(Yes, I do almost fall flat on my butt when my shoe slips in the water I just flicked on the floor. It still counts as a great exit).