I ran into my bedroom and dropped my trunks to the floor, the gathering darkness adding to my sense of urgency. It was the strange time between sunset and nightfall, when dusk threw out shadows and invited the world to hide. It was a chance to do things I couldn't do in the light. Create the moments that would become tomorrow's stories.

I didn't want to miss a second.

"Joe!"

Covering myself with a discarded towel, I walked to the window and stuck my head outside.

"What?" I yelled to the figure below. He stretched out his arms in mock anger.

"What are you doing running upstairs before you've brought the rest of the beer out? Don't you know it's a party, mate?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Go in the kitchen and get the crates yourself. And don't pretend you don't know exactly where they are."

Logan cocked his head to the side, buttoning the loose-fitting blue shirt he'd thrown over his swim shorts.

"Who's the host here, me or you?"

I smiled.

"Who drank all the beer they bought and is now being a baby? Now stop complaining. I need to make myself look pretty."

"Pfffft. Won't see you 'til morning then."

I picked up a can of hairspray from my bedside table and whipped it towards him. He jumped into the air, screaming a little too loud as the bottle nearly hit his feet. I made no attempt to hide my laughter.

"What was that for?!" he yelled, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"Stop," I said, waving my hand in surrender. "What is that voice? I can't take it."

"Oh, shut up, pretty boy."

I grinned and shut the window, the towel returning to its place on the floor as I hunted for a suitable outfit.

When the piles of dishevelled clothes at my feet failed to provide, I went to the wardrobe, settling for an old pair of Levi's. It was too hot for jeans, but I knew they'd look good. As I pulled them on, I thought of Ingrid. 'I always wanted to date a boy that wears Levi's,' she said once. It was the only persuasion I needed. Maybe if I wore the jeans, she'd hook up with me tonight, even though she'd blocked my number and told me she never wanted to see me again. Maybe that's what I wanted. For her to prove she still cared.

For me to prove I could get her to forgive me.

That I still had her attention.

All I needed was to find a matching shirt.

As I rifled through my selection, the smell of Gracie's floral washing detergent wafted over me. I smiled at the familiarity and let my thoughts wander to the girl on the stairs.

Billie...

I'd seen her around enough times to learn her name and notice her friends, but we'd never spoken longer than a few seconds.

Now, all I could think about was the way her dark hair stuck to her back when she fell in the pool. Her bikini bunched tight around her body and she laughed. In the moment. Free. She didn't look at me the way other girls did. Her eyes gave nothing away. She didn't giggle when she looked at me or turned red. I was sure my life of football games and drunken nights on the beach would be beneath her, but there was something about the way her red lips parted on the stairs when I brushed against her that I couldn't get out of my head.

Who are you, Billie?

I chose a white shirt to compliment my tan and spritzed myself with some Dior. I ran a comb through my hair then ruffled it, maintaining my messy aesthetic. I slipped my feet into a pair of boat shoes and checked the mirror to admire my work.

Joe is here.

I ran downstairs, the sound of the party greeting me in the hallway. Smoke wafted through the open kitchen door, filling the house with a mixture of cigarette scent and bonfire.

I grabbed a beer from the kitchen, smiling at the feel of the cold bottle in my hands.

I was ready. Ready to be adored. To be the centre of attention. The provider of the party. I let my guests explore. I gave them a setting to fall in and out of love, to drink until they were sick, to pass out on the floor, swim naked in the pool, dance in the moonlight. It was all me. I held the power. Any self-doubt in my head was quiet. It didn't remind me that anyone could stand in my place and receive the same praise and attention. It let me believe I was special. Let me enjoy the moment. Savour the bitter taste of the beer.

The night was for enjoying. The first party of the summer. It had to be good.

To make it good, I needed to find Logan.

I stepped outside into the warm air, scanning the lawn for his figure. My eyes fell on my group of friends huddled around a crate of beer, laughing as they stood firm in their territory. I watched Logan wave his arms as he imitated the goalie's reaction to his most recent winning shot for perhaps the fifth time that night. It was always the same, and it was always easy.

Easy to approach the group join in with the laughter. Easy to put my arm around Ingrid's shoulders and clink my beer against her wine glass. It was easy to smell her blonde hair and breathe in the scent of her perfume. It would be just as easy, after an hour of talking, to ask her to go upstairs and spend some time with me. She wouldn't say no. But as I stood with my arm around her, I couldn't stop my eyes flitting to Billie across the lawn. I watched her talking to a boy I suddenly hated and wondered how I could get closer.

Billie threw her head back and laughed, pushing the boy in the arm. He did a stupid dance, singing the lines from a song I didn't recognise. She loved it. Drank it up. He picked her up as she told him to stop in a way that very much said she didn't want him to. He took her on his back to the bonfire and dropped her behind one of the logs. She stumbled, then regained herself, engaging in their animated conversation again.

"Hey," I said into Logan's ear. "Who's that guy over there?" I cocked my head in Billie's direction. "I don't recognise him."

"Er, I think it's Scott something. He's friends with Tom's girlfriend. You know...whatshername?"

"Cara."

"That's the one. Why'd you ask?"

"No reason."

Logan's eyes followed mine, then lit up with understanding. I couldn't hide it from him. He knew exactly what my game was.

"Oh, Joe," he said, massaging my shoulders.

"What?" I grinned.

"Oh, Joe," he repeated, shaking his head. "Go on. Introduce yourself. It's what you want, isn't it?"

He stepped away from me, giving me the impression he didn't approve of my behaviour.

"Do you not think I should?"

"We don't know the girl," he shrugged, lowering his voice so Ingrid wouldn't hear. "But, hey. If you don't go over she might think you're a bad host."

"That would be terrible," I said, mustering fake sincerity. "I'd never recover."

"Off you go then." He patted me on the back. "I'll cover for you."

With Logan's blessing, I moved across the darkening lawn, drawn towards the fire and the girl who sat beside it. I could feel Ingrid's eyes on the back of my head, but focussed on the burning sun instead. Whoever built the fire had done so too early, but I ignored the wall of heat, approaching Billie and Scott in a way that would never suggest I was about to spontaneously combust.

"Hey," I waved awkwardly. Scott looked up, his eyes betraying his surprise.

"Hi..." he said, his eyes flitting from my shoes to my hairline. I suppressed a smile. So, it's like that, is it?

"I thought I'd come over and say hello. I don't think we've properly met. I'm Joe."

I extended my hand to Billie.

She blinked, her expression impossible to read. Up close, I could see the flecks of green in her eyes. The fire lit them up, along with the gold threads in her hair. She took my hand and stared at me, her smile warning me she would give as good as she got.

"Actually, you asked me for a stapler once." She raised her eyebrows. "So, technically we have met. But I guess you forgot, didn't you?"

I blinked. It was the last thing in the world I expected her to say. Her mouth twitched. This was a play. A way to draw me in. To let me know she noticed me. That she remembered my lack of attention.

It threw my off my rhythm.

"Did I? I don't remember that."

"Well, I do," she said, not missing a beat. "It was a really good stapler."

I laughed. I loved this conversation. Loved the way she revealed the truth through an obvious lie. She was good.

I grasped at the strands of conversation, trying to pull myself up to her level.

"It must have been good for you to remember it all this time..."

"It was." She put her hand on her chest, forcing my eyes to her cleavage. "The best I ever used."

"Oh, really? The best ever?"

She nodded, her eyes dancing a she seemed to wrestle with her choice of words.

"Yeah," she said, struggling to hold in her laughter. "It was really big."

"Really big?" I repeated, the smile on my face so big it hurt my cheeks.

"Really big."

I gave her a laugh and she beamed, triumphant. We had a code. A secret language. We'd said so little and yet said so much at the same time. The attraction was there, hiding beneath the words. It was in the tone of her voice, the light in her eyes, the way our bodies seemed to mirror each other, my arms folding when hers did, my laughter following hers like a child following their mother.

I wanted to carry on and never stop, but Scott interrupted our moment, popping marshmallows into his mouth and then spitting them on the ground

"So, I'm still here, by the way!"

"Oh, sorry, mate," I said, extending my hand to him as a reflex. "Nice to meet you."

He stared at my hand like I'd just offered him a mouldy piece of bread. There was an awkward stalemate. We both refused to back down, my rejected handshake hovering in the air like a bad smell. Scott kept his hands in his pockets, his gaze holding mine as he tried to force me to crack.

The combination of his sass and the pulp of marshmallows by his feet was too much to bare. I felt a laugh rise inside me, raising my hands in surrender as I tried not to fall into hysterics. I looked at Billie, and without speaking, she let me know she understood. She shook her head, warning me not to go.

If you go, I'll go, she seemed to say.

None of this was missed by Scott, who looked between us like a spectator at a tennis match, his frown deepening with each exchange.

Game over.

"Okay...I'm going to go and find Cara. Don't want to intrude on... whatever this is."

"Aw, Scott, you don't have to do that," Billie said, laughing through her words.

"It's fine, I'll catch you later," he shrugged, sauntering off with a flick of his long fringe.

"Well..." I said. "I've got you alone."

"Yes, but I'll pay for it later."

"Sorry," I said, trying to sound sincere. "That's my bad."

"You're not sorry at all, are you?" she smiled.

"Not even a little bit."

"Knew it."

Of course you know.

Somehow, we had connected. Engaged in a game that became less like a game by the minute.

I picked up the bag of marshmallows discarded by the fire and offered her one. She shook her head.

"No, thanks."

"Would you prefer one of the chewed ones from the floor?"

"Stop it," she laughed, but her eyes told me not to.

The party was gone. Logan was gone. Ingrid, gone. I didn't know or care about a thing besides me and her, me and her, me and her. I was usually aware of whose eyes were on me. Of who was watching and what they might be thinking. What they might say. All of that disappeared next to the crackling flames.

"Don't worry about him," Billie said, gesturing to Scott. "He'll be okay."

"As long as I haven't ruined your friendship."

She shook her head. Wrinkled her nose.

"We're like siblings. Can't get away..."

I'd never heard anybody speak like her. There was no fat on it. No small talk, no niceties. She chose each word with consideration, communicating only what needed to be said. I was mad for it. Her face told me she knew. I wanted to trace her lips with my fingers. Feel her eyelashes flutter on my cheek. Put my hands in her hair and feel her jawbone with my palms.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" The words escaped me before I knew what was happening. "It's hot here... 'cuz of the fire." I cleared my throat, trying to recover. "I know somewhere cooler..."

She hesitated.

"Are you trying to get me alone?"

"Maybe," I grinned. "But it's just an idea. You don't have to."

"No," she said. "I want to. Let me get my bag."

I couldn't believe my own dumb luck.

"Are you sure?"

She stood up, cocking her head to the side and looking at me with an expression that said, do you need to ask?

I watched her run to the pile of bags on the floor near the backdoor and then rush back, her eyes flitting around as she looked to see who was watching. We walked away together, our heads down, both of us smiling. My heart pounded in my chest as I marvelled at my own bravery.

I led her to the back gate, glancing at the party before I opened it. It was undisturbed. No one had noticed us sneak away. We might get away with it.

"After you," I said, gesturing to the street beyond the house. She nodded and ducked through the hedgerow, her dark hair falling around her shoulders. I watched her step onto the road, waiting for me to come. She turned back to me and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

Without thinking, I followed, letting the gate swing shut behind me. I had no idea what I was doing, but had no desire to turn back.

My night was hers now. There was nothing left to do but accept it.