Falling Away by Allie Little

A sizeable bowl of spicy bean nachos sits between them on the table. Emily spots me first and waves me over.
    I saunter over, tying a Café Blue apron behind my back. They both beam unusually widely.
    “Hi honey, we were thinking,” Emily starts.
    Never a good thing ...
    “Friday night after work there’s an open-air dance party. You should come.”
    I’m surprised by the invite. Surely they realise if I’m averse to nightclubs then dance parties wouldn’t exactly entice. “Where’s it on?” I ask, playing for time.
    “In the angophora forest behind Shoal Bay. Near Wreck Beach. Some friends went last year and said it was totally amazing. Dancing under trees in the moonlight to totally cool music.” Gemma’s green eyes skip with her eager excitement. “Come on, Sam. Say you’ll come.”
    “It’ll be fun if we all go,” Emily reinforces. “And you enjoyed the party last week, didn’t you?”
    “I wasn’t there that long. Riley and I left early, remember?”
    “Yeah, but it was good, right? Some of Gemma’s friends from the party are going, too.”
    “And we already bought tickets, and we’ve got one for you. But if you don’t want to go I suppose we could sell it?” says Gemma, looking over toward Em.
    “And the tickets are cheap,” Emily adds. “ Really cheap.
    “Yeah, the tickets are not expensive at all,” Gemma repeats.
    I laugh at their efforts. “Oh, all right. I suppose so,” I say, wondering why they’re so keen and knowing I’ll come to regret this later.
    “Great! I knew you’d come,” squeals Emily. “It’ll be an awesome night. You’ll love it.”
    “And Tim is going,” chimes in Gemma. “The guy I met at the party last week, remember? I suggested it and he said he’d come.”
    So the truth is, Gemma will be occupied and Emily needs a friend. I guess that’s me.
    “Sam, are you actually going to do any work today? Or just stand there blathering?” Riley snarls. He hovers in the doorway, leaning his tall frame against the architrave.
    Gemma and Emily raise their eyebrows as I push sheepishly past, brushing against his skin.
    Riley follows me back into the kitchen. The commercial dishwashers need unpacking, and although it’s quiet there are enough plates to keep me busy. Riley chops veggies for the soup silently. Corn kernels spit across the bench like yellow droplets of rain.
    He exhales. Loudly. He seems frosty, even with all the ovens blaring. I shiver and finish the plates, stacking them neatly on the shelves. The glasses squeak when I touch them, but the sound is like a high pitched air-raid siren blaring between us.
    After an hour or so he thaws, like a bear waking from hibernation. “Rest of your weekend okay?” he asks, still dark and surly. But at least he’s conversing.
    “Not really. I smashed my car.”
    He looks across, as if checking for marks. Bruises even. As if he cares. “Oh, really? Were you hurt?”
    “No, I backed into someone. In a stupid fit of brain-loss. My car’s getting fixed at the moment.”
    “Bummer, Sam. That sucks.”
    I nod. “Totally. How was the rest of your weekend?”
    He shrugs a shoulder dismissively. “It was okay, I guess. Went out Sunday night drinking with mates and was out till late. Felt a bit seedy on Monday. Sorry I wasn’t here. But I heard you had things totally under control.”
    I need to clear the air. I don’t like the uncomfortable tension polarising the space between us. All those silent, unspoken words. I give him a hesitant smile. “Riley, about Friday. I don’t want you to feel ... you know, bad or anything.”
    He turns his back on me, as if looking at me confronts the hell out of him. Then seems to think better of it and swivels to face me again, looking repentant. “Yeah, I’ll admit I had way too much to drink. I lay on the beach for a while after you left, contemplating the stars, and realised I hadn’t been too gentlemanly.”
    I didn’t expect Riley to sound old-fashioned, and with the