The Problem With Crazy by Lauren McKellar Page B

out from my pocket and checked it. No new messages. A pang of nostalgia shot through me as I realised I’d expected to hear from Dave, maybe an apology text for overreacting.
    Maybe I was wrong about him.
    Maybe he was just a jerk.
    A girl to the side of us was twirling her long, brown hair around her coral-pink painted nail, chatting away in a high-pitched tone to her friend about their upcoming trip.
    “It is going to be great.” She nodded, batting her mascara-clumped lashes. “We are going to be, like, so drunk every night.”
    I pinched the bridge of my nose. I felt the dizzying waves of a migraine coming on. Was this really such a good idea?
    “Excuse me, ma’am?”
    I looked up. A waiter was hovering next to me, black round tray teetering in his hand. Two glasses of sparkling wine glittered on it. He stepped to the side and placed one drink on a folded white napkin in front of me, and then did the same for Stacey.
    “I didn’t know first-class had free drinks.” Stacey flashed a smile at the waiter, who pretty much melted on the spot.
    “Oh, they’re, uh, not free.” He cleared his throat. “They’re from the gentleman at the bar.”
    My stomach dropped. Stacey’s elbow made contact with my arm so hard, I worried it would bruise.
    “Kate!” she squeal-whispered. “Lee—freaking—Collins just bought us a drink.”
    I spun in my stool to look at the bar behind us. Sure enough, Lee and his four security guards, as well as his two band-mates, were sitting at the bar. He raised a glass filled with ice and amber-coloured liquid in my direction, and I gave a weak smile and tipped my glass of sparkling back.
    How was this happening? Why was this happening? Now Lee Collins was taking pity on me, no doubt after hearing about my dad, and possibly the break up. He’d sent me a sympathy drink?
    “You have it.” I pushed my glass in Stacey’s direction, resting my head between my hands. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster, my mind flipping from wishing Dave still wanted me, to wondering what I’d seen in the douche in the first place. Either way, I knew Stacey thought she was helping, but was subjecting me to a weeklong graduation party honestly the best plan of attack? I didn’t feel like partying. Maybe I should change my mind about going.
    “Check out her rack.” I heard a guy yell from somewhere behind me. Stacey tossed her hair over her shoulder ambiguously.
    Scratch the maybe. Make that a definite.

    The trip went by in a daze. I fell asleep as soon as the plane was in the air, the exhaustion of the airport wearing on my mind. I didn’t see Dave once on the plane—the perks of being in first class—and Lee Collins didn’t try and extend his pity on me any further.
    We landed in beautiful, sunny Queensland and Stacey and I bolted off the plane, making a quick trip through the airport to get to a cab waiting outside. I felt like an outsider from the get-go. How could I go forth and enjoy the sunshine when it felt like I was storming on the inside?
    The apartment I’d transferred us to, however, did a little to lift my mood. It was the top floor of a building that rested right on the beach, giving us a180-degree balcony view of beautiful Surfers Paradise.
    Apparently, booking a room for a tour with Coal came with definite perks and upgrades.
    “Check out the size of the TV.” My eyes widened at the seriously giant flat screen on the wall in the living room.
    “That’s nothing. Have you seen the spa?” Stacey came bouncing out of the en suite with a giant, fluffy robe wrapped around her shoulders. “And the bed feels amazing!”
    I ran through the two-bedroom suite to my room. It was huge, far too big for one person, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing views of the city below. In the middle was a giant, perfectly white pressed-down bed. I suppressed the urge to just jump on it and mess it up, but it was hard.
    Exploration complete, I returned to the living room and took my phone out of