Cassie had only had a few drinks tonight, so she was okay, but she was worried about Angela: it was Angela who'd hit the bottle hard from the beginning and hadn't looked back; it was Angela who'd noticed this strange boy - Mal, was it? - looking at them from across the pub's beer-garden; it was Angela who'd insisted that they come over, against Cassie's better judgement. Still, they were here now, and the three boys seemed pretty easy to handle: most boys were, you always knew what they were after. Especially with this Alain guy - Cassie wondered if that was really his name, it sounded so made up! - it was pretty clear what he was about, right from the start. All that faux-sincerity, over-egged smile, wandering eyes. He'd placed Cassie's and Angela's seats either side of himself, of course.

Still, Cassie couldn't complain. It wasn't like she hadn't wanted to come out tonight. And Angela was always good for a laugh. They hadn't known each other long: a few months, they were in the same prac class at uni. Angela knew the names of all the chemicals; Cassie knew the names of all the pieces of equipment. It worked. And Cassie was pining over some guy in the class who'd been going out with his girlfriend for five years. It was a hopeless case - well, not the worst crush Cassie had ever had, that would be the gay guy, Leo - and Angela had invited her out. Simple as that. Oh sure, it'd started out as a study session, but that hadn't lasted long - not after the first round. Angela knew all about Cassie's crush, Cassie didn't hide it - she'd long grown out of that phase - and Angela had said "Let's pick some boys up." Simple as that. Well, that suited Cassie just fine: hell, she had needs just like anyone else! And it'd been a while. Unless you counted that guy who'd groped her on the tram at 6:15 last Wednesday evening. Cassie resolved to fix her bike.

She'd held out a little bit of hope when she and Angela had returned from the bar, and those other three guys had been sitting at their table . . . but they'd been hopeless, real knuckle-draggers, and Cassie was not anywhere near that drunk yet.

But Angela had been drinking a lot. Not quite enough, not in that instance fortunately, but a lot more than Cassie. Cassie didn't blame her or anything: she put it down to a break-down in communication. Angela had no doubt been expecting Cassie to match her drink-for-drink. So it hadn't worked out that way; Cassie didn't judge. But then Angela had spotted this other bunch of three guys on the other side of the beer-garden, and just when Cassie had been starting to get comfortable, too, and had started feeling like it wouldn't be the end of the world if she went another night without getting laid: she'd tried explaining as much to Angela, but Angela was having none of it. "You'll thank me when we go over there" she'd said.

And damned if she hadn't been right! Almost as soon as she'd got to her feet Cassie had discovered an enthusiasm for the task she didn't think she'd ever find, so much so that by the time they reached the table, fighting their way through the crowd, Cassie had taken the front foot. Angela, anyway, was a little too drunk by now to be in command of the situation herself, and Cassie felt strangely motherly towards her: if Cassie could get lucky tonight, well and good; but if she could do so while making sure nothing happened to Angela, all the better. Sure, she didn't know Angela all that well, she had no idea what was going on in her life, but Angela was a sweet girl, and it'd be heart-breaking to see anything happen to her.

Angela cooed with sympathy as the Alain guy explained that his friend Mal had just broken up with his fiancé. Cassie didn't buy it, that boy Mal looked too desperate: but it didn't matter. She settled into her seat and listened to Alain blather on. It was pretty obvious he was trying to build himself up by knocking the others down: not just the fiancé thing, but also mentioning at any given opportunity that his other friend - Brett or Brent, Cassie wasn't sure - had a girlfriend, the veracity of which Cassie didn't doubt; not least because the Brent boy didn't try to deny it. He was the odd one out, this Brent: nicer than the other two, less cheap charm and more genuine. Quieter, too. Cassie got the impression he didn't always hang out with the other two. She smiled: ostensibly at some bad joke Alain had just told, but also because she was comfortable. She was relaxing into the situation, wedged in between Brent and Alain. Angela left to go to the bar, and returned with a full jug of beer: she poured all five of them glass, and Cassie looked at Brent as she passed his glass to him: he seemed reluctant to reach across her to the table, in case he should accidentally brush his arm against her breasts. It was cute. Cassie looked at him. He was cute, actually, in a slightly buttoned-down kind of a way. So he had a girlfriend. So what? Where was she now? Anyway, Cassie wasn't looking for a relationship. Just a night or two. She had her crush already. She adjusted her skirt, and raised her glass, and caught Brent's attention, and smiled.

"Cheers" she said.