Pictures of You

Chapter 35

35

Drew

I wish she would shut up about having sex with Oliver.

Everything about how she’s talking bothers me. The lack of enthusiasm. The sense of obligation. The expectation he obviously has and the deadline he’s forcing on her.

I look at her. She’s puffy-faced from all the crying at the airport. She’s confused and intense and vulnerable and worried and not remotely ready , and I am fucking furious.

And jealous as all hell.

We need to get out of this enclosed space before she reads my mind. She has no idea the thoughts I’ve started having about her, nor will she ever find out, because I’m scared she’ll push me away. Being around her as a friend is better than not being around her at all, so I’m resigned to it.

“Will we take the cameras out?” I ask. It’s become our go-to whenever one of us is stressed about school (in her case) or her boyfriend (in mine). It’s not just that I’m jealous—even though that’s absolutely true. It’s that I’m worried. Everything about the way she reacts to Oliver seems extreme. This response to his departure is just the latest example. Second-guessing herself all the time. Overthinking. The story she tells herself about him being out of her league, when clearly it’s the opposite.

“Do you know what I want to find?” she asks. “Ghost fungus!”

Ghost fungus? She is alight.

“Glowing mushrooms … in the dark!” she adds, assuming my silence means I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“I know what they are. I think you can find them in the Blue Mountains.” I am so up for a photographic adventure, crawling around in the dark together.

“And also bioluminescence in the ocean … I’ve seen photos from Jervis Bay.” She picks up her phone to show me images and shoves it in my face, along with the intoxicating scent of coconut body lotion. Long brown hair falls over her shoulder and wild curls brush the skin on my arm as I stand beside her, invested in her bioluminescence quest, knowing my own quest is futile.

“Look at this!” she says, eyes shining, playing a video of someone walking through the waves in the shallows, stirring up the neon-blue phosphorescence at their feet. “I want that, Drew!”

And I want you . It’s crazy how much.

It’s way more than physical attraction. Evie and I are completely on the same page. We don’t just want to hang out, watching movies and eating snacks. There’s a purpose to our friendship—we have goals and a creative understanding, which adds up to a depth I haven’t felt before, with anyone.

“I’m in,” I tell her. I’m all in for anything she wants. “As long as you shut up about Oliver and quit being pathetic about the next six weeks.”

She laughs. “What kind of friendship is this?”

I want to tell her it’s an Oliver-free zone. That the next six weeks are ours, around work and the Sydney-Newy commute. This might be the first and last summer holiday we ever have, depending on the choices we make at the end of next year. But saying any of that would be pathetic.

“God, fine,” I say. “I’ll be there as a friend and all that sop. Whatever you need. Ride or die. When Harry Met Sally blah blah.”

“You can’t just quote random eighties rom-coms.”

“Rom-coms? It’s the one where they’re platonic friends, right? Mum loves that movie.”

She looks at me weirdly. At least she’s stopped crying. “You’re completely unqualified for this conversation.”

She gives me the once-over, and I indulge in a fantasy that her gaze snags for a moment on the muscles across my chest.

“Get your camera ready,” she demands. “And put some clothes on. Geez.”

Maybe she’s not a hundred percent immune, after all.