Wild Thing

30. Thirty

Thirty

DYLAN

T he glittering ocean and golden sand whipped by, blending into one.

My ugly soul didn’t deserve to see such beautiful scenery.

The phone call from Ally was a stark reminder that what we were doing was horribly twisted.

How can I feel so happy, yet at the same time, like a piece of shit?

My mind was scrambled. Maybe I was a little insane.

I couldn't process the person I'd somehow become. I hated cheaters.

My hatred for home-wreckers spawned from when my Dad left my Mom for another woman. I watched my Mom's world fall apart. She was completely blindsided. Because of him, I always thought there was a special place in hell for people who knowingly betrayed their partners.

And now here I was, doing the same shit.

It sickened me. I sickened myself.

“Sex” by The 1975 blasted through the speakers. I wondered what Brax was thinking.

Was he thinking about her?

Was he as tortured as I was?

I was exhausted thinking about the whole situation.

I wondered how people engaged in months, sometimes year long affairs. It would erode my soul. The sneaking around and dodging of reality wasn’t sustainable. How could it ever be?

The only plus side, if there even was one, was that in a few days, I’d be home. I'd finally break up with Zack and get rid of this rotten, guilty feeling. The warped situation would be finally over.

My thoughts raced ahead.

And then what?

Our lives were thousands of miles apart. Would I enter into a long distance relationship with Brax?

We needed to talk. To quieten my mind, I needed to know what was going to happen once we both returned home.

What if once we got back to our lives, we realized that we actually didn't bring out the best in each other, but the worst?

And that this was just a week of hot, passionate mistakes and nothing more? Some things are more precious because they didn’t last long. What if this affair was one of those things?

I’d die.

The realization settled into my stomach like a lead balloon.

I was in love with him.

This was why I was becoming a version of myself that I hated. Because I was in love with him and I'd stop at nothing to have him.

Even if that meant destroying myself.

I knew I should have told him I loved him, but I felt like that was too risky without knowing how he truly felt. I needed some reassurance before I laid my heart on the line like that.

Revealing emotions prematurely was sometimes like bleeding next to a shark.

It would place me in too vulnerable of a position.

I wanted to believe that he wanted to be with me just as much as I him, but I suspected he wasn’t telling me everything.

He was keeping something from me. I was sure of it.

We had both lied to our partners, so why wouldn’t we lie to each other?

***

Finally, we pulled off the road onto a gravel lined driveway and drove towards a lone beach shack, located on a remote stretch of beach. It was nestled on a little green hill, overlooking miles of untouched sand.

There wasn’t a soul, or another house, in sight. Just us.

Brax pulled up out the front of the shack, parking the Mustang on the sandy driveway before killing the engine.

He hopped out and looped around to my side of the car, opening the door for me.

As I stepped out to take in my surroundings, Brax draped an arm around my shoulders. "What do you think?"

“Where are we?”

“My beach shack.”

My eyes widened. “Yours?”

“Yep. I bought it a year ago as a little holiday home. Perfect place to chill, go surfing… I might renovate it one day.”

I'd seen this place somewhere before.

Brax's Instagram.

The beach house was tiny, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in character. A small veranda wrapped around the front and extended to the sides. There were two rocking chairs, both of which had seen better days. The railings had a few buoy floats strung up. The sun has faded what would have once been vibrant blues and white on the timber exterior walls. A large anchor hung on the front door.

A classic, wooden beach shack.

“It’s perfect the way it is.”

“I think so too,” Brax kissed me on the head. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Unlocking the front door, it creaked open into a salty smelling lounge room. Seashells and random pieces of driftwood acted as decoration, as did one of Brax’s surfboards.

There wasn’t a TV or fancy tech shit anywhere.

Behind the lounge room was a small kitchen and dining room that led out onto a back verandah with a million dollar view: the ocean.

“Down the hallway are two bedrooms and a bathroom. It's small, but I love it.”

“It’s charming,” I said softly, looking around. It was so peaceful, a world away from everything and everyone.

I checked my phone. No service. Brilliant. That meant no more surprise phone calls from Ally or Zack.

We should stay here forever .

“I love it as it is," I said as I finished scoping out the place. "Some things should remain untouched.”

Brax took a step towards me and held my face in his hands. He leaned in and kissed me gently. The sound of the rolling waves in the background mimicked the movements of our tongues.

I gave in to how good it felt.

Brax ended the kiss. "Stop worrying."

I looked at him and wondered how he was so calm.

"I can't help it. I feel like I'm becoming a bad person, and I–"

Brax placed a finger over my lips, shooshing me. "You're not a bad person, Dylan. This situation…"

"Affair."

"Okay," Brax ran his hands down my arms. "This affair, is temporary."

"We need to talk about what's going to happen."

"We will. Soon."

Before I could ask him why now wasn't a good time, he pulled the car keys out of his pocket and walked towards the front door.

"I’m going to race down to the store and get us some snacks,” he said as he opened the creaky, wooden door. “Make yourself at home.”

I gave him a soft smile and watched the door close. I felt like he was avoiding having the conversation we needed to have.

Once the engine faded in the distance, I casually walked around the cottage. It was quaint and reminded me of the places we’d dream about living in.

I dropped myself onto the armchair in the lounge room, closed my eyes and listened to the crashing waves, wondering why he had brought me here.

He wouldn’t have brought me here if he wasn’t serious about being together, would he? What would be the point otherwise?

After a few moments, I opened my eyes and noticed something I hadn’t caught earlier.

A framed picture hanging on the wall.

It was a pencil sketch of a beach shack with two people hugging in front of the verandah, their faces obscured by their dark hair, blowing in the wind. My mind went fuzzy as I realized what I was looking at.

It was us.

I knew it was, because I drew it.

I'd sketched this for him years ago.

He'd kept it.

My heart swelled and damn near burst.