Chapter 9
Nine
testosterone, my humble guide
Max
‘Can you help tighten my top?’ Jude asks innocently, whipping off her T-shirt and revealing a bikini top that I can only describe
as bedazzled. Someone behind us lets out a low whistle.
‘Does it bother you that you’re dressed like Rainbow Fish and Toby hasn’t even looked your way?’ My eyes find Dylan, nodding
animatedly and handing out customer service smiles to our campmates.
‘That’s exactly why I need your help. If you retie my top in front of him, it’ll activate some caveman part of his brain and
he’ll realise just how much he wants me.’
‘I fear you’re putting too much stock in the idea that he gives a fuck.’
Bertie’s laugh pierces the air, and when Dylan gives him a real smile, I grit my teeth and begrudgingly take Jude’s bikini
ties. Dylan can make her own choices, but I swear, if I come second to this leather-braceleted springbok of a man, my pride
will never get over it.
‘I think Toby’s scared of you,’ I say, touching Jude’s skin as little as possible.
She nods vigorously. ‘Hundred per cent, he’s absolutely terrified. I was talking to him in the queue for the minivan and he almost sprinted away. But god, no one’s ever made transition lenses look so hot.’
The man in question walks past, face in his phone and paying us no attention whatsoever, and as soon as he’s out of earshot,
Jude slaps my hand away. ‘You tied it too tight.’
‘That was worth it, wasn’t it?’ I ask.
She gives me a droll look, but when Dylan makes a beeline for us, she swaps it for a grin.
‘Jude,’ Dylan starts, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘Do you mind if Bertie joins us? The canoes can take up to three
people.’
‘What about me?’ says a nasal voice from behind her. It’s attached to Bertie’s friend Arun, who, in the least offensive way,
is currently giving off the energy of a damp slice of bread.
‘Maybe you can go with Max?’ Dylan suggests, buckling her life jacket over her T-shirt and shooting me an innocent look before
walking along the dock.
‘Sounds great to me,’ Jude quips.
‘You’re the worst,’ I say under my breath, shrugging my life jacket on without bothering to fasten it.
Bertie clambers into the canoe, almost pulling Dylan overboard when she offers him a steadying arm, and climbs to the front
on his hands and knees. Dylan perches gracefully on the middle bench, leaving the back row free for Jude. But the moment Bertie
reclaims his paddle from the dock, I come to a decision.
The wooden planks complain under my strides and I brush past Jude, taking her paddle from her before she can even react, then
step into her spot in the canoe in one smooth movement.
‘Don’t mind me,’ I say, settling on the back bench. Dylan turns to me, wide eyes blinking as Bertie scowls.
Jude is unbothered, and says breezily, ‘Come on, Arun. Looks like it’s just you and me.’
The current does most of the work to bring us down the river. At one point, we stop paddling, letting our canoe drift, only dipping our paddles in when we need to adjust the direction.
I tap Dylan on the shoulder. ‘Have you ever done this before?’
She turns to look at me; bright eyes, messy hair, wind-burnt cheeks. ‘Nope. I always wanted to do stuff like this with my
ex, but he was more of a gym guy for exercise, so that’s what we did.’ She catches the roll of my eyes and for some reason
defends this man who I’ve already decided I don’t like. ‘I was really busy for most of our relationship with work and studying.
It was easier for us to stay local and go to the gym together than waste a whole day somewhere new.’
‘It’s not wasting a day if you’re doing something fun.’ Her shoulders raise in half a shrug. ‘How long’s it been since you
split up?’
‘He broke up with me just before Christmas last year.’
Bertie raises his voice over the wind. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’
I debate the merits of knocking him out of the canoe with a paddle and making it look like an accident.
She exhales. ‘It was for the best. He wasn’t the right person. But I wish I hadn’t wasted all that time with someone who—’
she stops herself and finishes with, ‘someone whose life plan didn’t align with mine.’
I lean forward. ‘What are the next steps in your life plan, then?’
We notice we’re about to hit the bank at the same time and dip our paddles in to switch direction. Once we’re back on track,
she replies, ‘You’ll make fun of me.’
‘Try me.’
She sighs. ‘Meet someone, fall in love, live happily ever after. Be a team. Uncomplicated and steady and supportive. That’s
it, really.’
‘Maybe you’ll find someone where you least expect it,’ Bertie says.
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ she replies. She doesn’t see his smug smile.
I film some stuff on my phone to post later, and I don’t know what I intend to do with what I shoot on my camera, but I take that out too, focusing on the blurry movement of the water, the ugly reeds on the bank, the mess of Dylan’s hair in the wind. She looks too good like this. Unbound.
‘I don’t like to brag,’ Bertie says. ‘But I know what I’m talking about with relationships. A hundred and twelve thousand
people follow me for my musings on love and sex.’
‘I thought people followed you for your van life content?’ I ask.
‘It’s both. I consider myself kind of a prophet of the universe.’
Dylan’s a better person than me for not reacting. After a minute, she speaks again. ‘I’ve tried dating apps, but they feel
too . . . transactional. I met Jeremy when I was young, so now I’m trying to figure out how to even find something . . . not terrible in this new landscape.’
‘Isn’t dating inherently transactional? You want a specific life, and you’re looking for the person who can help you achieve
it.’ I ask.
She lifts her chin. ‘It’s different.’
‘Is it?’ I lean over the side of the boat to remove a weed caught on my paddle.
She’s quiet, and eventually, she says, ‘I’m not asking for the moon. I’m just looking for someone whose best attempt at wooing
me isn’t the line I’ll fall for you if you trip me up.’
Bertie must only hear the end of the sentence, because he says, ‘Ha, that’s hilarious.’
‘That’s one you use, I take it?’ I ask flatly.
‘It’s the one I’m using now, lmao,’ he says. As in, he says lmao like it’s an actual word.
I blink slowly, while Dylan offers him a smile instead. We bump softly against the bank again, crushing a few bullrushes before
we push off with our paddles.
‘I’m so not a casual dater, though,’ Bertie says. ‘I’m looking for The One.’ He keeps looking around to make sure Dylan’s heard.
Back in the middle of the river, not far from Jude and Arun, I say to Dylan, ‘I’m sorry you have to wade through the dregs
to find what you’re looking for. But for the record, I’d never use a line on you. I don’t tend to need them.’
‘Yeah, I can’t imagine you need much help getting people interested in you.’
‘Why’s that?’ I ask, a grin already hitting my cheeks.
‘Because you’re—’ She catches herself and clears her throat. ‘Just because.’
‘No, please continue. I love hearing what people like about me.’
She turns her face and makes a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a sigh. ‘Is it heavy? That ego you carry around?’
There it is. A loosening of her tongue. It’s concerning how much I enjoy it.
‘Luckily,’ I lean back and let the wind whip across my face, ‘I’m very strong.’
I sneak a few shots of her disgruntled expression and am slipping my camera back into its case as we bump into Jude and Arun’s
boat. Jude grabs the edge of ours and pokes Arun with her paddle to get him to do the same, and we end up with an impractical
double canoe bobbing down the river.
‘What are we talking about?’ Jude says.
‘We are having a private conversation,’ I reply.
‘Dating apps,’ Bertie says from up front.
‘They’re the worst,’ Jude groans. ‘The last guy I spoke to on an app offered me a ride on his yacht, as if that would sway
me somehow.’ She twists her life jacket and tightens one of the buckles. Both Bertie and Arun’s gazes drop to her chest and
I fight a roll of my eyes. ‘Did he seriously think I’d never been on a yacht?’
‘Harrowing,’ I say flatly.
Dylan lets out a quiet laugh, and our eyes snag for a moment. This, at least, is private; her cheeks lifted, her gaze curious, a small moment of stillness on this river.
She shakes her head and turns back to Jude, who says, ‘If you want, we can go out together when we’re back in London. I’ve
got picking up men in bars down to a science. I can tell exactly who’s going to be a good fling and who’s going to annoy me from day one.’
Bertie pipes up, ‘Meeting someone on a form of transport is cute. A bus, maybe. Romcom vibes, you know?’
‘Sorry, mate,’ I call out, ‘the wind is too loud for us to hear you properly.’ I lean forward, elbows on my knees. ‘Dylan’s not—’ I remember last night. Dylan can speak for herself. ‘Go ahead. Why don’t you tell Jude what you’re looking for?’
She throws me a glare that she quickly flattens to indifference when I catch it on her face. ‘A husband.’
Jude nods slowly, and these two might’ve formed the world’s fastest alliance against me, but I know Jude, and I feel a twisted satisfaction watching her try to be supportive here. She pats Dylan’s bench and says, ‘I think
it’s a great idea, if that’s what your heart desires.’
I can’t help the laugh that spills out, which scares some birds resting in nearby bushes. ‘That’s exactly what your heart
desires too, isn’t it Jude?’
Dylan looks between Jude and me. ‘What could be better than finding one person to spend the rest of your life with?’
‘Finding different people to spend different nights with,’ Jude offers with an apologetic shrug.
God knows enough women have spent time with me before finding the love of their life soon after. Every person I’m ever with
seems to sense that I’m only solid in the moment. There’s no future version of me they can cling on to; nothing that wouldn’t
disappear like smoke.
Bertie gives up trying to listen, and triumph surges through me when he turns back to face the river. And when the breeze
picks up, Jude and Arun let go of our canoe to get back on track, and it’s just me leaning on my elbows and Dylan, her body
angled towards mine.
‘My mum has never had great taste in men,’ Dylan says. ‘And growing up, everyone around us always knew when she was in one
of her honeymoon bubbles, knew when a relationship was on the rocks, knew exactly when there’d been a break-up. Everyone knew
everything, and there was so much talk, and I just don’t want that kind of attention on me and my love life.’
I turn the thought over in my head. ‘Because attention makes you uncomfortable?’
‘Bit early to be psychoanalysing me, isn’t it?’
Every time she pushes back, there’s a split second after where she stiffens like she’s balancing on a precipice, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to do it. Go as hard as you can, I want to tell her. As often as you want. I can handle it.
‘Never too early for that,’ I say, and she offers me a whisper of a smile. I might never be the one for her, but I sure as
hell am good at being the one for now. ‘Look, I want to be very clear about something.’
She shifts uncomfortably. ‘What is it?’
‘I understand what this trip means to you. How you want to make the most of this time before you settle down and live out
your plan. And that’s valid, and important.’ I collect my thoughts and lay them out, my voice low. ‘But if you ever want to
forget about your plan for a little while, I’m here. And I’m very good with secrets, Dylan. People won’t talk, because they
won’t know.’
She bristles. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that before you spend fifty years waking up next to a man who ticks all of your boxes, but whose personality sends
you to sleep in the first place,’ I ignore the indignant drop of her jaw, ‘there are other options you can explore. Fun, temporary,
casual options. So if you’d like to try something new, with no expectations of it continuing after the trip . . .’ I shrug. ‘You
know exactly where to find me.’
‘I know what I want, Max,’ she says quietly. I shift position, almost hanging off my bench to get close enough to hear her.
‘And nothing about it is casual.’
‘Guys.’ Bertie’s voice is more annoying than usual, so I ignore it, focusing instead on the warmth of Dylan’s breath on my
cheek and the gradient of her eyelashes, the tightening of the limited space between us.
‘That’s your prerogative.’ Her gaze drops to my mouth. ‘But let me know when you change your mind.’
‘Guys,’ Bertie repeats, louder this time. ‘We’re about to crash.’
The tension snaps and we pull apart to grab our paddles. I can’t help but notice how in sync our movements are, how efficiently we manoeuvre the canoe away from the concrete pillars of the bridge we’re passing under, even with Bertie’s feeble paddling up ahead.
It makes me wonder if our bodies would work this well together in other ways, too.