Chapter 10
Ten
do not stalk your roommate on social media
Dylan
The games room hums with quiet activity. It’s packed with comfy couches and chairs, mismatched rugs covering the ancient-looking
wooden floorboards, bookshelves lining the walls packed with board games and battered paperbacks. Jude’s next to me on one
of the sofas flicking through an old bodice ripper while I catch up on my messages after a day of being away from my phone.
Ava: be honest, how has Max been?
Ava: do I need to give him a stern talking-to yet?
Ava: happy to be bad cop on your behalf
It’s been nice this past year, having Ava around.
She pulled me in when I didn’t even realise I was feeling lonely, and she’s stayed nearby ever since.
She was there at my graduation last month, sitting next to Tahlia in the audience, and she kept inviting me to things even when I was still with Jeremy and hardly ever said yes to them.
I don’t want to ruin that–not by seeming ungrateful for this trip or being rude about her brother, and certainly not by taking Max up on his outrageous proposition and doing something that could irreparably jeopardise this friendship.
Dylan: He’s been great ?
Ava: . . .
The three dots appear and disappear for a good twenty seconds before she replies again.
Ava: ffs
Ava: I’ll tell him to chill out
I don’t have the chance to question how she somehow saw through the lie in my text, because Jude gets my attention.
‘Can you do me a favour? The picture I just posted looks really blurry on my phone and I don’t know if it’s a glitch or if
it actually uploaded like that. Could you check on yours?’
I go to her profile. ‘This one? Looks fine to me.’
It looks more than fine, actually. Jude’s entire feed is like getting a peek into the coolest girl in school’s scrapbook.
‘You know, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be on a trip like this. Didn’t you used to post more,’ I search for a word that won’t
offend her, ‘aspirational content?’
She lets out the most unladylike snort and sets her phone and book in her lap. ‘Yeah. Years ago I pretty much exclusively
did luxury collaborations, but I realised I wanted to do more with my platform, so I slowly pivoted. But it got me bit of
a reputation for being kind of shallow.’
‘Does that bother you? You don’t seem the type to care what people think.’
‘I’m not. And I’m not bothered about changing people’s minds about me, either.
’ She twists her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.
‘But I do want to make content that fits the person I am now, and my management and I agreed this trip was a good opportunity to do that. I still have expensive taste, and I’ll keep
posting about that, but most of my recent work revolves around this idea of being solo in a world that’s not built for individuals.
I’m trying to build a community and prove things like this can still be fun even if you go alone.’
‘I like that.’
‘What about you? What made you come here?’
‘My sister kind of forced me. Max’s sister, too, actually. They both thought I should stretch my legs and leave London for
a bit. I already had some annual leave booked, so everything lined up perfectly.’
‘Did you have other plans for your annual leave originally?’
’Kind of. But more important things kept getting in the way, and then it was too late to plan and too expensive to book something
by myself.’ And I didn’t want to do it alone. I’ve never wanted that.
‘I get that.’ She moves on with a stretch and a groan and says, ‘God, I did not realise whitewater rafting was going to be so strenuous. I ache in places I didn’t know I could ache.’
‘It was those rapids, I swear. My muscles still think we’re about to capsize.’
A loud laugh cuts through the buzz in the air–it’s Max talking with Fiona and Greg, the retired couple, and Arun, who’s hanging
on to Max’s every word like he’s sharing the gospel.
Max’s ludicrous proposition has been swirling around my head, try as I might to lock it away with other stupid decisions I’ve
made–which are, by design, extremely few and far between.
He glances my way and keeps looking for far too long, head tilted in question. It’s only when I realise I’ve been looking back at him the whole time that I move my gaze,
only to find Jude watching me instead, amused.
‘He’s direct, isn’t he?’ she asks.
‘Pushy, more like,’ I mutter.
‘Does it make you uncomfortable?’ For a moment, the mirth in her expression drops, and I feel a surge of gratitude for this woman who’s only known me for a week but looks like she’d fight him on my behalf if I said yes.
Unnerved? Yes. But uncomfortable? ‘No, it doesn’t.’
She nods knowingly. ‘You secretly like it.’
I play with my friendship bracelet. ‘I’m not used to the attention, that’s all. I’ll get over it.’
I’m not just going to drop my underwear for the first man to look at me that way since my ex.
Well, if we can even say that Jeremy ever looked at me that way. I don’t remember it feeling like this.
‘He doesn’t deserve you, anyway.’ She wiggles further down the sofa, plumping up the embroidered cushion behind her to get
comfy with her book and tucking her socked feet under my thighs. It reminds me of how Tahlia and I huddle on the sofa together
most evenings, and my ache for that kind of closeness ebbs a little.
I go back to my phone and mindlessly scroll for a while. Someone’s posted a story of our instructor helping us on to the raft,
and when he holds out a hand for Jude, she accepts it with a smile that visibly makes his knees buckle.
‘You look good in a helmet,’ I say in disbelief. ‘How do you look good in a helmet?’
‘The alternative is looking bad, and I simply refuse to do that,’ she replies, as if it’s really that easy.
‘And the wetsuit? It’s unfair.’ I turn my phone towards her, showing her a clip from Max’s story of me in my suit, hair damp
at the ends. ‘This could easily be the worst thing I’ve ever put on my body.’
‘I cannot express how passionately I disagree,’ Max says, appearing in front of us. He ducks under a low-hanging light before
dropping into the gap between Jude and me, nudging her feet out of the way. ‘You looked unreal.’
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I ignore Jude’s smirk from behind her book while she tucks her legs in for Max to sit.
Meanwhile, I avoid Max’s gaze, because it feels too much like a caress, and my touch-starved body isn’t smart enough to deal with that right now. I look at his shoes instead, and wonder, not for the first time, what the point in tying your shoes is if you let half the laces trail on the floor.
‘Do you have location tracking set up for whenever anyone looks at any of your stuff?’ Jude asks Max.
‘No,’ he says evenly, ‘but if I did, it’d be pinging from Dylan’s room every night.’
‘What?’ I clutch my phone to my chest. That’s not a thing, right? Please say it’s not a thing.
‘You always watch my story, but still haven’t followed me. Or let me follow you.’
‘Stop keeping tabs on me,’ I mutter.
He spears me with a look. ‘Please consider the hypocrisy of what you just said.’
‘I have to keep an eye on everything you post.’ I point at my screen and accidentally like one of his posts in the process;
a stupidly good photo of him with his wetsuit around his waist, tousled wet hair, eyes that make it seem like he’s been caught
doing something he shouldn’t. This is, incidentally, not the first time I’ve seen the photo. He tries not to smile while I
pointedly unlike the post and steel myself to add, ‘Could you check with me the next time you’re thinking of posting something
with me in it?’
‘Of course. Sorry, I should’ve asked.’ I raise my eyebrows at the unexpected apology, and he continues, ‘I’m posting one video
a week over the next six weeks. How about, whenever you’re in them, I show you before they go live? If that works.’
It’s a genuine suggestion for once, so I reply, ‘That works. Thank you.’
He flops against the back cushion. ‘Just so you know, I’ve had multiple messages asking who you are. People want to know who
the tall, hot blonde is. Their words, not mine.’ He flashes me a grin that goes straight to my stomach. ‘But they’re not wrong.’
And he’s back.
‘You should get their details.’ Jude’s face is hidden behind her book, but I still hear the smile in her voice. ‘Maybe one
of them will be your husband.’
Max snorts and I send him a glare that just makes him laugh again.
‘You two are a terrible duo,’ I mutter.
‘Why am I involved in this “you two”? I didn’t even mention your husband hunt.’ Max lifts his hands in surrender, which sends
one of his elbows pressing into my arm.
I shift away, closer to the end of the sofa, though a part of me wants to lean into his side. For warmth. Because I run cold.
Definitely no other reason. ‘You didn’t have to. You both think I’m ridiculous. And highly strung.’
‘I think,’ Jude slowly lowers her book, ‘you are strung some distance above the ground. In an endearing way.’
‘In an endearing way,’ I repeat with a sigh, flopping my head against the sofa too. I’m not going to beat these allegations,
and I don’t even want to. ‘You’re not going to convince me I’m wrong for thinking ahead and wanting an actual future with
someone. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
Inexplicably, a shadow crosses Max’s face, wiping away the smirk that usually sits there. ‘No, there’s nothing wrong with
that. I’m sure you’ll find that person someday.’ He scratches his hip absent-mindedly, but as soon as he catches me looking,
he rests his hand on his knee and puts his smile back on. The difference is jarring. ‘Please let me show you some of those DMs I received. One guy sent a haiku.’