Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
if it’s a crime to think about your roommate naked, lock me up
Max
‘You didn’t have to wait for me,’ Dylan says when she comes out of the bathroom and spots me leaning against the kitchen counter,
fully clothed again, hood up. My pulse kicks up a notch at the sight of her. I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to be
that close to someone, nothing but heartbeats and breaths and everything that reminds you you’re alive. It’s one drug I’m
happy to keep taking.
I slide my phone into my pocket, adrenaline still coursing through me. ‘I wanted to.’
She avoids my gaze and instead casts it over the living area and does a double take. ‘Did you tidy up?’
I’m not entirely sure why she’s so surprised about this. Since I set reminders of the house rules into my phone and laptop, I’ve been much better at keeping on top of things, and I assumed she’d noticed. ‘It’s part of our rules, right?’
Still she doesn’t look at me, replying blandly, ‘It looks nice.’
I open the front door and hold it above her head while she grabs her keys from the shelf, and then we walk along the path to the main building in silence, the scent of rain-soaked earth permeating the air.
For the sake of public decency, I’m trying not to think about everything that just happened in the cabin, all the new rules we just set, but it’s difficult when she strides ahead and I remember the exact shape of her under my hands.
‘Did you have fun?’ I ask, catching up with her immediately.
‘Yeah.’
‘Please, curb your enthusiasm.’ Sex with Dylan was remarkably . . . sober. And good. And now she is remarkably quiet. ‘Are you panicking?’
‘No,’ she says through slightly gritted teeth, stepping over a puddle.
‘You’re panicking. Why?’
She lets out a frustrated little huff. ‘Please stop . . . noticing me.’
I click my tongue. ‘No can do, I’m afraid.’
‘We’re already late for the games tournament.’
‘Then they won’t care if we’re two minutes later. Talk to me.’
She freezes on the path, and I wait for her to think it through. ‘I just . . . I thought my head would feel better after we
did that.’
‘I thought my head would make you feel better, too.’
‘Oh my god.’ She releases a long exhale and says, ‘I’m worried people are going to be able to tell something happened between
us, and I really don’t want anyone to think I’m just another one of your playthings.’
‘I could become one of yours.’
‘Would you just listen, without making one of your quippy little remarks? You don’t get it.’
‘So make me. I can’t understand if you don’t explain.’
She spins her friendship bracelet around her wrist and says, ‘I’m embarrassed to be seen as someone who sleeps around. That’s
it. I know I initiated it today, but that’s how I feel.’
‘First of all,’ I step in front of her, but she tries to get around me, ‘unless you’ve been sneaking Bertie in without me knowing, you’re not sleeping around.
And secondly,’ my outstretched arm blocks her from going any further, ‘no one’s going to think anything, because they won’t know.
And even if they did, what’s embarrassing about it?
Who gives a shit what other people think about what you’re doing? ’
‘I just feel weird. I’m not used to . . . wanting this. I didn’t . . . it didn’t feel so necessary with my ex.’
‘Have you considered that maybe you just weren’t that into him?’
She releases an irritated huff. ‘You ask so many questions.’
‘I’m asking questions because you’re an interesting person who doesn’t willingly give answers. Are you genuinely saying that
you’re stressed out because you’re usually not horny?’
‘I’ve never been a casual dater.’
‘People change.’
‘Not me,’ she hisses. ‘People rely on me. And they rely on me to be a sensible woman who doesn’t let her emotions get the better
of her.’
‘You think wanting to get laid means you’re letting your emotions get the better of you?’
‘I think that I’ve been in two relationships, and the intimacy I liked most was the companionship. The familiarity. The domesticity.
Other forms of intimacy were just okay, and that didn’t bother me. What bothers me is being seen as someone I’m not. I don’t want people to think—’
‘That you enjoy sex?’ I lower my arm but she doesn’t move. ‘I can’t figure out if you’re judging other people, or yourself.’
‘I don’t care what other people do; I care about myself. It’s complicated.’ She looks at her feet and kicks a pebble away before finally meeting my eyes. ‘My mum never stuck with
one person, and that’s her choice, but I heard what people said about her and I hated it. I hated seeing her change for every
man she was with, and panic about falling pregnant, and rely on them even though they constantly let her down, right up until
they left and broke her heart. It happened over and over.’
‘Hey.’ I reach out to touch her hair instinctively, but she’s pulled it back so tightly there’s nothing to hold, so I tuck
a finger under her chin instead. ‘That’s fair, but you’re not her.’
‘That’s the point. I don’t want to be her, or make the same mistakes she has.
She sacrificed everything for me, put her life aside to raise me, worked ridiculous hours to keep us afloat, and I love her so much, but I don’t ever want to be like her, not in that way.
’ She tugs her sleeves over her hands. ‘I don’t want to be constantly jumping from one thing to the other.
I don’t want men who come and go, I don’t want to be doing shift work forever, I want Tahlia to have it easier than I did and, I want my mum to stop having to work so hard.
I want us to be comfortable, and I want one man to spend that whole, comfortable life with.
I want to know that someone will be there.
For me. With me. Forever.’ Her cheeks go pink as she avoids my gaze.
‘I already feel like I gave some of my best years to my ex, and being
casual about relationships isn’t going to help me find what I really want.’
I run a palm down my face, stubble rough against my skin. ‘Jesus, Dylan, you put so much pressure on yourself.’
‘I have to.’
I shake my head. ‘Not everything has to have an endgame, you know. You can do things because they’re fun. You can just let
yourself be, sometimes.’
She looks at me, hazel eyes blinking, like she’s really never considered this possibility before. The faintest drizzle mists
the air, and it settles on the fabric of our clothes.
‘Are you happy, back home?’ I ask.
Her lips part, but she takes a few moments to respond. ‘I will be.’
‘And when you imagine yourself in a few years, helping your family with the money from your job, with your fancy fiancé and
a nice house, are you happy then?’
‘I see myself settled.’ She starts walking again, bowing her head against the mist, and I follow.
‘You’re avoiding my question.’ She glances over at me but doesn’t answer, and that’s answer enough. ‘Have you been happy on
this trip?’
Her smile’s wistful for a moment, but she blinks it away until her face is blank. ‘It doesn’t matter how I feel right now.
It’s not real life.’
‘It does matter.’ The main building appears through the mist up ahead. ‘The version of you five or ten years in the future
will be a now someday too. Are you going to ignore that Dylan’s happiness, as well?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that this is real life. You focus so much energy on becoming something, striving for something, existing in this other place in time, when those don’t even exist. You exist. Right here.
You act like the future is solid, but it’s not.
It’s impossible to catch.’ I’ve tried. Trust me, I’ve tried.
I let out a long breath and hold her gaze so that my words sink in.
‘So don’t ignore how you feel right now just because it’s
not going to last. Temporary is real, too.’
I think of shooting stars, of sunset colours gone in the blink of an eye, of a life that blazes so brightly it’s only a matter
of time before it burns out. I think of how special it is to even have the now.
I nudge her softly. ‘You matter today, Dylan.’
We reach the main door, and I can tell by the way her shoulders have dropped that she’s turned this over in her head. She
pauses before heading in, nodding slowly. ‘Maybe you’re right. I should take this for what it is.’
‘What was that?’
‘I should take—’
‘No, the first bit.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘You’re right.’
‘Thank you. But you should. Take this for what it is, I mean. You have all the time in the world to work on your life. Now’s
for fun.’
She tilts her head to analyse me. ‘You’re too good at this. Talking things out. Seeing things clearly. Should I thank your
therapist?’
‘There’s probably a lot you should thank Marianne for.’
We weave between tables towards the back of the empty dining hall, where animated voices spill out of the open door to the
games room.
‘I did have fun just now,’ she says quietly. ‘In case that wasn’t clear.’
I let out a quiet chuckle. ‘Don’t worry. It was clear.’
‘This kind of thing is what you do best, isn’t it? It’s . . .’ Her nose wrinkles while she thinks, and I shove my hands in
my pockets to keep from running my fingers over the ripples at the bridge. ‘Hedonistic.’
‘If you ever want to be hedonistic with me again, I’ll be here. However you need. No expectations, no pressure.’
She bites down on her lip. ‘Do you really mean that? Whatever happens next is up to me?’
My gut twists at the idea that she’s ever been in a situation where she didn’t feel like she could be in charge. ‘If all you
want is someone to warm up your freezing feet in the night, I’ll do that. Just let me know.’
‘You do that for me anyway. I don’t even have to ask.’
‘Yeah, well on that note, your circulation is terrible. Please see a doctor when you get home.’ She laughs softly, and it settles into me. ‘And if you never want to be anywhere near me
again, well . . .’ I heave a dramatic sigh. ‘I had ideas, but I’ll survive.’
She tugs my sleeve before we step through the door, and her voice is barely audible. ‘I’d like to find out what some of your
ideas are. At some point.’
I duck my head to her ear under the guise of fitting under the low doorframe. ‘Ball’s in your court, Tiny.’