Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
bedroom eyes should probably stay in the bedroom
Max
Jude doesn’t even look up from her phone as she chucks out a casual, ‘So how long have you and Dylan been sleeping together?’
I walk over to our kitchen, out of her line of sight from the sofa. I open a cupboard and ask, ‘Do you want a mug brownie?’
‘Obviously. But don’t change the subject.’
I grab a few mugs and the little Tupperware tubs that Eileen decanted the ingredients into for me, and glance at the closed
bedroom door, where Dylan’s on the phone with Tahlia. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Flour spills on to the counter when I tip it into the first mug.
‘I took two showers yesterday to wash off all the tension I’ve been wading through.’
I glance over my shoulder, only the top of her dark head visible over the sofa cushions. ‘You took two showers because we
all got caked in mud during raft-building.’
‘Both of you are somehow more tense and more relaxed. Come-hither eyes constantly. Dylan’s stopped scoffing whenever you flirt.
And,’ she leans over the back of the sofa, ‘you’ve been doing your husky bedroom voice non-stop, even when you’re, like, talking about sandwiches. Doesn’t it hurt your throat?’
‘I don’t have a husky bedroom voice.’
‘My point is, Maximalist, I can be very observant.’ At the sceptical raise of my eyebrows, she adds, ‘It’s true; occasionally
I acknowledge that things don’t revolve around me. So don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair later, and you can,’ she kisses
the air twice, ‘smooch to your heart’s content.’
‘Piss off,’ I groan, stirring the contents of our mugs.
‘Listen.’ Her tone is a warning. ‘You’d better be using your little rat brain. I don’t care what this is, but whatever you
do, don’t make her sad. Dylan’s not like us, and that’s a good thing.’
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but considering she’s using me as a distraction before she gets her perfect nuclear family
and house with a white picket fence, I don’t think we’ll have any issues there.’
‘Then it’s you who might get hurt,’ she says with narrowed eyes, pulling herself up to rest her arms on the back sofa cushion.
My laugh is incredulous. I never get hurt, because I don’t get myself into situations where hearts are involved. Dylan and
I get to have this thing for a couple more weeks, and it’ll be good, but then it’ll be done. Tied up with a perfect little
bow before the bad stuff creeps in. Exactly the way it has to be.
‘It’s a mutual agreement. We’re just having fun while we’re here, so don’t make it weird. It’s not your problem. And she doesn’t
want anyone to know, so keep it quiet.’ Dylan laughs from the bedroom, and I feel the urge to escape Jude’s stare. ‘I’m gonna
ask her if she wants a brownie.’
Jude raises a sculpted brow that I choose to ignore, then I head to the closed door of the bedroom. I knock three times and
murmur, ‘It’s me.’
There’s no response, but I open up and find Dyland lying on her stomach on the bed facing away from me, her phone held out in front of her.
It takes every cell in my body to pull my eyes from where her shorts have ridden up.
She lifts her headphones and cranes her neck to look my way, eyes softening as our gazes meet.
‘Sorry, am I being too loud?’ she asks.
‘Me and Jude—’ Shit, Jude was right; I hear the gravel in my voice. I start again. ‘We’re having brownies, do you want one?’
Her answering smile makes my heart falter, and she motions to her phone before saying, ‘Yes please. I won’t be long.’
‘No rush.’ My fingers flex on the doorframe with the ache to touch her. ‘I’ll bring it in.’
She looks back at her screen, then sighs and says, ‘My sister wants to say hi.’ I move closer to the bed. In a low voice,
she points at the person on her phone and says, ‘I’ll mute you if you misbehave.’ Then she shuffles over so there’s space
on the bed and looks up at me. ‘You too.’
‘You wish you could mute me.’ I flop down next to her, electricity running up the length of my body where we’re touching, and look
at the person who takes up so much of Dylan’s heart. ‘Nice to meet you, Tahlia.’
Their mum must have some strong genes, because while Tahlia’s hair is dark and curly against Dylan’s blonde, their faces are
unbelievably similar; same shape, same hazel eyes, and the same prominent Cupid’s bow, which Tahlia appears to be lining with
a pencil, using the phone as a mirror. ‘Max, the pleasure is all mine.’
‘Your greeting is much warmer than your sister’s was last month.’
‘Hey,’ Dylan says, scowling. ‘I was in a weird mood that day.’
‘It’s because she thought you were a dick,’ Tahlia says matter-of-factly, rummaging through what I assume is a makeup bag
out of sight.
‘She wasn’t wrong.’
‘I don’t know,’ she points at me with a makeup brush, ‘I think you’re definitely going up in her book.’
Before I can figure out what Tahlia’s implying, Dylan helps out. ‘T’s talking about how you saved the day getting her to uni.’
‘Nah, that was Ava and Finn.’
‘Well, thank you for organising everything. I really do appreciate it,’ Tahlia says earnestly.
‘I ended up getting there in time to claim a good shelf in both the kitchen cupboard and the fridge. Also, Finn insisted on doing a big Tesco shop for me while I was unpacking, so I’m officially fully stocked. ’
Dylan looks at me in confusion, and it’s news to me too, but it feels like exactly the kind of thing Finn would do. I watch
Dylan make a mental note to thank him, and envision a back-and-forth of her sending him money that he repeatedly returns.
‘See? I hardly did anything,’ I say. ‘And Dylan’s made sure to thank me more than enough.’ Realising that may have come across
as an innuendo that I for once didn’t intend, I add, ‘I think we’re on about three hundred thank-yous by now.’
‘How is it a bad thing to be grateful?’ Dylan challenges, pushing her shoulder against mine.
‘It’s not,’ I say, and when we look at each other, it strikes me how close our faces are. ‘But if someone chooses to do something
for you, they aren’t doing it for your eternal thanks. It’s not a debt to be repaid.’
Dylan rolls her eyes. ‘You love your inspirational speeches.’
‘I’ll stop with my inspirational speeches when you stop with your rules.’
‘Never,’ she whispers dramatically, and for a second I forget that we have an audience. My eyes drop to her grinning mouth,
and I want to close the gap to see how that smile tastes.
Tahlia’s voice brings us back to reality. ‘I hope you’ve been taking care of my sister.’
It takes everything in me not to send a weighted look Dylan’s way, but I reply, ‘I’m hopeless. She’s definitely been the one
taking care of me.’
‘Dyl’s very good at that,’ Tahlia muses.
We continue talking for a while, Tahlia animatedly showing us how she’s decorated her room, but my eyes keep flicking to Dylan
in the tiny rectangle in the corner of the screen. Looking at this person she loves so much, her face is aglow; soft and warm
and golden as the setting sun. It’s the kind of light that makes you forget that shadows exist, even if only for a moment.
Eventually, Tahlia tilts her head and peers at her phone with narrowed eyes. ‘You two look good together.’
‘Okay.’ Dylan elongates the word, offering me an apologetic glance before lightly tapping my arm. ‘She’s been unleashed. I
had a feeling this would happen.’
I take it as my cue to go and shoot Tahlia a smile. ‘It was great to meet you. Glad everything went well in the end.’
As I’m reaching for the door handle, Tahlia’s hushed voice says, ‘And he bakes?’
‘The brownie’s made in the microwave, Tahlia,’ Dylan replies, putting her headphones back on. Just as the door clicks shut,
she adds, ‘But it’s really good.’