Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
can we pause time for a bit?
Max
‘Come on.’ I move through the living area. ‘I don’t wanna be late for surfing.’
‘You don’t . . . want to be late?’ Dylan presses the back of her hand against my forehead. ‘No fever. Are you all right?’
‘Decided to give punctuality a try.’
Her eyes blaze as she grins. ‘Be still my beating heart.’
I tug her closer to press a slow kiss to her lips, my hand at the base of her skull, where her swimsuit is tied beneath her
jumper. When she lets out a quiet sound of satisfaction, I murmur, ‘Do we need to be on time?’
‘Yes we do.’ She laughs and pushes away from me as someone knocks at the door.
I pull it open to find Jude, a sleepy smile on her face, red bikini strings peeking out from her hoodie. ‘You both ready to
go?’
Dylan approaches me again, holding a familiar black bag out towards me. ‘Try your camera. Even just this week. See how it
feels.’
Jude yawns, stretching slender limbs like a cat. ‘Why are all these activities so early?’
‘Better waves in the morning,’ I reply, setting the camera bag strap on my shoulder. ‘Hope you’re both ready to see a master at work.’
‘I’ll need all the help I can get,’ Dylan says. ‘I feel like surfing’s going to be my downfall.’
I move over to the fridge and take out our water bottles. ‘You’ll smash it. You always do.’
She gives me a bashful look, and Jude flings her head against the doorjamb with yet another multisyllabic yawn.
Dylan roots through her bag as she moves through the living area. ‘Did you remember—’
‘To turn off the plug sockets we aren’t using? Yes I did.’ I pick up her phone from the kitchen counter and slide it into
her back pocket while she grabs her key from the shelf by the door. ‘The same as yesterday, and the day before, and the—’
‘Okay, okay, I get it,’ she says, bumping me out of the way so she can lock up. When she’s done, I pass over her water bottle,
and the three of us shuffle on to the main path, where Fiona and Greg join us and immediately haul her into a conversation.
She’s close enough that the residual glow of her presence still fills my veins, loosening my muscles and softening the edges
of my brain. Sometimes, the second you step off a plane somewhere new, you get this feeling. Being with Dylan like this is a lot like that feeling. You just know, somehow, when a place is for you.
Jude watches me watch Dylan, a feline smirk on her face. ‘You two are sickeningly domestic.’
I think of our daily coffee routine. Our chores. Our jokes. It works. But we won’t, outside the confines of this trip. ‘We live together.’
She huffs a laugh. ‘You sure this is just, what did you call it? A distraction? No hearts involved?’
‘I wish you weren’t involved,’ I say under my breath.
She nudges me with her elbow and her tone softens. ‘I’m just saying, you’re allowed to want that, you know.’
I don’t reply, instead glancing back at our cabin, its blue door a beacon amidst the browns and greys of the wood. The truth is, I’ve never loved playing house more. But ours is a sandcastle, and as fun as it’s been to build together, in the end it’ll be left behind for the waves.
‘Where’d you learn to surf like that?’ I ask Toby, following him out of the water with our boards under our arms.
‘Spent a lot of time in Australia for a project and was pretty much forced into it,’ he says gruffly, pushing dark-blonde
hair off his forehead.
We get to the sand, and I tip my head back towards the water. ‘You’ve got some admirers.’
He follows my gaze, and Jude shamelessly offers us a wave from where she’s lying on her board out in the water. His thick
brows come together and he shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear a thought from his skull.
I don’t want to push it, so I simply ask, ‘No?’
He makes a noncommittal grunt that I can’t translate and shuffles away. Maybe I need to tell Jude this is a lost cause.
I set my board down, dry my hands and pull out my camera, setting the familiar rough strap around my neck. I film short clips
here and there; trenches on the sand where people have dragged their boards, the light dancing on the water, the splash after
Bertie topples in, Dylan’s hand covering up her laugh after the fact, Dylan’s concentration as she sizes up the next wave,
Dylan’s sheer jubilation when she stands up on her board for the first time. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan.
Cheers erupt and Jude lets out a whistle, but everyone else is out of focus compared to Dylan laughing, eyes bright, arms
outstretched, as her board glides along the wave to the shallows, and I’m pulled towards her like the tide to the moon.
I fling my camera around so it’s at my back and wrap my arms around her waist before she’s even fully made it off the board,
lifting her out of the water in celebration.
‘I’m still attached,’ she says through an exhilarated laugh, then looks at me, triumph in her smile. ‘Did you see? I finally stayed up for the whole wave.’
‘I saw every second of it, Tiny.’ I squeeze her once more then set her down, the waves crashing at our shins as she detaches
her ankle from her board. ‘You looked like you belonged there.’
She nods furiously, eyes still blazing, water trailing down her cheeks like tears. ‘I need to try it somewhere else. I felt
so free.’
‘You shou—do you want me to carry that?’ I nod towards her board as we start walking back to the bags, where Bertie is contorting
himself into some yoga pose on the sand. She shakes her head reflexively, but a few moments later I find her sliding the board
under my arm, before taking my camera from around my neck.
‘One time I went surfing in Fiji, and that was incredible. And warm, too, so even your icicle hands would’ve survived.’
‘Is there anywhere closer to home?’
‘There’s this place in Portugal called Ericeira that I think you’d love.’ I drop her board next to mine and she unzips my
wetsuit before turning so I can do hers, and we start the unnecessarily difficult task of peeling the wet material off our
sticky skin. ‘Waves are mad–maybe too mad–but there’s good weather, good food, loads of coastal walks. I’ve wanted to go back for ages. We should plan something,
as soon as—what the hell is he doing now?’
Bertie’s bending over on his towel and I get an unnerving glimpse of him upside down, blonde hair hanging, face a little red.
Dylan cocks her head. ‘I think they call that a downward dog.’
‘You love a downward dog, as I recall,’ I murmur.
I expect her to grin, or roll her eyes, but instead she gasps, and I’m confused until I realise it’s not in response to what
I just said. ‘Oh my god.’ Her eyes are wide, her urgent tone a stark contrast to the laughter that felt like bubbles on my
skin a minute ago. She’s looking at me like she’s seen a ghost. ‘Your neck.’
‘What?’ It comes out as a laugh.
‘There’s,’ she swallows, glancing around us, where half our group is milling about, then whispers, ‘a bruise on your neck.’
This time, my laugh careens out of me, and I step out of her reach and fold my arms to ask, ‘And whose fault is that?’
Her fingers pull at her bottom lip, and the noise she lets out is distress and annoyance all in one. ‘People are going to
see. People are going to figure it out.’
‘Dylan.’ I take a tentative step forward, and when she doesn’t move back, I take her hand away from her mouth. ‘I think they’ve
probably already figured it out.’
‘Well, well, well,’ comes Jude’s voice from behind us, and it’s only this that makes Dylan jump back, pulling her hand from
my grasp. ‘I’m not angry. Just disappointed.’
Dylan splutters, ‘I don’t know what you—’
‘She knows, Tiny. About us.’
Jude smiles, and Dylan whirls on me. ‘You told her?’
‘I did no such thing!’ I say, hands raised in defence. ‘However, when she brought it up, I didn’t deny it.’
‘I’ll leave you guys to it,’ Jude says chirpily.
My head rolls in sync with my eyes until I’m looking directly at her. ‘You are genuinely the biggest pest I’ve ever met.’
‘Love you, bye!’ She flashes perfect teeth and practically skips away.
Somehow, though, maybe Jude’s nonchalance has helped, because Dylan moves closer to me again. But she frowns when she looks
up at me from under her lashes. Her gaze sends a featherlight tingle through my veins. ‘Do you really think everyone else
knows?’
‘Honestly?’ My lips twitch. ‘Yeah.’
She groans, but presses her chin against my shoulder, breath warming my sea-cooled skin. Goosebumps erupt where she ghosts
her lips briefly over my collarbone. ‘And they haven’t said anything because they don’t care, do they?’
‘No one gives a single shit about you getting laid, I promise.’ I fold her into my arms and feel her laugh against me. ‘Except
maybe me.’
She sighs, trailing gentle fingertips across my back. ‘If this is what being casual is, it’s been easier than I thought it’d
be,’ she confesses quietly.
Easier than usual for me, too. Easy to have her nearby. Too easy, having her body pressed against mine. We sway slightly in our embrace, dry sand at the mercy of the breeze, just one gust away from drifting off into the atmosphere.
‘Let’s make the most of it while we’re here.’ She tips her chin up and our mouths come together; practised, fluid, simple.
Easy. ‘Before I go back to reality.’
A reminder that this is just the interval before the rest of her life begins. Before her future starts; one she can see clearly,
years ahead, without smoke clouding the way. Her real life with real goals and the real relationship she deserves.
It’s unfortunate, really. Because right here, with bare feet in cool sand, the lingering taste of salt on my lips, and our
friends’ voices sailing on the wind, is as real as my life will ever be.