Chapter 15 #3
Blood drips down his arm from the gash on his hand, and he blinks down at it like he didn’t feel it. I unscrew the cap on my water bottle and dump it on his skin, offering a sympathetic smile when he grimaces.
He lets me examine the wound for any debris, and once I’m happy there are no rocks or tiny bugs in the cut, I dab it with gauze.
“Do you need the ointment?”
I gag. “Don’t say that word. It’s a horrible word.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Noted.”
“But yes, please.”
He laughs, and the sound soothes the ache forming in my chest. With his free hand, he leans forward and plucks a small white flower from a stem. Removing the baseball cap from my head, he smooths out my hair and tucks the bloom behind my ear.
My mouth dries, my pulse racing like I’m running the hundred-yard dash.
His fingers linger a moment too long, and the sound of kicked gravel fills the space between us. He rips his hand away as Molly and Doug appear, staring at us like we’re a train wreck.
In some ways, I guess we are.
“Are you all right?” Molly asks, concern etching her features.
“I tripped and took Jett down with me. We’re okay.”
“The camera?” Doug asks.
See? I wasn’t the only one worried about the expensive film equipment.
“All good,” Jett confirms. Then, in a low voice meant only for me, he mutters, “We could have been abducted by aliens, and we’d be long gone before they noticed.”
“You’re hurt,” Molly wails, fluttering around Jett like a mother hen with a furrowed brow and steep determination to fix something.
He waves her off, huffing a laugh. “I’m fine. My girl fixed me up.”
Excuse me? His girl?
Nope. I’m ignoring it. A slip of the tongue. He’s discombobulated from his fall and doesn’t know what he’s saying. The same way my heart doesn’t realize it was an error and not a declaration.
Doug gives me an up-down and then Jett. “A group let me know there’s a koala about fifty meters ahead. They marked the spot for others.”
“Awesome!” I clap my hands and immediately regret it when pain spears up my arm. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
I don’t wait around, needing space from his my girl comment. If by his girl, he means his employee, fake PR girlfriend, and newly appointed best friend, then yes, I am his girl.
Yeah, that’s what he meant.
The hiking path levels out, and right before a bend, an arrow made of sticks points at a large eucalyptus tree. A group of college-aged students stands at the edge of the path, phones out, pointing up to the branches.
They’re moving on when I reach the spot, and while Jett, Doug, and Molly catch up, I scan the branches until I find a gray blob leaning against the tree.
Large round ears stick out from its plump body pressed to the bark.
It’s camouflaged well, the gray and white of its fur blending in with the wood.
It rustles, head shifting to face the path. The large black nose and wide mouth come into view, and I suppress a squeal.
“Oh my god,” Molly says in awe.
“Radical,” Jett whispers.
We spend a few minutes doing nothing but admiring the creature hanging out in its natural habitat. One reason I added Magnetic Island to our itinerary was to capture film of a wild koala. Satisfaction courses through me at the success.
Jett and Doug move around the tree, searching for different angles. I give them the space to work, silently thanking the fluffy guy for behaving for the cameras and for sleeping in the tree.
“You’re going to be a star,” Jett whispers, and I suppress a giggle.
Not well enough, though, because his head snaps to mine, and his lips tug up at the corner.
Switching SD cards and lenses, they grab a few more minutes of film, and then we bid farewell to our new friend.
The rest of the hike up to the fort is quiet—the incline and stairs ensure I can’t speak and breathe simultaneously—but when we reach the top of the old World War II fort’s lookout, the view steals my breath again.
Holding the metal railing, I gaze out at the endless sea, shifting from teal into a dark navy. Bright sunrays illuminate the trees’ varying greens, and I soak in the view, trying to appreciate where I am—how lucky I am to be here.
Jett appears beside me, and for a while he says nothing.
Content silence settles between us while we admire the landscape.
The second my heartbeat settles, he shifts, and his pinky grazes mine.
I hold my breath, waiting for the touch to disappear, but it remains for as long as we stand there—it could be for eons, I wouldn’t know.
I muster the courage to look at him, and when I do, he’s already staring at me. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and a rogue thought appears.
I think I want to kiss him.
Undiluted panic nearly causes me to stumble, and I snatch my water bottle from my backpack hanging off his shoulders. The ice-cold water does nothing to cool my skin or still my racing pulse.
“Ready to head back down?” Doug asks.
He takes my hand as I fumble down the steep steps, and I hightail it to the start of the hiking path.
We make it back to the bus stop where we started, and one thing is clear: I might have developed unprofessional feelings for my boss and friend.
This is not fucking good.