Chapter Twenty-Five
KALLEN
After soaking in the bath for an hour, I start ironing my favourite baby blue shirt while taking in the river view from our balcony.
The more I look at it – palm trees, calm, inviting water hit by sun rays – the further it releases today’s minor inconvenience into the ether.
That is, until Dan bursts back into the hotel room, floral shirt unbuttoned, his skin kissed with a touch of pink.
‘Hey, how was your nap?’ he asks, picking up his backpack from the couch and taking it into the bedroom.
‘Uh…the bath consumed me so much that I didn’t get time for one,’ I say nonchalantly.
‘Oh damn,’ he calls out from the other room. ‘You’ll just have to get an extra good sleep tonight.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah. You don’t snore, do you?’
He pokes his head around the opening of the bedroom. ‘As far as I’m aware, I do not snore.’
‘Good,’ I say, my gaze now fixed on him. ‘Are you okay?’
He snorts a laugh. ‘Yeah, sorry. You just look so…majestic, um, ironing your shirt with that view behind you.’
I stifle a smirk. ‘I chose this spot for a reason. ’
He moves back to the bedroom, calling out, ‘So the pool area is amazing. Met some awesome girls down there who work in media. Had a pina colada with them and did a bit of sunbathing. They’re here on the same trip we are.
I think a few media companies are here, and they’ll all be at the sunset party. ’
‘Ooooh, pina colada,’ I sing back. ‘Explains why you’re so chirpy. I’m kinda jealous.’
He pops his head around again. ‘Well, you should’ve come down.’
I flick my hand forward. ‘Nah, the bath did wonders. I definitely needed it.’
His mouth curves upward as he says, ‘That’s good.’
After another ten minutes, I finish ironing my shirt. Meanwhile, Dan is still in the bedroom, folding, hanging his clothes in the shared closet. He stops at the bed as I enter the room.
‘Um, so, I was going to ask,’ he begins, cracking a grin. Stupid fucking tipsy prick. ‘Sorry. I was going to ask, what side of the bed do you want to sleep on?’
Arsehole has me attempting to not laugh. ‘Very funny. You should just leave the humour to me, okay?’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
Stopping at the bed, I look at both sides before eventually saying, ‘I’ll take the left side. It’s closer to the balcony in case I need to jump from it after discovering you’re a terror to sleep next to.’
Dan moves his backpack to the right side of the bed. ‘You really are dramatic. You know that?’
I shrug. ‘Someone has to be. ’
He gives a quick, amused huff, then throws some of his belongings into the bedside drawer. I’ve already started getting changed into what I’ll be wearing for the night, studying myself in the life-size mirror as I do so.
‘That shirt looks nice on you,’ Dan tells me before leaving the room.
It takes me a few seconds for his compliment to register. But when it does, I call out a ‘thanks,’ attempting to ignore my quickened heartbeat and the tingles at the base of my neck.
Are we flirting? Is this flirting? It sure feels like flirting. How can something so wrong feel so – I don’t know – natural?
From the bathroom, pitter patters of the shower water hitting the floor have my mind wandering. To the view I would get if I opened that shower door right now, hopping in with him for my fourth rinse of the day.
Keep your shirt on, Kallen. You just spent a million years ironing it, you horny fucker.
As I spread an ample amount of concealer under my eyes, Dan ambles out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist. Absolute tease and he knows it.
I carefully rub the concealer into my skin, holding my eyes back from twisting to the right, to where Dan is getting changed inside the walk-in closet.
‘How do I look?’ he soon says, snapping me out of my mirror daze.
‘Terrible,’ I say on first glance. When in fact he looks more dapper than I’ve ever seen him. Blue linen shirt akin to min e, just a little darker. White chinos. ‘Kidding. You look…fine,’ I correct myself.
He puckers his lips. ‘That could mean multiple things. Does it mean I look just okay or ‘fine’, like, great ?’
Our eyes are like heavy magnets from across the room, king bed the only barrier between us. ‘Uh…the second one,’ I admit, my eyes shifting to the left.
He beams as he says, ‘Right back at you.’
*
The party is held at Blue’s Santorini-inspired beach club down past the pool, right on the shores of the river. The sun casts a soft pink glow, creating a distinct reflection in the river as it sets.
Around twenty people are huddled in groups by the water’s edge and around firepits.
Underneath a shelter, bartenders serve drinks while a DJ spins ambient house music to soundtrack the mood.
No one’s dancing. The indistinct chatter, on the other hand, is something I notice as soon as we saunter into the party.
Same goes for the notes of wood smoke that fill the air.
‘It’s always easier when you know at least one person,’ I mumble, sipping on the spritz cocktail handed to me by a waiter.
‘I’ll try and find the girls I met before,’ Dan says, scanning the crowd.
‘Dan!’ calls a woman’s voice from behind me.
It’s Shannon Patsy, the award-winning editor of City Play magazine.
And she looks just as magnificent as she does in her modelling photos, i.e.
, her Instagram, where most o f them are posted.
Shannon is a somewhat powerhouse in the Brisbane writing and modelling communities.
I’ve briefly spoken to her at a couple of media events, though only surface level conversation before she’s whisked away by someone who wants to get a photo with her.
Now she’s standing at a table by the river with two other young women, calling Dan over.
Her coruscating blonde bangs sit atop her cherry red cocktail dress, both glimmering as she makes any sort of movement under the lights.
Dan shoots over to them without so much as a gesture for me to follow.
I trail behind him as he greets them with open arms. Shannon is first to hug Dan, followed by the other two.
But it’s Shannon who can’t keep her twinkling eyes off Dan, flicking her hair every time he looks at her.
Meanwhile, I hug the two girls beside Shannon.
Heather, who works in marketing, and Bec, who’s employed at City Play with Shannon.
Shannon offers me a friendly glance – once she’s done eye fucking Dan.
Their star signs must be the most compatible of all, because after another spritz, Dan and Shannon are talking each other’s ears off about how companies like to get the most out of their workers by encouraging them to cover three people’s job descriptions.
I turn to Heather and Bec. ‘Relatable, right?’
‘ So relatable ,’ Bec stresses. ‘They’ve got me being a social media manager, writer, graphic designer, and content creator. It’s a lot.’
‘Welcome to the media world,’ I say, f ollowing it with a metaphorical billboard made with my hands. ‘It’ll take your soul in exchange for luxury served on a silver platter.’
Blake first introduced me to Shannon Patsy’s Instagram when I started at Untold Media.
There was a rumour circulating that after Shannon released her debut novel, she’d bought a whole heap of reviews to make out the book was more successful than it was.
From there, she went on to become a household name.
Her Instagram following grew exponentially, so whether she faked it until she made it is a distant memory.
I couldn’t care less whether Shannon bought her way to influencer fame or not.
What I do care about, it seems, is the way she’s staring into Dan’s eyes, both of them now at the bar ordering another drink. It’s like Dan’s lapping up the attention, too, pretending he’s straight for tonight.
Is he doing this as a way to make me jealous?
Because it’s working, as much as it pains me to confess.
By the way Dan is laughing, meeting her soulful gaze, the more I think maybe Dan isn’t completely gay.
Perhaps tonight is the night he’s going to turn bisexual for Shannon Patsy, and I’m going to have to spend the next three days watching a cringeworthy romance play out between the two – him sneaking off to her room, going on walks along the river together.
The thoughts send a sharp pain to my stomach, but it’s soon interrupted by someone I never thought I’d be happy to see.
‘Hello, media gurus,’ Nicholas Gage greets us fanatically. ‘How are you enjoying the party?’
‘It’s great,’ Heather replies with a faux smile .
‘What she said,’ I echo, my otherwise filtered tone set free from its leash.
‘That is truly splendid to hear,’ Nicholas says, throwing his palms together. He swiftly zeroes in on me. ‘Mister Jeffries, I do want to apologise again for the miscommunication with your room. I’ve gotten our lovely room service gal Amy to slide some complimentary drink cards under your door.’
With the way this evening is shaping up to be, I might need them.
He turns to Dan and Shannon, still standing at the bar, even after collecting their new drinks. ‘By the looks of it, you might have the room to yourself some of the time.’
So it’s not just me seeing the flirtation circus act happening over there! Nicholas follows through with a cheeky wink, fishing out a business card from the front pocket of his shirt. ‘If you do get lonely, please, give me a text. I love making all of our guests feel extra welcome.’
Naturally, my eyes pop open as far as they’ll go, but somehow out of reflex coupled with a sickeningly fake smile, I take Nicholas’ business card and he walks off to chat with the next group of party guests.
‘Wow, he really doesn’t have any shame in flirting with hotel guests,’ Bec remarks.
‘Yeah, honestly,’ I agree with a passion. ‘If he flirts with the wrong guest, that’s a recipe for termination of employment.’
‘He’s hot, so I guess he can get away with it to a certain extent,’ Heather shrugs.
She’s correct in saying so, and I’m starting to see it in Nichol as. Even though he’s frightfully annoying, perhaps I will give him a text if Dan ends up with Shannon.
*
After downing another spritz cocktail with Heather and Bec, I shoot my eyes back to the bar, to where Dan and Shannon were standing moments ago. My heart drops as I discover they’ve disappeared. And after glancing at every person standing around the now-crowded bar, the two are nowhere to be seen.
My chest tightens. ‘Did you see where Dan and Shannon got off to?’ I ask Heather and Bec, who are zoned out, glued to their phones.
Heather looks up. ‘Mmm, nah, I didn’t. I could do with another drink, though. Wanna go to the bar?’
I fake-yawn. ‘Nah. I think I’ll head back to the room. I’m pretty beat.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Heather says, standing from the table and joining the beeline for the bar with Bec.
When walking back to the hotel, I consider messaging Nicholas, but ultimately tell myself to at least wait until I get to my room.
As soon as I reach the top of the steps, a glowing waterfall gushes from a stone ledge to my right, and instantly, I’m mesmerised.
It’s lit blue, and as I move closer, a sensor picks up my movements, the water swaying with it. I allow a soft laugh before moving on.
By the time I arrive back in the room, my idea of messaging Nicholas becomes less of an exciting one, if at all. And so, I lay back on the bed, trying not to think about Dan with someone else while I’m here alone.