Ah, shit, I think I did. Well, no, it wasn’t that I thought I would, I guess it was just that the wedding planner sorted mine, so I didn’t really think about it.
‘So I can’t take Joseph,’ I say, stating the facts. ‘I can’t take anyone.’
‘Wrong again,’ he says with a cheeky smile. ‘There is someone you can take.’
I just stare at him.
‘Me,’ he says, as though it were obvious. ‘You can take me.’
‘Why, do you have a secret Australian passport?’ I ask sarcastically.
‘No, but I have a New Zealand one,’ he replies.
Again, I just stare at him.
‘That’s where my dad is from,’ he reminds me. ‘So, I have a UK passport and a New Zealand one, and if you’re from New Zealand then you don’t need a visa before you travel to Australia.’
‘Is that true?’ I reply. ‘Like, is it still true? Could the rules have changed?’
‘I spent Christmas there,’ he confirms. ‘I told you, Australia is my family’s supposed midpoint between New Zealand and the UK.’
I laugh. His family sounds almost as interesting as mine.
‘So, unless you know Chris Hemsworth’s number, it seems like I’m your only hope.’
He grins at me, that cheeky twinkle in his eye that usually precedes him doing something crackers… but it’s when he’s crackers that he sets my entire body alight (it’s just that usually, in my experience with him, the room usually follows suit).
I know him, I like him, I trust him, he’s fun to be around, my family will hate him… and, yeah, he’s right. He’s the only one who can get into Australia, the only real contender.
‘Do you have your passport?’ I check.
‘Yep, I keep it in my case,’ he replies, his excited smile slowly powering up.
‘And you have your suitcase but it’s summer there, right? You’ll only have winter things with you.’
‘I’ll go buy some,’ he says, like it’s no big deal. ‘Someone told me all of the shops are minutes apart, it will take me no time at all.’
‘Oh, God, and it’s black tuxedos for the wedding,’ I add.
‘Black tuxedos? In the Aussie summer sun?’ he replies in disbelief. ‘Does your sis want everyone to die?’
‘Probably,’ I say. ‘So long as they die with a wingtip collar.’
‘Right, okay, I’d better get going then, if we’re on?’
His question hangs in the air. He sounds like a little boy, asking if he can sleep over at his mate’s house.
I guess it’s him or it’s no one.
‘Okay, fine,’ I say.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Woo, I’m going to Sydney,’ he says, punching the air. ‘I’ll go buy what I need. Lana, you won’t regret this. I’m going to be the best worst date you’ve ever had. I understand the assignment and, truly, I was born to do it.’
Ethan grabs his things and heads for the door, to go and buy his holiday essentials – and a tux, presumably. Oh God, what have I done? But this is what I want, right? I need someone like him on my arm to show them that I’m my own person, they can’t tell me what to do, or who to date. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more perfect he seems for the job.
