I lock the door behind me.
* * *
By the time Saturday morning rolls around, I’ve dismissed any lingering discontent over the lack of smooching in my life. I have a hot, talented boyfriend who is generous enough to put up with my shameless manipulationsandmy tendency to prevaricate. If he isn’t a fan of casual affection, I can deal. Kissing is for saps anyway.
The sun is chillin’ in a clear, blue sky when Ned texts me to say he’s almost here. Grabbing my bag, I head down to meet him in front of my apartment building. The rumble of an engine greets me as I reach the small visitor’s car park. Shading my eyes, I watch an old, beat-up Ford Falcon haul its arse straight out of an 80s movie and onto my street.
Ned pulls up to the curb before leaning over to wind down the passenger window—manually. “Going my way?”
Bending over, I shoot him a dubious look. “What exactly is holding this thing together? Rust or hope?”
“Why can’t it be both?” He snorts a laugh at my obvious horror. “This used to be my dad’s car. I bought it off him a couple of years ago. It runs like a dream, I promise.” He slaps the bench seat beside him with one hand. “Hop in, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
With a resigned sigh, I put my bag in the back and slide into the passenger seat. “Are you looking forward to the festival?” I ask as I settle in and do up my seatbelt.
His smile is tighter than a virgin’s knickers. “Of course. You?”
“Yep.” I keep my hands in my lap and my back straight. I wouldn’t want him to think I’m hoping for some kind of greeting kiss, because I’m not. “Shall we?”
Nodding, he turns away and the car engine roars back to life.
Within minutes we’re hurtling towards the M1 which will take us straight down the coast. When we reach the motorway, it’s packed with carloads of people. Many of them will be heading to the Gold Coast for day trips or weekend getaways. In an hour or so, we’ll leave them behind, travelling another hour south to the coastal town of Byron Bay.
“You know, Ned, two hours is a long time to spend in a car together,” I say as the silence lengthens.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “It is.”
“I’ve been thinking, since we’re boyfriends and all, we could use the time to get to know each other.”
Another glance, this one narrower than the first. “What do you want to know?”
“No dark and painful secrets or anything,” I assure him. “The basic stuff. Favourite movies, favourite books, birth order—because it can tell you a lot about a person. You know, the sorts of things boyfriends should know.”
Ned lifts an eyebrow at me. “See, this is the problem with claiming we’re bona fide boyfriends. This is the stuff people talk aboutbeforethey declare themselves in a relationship.”
I favour him with a sickly-sweet smile. “I’m mentally rolling my eyes at you right now, so you know.” When he snickers, I throw my hands in the air. “Why should we care what order other people do things in? If I did what everyone else does, I never would have survived high school. You have to make your own rules, Ned. It’s the only way to survive.”
He heaves a sigh. “All right, I’m game. Ask away.”
Grinning, I lower my voice to a seductive purr. “I promise to be gentle with you.”
The corners of his mouth lift, but he keeps his gaze on the road. “Not too gentle, I hope.”
“Oh, you are teasing me,” I say with a low chuckle. “Let’s get started.”
We pass an easy hour in conversation as questions and answers flow back and forth between us. We cover all the basics, from movies, sport, music, and books, to where we grew up and our favourite holiday spots. I learn Ned has one older brother and a younger sister. His parents are still married and living up at the Sunshine Coast, where they retired after all the kids moved out of home. He drives up to see them about once a month. Ned himself is living in a share house on the north side of town. It’s cheap and mostly drama free, but he’d like to get a place of his own when he can afford it.
“Have you ever lived anywhere other than Brisbane?” I ask as we cross the border from Queensland into the neighbouring state of New South Wales.
For the first time, Ned hesitates before answering. “I spent a couple of years in Sydney straight out of high school. I was determined to be a famous rock star back then and thought I’d have more luck getting noticed in Sydney.”
“I knew it,” I cry, pointing a finger at him. “You did want to be famous.”
He shrugs. “Once upon a time.”
“I can totally picture you at eighteen. All fresh-faced and full of dreams, hoping for your big break.”
“That was me.” The relaxed timbre of his voice has shifted, taking on a strained edge.
