Yep. Definitely anticlimactic. I tried not to seem overly disappointed as I smiled politely.
“Anyway, I don’t remember what piqued my interest again – maybe it was because they were paying Chris out about something, I always like to see that – but I think they were questioning his bachelor status and running off a list of names of people he rated. They were throwing names at him left, right and centre. Sharnie Maynard, Ellie Parker, Julie Hooper, Laura Pegg – he was just shaking his head, not answering – you know, giving his best Chris Henderson stony death stare – but then something interesting happened.”
“What happened?”
“Sean mentioned your name and his face completely changed.”
I started breathing quickly, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I refused to take my eyes from Amy, I didn’t dare ask what she meant but I didn’t need to as she leaned in closer to me.
“It was like a light switch went on. Sean said ‘Tammy Maskala’ and his eyes lit up; it was all they needed to give him absolute hell about you for the rest of the night. It was like they had discovered this massive secret about him.”
“What did he do?” I breathed out.
Amy laughed. “After he went bright red? He tried to kick them all out, threatened to cut off the beer supply and bar them for life. But you know what?”
I shook my head.
“He never denied it. Not once.” Amy beamed smugly.
“So that’s what you blackmailed him about?” I whispered.
“I said if he didn’t pick you up and give you a lift I would tell you everything I overheard that night about him having the hots for you.”
I blanched. “You didn’t!”
Amy puffed out her chest. “I did.”
Amy then moved on to how utterly amazed she was at how shocked I seemed considering the way we had been acting with each other. The shower, us sneaking off early last night, the shoulder massage … There was no mention of the condom, thank God. Amy revelled in it all. But I was still digesting what between us had been real and what was fiction.
“It’s so obvious you two are into each other, and I would usually be all about the details, but Chris is my cousin so it’s kind of gross.” Amy grimaced as if she were torn between wanting to know and never, ever wanting to know.
“Well, I’ll spare you, because, in all honesty, nothing has happened.”
“Sure-sure,” Amy said as she sauntered back toward the tent.
“It’s true,” I called after her.
Amy shook her head. “You are the worst liar.” She laughed and disappeared through the canvas flap.
I stood in the middle of the clearing, confounded by my new-found knowledge.
Chris actually liked me. It wasn’t all a prank. Then why hadn’t he made a move on me last night? I’d sure given him the opportunity. He hadn’t even looked me over in the way a male appreciates a woman with my lacey white dress last night; in fact, I think his word was ‘nice’, not exactly high praise. He was happy to pretend to be into me for the boys’ benefit, but if he really did like me, why was he holding back?
Oh crap, I don’t know.
All I knew was, I was afraid to hope, but desperate to know. Amy’s story was interesting, but having spent the last two days with Chris it had done nothing but conflict my emotions. With every flash of tenderness from him there was an equal display of broodiness.
I sighed. I wondered what the next leg of the road trip would bring. If there was one thing that was for sure, I was going to push some Chris Henderson buttons and in order to do that I might just have to play my own little game.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Knowledge is power, right?
Then why was it that I didn’t feel the least bit powerful? Amy’s words played over and over in my mind, and as I analytically turned every one of them over in my head, by the time I had readied myself to get into the van, I had all but convinced myself that Amy must have gotten it wrong.
Seriously, it was just a look. Big deal, so his ‘look’ changed.
Hardly an admission of undying love. So what if he hadn’t denied the taunts? Chris wasn’t the sort of person to bow down to pressure – well, unless he was blackmailed by a pesky younger cousin.
A line pinched between my brows, a mirror image to Chris’s as I approached him from the track. I doubted his troubled look was a product of overzealous obsessing about feelings, though. No. Instead, his troubled eyes flicked up to me.
“Are these yours?” he asked, holding a pair of size ten men’s navy Converse shoes. His gaze shifted from them to my petite size six feet and back to these mysterious objects. He turned them over in his hands, inspecting them as if they were a newly discovered ancient relic.
“Ah, no. Actually I better return them.”
I reached for the shoes but Chris lifted them out of my reach.
He cocked his brow. “Bring men’s shoes home often, do you?”
I sighed. “Yes, I am quite the kleptomaniac with a foot fetish. You better guard your Italian leather loafers with your life,” I quipped.
A spark of amusement glinted in his eyes, but the frown remained. “I don’t own Italian leather loafers.”
“Really?” I questioned. “You don’t rock them out with white knee-high socks?”
The corner of Chris’s mouth pinched. “No, but I’ll look into it.”
I reached for them again but he was faster than me, lifting them even higher. If I had been his younger brother I imagined his next move would have been to place his hand on my forehead and, pushing me back, laugh as I wildly swung arms. Luckily, he didn’t go that far.
“Hmm, interesting,” he said mainly to himself as he held one shoe up to the sun, inspecting it.
I placed my hands on my hips. “You can talk. I may have confiscated a pair of shoes on my travels, but let’s not forget what you brought back last night, Christopher Condom!”
Just as my words spilled out, proudly thinking myself quite the word player, the sound of a branch snapped from behind me. My eyes widened; I could almost feel a cold shiver run down my spine as I turned and had my worst fears confirmed.
Adam stood at the edge of the track, arms crossed casually across his chest, grinning from ear to ear as if enjoying the show.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. The bright, devilish white flash of teeth was almost blinding as he looked from Chris to me.
Did I really just call him Christopher Condom?
I wanted to die.
Of all the people to overhear that particular conversation, it had to be his little brother Adam. I could almost see the speculative cogs turning in his head as he filed Christopher Condom into the ‘remember for all eternity and use against Chris’ file.
I didn’t have to look at Chris to know he would be scowling. I didn’t want to know if it was directed at me or Adam.
“What do you want?” Chris bit out.
Plunging his hands into his pockets. “Hey, I’m just the messenger; Sean said it’s time to go.”
Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, I grabbed the shoes out of Chris’s hands.
“I best return these, then,” I said. I looked straight ahead, not daring to meet either pair of their eyes as I moved past Adam and made my way down the track.
Mortified!
***
Seeing only the indented bark chips and scuffed-up dirt as any remnants of Toby and Tess’s campsite, I made my way toward Toby’s lone blue Ford ute, thinking if neither was around I could just slip the shoes in the back of the tray. I was about to veer off the track and cut through the scrub to make my way to the clearing where his car was parked under a towering gum. Skimming my way through the branches, working to push myself through the thicket, I stopped when I heard raised voices beyond the scrubby barrier.
Not wanting to do an Adam and stumble into a private conversation, my eyes darted around for a quick, silent escape.
But as the heated conver
sation escalated, the last thing I wanted was to be discovered, so I had little choice but to crouch behind a bush and ride out the storm.
My heart pounded; I tried to keep still, slow my breaths and not think about the uncomfortable position I had settled myself into. I was soon snapped out of my worry for comfort when I heard what sounded like Toby’s voice.
He was yelling. Pleading with someone. Oh no, had I stumbled across him and Tess fighting? I had thought everything looked okay at breakfast. At least, they were sitting next to one another. And Toby had seemed in good spirits – everyone was.
But clearly not now.
I clenched the shoes to my chest like a life vessel, saddened by the conversation I couldn’t quite make out. I was glad. I didn’t want to hear it.
A slender, blonde figure stormed away, pausing only when Toby snared her elbow.
“Ellie, wait!”
Ellie?
Ellie spun around, her eyes glassy and wild. “You have to tell her!”
Toby’s hand dropped from her; he seemed broken, exhausted. “I can’t.”
“It’s driving her crazy, the way you’re acting. She’s not stupid, she knows something is going on.”
Toby’s eyes were downcast. He slowly shook his head as he mulled over Ellie’s words. “It would ruin everything,” he said.
Ellie wiped away a stray tear.
“Hey, come on.” Toby stepped closer and rubbed her shoulder. “You’re supposed to be happy, not sad.”
She sniffed and smiled weakly. “I am. I am happy. I just can’t wait for it to be over.”
My stomach churned. Whatever was going on, it didn’t sound good.
Toby sighed, pulling her into a hug. “Not much longer.”
What. The. Fuck?
I couldn’t witness any more.
I had been holding my breath for so long I was in serious trouble of passing out. I felt nauseated, bewildered, horrified, angry.
I mean, seriously. What the fuck?
I edged away from them, scrambled to my feet and stormed in the opposite direction. I was so mad at what I had heard I didn’t care if they heard me. Let them bloody hear me. I burst through bushes, crunching a determined line back up the track, my heart pounding, my mind racing, anger bubbling under the surface of my skin before the last defeated emotion slammed into me and my stomach plummeted. I stopped, bent over, hands on my knees as I caught my breath.
Poor Tess. Poor, sweet Tess.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping against hope that what I had witnessed was just a dream, that I would wake up any minute, or maybe even that I’d simply misinterpreted what they’d been saying. Maybe I was on the wrong track entirely.
But as I opened my eyes, blinking and focusing on the pair of shoes I still held in my hand, grasped so tightly my knuckles were white, I didn’t think I was. Anger gave way to sadness. I knew I probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions – hell, only moments before Adam had walked into my own conversation and probably come to his own inaccurate conclusions.
I tried to soothe myself that maybe what I had overheard hadn’t been wildly inappropriate, that Toby’s distance couldn’t be so disturbing. If this was a glimpse of the new century to come then I wanted no part of it.
Not. For.
I threw one of Toby’s shoes.
A. Single.
Then I threw the other one.
Minute.
They both ricocheted off the same gum tree and disappeared in the thick scrub. It afforded me a moment of satisfaction, but it didn’t last for long. I continued my heavy-footed stride up the track. So determined was I to leave the memory behind me I didn’t even see Adam until my shoulder bumped into his as he walked in the opposite direction.
Startled and shunted out of my troubled thoughts, I snapped, “Watch out.”
Adam steadied me with his hand. “Sorry,” he half laughed. “Whoa, woman on a mission. Don’t worry, we won’t leave without you.”
I scoffed. “Since when has that ever been a problem?” My words dripped with sarcasm.
Adam tilted his head as he studied me. In moments when Adam was serious (which weren’t very often), you could really see the resemblance between him and Chris; the familiarity of his focus almost caused me to melt from my defensive stance.
“Are you all right?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
I wanted to blurt out what I had just seen and heard; I wanted to scream it from the treetops so Adam could tell me not to be ridiculous and that I was overreacting. I wanted desperately to be pacified, assured that everything was going to be okay.
Instead, I said, “I’m fine.” I broke my gaze from his sexy, Chris-like eyes.
As I moved past him he caught my arm. “Hey, Tammy. Don’t let my brother upset you. I know he can be a dick sometimes but you know what he’s like.” He shrugged.
What was he talking about?
I tugged my arm free as something primal peaked inside me. I had been in a hell of a mood this afternoon but something in Adam’s words that had been meant to comfort rubbed me the wrong way.
This was so not about Chris. But if it had been … I shook my head. “You don’t know him at all. None of you do, you only see what you want to see. You think just because people seem good and pure on the outside that it means they’re good people? Sometimes people need to stop with the wisecracks and smart-arse innuendos and have a proper look at the person inside, because as it stands, if I had to choose between being stranded with any of you lot or Chris, believe me, I would rather be stranded with him, a hundred percent.”
And just as I was about to lift my chin and stride away like a bad-arse, someone cleared their throat from behind me.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Not again.
Adam nervously rubbed the back of his neck and openly cringed. I didn’t need to guess too hard who was behind me.
Chris displayed a perfect poker face, as if he hadn’t just overheard my mad rant about him.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
I nodded, staring at the dirt as I turned coyly back to Adam.
“Bye,” I said quietly, like a chastised child.
I was so embarrassed. Adam’s mouth had gaped several times during my impressive spiel. I had thought he was trying to butt in, to defend himself and the group from my rage, but thinking about it now, he was probably trying to warn me of the captive audience behind me, the audience I now brushed past on my way toward the van.
This had not been an ideal start to the day. I mean, seriously, it’s not like we were all hanging out in a maze, accidentally turning a blind corner and happening upon heated private conversations. We were camping, for goodness sake. Even if Chris had overheard my character appraisal of him, I couldn’t have been gladder to get into his black panel van and get some distance from everyone else for a while.
Maybe Ringer, Stan and Bell were the lucky ones, away from all the drama, the drama that was no doubt going to get a whole lot worse.
Mercifully, Chris didn’t mention a thing. He simply slid in behind the wheel and fidgeted himself into comfort, inspected the side mirror, selected a cassette and adjusted the volume. He oversaw every action meticulously, like a pilot ticking off his protocols in the cockpit of his aeroplane. I had become accustomed to his little ritualistic tics over these last few days – the familiarity comforted me, and Lord knows I needed to be comforted. Chris pulled into gear and edged us away from what had been our temporary home and I let the sweet sound of Bruce crooning out of the speaker soothe me away from my troubled thoughts.
We pulled behind a line of cars at the mouth of the track that led out of the grounds and spilled off onto the main road. Sean’s suntanned arm rested on the open window of his twin cab at the front of the
queue, Amy by his side with her legs on the dash.
“Next stop, Portland,” he shouted out of his window, saluting his brow and turning onto the main road.
Adam followed next in Ringer’s bright canary yellow Ford, Ellie readjusting her ponytail in the rear-view without a care in the world. They edged out, followed by Toby’s blue ute idling directly before us. My eyes burned into the back of them, my mouth agape as I saw Toby flash a smile at Tess, saying something that made her laugh. So light, so normal as if the only person carrying the weight of impending doom was me.
The burden was heavy, lodged in my chest. I swallowed it down as I slid Chris’s sunglasses over my eyes.
Soon it was our turn and we pulled onto the main road and fell into place behind the conga line of cars winding their way toward the coast, a step closer to Point Shank.
***
I can’t exactly say I was uncharacteristically quiet; I wasn’t a chatterbox to begin with, nor a social butterfly. That was probably the one thing Chris appreciated about me, how I was perfectly content with silence, so he didn’t mind me being his plus one. But there is silence and there is silence, and my silence this time was electric and generated a swirl of tension between us.
A part of me wanted to tell Chris what I had heard between Toby and Ellie. These were his friends, he had a right to know. Maybe he’d tell me what to do. Did I do anything? Did I confront Toby? Tell Tess? Accost Ellie? Or did I mind my own business and stay out of it entirely? My leg jiggled up and down as I mulled it over. It was a nervous habit – it always bounced like that when I was anxious – and apparently it was very annoying, or so Chris said as he reached over and clamped his hand on my knee.
My whole body stilled. The feel of Chris’s hand on my bare leg burned my skin and wiped my memory clean of all my thoughts and troubles. Anytime we came into contact, no matter how big or small, my body reacted in the most disturbing of ways.
“Stop it,” he said, moving his hand away and leaving a warm impression on my skin. I almost wanted to start moving my leg just so he would reach over and touch me again. I crossed my arms and bit down on my thumbnail, concentrating fiercely on not jiggling my leg.