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"Oh. Are you flying up to Brisbane, too?"
"No."
I heave out a breath. "You're being frustrating again."
"Relax. You will love what I have planned. I swear. I haven't let you down yet, have I?Today, I mean," he hastily adds. "I haven't let you down today?"
"No. You haven't," I concede.
A few minutes pass, and we pull up at a red light. Wilby turns to face me, looking serious…ish.
"I know you're not exactly an open book like me, and that's totally cool. I actually like that you're unreadable. Makesyou all mysterious and shit. And I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, so if I do, you call tell me to piss off. And I apologise for my word vomit, which I am currently in mid-stream of. Also, I apologise for using the wordvomitaround you, and I'm making a mental note to banish it from my vocab. Anyway, what I was getting at before getting sidetracked is what I'm going to say now."
He takes a breath because at some point he has to. "We're probably never going to see each other again, so I'd really like something from you."
"Is it my American sausage?"
Wilby's laugh stretches around us, filling the entire car. "It wasn't, but that's way better than what I had in mind. Wait. Are you hungry?"
"What makes you say that?"
"First the chicken wings. Now the sausage. I'm picking up on a theme."
"I can always eatexceptfor before a flight. What were you going to say?"
He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. "Tell me something no one knows about you. It doesn't have to be anything big or serious. It can be something silly even, but it has to be something no one else knows."
The light turns green, and we take off.
"Why do you want to know?"
He shrugs. "I just do. It'll be a nice memory for me to have of you."
"Jerking each other off in the ocean isn't enough of a memory?"
"Mate, I do that all the time."
He turns, sees my face, then laughs again. "I'm joking."
We drive in silence for a while. I run a hand through my still damp hair, formulating a response. I've never found talkingeasy. I don't see the point of opening up. What does it actually achieve?
Last holidays, Dad and I had a proper heart-to-heart, and I've started seeing a therapist in New York this year. And honestly? There's been no miracle breakthrough. I've still got all the same shit to deal with. But it makes Dad and Brant happy, so I play along like everything's fine. I don't like it when they worry about me.
Some people are just wired wrong, and I think I'm one of them.
But Wilby's right. After today, we'll never see each other again, so what have I got to lose by sharing something with him?
I let out a deep breath. "Before I came to Australia, I made a list of the things I wanted to do while I was here."
He lets out a chuckle. "Of course you did. How many things were on that list?"
"Three."
"Go ahead."
"First, my work. It's the reason I'm here."
"When do you start that?"
