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"I work in finance. Went tocollegeand everything."
"Stop competing with me. We've already established that Aussie words are better. Wait… Finance?"
"Yeah."
"Last night, at the bar, when I made that crack about that arsehole working in finance and never getting laid. You told me that then, didn't you?"
"I did."
"I thought you were kidding."
"I wasn't."
"Hmm…"
Wilby indicates, but drives into the wrong parking section. "This isn't drop-off," I say.
"Your point?"
"Aren't you dropping me off?"
"Drop-offs have five-minute parking limits."
"And?"
The corners of his mouth tip up. "And I plan on getting that kiss, and I'm going to need more than five minutes with you. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."
"So you're coming in with me? But you don't have a ticket."
"I'll buy one."
"That'll cost you a fortune."
He pulls into an empty spot. "Mate, for you, it's worth it."
Forty minutes, and one exorbitantly overpriced airfare later, Wilby and I are sitting in the Qantas business lounge.
Once we were admitted into it, we raced each other to the buffet. "Take two plates," Wilby said, handing me a second one. "Saves you having to get back up so soon."
"I knew I kept you around for a reason."
"What?" He nudged into me. "Me being my lovable self isn't enough for ya?"
We're now on our second helping—so plates three and four for anyone counting—when I suddenly stop eating.
"What is it?" Wilby asks around a mouthful of lamb curry.
"I'm…eating."
"Yes. You are." He pats me on the back. "No bib needed or anything. Well done. You're a big boy now."
"No. I mean, I'm eating before a flight. I… This… I never eat before a flight. I lose my appetite, and I usually can't keep anything down, anyway."
"Well, we did somestuffto work up your appetite."
"Yeah. Guess we did…"
I run a hand through my hair, deciding not to overthink it. For once, I actually feel semi-okay despite taking off in less than an hour. That's a monumental win, and I'll fucking take it.
