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‘Yes. Yes!’ she says, still laughing. ‘Barber of Seville.’
‘Huh. I should’ve known.’
He eats a mouthful of his abandoned muesli. The conversation is easy. Fun. Like talking with her on the phone at work always is, except now his eyes keep dropping to her lips, and he’s fighting the instinct to lean in and smell her skin.
‘Grandma owned them on VHS,’ Jules continues. ‘Every time I went over when I was younger, she’d pop them on. I was totally transfixed.’
He can see it. A younger version of Jules sitting cross-legged in front of a boxy TV with those same twinkling eyes. ‘And then your mum came along and lured you from symphonies to synthesisers.’
Jules laughs. ‘I wouldn’t say lured, we listened to all kinds of music at home. If anyone was luring anyone, it was my older brother trying to get me into country.’
‘What’s wrong with country?’
‘Musically, nothing. But, I’m a lyrics person, and I get too fussy finding faults in some of the messaging of certain kinds of country music. Not saying there isn’t stuff I like, especially more recent stuff, but, you know.’ She shrugs.
‘I’m not a lyrics person, but I get it. There are songs I used to enjoy that I don’t listen to any more for that reason.’
‘Really?’
‘Mm-hm.’
Jules’s eyes twinkle at him, and when her focus drops to his lips, his gut jerks. It’d be easy to lean across and kiss her, taste the salt on her tongue. But they’re surrounded by colleagues. The thought quells some of the heat in his limbs.
‘But symphonies and synthesisers are my main musical loves,’ she concedes.
‘Feels like that should be on a t-shirt.’
‘Oooh, yes!’ She points her fork at him and twirls it as she speaks. ‘With some kind of fun illustration. You design it, I’ll figure out printing. We can wear them on casual Fridays in the office.’
‘I didn’t realise we were at the matching outfits stage of our relationship.’ It’s meant to be a tease, but Jules’s face floods with colour. Crap. He’s embarrassed her. ‘Poor joke. Sorry.’
Jules grabs for her water. ‘It’s fine.’
He knows that’s an ‘it’s fine’ that really means, ‘it’s not fine’ because she’s avoiding his gaze. What set her off? Was it the implication this is more than sex?
Jules straightens up and slaps her glass down on the table. ‘Oh, shit.’
Cameron’s heart flips. ‘What?’ He sits up straight and extends a hand across to her side of the table.
‘I just realised … I don’t have anything to wear tonight.’
‘Oh.’ He draws his hand back. ‘What about that dress from last night?’ he suggests, only partly driven by the ulterior motive of seeing her in it again. It made her legs look phenomenal, and her eyes an even deeper blue.
Jules frowns. ‘That’s too casual. This is the symphony.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he tries to reassure and get the frown off her face. ‘There’ll be tourists there in shorts and t-shirts.’
‘I know but … it’s the Sydney Opera House. I want to wear something fancier.’ She chews on her lip which puts useless—at this moment anyway—sexual thoughts in his head. ‘Do you think I’d have time to shop for something?’
Jules pulls Cameron’s printed program toward her on the table and runs a finger along the day’s session times. Cameron wishes he could offer some helpful advice, get Jules to look at him with that stunned smile again that makes his insides glow, but he’s struck out already with last night’s dress suggestion. Fashion emergencies are more Chloe’s forte than his.
‘Hang on.’ Cameron grabs his phone as an idea comes to him. ‘I’ll do you one better.’
Chloe picks up on the first ring. ‘Cameron? Everything good?’
‘Chloe. Hey. Jules needs an outfit for the symphony.’
Chloe gasps. Across the table, Jules looks up at him, mouth open. Cameron smiles, seeing Jules put the pieces together until the frown clears from her face and she’s back to awe. The whirlwind gains momentum, spreading warmth until he feels ten feet tall. He could get addicted to seeing that look on her face.
