“Joss!” The voice that calls out is distinctively Jaz as it carries across the bar.
She has her hand linked with a tall man in a navy-blue suit. His skin is a richer, darker shade of brown compared to hers. The smile stretched across her face indicates how into this guy she is.
She pulls Joss into a hug, releasing her date’s hand in the process. They hug and squeal their hellos, as if we didn’t see her for coffee after our surf this morning.
“Hi. I’m Wes.” I introduce myself to her date, chuckling over the spectacle the girls are making.
He extends a well-manicured hand. “Paul. I’m glad you two could join us. I’d have hated to see these tickets go to waste.”
Joss extricates herself from Jaz and the rest of the hellos go by in a blur of hugs and handshakes. I settle my bar tab right before our name is called, and we follow a waitress to a table in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view is stunning. Lights dance on the surface of the harbour, and the reflection of its iconic bridge againstthe water is mesmerizing. The water is so smooth you can almost imagine there being an entire city sprawled underneath.
My hand settles low on Joss’s back again while I pull out her chair. There’s the smallest shiver that spreads across her skin at my touch before she takes her seat. I claim the chair next to her, our thighs rubbing beneath the table and shoulders bumping as we get settled. I relax in my seat, throwing an arm around the back of her chair. That ever-present electricity hums to life at our proximity.
I take in the couple cozied up across from us as we chat and look at the menu. Paul rotates between holding Jaz’s hand under the table and running a hand along the nape of her neck, brushing her russet curls over one shoulder tenderly. It warms me to know Jaz has someone so attentive at her side.
The pair orders a round of drinks a few minutes after we’re seated, then we get straight into thegetting to know yous.
“Do you like sports, Wes?” Paul asks, glancing sidelong at Jaz—who rolls her eyes.
“Don’t let him get started, Wes, or he will talk your ear off about cricket all night.”
I laugh but humor Paul. “I was really into hockey in high school and still keep up with how the Sharks are doing when I can. Unfortunately, I doubt they’ll get much coverage here.”
We only bore the girls with sports talk for a few minutes before Jaz pivots the conversation to travel, something we all seem to have in common.
“Joss spent most of our time in the Maldives in the water—on one board or another—while I spent most of my time in a hammock or on the beach with my book and a drink.”
“It’s not my fault you’re athletically inept,” Joss jokes.
“Harsh. I went snorkeling, remember?” Jaz says in her own defense.
“Yeah, because you refused to scuba with me.” Joss’s eye roll sends the two of them into a fit of giggles, leaving Paul and I to exchange a look of bewilderment.
A scuba story of my own pops into my head. “I went scuba diving in Thailand and my buddy Bobby saw a leopard shark. I swear he nearly crapped himself.” I chuckle, along with the others, surprised at the ease I feel talking about Bobby. “I missed it, too interested in following a little blue fish through some coral. But when he finally got my attention, he was holding his hand up in front of his face like a fin, eyes bugging out of his head.”
I feel a light squeeze above my knee. Joss’s way to signal her support, to show me she’s proud I’m taking the steps to move forward—to talk about him again.
“How did you two meet?” Paul questions, looking between us.
“You want to take this one, Grey?” My laugh starts low in my belly, my shoulders shaking a bit as the vivid memories chase me down.
Joss’s eyes dance with laughter too, and I remember her attempted retelling of this story with Jaz that first day at Harbour Grounds. She elbows me in the ribs, and I catch her arm, sliding my fingers down until they lace with hers. The look in her eye turns warmer, heated.
“Fine, but you know I’ll be sure to portray you in the worst possible light, right?”
“Oh, I would expect nothing less.” I wink at her, and her perfect smile spreads wide across her face.
She tells the story from the airplane, ensuring that my falling on her and groping her are front and center in the narrative. She remembers more details than I would have expected, like how I stumbled through trying to talk to her. She gets some good laughs from the table at my expense, but I don’t mind.
When she gets to the part where she chased me down in the airport, she pauses, a question in her eyes. “What were you thinking when you saw me coming after you?”
Huh, not the question I was expecting. How have we never talked about this?
“I guess I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. I’d watched for a sign from you as I made my way off the plane, hoping you’d give me one more look, but you didn’t. I assumed I’d never see you again. Then, there you were, calling my name, face painted with that beautiful flush”—I run my thumb across her cheek, eliciting a small gasp—“and I thought I must be hallucinating.”
This next part, if I share it, will lay more of me bare than I’ve ever given her, more than she’s likely ready for. But this could be the perfect chance to say these things, without the pressure of it all being “real.”
“Looking at you standing there, my name having just slipped from your lips…” At the word, I swipe my thumb across hers. “My only real thought wasmine.”
