‘Wait a minute,’ I say. ‘We may have been best friends in school, but you’re a man now. How do I know you’re not a roadside killer?’
‘I have coffee.’
I get in the car.
Chapter Ten
SAM
Day One
‘Here, take this.’
I hand him a tissue. He hesitates, before taking it and dabbing at his arm.
As I drive towards Athens, my gaze keeps lingering on the guy sitting next to me. This can’t be Will Cooper. His floppy brown hair hasn’t changed: unruly, sticking up at odd angles. It’s like it’s averse to a brush. I recognise the way he rakes his fingers through it with a self-conscious edge I remember from when we were boys. His jaw is peppered with a bit of morning shadow, his nose is as small as it always was. He’s taller, naturally, and wider. All barrel chested and thick limbs. He sits on his hands, taking in the changing scenery, like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. I spot a bit of his chest hair and look away, and I realise I’m not wearing a T-shirt.
I try not to think about it.
‘I can’t believe out of all the people I see, it’s your arse sticking out of a bush.’
‘Let’s not dwell,’ Will says.
‘Oh, no, I want to. You looked like you were having a great time in there. Was there someone else in there with you?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Some lover you couldn’t wait to get back to your room.’
He hits my arm, playfully, and I feign injury.
‘Oh God, did I hurt you?’ Will’s mortified expression is comical.
‘No, that felt like a punch from a cat.’
Will gives an indignant gasp. ‘There wasn’t anyone else in the bush, I can assure you of that.’ Will huffs. ‘What do you take me for?’
‘A lot has changed since we last met.’
He looks me up and down. ‘Yes, it has.’
Yes, I hit the gym from my early teens. Yes, I pack my meals full of protein. But I take my change for granted, I suppose. ‘I’m into my health.’
‘Save some for the rest of us,’ Will says, and he pats his stomach.
I chuckle. ‘You’ve still got your sense of humour, then.’ It’s why I was drawn to him so much when we were kids. He always needed someone to look after him, though I couldn’t do much. I was a lanky kid who would snap if I tried to lift anything heavy, but I changed that after a boy punched me when I was twelve.
‘Do taxis regularly break down around here?’ he asks me.
‘Can’t say I’ve ever used one.’ I tap the steering wheel.
‘Well, my driver said his engine keeps breaking. You think I should tell the airport about him? Surely he’s not safe to drive.’
‘He was being glib,’ I say.
‘Glib?’
‘Yeah.’ Did I use that word right? I’m not sure why I said it.
