“It’s going to be fun,” Jett responds, unaware this is the start to every horror movie ever.
A middle-aged man waves from the driver’s side, a pair of large sunglasses sitting on top of his head. He slams on the brakes, and the vehicle jerks into park. Before the car settles, he’s out of his seat and rounding the front to greet us.
“Are you two ready for an adventure?” His blend of a British and Australian accent drowns out the curse I mutter.
Oversized binoculars hang from his neck, and he wears the identical adventure outfit Jett wears: a short-sleeve shirt, khaki pants with a million pockets and hoops, and hiking boots. Same outfit, two contrasting physical responses they elicit from me.
He falters a step when he reads our shirts but graciously says nothing as Jett steps forward and shakes his hand. I sling my bagover the wordsSugar Titswritten right over my breasts. Charlie missed the mark on my sizing, so the shirt tugs against my bra, emphasizing the bright-red text.
“The name’s Pete. I’ll be your guide tonight. If you’re ready, we can get on the road.”
He opens the side door, and I climb in. A two-person seat takes up the middle, and I slide in, making room for Jett. When he sits, his thigh presses against mine, his body heat seeping through the fabric of his pants.
Eighties rock filters through the speakers as the engine roars to life, and with a jerk, we’re off, heading to the next hotel to collect our fellow travelers.
“In the bag on the floor, you’ll find some binoculars. You can each take a pair,” Pete says, whipping through the streets of Cairns like it’s Grand Theft Auto.
I hold on to the seat for dear life while Jett grabs the binoculars. He slides a pair over his head to dangle around his neck, then does the same for me, his finger brushing against the back of my ear as he adjusts the strap.
I suck in a breath, energy crackling beneath my skin. His hand lingers, eyes dipping to my lips, before he tears his focus away.
The thudding of my heart drowns out the music. This was supposed to be simple. Clear, concise lines. But it’s all blurring in ways it never has before, and I don’t know how to redraw the boundaries between us.
More so, I don’t know if I want to.
After a few sharp turns, we skid to a stop in front of a massive hotel on the water. Pete hops out of the van and rips the door open, and an older couple and teenage boy enter the vehicle.
Lynn and Cecil are from the Gold Coast but on vacation with their grandson Tanner, who developed a newfound passion in film. This sparks Jett’s interest immediately.
A small part of me had expected him to use this tour as an opportunity to film content for his docuseries, but when I asked him if he wanted to capitalize on it, he said, “I want to spend time with you.”
I had to hide the blush that creeped up my cheeks.
“I could give you a few tips,” Jett offers, gesturing at the GoPro the teenage boy has strapped to a selfie stick. “I do this for a living.”
The smile on Jett’s face falls when the boy gives him an incredulous look. “I doubt it,” he mumbles, fiddling with the camera.
Pressing a fist to my mouth, I choke on my laughter. Jett whips his head over his shoulder, glaring at me. It only makes it worse, my stomach cramping as he tries to convince the kid he’s who he says he is.
He pulls up his YouTube channel. “I’m Jett Parks,” he says, shuffling through his more popular videos. “I’m here filming a docuseries about wild, crazy creatures found in Australia.”
“Cool.”
One monosyllable word spoken with zero interest and enthusiasm. Jett slumps back into the seat beside me. “Tough crowd.”
“Well, I think you’reveryimpressive,” I whisper, patting his arm.
I pull away, desperate to create some space for my heart’s sake.
Instead of maintaining distance, Jett snatches my hand, weaving our fingers together. His smile is sheepish. “Is this okay?”
Is he serious? No, it’s not okay. None of this isokay.
The slip of his fingers between mine is too natural, tooright, and every time I experience the gentle affection, another part of my heart transfers to him.
Tomorrow, I will be crushed, but I lack the strength to tell him no, not when I want him to hold my hand, to hold on to me forever.
I’ve used up my allowance of greed by taking these moments for myself. Asking for anything more is unfair.
