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If there's anything I can do, please let me know. I’m more than happy to be interrogated. I’ll answer any questions, I can talk to you through all my history if that’s what you want.
I hope you’re having fun down there despite putting a damper on your holiday.
Also Barry says hi.
He sends me a picture of Barry smiling around another oversized stick.
Lizzie
Tell Barry I say hi back, and that I know he’s such a good boy
It takes everything in me to not cave and say more. I want to say I’ll send you some travel photos when I start taking them or I’m just having a quiet afternoon at the hotel. I don’t know where the line is between being a pushover and being too unreasonable. I had terrible judgement when it came to my old pack, but those men all had some red flags—albeit small ones—from the start, and I’d ignored them until one day I woke up and found myself trapped in a nightmarish sea of them.
I promised myself I’d be smarter the next time around. Now I’m stuck on what being smart looks like, because yes, Matiu and Scott lied by omission. They acknowledged it, they’ve apologised for it, and I can understand why they did it.
And I still crave them.
“This is not the time to be thinking with your pussy,” I mutter to myself.
“What was that?” the taxi driver asks.
“Nothing!” I smile. I set my phone face down on my lap, look out the window, and try to focus on the gorgeous views. I’m here for a vacation. I need to make the most of it.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckity fuck fuck,” I hiss as I exit another roundabout, the wipers going instead of the indicator. Everything is back to front. The two-tone sound of my Maps app re-routing because I’ve driven the wrong way again is the cherry on top of a disaster I’ve made for myself, because I’m occasionally petty and contrary and when someone tells me not to do something, I do it just to prove them wrong.
Did I have plans to hire a car in Queenstown? No. Have I just spent a ridiculous amount to hire one for the day just to taunt Matiu because he told me not to? Yes. Can I drive on the left-hand side of the road and obey New Zealand’s traffic rules? That’s questionable, but I’m doing it anyway.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I get onto the road that heads towards Arrowtown. It’s a single-lane highway, nice and simple, and all I have to do is stay on the left.
I can do this.
I can. I do. I drive through picturesque farmland and past a stunning lake with mountains in the background. I reach Arrowtown and follow the blue P sign and find a park in the lot I’d already scoped out on Maps prior to getting in the car, and as soon as the engine is off I melt back in my seat with a breathless “Oh, thank fuck.” I’m sweaty and my hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel so tight, but I’m in one piece and I did actually drive without too much difficulty.
I snap a wide-angled picture from my seat so that my bare legs are in the shot, as well as the steering wheel and the view of trees and mountain out the windshield. Sitting as I am, the hem of my dress only just covers my pussy.
I send it directly to Matiu.
Matiu
You did not.
I react to his message with a laughing emoji.
Sometimes it is fun to play into the bratty omega stereotype.
I spend the morning walking through Arrowtown, visiting every antique store I can find, tearing up when it hits me once more that I can’t really buy anything when I don’t even know which country I’m going to be living in after the new year.
After lunch I drive to the onsen place Matiu had suggested, having lucked out and scored a spot from today’s waitlist. It’s stunning, the private, open-air tub looking out over stunning views of a turquoise river. With wine, cheese and crackers on hand, it’s exactly the kind of relaxation I need, and I strip down to my bikini, sighing as I slide in.
And then, because I’m a fool, I make the mistake of checking my phone and the sick anxiety that’s been simmering in my gut all day bubbles to the surface, because Matiu has messaged again.
Matiu
Hey, I wanted to reiterate how incredibly sorry I am. Not expecting you to reply, I just need you to know that I’m aware that I messed this up and I take full ownership of that. I should have told you. I don't want to make excuses, but if you want insight into what I was thinking, an explanation, I can give you one.
The meme from Star Wars of Admiral Ackbar saying “It’s a trap!” comes to mind, and I snort to myself because my brain is a strange and immature place sometimes. I take the bait, and start typing back.
Yes please, give me the details.