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Are you asking me out on a date?

Oliver James:

Maybe. You’ll have to come to find out.

Meet me outside the museum at 1

I roll my eyes, biting the end of my thumb nail. It is crazy to think about the effect this man has on me. Even though we spent so much time together at the farm, I still find myself longing for his company. Someone to talk to. Someone who understands me. Sighing, I glance down at my forgotten work. Guess I have a date to get ready for.

Thirty minutes– and three outfit changes– later I stand out the front of the museum. It was a nice walk here through the gardens, surrounded by trees and grass. It’s an unusually warm autumn day. I forgo my usual winter outfit for oversized jeans, a tight black t-shirt, and cardigan. Casual. Cool, calm, and collected. Definitely not trying too hard.

Oliver appears right at one o’clock and I can’t help the smile that creeps up my face when I see the two coffee cups in his hands. It’s our routine now, and the domestic sentiment behind warms me up from the inside.

“Chai?” He smiles, handing me one.

“You know me too well. I really got to start paying you for these.”

“My dear Eden, your company is the only payment I need.”

We walk towards the entrance, and I try everything in my power to ensure he doesn’t see the flush burning the tops of my ears. I swear this man sets me on fire with every word he says.

The entry way to the museum is stunning. High vaulted ceilings. Glass everywhere. It almost takes your breath away. Weaving our way through groups of schoolkids, I don’t flinch when Oliver’s fingers find my own. It’s just to stick together, right?

“Ooo! We have to see this exhibition!” Oliver points towards a room just off the main corridor, tugging my hand towards it. When we walk in, I’m more than a little surprised to find a life-sized horse staring back at me.

“What the-”

Oliver looks between me and the horse, then back again, his face full of shock. “You don’t know who he is?”

“He?”

Oliver gestures to this horse in front of us. “Phar Lap. Australia’s greatest racehorse. Presumably murdered. God, nothing?”

“Someone murdered a horse?”

“Yes, Eden! Someone murdered a horse. He was getting too good and someone took him out! All hearsay, might I add. I don’t think they ever conclusively determined what caused his death. One of life’s greatest mysteries.”

“Is that…him?” We both look towards the large brown horse in front of us, enclosed in a glass case.

“Well, yeah. His skin, I guess. Taxidermy.” Oliver scratches the back of his neck.

“You read too much.”

He looks at me then, eyes glimmering with his usual boyish charm. “Oh yeah?”

I grin back. “Definitely.”

We continue going through the other exhibits, Oliver taking his time reciting any fun facts that come to his head at each stop. It’s amazing how much useless knowledge a brain can contain. I guess that’s what makes him so good at what he does, how he can draw so many connections between things and remember everything he’s ever read.

Wandering down to the next level, hands intertwined, Oliver takes me towards a glass door. He introduces it as the museum’s Forest Gallery and laughs when I tell him he must have spent too much time here as a kid.

“Mum always took me here. It was our thing.”

The air seems to grow heavy around me, but he continues on like nothing was ever said. He always does that.

I let Oliver lead me around, pointing out the different ferns and birds, the chimney that’s the only part of an old house to survive the Black Saturday bushfires.

I still remember that day. I was just a child, watching my parent’s anxious faces as they spent the whole day by the radio, waiting for an evacuation order. How the sky was streaked with smoke, the smell soaked into our clothes. How the sunsets burned orange for months afterwards.