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“Sad to cut it short this trip,” Tully said.
I was quick to add a bottle of Coke and some snacks to Tully’s fuel total and he grinned at me. “Anything else?”
I shook my head. “Unless you want something.”
He looked at the lollies and Pringles. “I’m having half of that.”
I rolled my eyes, took my stash, and the man serving us laughed. “See you boys again soon.”
Yes, well, as much I wished otherwise, that wasn’t likely. I nodded all the same and went back to the Jeep. I understood now why all the cool kids would drive with the tops down on their cars. The feel of the wind in my hair felt like freedom. Sitting next to Tully, having him laugh and wear that damn grin, aiming it right at me... it was the closest to real happiness I’d ever felt in my life. Carefree, all while being the real me.
I’d never shared the real me with anyone before. Just him. And that time was slowly ticking down to an end.
As we got closer to Darwin, as the traffic filled in around us, as the greenery became farms and then houses, I couldn’t help feeling a little sad.
“Have you been to Darwin before?” Tully asked.
“Just the airport, for one hour, then I flew into Jabiru and met you.”
“I’ll show you around,” he said, leaning over and taking my hand. He brought it to his thigh, leaving it there, smiling at my surprise. He kept his hand on mine, unless he had to change gears, but he was quick to grab it again, squeezing, slipping his fingers through mine.
It both thrilled me and made my heart ache.
Why couldn’t I find this in my real life?
Why did something so perfect have to end?
I tried to push those intrusive thoughts away, until we were in the centre of Darwin and I realised, stupidly late, that the streets we drove down were very nice. Huge houses, new and perfectly neat and tidy, expensive cars and palm trees, and...
And he slowed down at a driveway, the automatic gate to the property sliding open. He drove in, the garage door opened, and he parked next to a very expensive Range Rover.
He opened his door, got out, and stretched his arms up high with a loud yawn. “Are you getting out?”
I wasn’t sure if I should.
“Is this... do you live here?”
He looked around, confused. “Ah yeah? This is my house. Well, mine and the bank’s.”
It had white rendered walls, and even the garage was spotlessly clean. And the car... “Uh, is this yours too?” I pointed my chin at the Range Rover.
“Yep. The company leases them. I get a new one every two years.”
Must be nice.
“Cool.”
He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Let’s unpack the Jeep first. Get all the shit out and dump our bags straight into the laundry.” He opened the tailgate and pulled out my crate of equipment, gently placing it by the door that I assumed went into the house. He carried the box of left-over food. I grabbed both our bags and followed him inside.
We entered in through what I quickly realised was a laundry room. Except it was almost the size of my entire apartment. The floor was dark, the cabinetry all gloss white, a full counter top and cupboards.
“Just throw ’em in here,” he said, indicating to our bags. “We’ll need to wash everything.”
I propped them by the washing machine and followed him into the rest of the house. It was massive, open plan, double storey. The walls were white, the floor a dark grey marble, the furniture was straight from a designer, and the kitchen was ridiculously luxurious. There was white glossy cabinetry and a dark grey stone benchtop that opened out to the lounge room with a sofa setting that looked as comfortable as it looked expensive. But none of that was even the best part. Because there were glass doors that led out to a balcony and, sure enough, it looked straight out over the ocean.
Was he kidding me right now?
He slid the box onto the countertop and opened one cupboard door—which I realised was a built-in fridge. Jeez.
