Where Sea Meets Sky

And then there is the even greater fear: What if Gemma is there?

Then what?

I still have no plan. Going to this Mission Bay place to see her, that was the German’s plan. It wasn’t my own. I still have no next step. What do I say to her? What will she say to me?

Why am I doing this?

“Guys,” I say slowly, my fingers drumming along the edge of the window. “How about if she’s there, you don’t mention anything about me being a stalker. I know it’s funny ha ha to you and all, but girls freak out about this kind of shit. It’s cute in a book or a movie but the moment it happens in real life, women are bringing out the pepper spray.”

“No worries, mate,” Tibald says in a horrible Kiwi-ish accent. And yet, I am worried. Never trust the Germans.

Eventually we get off the bus by a long stretch of golden white beach. It and the surrounding park are packed with families and douchebags in Ed Hardy and hot chicks in skimpy bikinis. The air smells like salt and sizzling hot dogs and suntan lotion.

I gaze at the azure water with its gently lapping waves and feel the pull to it. Maybe I should jump in and swim and swim until I reach the green shores of Rangitoto on the other side of the bay. It seems safer.

But Tibald is tugging on the end of my shirt like a little kid. “This way,” he says, nodding his head to the busy shops across the street. Michael has his iPhone out and is navigating us past leafy trees with spiky red flowers until we’re on the other side of the road and heading down a side street.

My heart starts to hammer the moment I see the sign for Murphy’s Gym. I’m starting to hate myself, I’m acting like such a pussy-whipped tool. It was a one-night stand. It was just for that one night. That’s what they are there for. I’ve had at least eight one-night stands before and every single one of them remained exactly that. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, and oh, you’re welcome, too.

Why was this one different? What did she do to me? What the hell was it about her that made her stand out from all the rest?

When did I lose my motherfucking mind?

It’s a strange time to be having this argument with myself. I should have figured it all out before I hopped on a plane, not while entering the gym where the woman in question works. But I’m doing it, sucked into a spiral of fear and self-loathing.

What if I had built her up to be more than she was? What if she doesn’t look or act the same as I remembered? What if this turns out to be nothing more than a colossal waste of our time?

But when the receptionist peels her eyes away from her phone for just long enough to tell Tibald that Gemma doesn’t work here but we’re welcome to check out the gym anyway, I know the whole thing has been for nothing.

“I’m curious,” Tibald says, unfazed, “let’s go see how the Kiwis work out.”

I mumble something but follow the guys into the gym room. I was right about the disappointment. I feel it deep down but I can already tell it’s not going to last. I never let it linger for long.

While I stand on the side of the room, absently looking at the few people on the ellipticals or free weights, I take in a deep breath and make a note of starting over. I’m in New Zealand, I’ve made some friends already, I have seven weeks to explore the country, and though my budget may be limited, it’s not enough to stop me. I came here for one reason but I’m staying for another.

This is going to be the best goddamn time of my life.

I feel a smile lift the corners of my mouth and silently thank Gemma, wherever she is, for bringing me here. Now, the adventure begins.

When the Germans come back to me, having inspected the place and wearing mild approval on their annoying bright faces, I say, “Shall we go to the beach then?”

“Bouncing back already?” Tibald asks. “Let’s go then. At least you tried.”

I shrug, marveling at how at peace I already feel about everything. I guess we could come back another time and try again, we could pester the receptionist for her information, but I’m taking it as a sign. “I tried.”

We open the door and step out into the corridor, heading toward reception, heading toward the heady sunshine.

And that’s when I see her.

That’s when I see Gemma.

And the peace inside me shatters.

Chapter Five

GEMMA

I wake up with pain in my heart and the tremor in my hand. I lie in bed for a few moments, my eyes closed and my fingers spreading apart and coming together. I do this until the shakes in my muscles subside.

The ache is still there, though. I breathe in deep and stare at the ceiling. Despite everything I’ve done, this feeling haunts my chest, digging deep, and I have no idea what it is. It’s just longing and sadness that coats my pores. It’s a subtle suffocation, but it’s there.

My alarm sounds but I take my time before turning it off. I sigh, letting out the air slowly. I know in a few seconds there will be scratching at my door. Chairman Meow, my roommate Nyla’s cat, always acts like a snooze button. It’s usually a good thing but today I can’t be assed getting out of bed.

I pull the duvet up over my head, blocking out all the morning light, and I stay that way until it gets too hot under the covers. Chairman Meow starts scratching at the door.

Eventually I get up and pad over to it, my muscles sore from yesterday’s bike ride. I let the cat in and he immediately snakes between my bare legs. I’ve always been more of a dog person but Mr. Meow is an exception. On the days that Nyla isn’t home—which is often—he’s the only thing I can talk to. Lord knows I can’t talk to my guy friends, or even Nick. My mother has never really been an option. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">