Where Sea Meets Sky

The door to the café opens and the smell of fresh-baked cookies wafts in.

What the fucking fuck?

As if expecting this, some people in the theater are getting out of their chairs and heading toward the café. Even Nick, who is halfway up the aisle when he spots us, with Amber’s hand down my pants, her lips on my neck. There’s no time to make ourselves look appropriate.

He raises his brows at us but keeps walking, disappearing into the café with everyone else.

Amber quickly removes her hand and I zip up my pants before anyone else has a chance to see.

Holy shit. This isn’t good.

“Whoops,” Amber says, her cheeks turning red. “That was unexpected.”

I’m not sure if she means the intermission or the fact that her hand was wrapped firmly around my erection. Unexpected, indeed.

Luckily, I don’t see Gemma get up and Amber soon excuses herself to go to the washroom. She comes back a short while later with two still-warm chocolate chip cookies. She gives one to me as she settles back down in her spot. This time, however, my dick ain’t playing.

“I guess this is their thing,” she says with a mouthful of cookie. “Intermission and cookies.” She shakes the near-empty bottle of wine at me. “More wine?”

“No thanks,” I say, quickly adding, “I’m not really feeling too well.”

It’s a total lie but suddenly she’s feeling bad for me and isn’t touchy-feely like she was before. The movie starts again and I’m able to relax and watch the rest of it in peace.

The only thing I keep thinking is that I hope Nick didn’t tell Gemma what he saw. But when the movie ends and we meet up with them outside the theater, she isn’t acting any differently around us, and Nick even gives me the wink as if he’s saying, Your secret is safe with me, dawg. Even in my imagination, I still want to punch him.

The next morning is gray and calm. The rain has stopped, so I go for a quick walk along the lake, just to get some breathing room before we head to Queenstown. I’m on my way back when I see Amber heading toward me, looking freshly showered and ready to go.

“Is everyone waiting?” I ask when she reaches me.

She shakes her head. “No I think they’re doing push-ups or some shit. Listen,” she begins, then looks away. She briefly chews on a strand of hair. “Can we talk about last night?”

“Cool theater, eh?”

“Yeah. But I meant more like the touching of the penis and all that.”

“Right, that.”

“It wasn’t so cool, was it?”

I really don’t know what to say to that. My face has awkward written all over it. “Well, I mean, I don’t know any guy who would complain about a girl like you touching his dick.”

“But you’re not interested in me.” The funny thing is, she doesn’t seem that hurt or rejected by the possibility. Still, I have to be real careful.

I try and give her a reassuring smile. “It’s not that I’m not interested . . .”

“But that you’re interested in someone else.”

I eye her suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

She laughs to herself, throwing an arm to Mr. Orange far in the background. “You’re in love with Gemma.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

No.

“I am not in love with Gemma!” I nearly yell it.

She crosses her arms, looking amused. “Fine. Maybe you’re not in love with her, but you’re going to be. It’s the same thing.”

I frown and mouth, “The same thing?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” she says. “You have it bad. It’ll only get worse. That’s how love starts, you know. Like a fungus.”

I want to protest but there’s no use. I run my hands over my face and groan. “Is it that obvious?”

She smiles softly. “Well, I’ve noticed. I’m pretty sure Nick doesn’t appreciate the little connection you two have. And Gemma definitely knows, that’s why she’s been so nuts.”

“Nuts?”

“I don’t know my cousin that well, but she was a lot different before she started this trip. Now she’s, like, manic or something. I blame you.” She pauses. “I blame you in a nice way, though. I can’t say I blame her. You drive me nuts, too.”

I scrunch up my face, feeling all awkward again. “Thanks. What did you mean about Nick not appreciating our connection?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I just think it’s obvious you guys are both drawn to each other like crackheads to a pipe. She smiles more when she’s with you, way more than she does with Nick, or even me. She likes you, you know.”

I ignore the rise of hope in my gut. “But if she likes me, why doesn’t she just leave Nick?” I realize I sound like some pitiful shit on the playground, pining after his childhood crush, but fuck it.

She breathes out through her nose and looks at the lake, which is slowly turning from slate to navy as the clouds roll away and the blue sky shows through. The sun pokes its head around a tussock-dusted mountain and shoots a slant of pale light on the lake. It’s all so surreal—the scenery and this conversation.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to make things awkward for us,” she muses. “Though you know what I think? I don’t think Nick is the problem. I think he’s, like, the result of another problem.”

I give her a quizzical glance. “What problem is that?” 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">