Where Sea Meets Sky

“Gemma, seriously,” she says. “I didn’t think you cared this much. You’ve had Nick with you this entire time.”

“I don’t care this much,” I say, trying to hide all the emotion from my voice. My stomach swirls with rotten green jealousy. It shouldn’t sicken me, I have no right whatsoever to care about what Josh did with Amber, especially seeing as I was with Nick, but it still makes me feel like I’m going to chunder.

I wish I could blame it on being seasick.

With trepidation, Amber places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

I sigh angrily, blowing a strand of hair from my face. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she says pitifully. “Please don’t let this ruin things between you and Josh and please don’t tell him I told you. He’d kill me.”

I bet he would, I think. Suddenly the risk of going after Josh seems higher. He couldn’t really like me all that much if he was willing to feel up Amber and stick his tongue down her throat. If I’m already this bothered by the image of them together, how bothered am I going to be when he leaves New Zealand?

Amber is staring at me with big, pleading eyes and I manage to give her a smile. I’m pissed off as hell but she’s actually doing me a favor. She’s helped make my choice. My heart will stay buried but intact. I won’t have to lose any more pieces of myself.

“I won’t say anything,” I tell her, and it’s a promise. “It’s fine.” That’s a lie, but one out of two ain’t bad.

When the dolphins seem to have gone on their way, Josh joins us. He has his swagger and his easy smile and I realize nothing I choose is going to be simple.

“How was it?” Amber says a little too brightly.

He shrugs. “Meh, dolphins, you know, whatever,” he says, mimicking me and my accent.

I can barely crack a smile and his expression falters, as if he thinks he’s offended me. I turn away from him, concentrating on a waterfall that the ship is approaching. I stay turned away for as long as I can.

Chapter Thirteen

JOSH

“Maybe Nick isn’t the problem.”

Amber had said that to me on the shores of Lake Wanaka, and at the time I had completely brushed it off because, hello, obviously the roid-monkey douchebag boyfriend is the problem here. With him out of the picture, everything would be smooth sailing for me and Gemma.

But that’s not the case. Something happened, something I can only seem to pinpoint to the boat ride on Milford Sound, when Gemma switched off. She grew cold and withdrawn. At first I thought it was toward Amber as well, and that made a bit of sense. She’d just had her boyfriend, fuck-buddy, whoever that ass was, accuse her of something she didn’t do, call her disgusting names, and then tell her she’d never get a job again. Anyone would be ruined by that.

Gemma seemed resilient though, if not a bit quiet, and by the time we were cruising around the bay on a boat full of Japanese tourists, she seemed to open up. Lighten up. It was like watching the sun come through the clouds.

Then I went and saw some dolphins jumping about and when I came back, it was like she had turned to ice. And as we get on the bus that will take us back to Mr. Orange, the ice only seems to thaw in Amber’s direction, not mine.

I can’t figure it out. I sit behind them on the bus, beside some young dude who keeps elbowing me and playing his headphones too loud. The drive back from Milford is actually just as stunning as the Sound. The mountains loom high overhead, there’s a fuck-ton of waterfalls we keep stopping at, and we pass through Homer Tunnel, which cuts through the ranges. We even see kea parrots hopping around at one of the waterfall car parks and trying to make off with a picnicker’s food.

It’s here, as most of the bus group goes to look at waterfall number one billion, that I pull Gemma aside. I can’t help it.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She tugs out of my grasp, and from that alone I know she’s not. “I’ve been better, Josh.”

I bite my lip, wanting to ask her if it’s all because of what happened or if it’s something I did. But I let it go. She’s been through enough today and I don’t want to add to her problems.

“Well, if you need someone to talk to,” I say, but I know she won’t be turning to me. There’s this strange emptiness in her eyes that chills me. I remember everything she said last night. Her fears.

She walks back to the bus, uninterested in the waterfall and all the curious green parrots roaming the area, looking for handouts.

She’s uninterested in me.

I refuse to let that deter me, though. I’ve come this far. I’ve just got to take my time.

But I’m leaving in three weeks.

I don’t really have time.

We all get back on the coach and finish the rest of the route. It takes about four hours for us to finally reach Glenorchy where we left Mr. Orange, and I find it kind of funny that the drive feels just as long as the days of walking we just did. I can’t believe I just walked over a mountain range. As active as I am at home, the most strenuous thing I’ve ever done was the infamous Grouse Grind up Grouse Mountain. It takes about forty minutes to the top. That was nothing compared to what I just accomplished.

The minute the bus pulls into the Routeburn car park, I can feel that something is wrong. It’s instinct but it’s huge and unwavering.

We hop off the bus and make our way over to Mr. Orange. At first the VW bus looks fine, but on closer inspection it looks like the back window has been busted out. 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">