Rue

Ethan had told me they’d be here to pick me up at eight-thirty, but I was ready and waiting outside by eight, just in case. The last thing I wanted was for Ethan to come into the building looking for me. Not because my dad thought I was seeing a girl—though yeah, that’d cause some problems. I just didn’t want my dad anywhere near Ethan.

Not that I thought my dad would do anything crazy. He was more or less a rational person and he generally kept himself out of trouble. But there was absolutely zero chance he wouldn’t be a piece of shit because he was never not a piece fo shit.

When they arrived—on time—I was almost nervous to see Connor again. Last night I told him that I’d been fooling around with Ethan, and while he’d told me that he didn’t think I’d done anything wrong, Ethan’s words on our phone call afterwards made me feel like maybe Connor hadn’t been as sure as he’d wanted me to believe.

But when I got into the car, the smile he aimed at me over the front seat was as bright and friendly as ever. “Morning, Rue.”

“Hey,” I murmured back as I did my best to cram my backpack onto the floor between me and Ethan.

Connor watched. I wished he wouldn’t. “You don’t want to be lugging that thing around. Why don’t you get out what you need and run your bag back in? We have time.” Before I could come up with an excuse, he was already digging out a canvas shopping bag to offer me. “Here. You can put whatever you need in here.”

“Uh…” I said to buy myself time as my brain scrabbled for the right answer. I could not leave my bag with my dad, but the last thing I wanted—well, second last, to that—was to start this fun day out by telling everyone about my family shit.

It was Ethan who saved me. “Can’t we just leave it in the car?”

Did he know? When we’d talked about my bag, I’d deflected, given him vague excuses for why I always kept it with me. Had he guessed that it was my dad I was really worried about?

I nodded quickly. “Yeah, I can’t be bothered to run back upstairs. I’ll just shove it down on the floor so nobody sees it and gets ideas about breaking into the car.”

If Connor noticed I was on edge, he didn’t draw attention to it, agreeing that we’d leave my bag in the car as he pulled out onto the road. 

I filled the canvas bag with a change of clothes, a few of Ethan’s biscuits, a bottle of water.

And the tiger.

As much as keeping my bag with me at all times was about my dad, doing it for so many years had engrained in me the unshakable belief that the only safe place was with me. I’d leave my money here, in Connor’s car, but the tiger was coming with me. 

Ethan smiled when he saw, waggled the plush toy in my face. He thought I was being cute. Maybe I was.

We made it to the bay with plenty of time to spare, so Ethan and I went for a walk around the pier and pointed out crabs and fish to one another in the shallow water. 

This was what we’d been missing at the zoo. It hadn’t been the fault of the animals—the plain little fish weren’t any more exciting than sleepy koalas. It was just… us. The way we stood closer now, murmured to one another. It was like he’d opened a door to me, let me into his world. And now that I was looking through his eyes, nothing felt bland.

Not that I thought we were suddenly as close as two people could be. He just wasn’t quite as guarded with me as he had been. And maybe I wasn’t nearly as guarded as I’d been with him either. At least not like I’d been those first few days, when I’d felt like I was constantly teetering on the edge of ruining everything.

When the ferry arrived, Ethan and I headed straight to the front to watch the water as we set out while Connor and Wendy went to find seats inside. We found a spot against the railing in the front corner and I told myself I didn’t care if anyone noticed how closely we were huddled together

Ethan was wearing a wide-rimmed straw hat with a Bunnings logo emblazoned across the front, but as the wind started tugging at the chin strap around his neck, he took it off. The breeze caught in his auburn hair, lit up bright by the morning sun so it highlighted the contrast with his stormy blue eyes, and suddenly he was beautiful. Then his features pinched against the wind and his hands lifted to hover near his chest like he was preparing to defend himself from an invisible attack, and the moment was broken.

But I’d seen it—what he could have been if he’d been confident, if he didn’t wear cheap clothes that clashed, if his hair didn’t look like a basic cut left to grow out months after it was due for a trim. If he’d been another person in the same body, he’d have turned heads.

A lock of hair flicked against his face and he squeezed his eyes shut. I combed it behind his ear and then turned him gently, leading him inside. He’d have been hotter if he wasn’t himself, at least in a flash in the pan, first glance kind of way. But that wasn’t the version of him I was far too quickly falling in love with.

Connor and Wendy had claimed a booth inside, so we joined them. Ethan’s hair was ridiculously wind tousled and I found myself reaching over and gently setting it back in order. There was nothing scandalous about that, but it still felt a little weird doing it in front of Ethan’s dad. In front of all the other people on this ferry. Still, it was our last day together, and I knew I’d regret it if I held back.

In the shallow, choppy waters, the ferry lurched up and down as it crested over waves. Vomit bags had been offered around and a couple of kids were holding theirs at the ready, breathing through the urge to use them, but Ethan just looked delighted. There was only a hint of a smile on his face, but his eyes were wide and intense, like a cat with its gaze locked on a wiggling toy. I could tell he felt each rising swell in a way I just didn’t.

On the other side of the ferry, a tiny child shrieked and slapped her hands against a table, just as elated. Maybe only the two of them experienced the world with enough raw intensity to really appreciate this experience. Not that I was quite sure it was really the same for the two of them. There was something focussed about that look in Ethan’s eyes, like he was a connoisseur of sensation keenly experiencing every nuance of this one. The baby’s enjoyment looked a lot more mindless.

Whatever the case, Ethan’s joy was like rain on parched earth for my soul, and I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Wendy had Connor’s hand clasped in hers, pressed against her mouth to cover her smile. Connor made no effort to hide his.

“When Ethan was little, he used to love being picked up and thrown,” Connor said. “He’d make this big pile of cushions in the living room, and I’d throw him onto it over and over again. Every time I’d tell myself that I was going to do it until he got bored, but my arms always gave out first. Lifting weights can’t get me near the muscle I had back then just from throwing my son. Of course, being a decade younger probably helped a bit too.”

I briefly pondered whether I was strong enough to pick Ethan up and throw him down on a pile of pillows, but the answer was a definite no. Not because he was a big guy, but because rice and beans only built you a nice, healthy body if you ate enough of them. Ethan’d been right—I was a shadow of my former angry mirror selfie self.

But I could work on that. I could get strong again. Honestly, it was kind of a relief to have some motivation to take care of myself.

Wendy shifted her hand from Connor’s to his bicep and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not doing too bad.”

Connor smiled. “Not too bad for an old man, no.”

The ride smoothed out as we got further from shore, and Ethan and I spent most of the rest of the trip huddled together at the end of the seat on our side of the booth so that we could both watch the approaching island through the window. He smelled like lime.

And whatever the fuck a bergamot was.