Page 37 of In Full Bloom

Because as soon as I have some money saved and I’m back on my feet, I’m out of here and this time, I won’t be ever coming back to Kauri Creek.

“Want to watch a movie or something then?” Dallas’s voice pulls me back from the spiral of painful memories.

“Yeah, that would be good,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as shaky to him as it does to me.

I pass Dallas the TV remote and slip off my boots. Dallas watches me, the remote clutched in his hand and a little thrill goes through me. He may not want to act on it, but he’s clearly fighting some internal battle over it. He has been all night. I flash back over the moments of this evening when he’s been far too close for colleagues, or even friends.

It’s not as good as taking him into my bedroom and sliding onto his lap, or having his weight press me down into the bed as he fits himself between my legs, but the little glow of knowing he can’t help but stare at the length of my thigh as I slide my boots off helps soothe the sting of his rejection.

I drop the boots on the floor and drag my favourite fleecy blanket off the end of the couch, draping it over our laps. The comfort is instant. Dallas is flicking through the movie options now.

“Rom-com?” he asks.

“Really? Thought you’d be an action guy.”

He shrugs. “I’m not particularly fussy, but you look like youneed a rom-com. Or something to cry over so you can pretend you’re crying over the movie and not whatever else has happened today.”

“Well, that’s … hit the nail on the head.”

“So, crying movie it is.” He flicks through a few more options before settling on one I haven’t seen. “This is the best one. For crying.”

“You sound well educated in crying movies.”

He shrugs again. “You’re not the only one who needs them sometimes, you know.”

I study him as he stares at the TV screen. Between the streetlight and the TV, the room is a soft wash of colours, striking Dallas on all the sharp lines and soft curves of his face, neck and shoulders.

He finally turns to face me, as if wondering why I haven’t responded to his comment. I haven’t said anything because I don’t know what to say.

“You’ve had a big day.” His voice is soft and he reaches out to brush hair out of my eyes and gently tuck it behind my ear. “It’s okay to be upset over it.” He hesitates, then lifts his arm.

It’s an invitation, for me to curl into his side, to have him wrap his arm around me and hold me close.

This doesn’t feel friendly and at some stage we’ll need to define some boundaries, because we’ve already blurred them so epically, I don’t know where we stand.

I’ve been staring at the space beside him for too long.

“It’s okay,” he says, beginning to lower his arm.

Before I lose my chance, I slide across the couch to him and slip myself under his arm. It comes to rest across my shouldersand he gently pulls me into him, my head resting against his chest and somehow my legs hooked over his.

“Is this what friends do?” I whisper into the semi-darkness.

“Probably not,” he says, “but tonight, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” I whisper back.

“We’ll sort the rest out tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I say again.

“I’m going to start the movie now.”

I never find out if it’s the best crying movie. I fall asleep long before we make it to the sad parts, wrapped up in Dallas’s body.

It’s better than any blanket.

18

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