Page 12 of Love, Just In

His eyes flicker to mine. ‘You are? And why is that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been to five weddings in the past two years. Multiple christenings. All the eligible bachelors have dried up in Sydney, except for a couple of stragglers—none of whom have asked me out, so I guess I’m undateable now.’ I gulp water, pitying my own self-pity.

Instead of telling me what I want to hear—You’re more than dateable, Josie—Zac’s gaze falls back to his glass, his finger drawing a slow circle around the rim.

‘Let me guess: you’ve been beating them off with a stick since you got here,’ I joke. ‘While us girls are saving up for Botox, you men are getting more attractive as you get older. Yes, it’s a thing.’

A laugh pushes through his lips. ‘I’ve got no interest in finding a girlfriend. But I’m more than OK with playing the field.’

His mouth hints at a playful smile, but his tone is no-nonsense. If his intention was to shock me, it’s paid off. To my knowledge, Zac does not, and has never, played the field. He bounced from one girlfriend to the next before he met Tara, which turned into an engagement when he was twenty-five. He’s one of those unicorn men who’s attractive enough to be a player but is bafflingly honourable and nice. And committed.

I add this revelation to the growing list of Zac Jameson changes.

He jumps up and grabs my empty plate, resting it over his. ‘We should get going,’ he says, heading into the kitchen with a trace of tension in his gait.

My repeated offers to help him clean up are shut down, and I promise to cook for him next. We both know that would be like writing a poem for Shakespeare, but after today’s peek into Zac’s living space, I’m determined to get my shit together and be more of a grown-up. No wonder I can’t land a decent guy in Sydney. While Zac’sevidently been blossoming into a mature home-owner here in Newcastle, I’ve been frozen in time.

We’re halfway out the door when I nearly collide with a man on the front step whose beefy body is barely contained by his white linen shirt.

‘Whoa, hello,’ he says, stepping backwards with his palms in the air, his gold watch catching the sunlight.

‘Oh, hey, man,’ Zac cuts in flatly, kicking the front door open again. ‘We were just heading out. Josie, meet Lindsay. Lindsay: Josie. Josie’s an old friend from Sydney, and Lindsay’s my housemate for exactly six more days.’

‘Six more days and how many minutes?’ the guy quips with an empty smile. ‘Didn’t realise you were keeping time, bro.’

‘You want to know the seconds too,bro?’ Zac throws him an intense look.

At first, I think they’re joking, but that quickly transitions to feeling like I’m caught between two grizzlies about to charge each other. Lindsay pushes his frameless glasses up his nose, his startlingly blue eyes staring Zac down before his gaze shifts to mine and clings there.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Josie from Sydney,’ he says, and a little spark of chemistry zings between us.

I feel rude leaving without more of a chat, but Zac’s already waiting for me on the footpath with his brow tensing, and my brain fights to catch up as I chase after him.

I hadn’t even known Zac had a housemate up here. He never mentioned it. The housemate, the dog, the haircut, the surfing … my chest tightens with a pang of sadness that’s becoming all too familiar. I used to know everything about this man.Everything. Now, I feel like I’ve been sent back to square one, as if I landed on the wrong square in a game of Snakes and Ladders.

While Zac gets inside his car, Lindsay flashes me a smile that’s plastered with the message:You’re cute.The distraction feels perfectly timed.

I pass Lindsay a shy smile back, ignoring the strange, disloyal feeling that washes over me.

The first house we visit is dog-girl’s, who turns out to be the owner of not one but six drooly Rottweilers. They bark so viciously upon my arrival that I don’t even make it through the front door without Zac tugging me back outside. No wonder her ad has been up for four months.

House two is the domain of flexible-leg-girl, who fails to answer my knocks on her coral-pink door. Zac cups his hands against the front window, scouring for signs of life, while I dial her number. She doesn’t pick up, but less than a minute later, she texts me.

UNKNOWN:Who is tis?

ME:Hi, it’s Josie, we have an appointment to talk about the room for rent.

I’m outside your house.

UNKNOWN:Duck sorry I’m not home can do later or just leave it – larry

‘Larry?’

Zac leans over my shoulder. ‘I think she means “sorry”, and it got autocorrected. I also think she’s on the juice.’

‘Shit.’

‘I don’t think you want to live this far out of town, anyway, do you?’ He offers me a hopeful smile, sliding his hand inside the back pocket of his shorts.

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