Page 56 of Pas de Don't
“How’s your ankle feeling?” She’d managed not to watch him too closely in class, but on the few occasions she’d glanced at him, Marcus looked stronger and steadier than he had even a week ago. He still skipped jumps and pirouettes, but now he moved without the hesitation he’d had when she met him, when he’d walked like he worried his body would fall apart at any moment.
“Pretty good. The rest of me is still struggling, but Shaz says I’ll get there. And who’s going to argue with Shaz?”
“Not me.” Heather gave Marcus another polite smile, but she wanted to hug him, or at least squeeze his hand. He’d worked so hard to get here, and even though she’d only been around to see the very end of that work, she was proud of him.
She wanted to tell him that, but it would have to wait until tonight. She was due back in the studio in two minutes, and if she stayed here even that long, she might do something stupid. Reluctantly, Heather eased herself to her aching feet. “Break’s over,” she groaned.
“Have a good rehearsal,” Marcus said, his voice giving no hint he’d be seeing her shortly after.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. Heather started for the door but stopped as she passed the arm of the couch, unable to resist when he was this close to her. Quickly but gently, she put her hand on his head and stroked it, just once, letting her fingers tangle for the briefest moment in his loose curls.
His sigh was still in her ears when she closed the door behind her.
Chapter 14
Heather’s ears popped as they wound their way through the mountains. Marcus hadn’t told her where they were going, insisting he wanted to surprise her, but the compass on the dashboard of Alice’s car told her they were headed west, away from the coast and out past the edge of Sydney. Almost an hour ago they’d reached the foot of the Blue Mountains—which, Marcus had explained, were named for the haze that hovered over them, the product of tens of thousands of eucalyptus trees releasing their oil into the air—and kept driving. Marcus shuffled occasionally through a playlist of what he said was classic Australian rock, rolling down the windows and singing along off-key to a song about flame trees. She didn’t know where they were going, but she liked that they were going together.
The fact that they were escaping the city to be together in public made Heather wonder, yet again, about the wisdom of what she and Marcus were doing. Well, no, not exactly: she knew damn well what they were doing was unwise. She’d known it the other day, when she’d stolen a second of physical contact with him, unableto be so close without touching him. It was a stupid risk. This entire exercise was a stupid risk. But every time she thought about ending this, her heart would sink, her ribs would ache, and she’d glance down to find her knuckles white from gripping too tightly to whatever she happened to be holding.
Sure, it was unwise, she told herself, but the alternative somehow seemed even worse. Despite the risk, she felt safe with Marcus. Safe, and entirely herself, far removed from the humiliated emptiness she’d felt before she came to Sydney. Heather couldn’t bring herself to give it up. And so here she was, in Alice’s car, Marcus’s hand resting gently on her thigh as he reminisced about the one time he’d been to New York on tour with ANB. He and Alice had taken the express train instead of the local and found themselves fifty blocks north of where they needed to be—and very late for a dress rehearsal.
As they drove farther up the mountain, giant eucalyptus forests hugged the winding road, and a series of signs announced their entrance into each mountain town. Some had English-sounding names like Glenbrook and Springwood, and others had what Heather now recognized as Aboriginal names like Bullaburra and Katoomba. They wound past churches, old pubs, and antique shops, the road and the train line tracing their way up the mountain in parallel as Heather leaned her head against the window and let the winter sun warm her face.
Finally, shortly after they entered a town called Blackheath, Marcus turned off the main road and drove along a winding street down into the giant green valley below.
“Nearly there now,” Marcus said, glancing at her with a mischievous smile.
“Nearly where?”
“Nearly at the surprise location you’ve managed not to ask me about for the last”—he checked the clock on the dashboard—“hour and a half. You’ve done so well, don’t ruin your streak now.”
Heather stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned the gesture. The car slowed as the incline increased, and Marcus turned onto a narrow dirt road.
“But seriously, where are you taking me? Wait ...” Heather looked around at the dense forest on either side of the bumpy road. A dirt road into the forest, and sleeping on the ground? She looked at Marcus, realization dawning. “Are you taking mecamping?”
“Not exactly.” He took his eyes off the road briefly to look at her. “Why, do you not like camping?”
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been. It’s kind of hard to get away for the weekend when the company has four shows between Friday night and Sunday afternoon.”
“Well, we’re going to ease you in gently,” Marcus said. “This isn’t even really camping, it’s glamping. In fact, I think lots of actual campers would be offended if you called this camping.”
“And we’re out here all weekend?” she asked. It was pretty here, Heather thought, but what were they meant to do with their time when they weren’t sleeping on the ground or cooking on an open fire? She was about to ask when a small, packed-earth parking lot appeared on the side of the road, and Marcus pulled into an empty spot.
“I think you’re going to like being out here all weekend,” he said, turning the engine off and turning toward her. He was alight with what looked like excitement and satisfaction, as if delighted he could finally unveil his surprise. “You see, this isn’t just camping. It’s camping in a national park.”
“Okay ...” Heather said, not really following.
Marcus pulled her close, and the feeling of his warm, firm body against hers knocked the breath out of her. Heather looked into his twinkling, mischievous eyes, and felt her stomach do that now-familiar saut de chat.
“And in this national park, there’s a wildlife conservation center”—his smile grew—“where the parks service is working withthe traditional owners of the land to prevent bushfires. And to reintroduce a particular species of wildlife into the bush out here.”
“Okay...” Heather repeated, but this time, she was smiling, too, a little bubble of hopeful suspicion forming in her chest. She searched his face for confirmation of her hunch.
“And that species is thePhascolarctos cinereus, also known as the koala. Or as you call it—incorrectly, by the way—the ‘koala bear.’ So we’re out here all weekend to glamp and go on bush walks and see koalas in the wild. Since we never made it to the zoo, I figured you might—” The rest of his sentence was lost to the hard, grateful kiss Heather planted on his grinning mouth.
Marcus took a deep breath of bush air and looked around the small clearing they’d been taken to after checking in at the conservation centre. The air was cooler up here than it was in Sydney, and the sunlight had to struggle down between the thick trees to reach him. He zipped his hoodie up, glad he’d told Heather to pack something warm to sleep in.
This really wasn’t camping at all, he thought. The five tents in the clearing were sturdy, semi-permanent structures that looked reassuringly wind- and rainproof. And although he’d warned her they’d be sleeping on the ground, their sleeping bags had in fact been rolled out on thin but comfortable looking mattresses on low wooden platforms. A short walk away, along a path marked by solar-powered lanterns, Heather had been very pleased to find an all-gender restroom block with flushable toilets and fully stocked soap dispensers.
