I tense and turn to face the voice—then freeze.
Standing before me is a face I know all too well. A face I lusted after for three long years.
The face on my mind when everything went so terribly wrong.
“Liam.” I paste on a wobbly smile. “So nice to ...”
Eager eyes wait for me to finish that sentence, and I try to pull myself together, studying the man in front of me as I do.
Liam’s dark hair still curls around his face in an unruly fashion, giving him that tousled, fresh-out-of-bed look. His hazel eyes still sparkle with energy as he looks down at me, his smile still bringing out those cute-as-a-button dimples on either side of his mouth. And wow, his chest sure has widened, his arms grown bigger—although, given I haven’t seen him in four years, it’s no real surprise.
“Quinn?” Dark brows meet in concern, and I shake myself out of my haze.
“Sorry. I just ...” I raise my hand as if it could finish the sentence for me. My chest aches, and a surge of emotion washes over me. My brother’s best friend. All the times the three of us spent together ... My fingers tremble in the air, and I quickly tuck my arm back by my side, hoping he didn’t notice.
Dark eyes soften with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” I glance around, as if perhaps he could be talking about one of the other café patrons. “I’m fine. So fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, is all.”
And I wasn’t expecting my heart to give that little flip when you smiled.
A flip that was part ache, part pain, but part something else. Something almost nice. I frown, surprised at myself. What am I thinking? Liam is my past. He’s neatly tucked into a little box of memories I try not to revisit too often, because if I do, it hurts.
It hurts too damn bad.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Coffee.” I nod toward the machine.
“I mean in Sydney. Out of Emerald Cove.” That slow-growing smile presents itself once more, and flip, there goes my heart again.
Heat races over my cheeks. “I just started an internship across the road. McWilliams & Co.” I jerk one thumb over my shoulder toward the twenty-storey building. “It’s a magazine company.”
“An internship? That’s great!”
“It is.” I smile at him like an idiot. He’s knocked me for six. My brain works overtime as I struggle to find something intelligent to say—some words to keep the conversation flowing, away from dangerous topics like the past. Like what happened that night.
As if reading my mind, he speaks. “You know, I’ve thought about you often. Ever since the funeral, I—”
Panic grips me. We can’t talk about that. “Do you like ...” My heart seizes in my chest. I glance around the room, searching for inspiration, until my eyes fix on the building across the road. “Do you like interns?”
Oh God.
That was so not what I was hoping for.
“Interns?” He cocks his head. “I guess. I don’t make it a habit to collect them or anything.”
I laugh a little too loudly, then try to pull myself back together. Dear God. For three long, awkward teenage years I managed to make a fool of myself in front of Liam Smith, and now here I am, calling back my inner dweeb.
Thankfully, somehow Liam doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe he’s just used to me being a complete and utter weirdo. Or perhaps he’s finding this whole reunion just as much a shock to the system as I am.
“Do you think the internship will turn into something more? A job opportunity, perhaps?” he asks.
I shake my head and prepare myself for the practised lie. “It’s not really for me. I’m just here because completing an internship was the final requirement for my degree. I’m an Emerald Cove girl. I won’t leave.”
I can’t.
I just don’t tell him that.
“Why not? Seems like the kind of thing you’d be great at ....”
I wave his line off as if it’s a fly, buzzing unwanted around my face. “No. Magazines are fun, but I don’t think I could handle being so far from home.”
He narrows his eyes. “You know, I’m a little surprised. Magazines were always what you wanted—right from when you were a kid. Do you remember making those newsletters for Braden and me when we were in grade nine?”
A warm feeling swells in my chest as I remember the monthly newsletter I’d written for my brother and his friends when I was in year eight, them the year above. Charging one dollar a pop, I’d created the broadsheet and printed it in the media rooms at school with the help of one of the seniors there. I’d spread the latest gossip circulating at Emerald Cove High, where we all went to school. “The EC Daily? My God, I’d almost forgotten that!”
“That was so cool! All your pieces were so funny and well written. You could have kept that thing going forever.”
“Until Braden found out Will Saunders was more interested in making out than helping me print ...”
“Yeah, that put an end to things pretty quick.” Liam’s face grows serious. “You know, I still have a few copies of that somewhere at home.”
I frown. “You do?”
“Sure. In a box with all my other school stuff—you know, things that remind me of the past.” Something dark flashes over his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not into magazines anymore? Or is there something else keeping you in Emerald Cove?”
Gulp.
The crowd of office workers in the room fall away. I fall into the chocolate gold of Liam’s eyes.
“I know Braden would want you to follow your dreams. If he’s the reason why—”
“Don’t you tell me things about my own brother,” I snap.
“It’s okay, Quinn.” Liam places one hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Silence stretches between us. My heart thu-thunks. An ache thumps in my head like the pounding of the surf.
And still, I can’t stop myself from speaking. From pouring salt on the wound, and asking the one man who knew me so well just what happened when he left town. “So what about you? What are you up to now?”
“Me?” Liam asks. “Not a lot. A bit of photography stuff.”
“Really? What kind of photos do you take?”
“Landscapes, mostly. Sometimes people.” Liam shrugs. “Things that move me. Things I ... things I feel.”
Something twinges inside me. It sits just beneath my skin, as do all the emotions swirling in my body. Feel. I haven’t felt anything aside from pain in so damn long. “That’s good to hear, Li.”
His fingers close over my arm, and I pretend it doesn’t make me think of coming home and going away all at once. “Li.” He gives a small smile. “You know, no one else calls me that.”
In that moment, I can’t look away from his eyes. This beautiful mix of brown and green and even yellow stares back at me, and my heart flips again. His gaze darts to my lips, and electricity crackles between us.
“Do you remember how we used to confess our secrets to each other?” he asks, and he doesn’t need to explain to me what he means.
I nod, letting him know I understand.
“Confession?” Liam asks.
“Go ahead.”
“I always felt ...” He presses his lips together, and I beg them to keep moving. The last time I saw Liam, I kissed him, then ran off into the night after he froze presumably in shock but probably in repulsion. But the way he looks at me now, as if maybe there was something more. What if he ... could he possibly have felt the same way?
Time stretches between us as I focus in on his lips, and he focuses in on mine, and it seems as if we’re being drawn together by some invisible wire reeling us in.
The lady who stood to my side earlier jostles my shoulder as she moves past me to the counter. It’s the reality byte I need.
Don’t be ridiculous, Quinn. Liam doesn’t like me as anything more than his mate’s kid sister, and probably never did. And bringing the past back to the surface is not som
ething either of us needs.
I shuffle back, creating some space between us, and run one hand over the side of my mouth again.
“Never mind.” Liam shakes his head, and the spell is broken.
“So.” I clear my throat, glancing at the polished cement floor. “So you’re a full-time photographer these days?”
“Not exactly ...”
“Still studying it, then? I hear those degrees can take a long time.”
“I’m not at uni, no.” He bites down on his lower lip, looking away.
“What is it, then?”
“I’m ...” He pauses, as if unsure what to say next.
“Liam! Get back in here, will you? These cups won’t wash themselves.”
I blink, glancing at the girl behind the coffee machine. She glares at Liam, tossing fiery red hair out of her face.
“You work here?”
Liam shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His eyes stay on the floor as he delivers his parting line. “Sometimes, you work hard and you get what you dream of.” He turns his back, moving around the people gathered to head behind the counter. “And sometimes, dreams just die.”
Chapter Four
My hands shake as I hand over the two trays of coffee to Madison, Liam’s words playing in my head on repeat. Sometimes, dreams just die.
“And the double-shot macchiato.” I lift out the final cup, the contents throwing weight around like a pendulum. Sometimes, dreams just die. The way he’d said that ... so final.
It reminds me too much of what happened. Too much of our past.
“Thank you.” Madison hands the coffee to a man bouncing on the soles of his feet next to her, his glasses reflecting the yellowed office light.
“Thanks, Mads, dah-ling,” he murmurs as he rushes off.
“Does he really need more caffeine?” I ask.
Madison laughs, and my chest warms. “I often ask myself the same question.” She purses her lips, studying me. “Have you put any thought into your assessment piece yet?”
I shrug one shoulder. We were given the assignment less than an hour ago, for crying out loud. “I’m toying with a few ideas ...” Read: I have no clue what I’m going to write about or how to portray it. The thing is, with five other interns all submitting features as well, I’m not too worried. Yes, it will be good to have this on my resume, but at the end of this stint at Lola my degree will be complete, and then I’m headed back home to work on the local newspaper. I don’t need the glory of being published in a nationwide magazine. I don’t need to try for a job working at McWilliams & Co.
It was what I once wanted. What I once dreamed of.
But now, my dreams are twisted in a mess of metal on the side of the road on a warm summer night, perfumed with the cloying scents of wattle and blood. But Mum applied for this internship on my behalf, her way of trying to do something nice. She doesn’t understand that being here isn’t my place. I need to be back with her.
The only reason I’m completing this internship at all is to make Mum smile. I’d do anything for that.
“Well, if you need to run anything by me ...” Madison smiles at me over her shoulder. “The others are all at their desks working on some basic editing tasks. Feel free to join them there until we meet to debrief at four.”
I follow her pointed finger to the glass-walled office at the back of the room and settle into the desk next to Macy and the blonde girl—Shantel, I think—my computer humming as I jig the mouse. Liam’s face flits unwelcome into my mind, and I will it away. Some things are best left in the past.
“How was coffee gathering?” Macy whispers. Shantel shoots her a look, but Macy smiles sweetly back.
“Fine.” But is it fine? The shaky feeling fires through my body. Running into a guy I thought I’d left in another life ... a guy who carries so many memories ...
“Well, my job was a barrel of laughs. Sanjeev, the mail sorter, definitely tried to offer me some personal delivery, if you catch my drift.” Macy winks, and I manage a laugh. Her hand lands on my wrist, her freckled skin against my white. “Are you okay? You look kind of ... pale.”
“Fine.” I paste on a smile. “Just saw someone I knew, is all.”
“Okay.” She nods, then turns back to her own computer. “Best get back to it.”
“Best.” I stare at the screen and the black type in front of me. As I read the first line, my shoulders relax, my fingers flying over the keyboard. This. This I can handle.
Being reminded of my past, I cannot.
The day flies, and after our afternoon debrief, Madison wishes us all a safe journey home, and we gather our belongings.
Macy corners me by my desk, a mischievous light in her eyes. “Want to grab a drink?”
“Pardon?” I ask.
“Just one drink. Come on. It can’t hurt, can it?”
“I don’t know, Mace ...” I glance at my watch. The next train leaves in fifteen minutes.
“Quinn, this is the first day of the internship! We need to celebrate.” She flashes a grin. “Besides, we should really brainstorm ideas for our special projects. And what better way to do that than with some input from my good friends vodka and soda?”
I laugh, then press my lips together. I want to go home, dive under the covers of my cream doona, and forget all about seeing Liam earlier today—or maybe think about seeing him again. Maybe imagine for just one moment that our lives are different, that none of what happened happened, and that he’s still by my side, still the boy I turn to when things get tough.
But one look at Macy’s begging blue eyes, her hands clasped together, and I know I can’t say no. This internship—it’s where my life is now. Then, back home to Emerald Cove.
I can’t exist in a world of what-ifs. There’s no point lingering there any longer. And a drink might be just what I need to help me forget.
“Just one.” I hold up my index finger.
She claps in delight. “You are not going to regret this!”
***
I so regret this.
Or at least, I think I do.
I narrow my eyes at the vodka and soda in front of me, the ice chunks floating in a sea of clear liquid. It’s my third drink. Or maybe my fourth. I stopped counting around the same time the dull thud of my painful memories subsided.
“I should really go now.” I meet the eyes of my new friend. “The train’ll be here any moment.”
Macy laughs, slapping one hand on the table. “You said that twenty minutes ago.”
“I did?”
“Yes.” She giggles, pushing my drink toward me. “Bottoms up! We still haven’t decided on our themes.”
I shrug one shoulder and knock back more of the vodka and soda. Why haven’t I done this before? Why haven’t I taken this shortcut to becoming numb?
“Okay, so I like the idea of doing something that means something. Maybe a piece on models who are too skinny.” Macy’s face turns serious, and she straightens her spine.
I scrunch my nose. “I don’t know. It’s been done a million times before.”
“You have a point. What about gender stereotypes? I could dress guys up in girls’ clothing. Make a point about there being no rules when it comes to fashion.”
“That sounds interesting.” I twirl the glass in my hand. “You could interview a psychologist, perhaps. Get a science perspective on the situation.”
“What do you think, Sanjeev?” Macy turns to her mailroom fan, who joined us at the table after buying a round half an hour ago. Does that make it five drinks?
“No. Too much like The Footy Show.” He wobbles his head. “Your Australian men and their love of dressing up ...”
“You have a point.” I laugh. “My brother ...”
Damn.
Memories wash right in as quickly as the liquid tipped down my throat only a short moment ago. Braden running on the football field. Learning to drive. His brown hair plastered to his face as he’s swimming. Braden learning to drive.
Braden never driving again.
Braden going too fast.
Chapter Five
I clutch at my chest, my breath rattling as it shakes through my throat. I’m touching my skin, but with each grasp I make, I feel as if I’m grasping at reality, begging it to let me stay locked in the moment, locked in the here and now.
“Are you okay?” Macy’s concerned blue eyes study me.
“Water,” I strangle out. “I just need to get some water.”
I push back my wooden chair, barely hearing it squeal against the floor, then make my way around crowds of people to the end of the bar. I pour from the tall silver jug, knocking back the cool liquid in three long gulps, then serving myself another.
I don’t know what came over me. I think of the past all the time, but it doesn’t usually rob me of my breath or so completely wallop me in the chest. I managed to stop that pain years ago. Back when it happened, I needed to step up and grow up, be there for Mum, for my grandparents.
Maybe seeing Liam brought too many memories back.
I pour myself a third water and lean against the bar. Suits, shirts, and skirts are on full display, and the glint of several McWilliams & Co building swipe cards catch my eyes. Must be a local hangout. I spy Madison, having drinks with some tall guy with slicked back hair in a suit. His hand traces a pattern on her arm and she melts into his touch, her engagement ring winking in the bar’s low light. Is that her fiancé? For some reason, he reminds me of a used-car salesman.
I spy CEO Jack McWilliams, his face only familiar from the newspaper articles I’ve read, holding court over a bar table in the corner. Serious faces eye serious faces, hands articulating points with the kind of vigour that comes from too much booze and too little time.
Finally, I regain my composure and make my way back to the booth where Macy and Sanjeev’s discussion has taken a turn for the dramatic. The floor seems to slide underfoot as I travel, and I grab at a chair, causing a woman in a red dress to shoot a look at me. Maybe I’ve had more to drink than I thought. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“And then I left him there, tied to the bedposts with that slut’s underwear.” Macy gulps back the remnants of the clear liquid in the bottom of her glass, swaying slightly on her barstool.
Fast (Not Like the Movies #2) Page 2