Where Sea Meets Sky: A Novel

by Karina Halle

  I keep my distance as we walk, though, just in case he’s getting the wrong idea. Although, who am I kidding, I’m the one misleading him. I’m giddy and nervous and scared about all of this, and with each step I take I know I’m painting the wrong picture.

  We get to the front door and I’m about to tell him about Nick, or at least figure out the best way to say it without ruining everything, when the devil himself shows up, his rental convertible roaring into his reserved parking space.

  Ah shit. It’s all going down.

  “Hey babe,” Nick says as he gets out of the car, sliding his sunnies up on his forehead. “Didn’t think I’d see you here today.”

  He eyes Josh briefly, failing to hide the mild disdain on his face, and then comes over to me, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me in so he can kiss the top of my head. Nick’s not normally physical in front of people, and I try not to cringe for Josh’s sake.

  But Josh seems to take it all in stride. There’s a flash of revelation in his eyes and then his face is curiously blank.

  “Who is this then?” Nick asks, nodding at Josh. He’s smiling, trying to be open, but I can pick up the thread of derision in his voice. I know what he’s thinking. Josh doesn’t belong here.

  “I’m Josh,” he says, not missing a beat. He holds out his hand and Nick gradually returns the shake.

  “Nick.” He looks him up and down. “You Yank thinking about joining the gym?”

  Josh smiles but his eyes look menacing. “I’m a Canadian, actually.”

  Nick just shrugs. “Same difference. So are you a backpacker looking to get into shape or have you moved here?”

  That pisses me off. Josh is in shape, he’s just taller than Nick and his muscles aren’t so bulky. In fact, compared to Nick, I’m much more attracted to Josh’s body type—strong, toned, and lean. It feels wrong to think, but it’s true.

  “I’m just a backpacker,” Josh says, his eyes briefly flitting to me. “I met Gemma in Vancouver and she told me to look her up when I came to the country. So I did.”

  Nick nods slowly. “Good on ya, mate, New Zealand is a nice country,” he says rather begrudgingly. He looks at me. “You never mentioned meeting anyone over there.”

  I blink. “I met heaps of people.”

  He holds my gaze before turning back to Josh. “Well, Gemma must have made quite the impression on you if you remembered her.” Josh frowns but Nick goes on, “So, I guess you’re not interested in the gym at all.”

  “Not really my scene,” Josh says. The look in his eyes is darkening, and I hate the way things are turning out. “I should be going.”

  “No wait, Josh,” I call out. “I need your phone number.” Josh pauses, unsure.

  “Phone number?” Nick repeats dumbly.

  “He’s coming with me and Amber on the road trip,” I tell him. His eyes narrow, and it makes my heart race but I stand my ground. “It will help with petrol cost.”

  “What?” Nick is flabbergasted. Still, I take out my phone from the hidden pocket in my pants, ready to get Josh’s number. “You barely know this guy.”

  “I barely know my cousin, too,” I tell him. “Besides, I know him enough. I can take care of myself.” I look at Josh and manage a smile. He looks awkward as all hell. “Okay, so what’s your number?”

  “Um,” he says, thinking for a moment before telling me a long-distance one with too many digits. “But I don’t really have a plan here so I guess only text, and maybe do it all in one go.”

  So I can’t text you during all hours of the night? I think to myself. If Nick wasn’t here, I would be flirting my ass off. I’m a little disgusted with myself. But only a little.

  “Wait, wait,” Nick says, raising his palms, “when is this road trip?”

  I glare at him. “I told you. We leave on Wednesday.” Doesn’t he ever listen?

  “And where are you going?”

  I try to contain my annoyance, taking in a deep breath. “To the South Island. Then we’re coming back to my mom’s in time for Christmas, maybe even go up to the bach for New Year.”

  “What’s a bach?” Josh asks.

  I forgot that when I was in North America, half the people couldn’t understand what I was saying. “It’s what we call a beach house or a cottage,” I explain, trying not to let my aggravation show to him.

  “Sounds choice,” Nick says. “Count me in.”

  I raise my brows, feeling a surge of panic. “You said you couldn’t come. I invited you and you said you had to go home early for Christmas.” I’m practically complaining.

  He folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah, now I’m changing my mind. I can at least go for a couple of weeks. I’ve never seen the South Island aside from Christchurch, and that was before the earthquakes anyway.”

  An hour ago this would have been music to my ears. Now it just felt like this bag of crap was ready to fall on my head. It’s not that I had been planning anything . . . illicit with Josh. Lord, I hadn’t even gotten that far. And it’s not that I suddenly didn’t want to be with Nick at all. But being in an old VW bus for weeks with the hot-as-fuck guy I had a one-night stand with and the antagonistic, ex-rugby-playing entrepreneur I’m seeing is bound to be the most awkward thing I’ve ever done. Mr. Orange is already uncomfortable to be in; I can’t imagine how it’s going to be now.

  Nick looks at Josh. “That alright with you, mate? Having another dick in the bus to break up the pussy?” Judging from his unfriendly tone, it’s more of a dare than anything else, and I’m so certain that Josh is going to back out.

  But Josh only shrugs, a carefree look about him. “Not a problem with me,” he says and it sounds genuine. “The more the merrier.”

  They both look at me expectantly and I paste a smile on my face. “Well, Amber is going to be happy. I think she was worried there would be too much estrogen.”

  “Hey,” Nick says, coming over to me and putting his arm over my shoulders. He gives me a squeeze and then jerks his thumb over at Josh. “Maybe this bloke and your cousin can get their bonk on. She’s American, she’ll like the whole rock star, drug addict look, won’t she?” He smiles at Josh, all teeth. “But we’ll establish some rules—‘When this van is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’,’ and all that.”

  Though it shouldn’t, the idea of pretty little Amber and Josh together makes me feel a bit sick.

  “That won’t be a problem,” Josh says with ease and rocks back on his heels. “Well, I better go back to my mates at the beach.” He throws in the Kiwi speak and I give him the thumbs-up. “So, I guess, text me before Wednesday where to meet you and I’ll be ready.”

  “Sweet-as,” I say, and Nick squeezes my shoulders just a bit harder.

  Josh waves at us and then saunters down the street, disappearing around the corner.

  As soon as he’s gone, Nick takes his arm off me. “Really, Gemma,” he says with disapproval all over him.

  “What?”

  “Where did you find that guy, in a druggie’s den?”

  Anger flares inside me. “No, of course not. Just because he’s got tattoos and piercings doesn’t mean he’s a fucking drug addict.”

  Nick waves me away with his hand. “You don’t know this guy. I’m surprised you even talked to him to begin with.”

  “Why?” I ask, totally annoyed now. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He grins. “Because you’re one hot chick and he looks like he should be on skid row, that’s why. Look, I know it’s none of my business what you did when you were traveling, but the Gemma I know wouldn’t have befriended someone like him.”

  I’m surprised he thinks we only befriended each other, but I leave it at that.

  “Well, maybe you don’t bloody know Gemma at all.”

  He rolls his eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me back to him. “You’re so dramatic. You k
now what I mean.”

  And maybe I do know what he means, but just because I surround myself with certain types of people doesn’t mean everyone else is off limits.

  “Anyway,” he says, “you’ll need me with you. Who else will make sure he stays in line? Last thing you need is for him to rob you of everything you have and leave you stranded in Milford Sound while he goes off looking for his next fix.”

  I can’t believe his narrow-minded view of people and the world. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m so tempted to tell him the only drug users I know are him and his friends, since I know they’re all hopped up on steroids half the time. But that will open a can of worms that I don’t want to deal with. Though Nick is nearly thirty and has a successful business, he deals with personal problems like a five-year-old child.

  “Nick, seriously,” I tell him, taking my hand away. “If you’re going to come, you can’t be a dickhead the entire time. Josh is a nice guy, he’s not a drug addict, and he’s not going to rob anyone. This trip is for Amber anyway, so you have to learn to be nice and get along for her sake, if not for mine.”

  “I am nice,” he protests. “But if anything goes wrong, it’s all on you.”

  “Fine,” I tell him. And though things aren’t going to go wrong in the way that he thinks, I know there’s no way that things are going to go right either.

  Chapter Six

  JOSH

  “Josh, do you know what the Kiwi term munter means?” Tibald asks me casually in his near-perfect English.

  I don’t lift my head up from the pub table. “What?” I mumble into the wood.

  “It means you, Josh. You, right now, are a munter.”

  Tibald, Schnell, and Michael all laugh. They are “taking the piss,” another Kiwi term I’ve learned since seeing Gemma.

  Whatever a munter is, I’m sure there will be a picture of my face next to it in the New Zealand slang dictionary.

  I lift up my head and rest it in my hands. “To be fair,” I say between my fingers, “when she invited me on the trip, she had just said only she and her cousin were going. This boyfriend, Nick the Dick, or whoever he is, he pretty much invited himself along once he learned I was going.”

  “And that’s probably when you should have said, you know what, on second thought, no,” Tibald says before he signals to the waitress for another round of beers.

  “It will be like that American sitcom, Three’s Company,” Schnell says without a trace of a smile. I think it’s like the second thing he’s ever said to me.

  “Except her cousin will be there,” I say. “So, Four’s Company.”

  “Never heard of it,” Schnell says.

  I ignore him and look at Tibald. “So, what, you think I should have bowed out?”

  Tibald shrugs. “Sure.”

  “Would you have?”

  “No way,” he says adamantly. “I don’t back down.”

  At that, Michael drums on the table and starts singing the Tom Petty song, I Won’t Back Down, in German.

  “Yeah, well, neither do I.” Everything until that moment when Nick showed up was absolutely perfect. Naturally, I had been nervous as fuck. Seeing her in the flesh made everything much more real. She was as gorgeous as I remembered—that body, that smirk—and within seconds I felt like talking to her was the easiest thing in the world. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the easiest, I was trying my hardest to not come across as a stalker or some obsessive guy, and I was trying even harder to hide the growing bulge in my jeans.

  But, all that aside, being around her felt . . . right. It felt natural. I felt like I had worried for nothing, and from the signals she was giving—the way she locked eyes with me, the toss of her hair, the nervous shake to her hands—I assumed she felt the same.

  Obviously I am a total munter when it comes to reading women, because she does not feel the same. She has a boyfriend. His name is Nick. He’s a total roid-monkey douchebag. His smile reminds me of a donkey that’s used teeth whitener. He looked at me as if I were beneath him. In fact, he said something about me looking like a drug addict, and it took all I had at the time not to punch him in the face, let alone pretend that it didn’t bother me.

  Never in a million years did I think that Gemma was with someone. Obviously I never would have come to New Zealand if I had known that. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have slept with her either, since I know what it’s like to be cheated on (though there’s still a chance I would have—I’m still a human with a penis).

  And now, well, now I’m going on a road trip with her, her cousin I don’t know, and her fuck-face boyfriend. And why? Because I’m stubborn? Because I didn’t want to lose face in front of the turdburger?

  Or because in some deep, terribly hopeful part of me, I feel like I still have a chance. Like I can win her over. Like it’s not over. I mean, I’m here aren’t I? That’s still something.

  As if reading my mind, Tibald suddenly says, “Maybe she’ll change her mind.” The waitress comes over with our drinks and he stops her before she can leave. “Excuse me, miss?”

  She gives us a tense smile. She has a million tables to wait on, the bar is full of backpackers and other riffraff, and she looks all kinds of exhausted. She can barely humor us.

  “Yes?”

  Tibald nods at me and I groan inwardly. “See this man here. He’s a good-looking guy, right?”

  The waitress looks at me and smiles. It’s genuine. At least she thinks I’m mildly fuckable. “Mmmhmm.”

  “Well,” Tibald goes on, “he’s come all the way to New Zealand for a girl. He meets with her and then she invites him on a road trip to the South Island. He agrees, naturally, and then she adds that her boyfriend, whom he did not know about, will be coming with them. Now, in your wonderful opinion, does he still have a chance with her?”

  She frowns in thought and taps her tray against her thigh. “I don’t know,” she muses. She looks at me. “Were you always good friends?”

  I clear my throat. “We had a one-night stand, just before she came back here.”

  Her eyes widen and she looks a little less tired. “Oh. You came all the way here after a one-night stand? She must have been a good shag.”

  I’m not amused but Tibald takes the reins. “So,” he quickly says, “do you think he has a shot with her? I mean, you wouldn’t invite a guy you shagged along on vacation with you and your boyfriend unless there was a chance that you’d hook up again.”

  She sighs and notices a table waving her over. “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe she just wants to have her cake and eat it, too.” Then she leaves, scurrying off into the crowd.

  “Great help,” I tell Tibald.

  “Why would you have cake and not eat it?” Schnell asks, seeming seriously puzzled.

  As I drain my new beer, the rest of the conversation goes to their bike trip, which starts tomorrow, a day before I go off with Gemma and her crew. I don’t know our route at all, but I already made tentative plans to meet up with the Germans, if possible. We’ll at least stay in touch by text and e-mail.

  I’m going to miss these weirdos, that’s for sure. Ever since I saw Gemma, I’d been spending the days with them, taking in all of Auckland’s sights. We went hiking on Rangitoto, went up the Sky Tower, took a ferry to Devonport, got thrown out of a strip club, and visited the Auckland War Museum. They kept me busy and my mind off of her. I think they thought at some point I’d give up on the whole trip and just join their bike tour.

  But not only would I be unable to bike more than thirty kilometers a day without dying, the truth was I just didn’t want to back down. So what if Gemma had a boyfriend—we had only been a one-night stand. She didn’t owe me anything and I didn’t owe her anything. I liked her company, plain and simple, and I could push past this. Perhaps Nick the Dick was right and I’d hit it off with her cousin. For whatever reason, I just didn’t w
ant to miss any more opportunities in life.

  When Wednesday morning at eight thirty a.m. rolls around, I’m standing outside of the backpackers and waiting for Gemma to arrive. My backpack is even heavier now, thanks to the extra summer clothes I’d bought, and I’m zonked from lack of sleep. I was tossing and turning all night, worried my alarm wouldn’t go off, and my new roommates, a bunch of Israeli guys, were bigger party animals than the Germans were.

  It’s a workday, so the streets are busy with people heading to their jobs. The sun is just slicing over the tops of the buildings and the air is sea-fresh. I like Auckland—it feels like home. But just like home, I’m ready to leave. I want to leave the concrete jungle behind and step into the unknown again.

  Suddenly my ears ring with the deep rumble of an old engine, and the unknown pulls to a stop in front of me. It’s a bright orange, vintage VW bus, and the driver is smiling at me.

  It’s the most beautiful sight.

  Gemma jumps out of the driver’s seat and for a moment I think she’s going to come over to hug me but she slides open the side door and gestures to it. “You ready?”

  I nod and come over to her, taking my bag off my shoulders. She’s wearing white shorts that show off her toned legs, flip-flops, and a black tank top. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She looks excruciatingly wholesome. This is going to be harder than I thought.

  “Definitely ready,” I tell her as I swing the backpack onto the floor of the van and step inside. Gemma slides the door shut behind me and I see Nick in the passenger seat, giving me the head nod but nothing else. I nod back and then, hunched over, walk down to the bench at the back. A petite, curvy girl with a mess of blond curls and a pretty, angelic face is strapped into the bright blue seat and I ease my frame down beside her.

  “Hey, I’m Josh,” I tell her, holding out my hand.

  She gives me a shy smile, her eyes making contact with mine for only a second as she shakes. “Amber.” Her voice is soft and her American accent sounds strange after being around Kiwis and Germans for days.