Where Sea Meets Sky: A Novel

by Karina Halle

  I cock my head and give her a blank look. “Are you serious?” She’s saying yes to sex and now we have to wait?

  “It will make things super awkward and weird, don’t you think?”

  “Gemma,” I say with a laugh, “it’s been super awkward and weird as fuck for weeks now. This is the most uncomfortable road trip I have ever taken in my whole life, and I’ve been stuck in a car with my divorcing parents and my sister for a trip across the province before.”

  “Three more nights,” she reiterates. “Two in Kaikoura, one in Masterton, and then we’re home in Napier for Christmas.”

  I squeeze her hand. “No promises,” I tell her gruffly. But secretly I’m grinning inside. For her I could wait forever.

  Well, I could try, anyway.

  Then I’d have a great time relishing the failure.

  We stay the two nights in Kaikoura at a holiday park by the ocean. It’s a beautiful place—wild blue ocean on one side, towering snowy peaks on the other. It’s like the marine mammal and aquatic shit capital of the country, and we’re there to go dolphin swimming. It was Amber’s idea and Gemma agreed to come along, but when we got up at five a.m. to go out on the boat, we discovered it was cancelled due to high surf.

  We end up going for a walk on the Kaikoura Peninsula instead. It’s windy as hell and what looked like a quick jaunt is taking us hours of just walking along seal-strewn shores and sheep-covered bluffs. It’s pretty though, the contrast between the pebbled beaches and the blue-gray water peppered with whitecaps.

  When we stop at a low stone wall on the bluff to eat the sandwiches we bought earlier, I take out my watercolor pencils and sketchbook and start drawing the scene. Eventually Gemma comes over and peers over my shoulder.

  “That’s gorgeous, Josh,” she says softly. I look up at her and see the wistfulness in her eyes.

  “Here,” I say, handing her the book and the slate gray pencil. “You try.”

  Fear lines her brow. “You know I can’t.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe you can. It’s just a pencil and it’s just paper.” I can’t help but beg her with my eyes. Please, I tell her. “Come on.”

  To encourage her, I flip the page so it’s nice and new and blank and I place it in her hand. I pat the grass next to me. “Sit, stay.”

  “Play fetch?” she asks wryly, but sits down anyway. I get to my feet and join Amber by the wall, wanting to give her some space. It can’t help to have me looking over her shoulder.

  She smiles at me shyly, appreciatively, then turns her head out to the view. The wind rushes up off the cliffs and tousles her hair. Her face, when it’s not hidden by her dark strands, becomes pensive. Then she’s slowly sketching. She’s beautiful.

  I munch on my sandwich and Amber and I talk about sharks since shark diving was the other option for the day (in a cage and all, but no thanks) but my eyes rarely leave Gemma. She seems to be caught up in a battle, staring at the ocean, that thin line of the horizon, then back at her book, like it’s not matching up for her.

  Frustrated, she throws my book and pencil to the side and puts her head in her hands. I exchange a quick look with Amber then go over to Gemma’s side. I crouch down and place a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hey, baby,” I say softly and she whips her head to me in surprise. I’m surprised, too. I can’t believe I just called her baby.

  I try and play it off. “Take it easy on yourself, okay?” I pick up the sketchbook and see a very rough sketch of the view. You can tell that she tried to be as detailed as possible but then got frustrated and started pressing the pencil harder until the end broke off.

  “I can’t do it,” she says.

  I close up the book with a snap and smile at her. “But you just did. Now it’s forever in this book. It’s immortal. The day has been captured and when I look at it, I’ll remember this. Isn’t that what the point of all of this is? To rewind life a bit?”

  She looks unsure. I help her to her feet but I don’t let go of her hand once she’s up. Amber turns to look at us as she shoves the remainder of her sandwich in her fringe purse.

  “Is this a new development?” she asks cautiously, pointing at our hand-holding.

  Gemma tries to take her hand away but I only grip it harder and raise it in the air.

  “I think I’ve finally worn her down,” I say to Amber with a cocksure smile.

  Amber grins. “Took you long enough.”

  But Gemma still manages to wriggle out of my grasp and walk beside Amber.

  I know I still have my work cut out for me.

  The next day is a long, arduous journey through torrential rain from Kaikoura to the ferry terminal at Picton. Any hopes of a beautiful view are obscured by fogged windows and the endless gray outside of them. The inside of the bus feels damp with sweat and everyone is cranky and uncomfortable. Even though we’ll soon be staying at Gemma’s mother’s place and it’s bound to be a bit awkward, seeing as it’s Christmastime for the family and all that, I’m actually looking forward to it. It will be nice to have a place to stay and unpack for more than a day. It will be good to get out of this bus and the constant Pink Floyd.

  The clouds follow us across the choppy strait to the North Island, where we speed toward an unexciting-sounding town called Masterton. Once again we’re staying in a hostel and once again I’m cursing Gemma for booking us in another dorm. I know she’s doing this to save our broke asses money, but still.

  This time there are only two bunks, but that still means there are two other people in the room when I need there to just be me and her. Aside from the hand-holding stint in Kaikoura, she’s becoming standoffish again, at least physically, and I’m getting a permanent case of blue balls just by looking at her.

  Especially today. She’s wearing her denim short shorts again and a thin, low-cut white tank top with a lacy red bra underneath. The rain has her shirt looking a bit see-through and the delicate material of her bra has her nipples poking out like nobody’s business.

  I can barely contain myself.

  When we settle down in the room—the other bunkmate is absentee except for their backpack—Amber and Gemma go to check out the rest of the hostel. I quickly shut the door behind them and lock it.

  I go over to my bed, taking my cock out of my pants, and lie down. There’s nothing around to make things smoother and I don’t have time to go rummaging through the girls’ bags for skin cream or anything. I spit on my hand and start stroking quickly. The need to come is so great that I know it won’t take long. All I have to do is imagine Gemma’s soft, wet lips around my head, a wicked look in her eyes. Maybe she could play with herself at the same time.

  Oh god, I’m close.

  A knock at the door pulls me back from the edge and the door handle jingles repeatedly.

  “Josh?” Amber calls out from the other side.

  “Goddamnit!” I yell slamming my fist down beside me. Frustrated, I shove my cock back in my briefs and zip up my jeans before I go over to the door and yank it open.

  “What do you want?” I groan in exasperation, leaning against the door frame.

  Amber and Gemma stare at me, puzzled.

  “Why is the door locked?” Amber asks, coming inside the room and looking around warily. She sniffs the air like a hound.

  “No reason,” I say, pushing past Gemma into the hall.

  “Where are you going?” Gemma asks as I start to walk away.

  “To the shower so I can masturbate in peace,” I answer. Then I pause and turn to her. “Care to join me?”

  “Wow, TMI, Josh,” Amber says from inside the room.

  But Gemma is still staring at me and I can see the lust coloring her eyes.

  “I’m serious,” I tell her, lowering my voice. “You can just watch if you want.”

  She rolls her eyes, even though I know she’d gladly
drop to her knees if no one was around. The sexual tension between us has been ridiculously high ever since our last fuck, and I’ve caught her looking at me hungrily more than once. She wants me as badly as I want her.

  “Fine,” I tell her and lean in closer so I’m whispering in her ear. “But just so you know, I’m going to explode inside you tomorrow. Taking the edge off now might make things easier, but it’s your call. You’re going to get it bad.”

  I slowly pull away, my eyes trained on hers until she feels their heat. Then I turn, a crooked smile on my lips, and head over to the shower stall to get rid of my raging hard-on once and for all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  GEMMA

  I don’t realize it’s Christmas Eve the next day until we pass the town of Norsewood and I see a gaudy Santa display on someone’s roof. I can’t believe the month has flown by like this and that this holiday, of all holidays, has snuck up on us. If I were at home this whole time, I would have been subjected to Christmas songs on the radio and annoying jingles on TV. On the road, though, I’ve just seen unadulterated scenery and the pure spaces outside the cities, untouched by commerce.

  “Guys,” I say as I slow Mr. Orange down so a car from behind can overtake us. “It’s Christmas in two days.”

  Amber laughs from the back. “Are you serious?”

  I look at Josh and he looks mystified. “Wow,” he says, “it does not feel like it at all. How can you deal with having Christmas in the summer?”

  “Well, we have a thing called Christmas on the beach and it’s awesome,” I tell him. “It’s also a song.” I sing a few silly notes of it. “Which isn’t so awesome.”

  Josh grins at me and places a large, warm hand on my bare thigh. “You could sing anything and it would sound good,” he says earnestly and gives my leg a squeeze.

  “Ugh,” Amber calls from the back. “You guys make me sick.”

  I eye her sharply in the mirror. This makes her sick? Does she have any idea how hard it’s been not to fuck Josh senseless in front of her? Yesterday when Josh invited me to take a shower with him, I was this close to going. The only thing that held me back was the fact that Amber was listening.

  And yet him putting his hand on my thigh and paying me a compliment grosses her out? Yeesh.

  “You think that’s bad,” Josh says to her over his shoulder, “just imagine all the things I’m going to do to her tonight.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Leave it to Josh not to beat around the bush.

  It doesn’t take long before we’re motoring past the vineyards of the Hawkes Bay area, heading toward the city of Napier, my home. Actually, the vineyard is a little north of the city and I find myself growing both relaxed and nervous with each kilometer we pass.

  Relaxed because the bright, wide sky above us and the rolling green farms in the area will always be home to me, even though it holds a lot of difficult memories. Nervous because I’m not sure how Josh is going to react to my family or how they’re going to react to him. The last they knew I was seeing Nick, I had a job lined up, and everything was in order.

  My mother thrives on order. It’s one of the reasons why she’s been able to run the vineyard so successfully, especially after Dad died and our lives were thrown into turmoil. But where she thrives on order, it also means she doesn’t allow for a lot of mistakes. She’s hard on me but hard on herself, too. Even though she’s closed off and reserved, we’ve made a lot of progress over the years. Believe me, I have the hours of therapy to prove it.

  Still, I’m going to assume she won’t be happy about leaving someone like Nick, who has it all, and being with someone like Josh, who . . . well, doesn’t have it in quite the way she expects. I’m starting to think it would be best to keep our . . . whatever this is . . . under wraps, at least at first.

  My auntie Jolinda, who runs the vineyard with my mom, will take to him like a fat kid to cake, though. I warn him about her.

  “My aunt is a cheek-pincher,” I tell him as we pass the airport and beaches, “and not the ones on your face.”

  He grins. “Those are my favorite kind of aunts. Is she hot?”

  I give him a look. Not funny.

  Soon the vineyards and orchards grow more vast and I’m pulling off the highway down a dirt road, past a sign my dad painted: HENARE WINES.

  We bounce down the road for a bit among the rows and rows of pinot gris and sauvignon blanc grapes, then come to a stop outside the barn where the barrels are kept. I park Mr. Orange next to the beat-up old truck of Jez, our winemaker.

  I turn to Josh and Amber and say, “Well, this is it.”

  It’s like he notices I’m nervous because he briefly grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. But he lets go and I think he knows not to act all PDA going forward. I breathe a sigh of relief and then step out.

  The last time I was here was in the winter and everything had a look of cold death about it. Now the rows of grapes are young and bright green and the barn has a fresh stain on the gray-brown wood. Tibetan prayer flags hang between it and the house, remnants of my father; he was very earthy, very spiritual. My mother took them all down except for these ones.

  The gravel of the driveway crunches under our feet as we walk to the front door, and before we can get close, it swings open and out comes my mom and my aunt.

  My mother’s smile is warm as she looks at us, although it falters for a moment at the sight of Josh. I keep forgetting he’s this big, tall dude with tattoos and dangerous looks, nearly the opposite of what she expects from me.

  “Gemma,” she says, her voice light and airy. She gives me a hug, which generally consists of a light embrace and a pat on the back. Her eyes briefly flick to Josh and back to me but I don’t say anything.

  She moves on to Amber. “My, my, Amber,” she says and embraces her the same way. That’s just the way my mom hugs. “I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.”

  “Hi, Aunt Justine,” she says brightly.

  My mom smiles and then rests her eyes on Josh. “And is this your boyfriend, Amber?”

  Josh steps forward, his hand out. “Uh, no. I’m just a friend. My name is Josh.”

  “Oh,” my mother says, looking to me in surprise as she shakes his hand. “This is the Josh you were telling me about, the Canadian?”

  I nod. “Yes, Mum, this is Josh. I still hope it’s okay that he spends Christmas with us.”

  “Of course,” she says without hesitating. She’s nothing if not polite. “Your uncle Jeremy is coming over tonight with Keri and Kam. They’ll leave on Boxing Day, so if you three don’t mind sharing a room for a few nights . . .”

  Inwardly, I groan. Loudly. But I smile at my mom. “That’s fine, we’re used to it.” To get off the subject I look at my auntie Jolinda hovering behind my mother. “Hey, Auntie Jo!” I say, holding my arms out for the big hug I know is coming.

  Auntie Jolinda isn’t hot in the way that Josh was asking about. She’s from my father’s side, as are most of my aunts and uncles, so she’s got dark, sturdy looks, as we all do. But she’s round-faced and has the prettiest greenstone-colored eyes and has a way of making you feel loved.

  She pulls me into an embrace. “Gemma,” she says happily. Like my mom, she’s quiet and conserves her words but she doesn’t have to say much to get a feeling across.

  She strokes my cheek fondly and then lights up at the sight of Josh. I have to bite my lip from laughing as she goes for him. Thankfully she only hugs him hard and doesn’t grab his butt, but I’ll have to keep an eye on her after a few glasses of wine. Not that I can blame the woman. Josh has the best ass to pinch.

  “I thought Nick was with you, Gemma,” my mother says suddenly.

  Amber, Josh, and I exchange the subtlest of glances before I put an appeasing smile on for her. “He went back to Sydney early,” I say, which for all I know could be true.

&nbs
p; To my surprise, she doesn’t look disappointed. “No worries,” she says, “that’s one less person to eat Uncle Jeremy’s famous kumara slices.”

  “Oh, kumara,” Josh says excitedly. Of all the Kiwi things he’s picked up on this trip, eating kumara—a type of sweet potato—and dipping it into sour cream and sweet chili sauce has become his favorite. That, and doing me, I guess.

  We go back to Mr. Orange and haul our packs into the house and up the stairs to my old room. As usual, the house is immaculate but it still has this rustic, homey vibe. It’s very much a Kiwi farmhouse, with wainscoting and rugged brown boards in all the right places and smooth finished wood in others.

  “This is an awesome house,” Amber says. “My parents’ house is so boring and stucco. Total subdivision banality.”

  I lead them down to my room. It’s quite large and has enough space for my queen bed and an air mattress or two on the floor. One wall is entirely devoted to sports medals and ribbons. Football, field hockey, women’s rugby, netball, tennis—I’ve done them all.

  Josh marvels at them, mouthing the names and dates of the competitions. “Wow, Gemma, you really like to whack balls around, don’t you.”

  “I like them better in my mouth,” I answer smartly. It brings out another annoyed groan from Amber.

  “Seriously. You. Guys.”

  I stick my tongue out at her and place my backpack by the bed, opening my window. The view here is always beautiful. My room looks out onto the back vineyard and a dirt road that runs along the property all the way to the beach. I can see the holiday baches and Norfolk pines that line the bright blue ocean.

  “Your view growing up was a lot better than mine,” Josh says behind me, pushing my hair over my shoulder and kissing my neck. I close my eyes and melt into his touch.

  “Hey, can we take a tour of the vineyards or something?” Amber asks.

  I turn around and eye her. “Sure, but don’t you have, like, Napa Valley by you?”

  She ties her curly hair back into a braid. “It’s not exactly nearby,” she says. “Besides, I’ve been in the bus all day. I’d like some fresh air before I stuff myself with what smells like amazing cooking.”