When Adam Met Evie

by Giulia Skye

  “No,” he said, kindly. Living with Saskia, he’d seen far worse. He stood and held out his hand to her. “C’mon. We’d better get back to the truck.”

  She took his hand and got to her feet. “You know, you’re not like other travelers I’ve met,” she said, dusting herself off. “And you don’t talk much. It was one of the reasons I put two and two together and made fifty-six.”

  “I’m naturally quiet, I guess.” He led the way back, picking a path through the bushes. “But back to you making fifty-six, if I was out to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it sooner?” He held out his hand to guide her over a patch of spikey grass. “I mean, why would I make myself look like a complete fool without a jack when I could have pulled up a half hour outside of Broome to rob you. I could have left you for dead then been on my way to Derby to pick up my next victim before nightfall. That would have been more efficient, don’t you think?”

  “Okay, now you’re scaring me again.”

  “Sorry.” He smiled, but he could tell she knew he’d been teasing. “So, tell me what else about me is weird.”

  “You really want to know?”

  Yes, he did. It had been some time since anyone had seen him as just some guy, and the more he learned about how to blend in to this transient backpacker world, the more chance he had of being left alone. “What were your first impressions of me?”

  “Well,” she said without blinking, “you travel light. I have more stuff in my backpack than you do in your whole truck. And you’re not full of tales of adventure. That’s another thing. It’s like you either don’t want to show off—which would be unusual in itself because most travelers I’ve come across want everyone to know where they’ve been—or it’s like you’re so used to it already that there’s nothing to write home about any more. Except,” she held up one finger, breathed, “you don’t have all the gear of someone who’s been living on the road for months and months.”

  Adam cocked his head, taking in every word.

  “And you have this energy about you, like you’re … you’re standing in the doorway instead of sitting on the sofa.”

  “Okay,” Adam said, unnerved that she’d mentioned his energy after only knowing him for a few hours. Could people really pick that stuff up? It was all a load of mumbo jumbo to him. And yet … he couldn’t remember the last time he’d flopped on anyone’s sofa, including his own. The closest he ever got to relaxation these days were hard swims, sweaty workouts and painful sports massages.

  They reached the highway and his broken-down truck.

  “And you don’t have a girlfriend,” she added.

  “So?” He choked out a laugh. “Lots of guys don’t.”

  “Not ones who look like you.”

  He whipped his head around to face her, but she’d already ducked inside the truck, rummaging for something in the footwell. His curious gaze slid to the view of her rounded behind. He instinctively angled his head, then jumped back when she emerged holding her water bottle.

  “How do you know I don’t have a girlfriend?”

  She shrugged. “You’ve not mentioned one.”

  But Adam could tell by the look in her eyes that there was even more to come. He waited as she drank, watching her cheeks indent as she swallowed, his own mouth going dry.

  “You’ve got ‘loner’ plastered all over you,” she said, sucking droplets from her top lip as she offered him the water bottle. “That’s another reason why I made fifty-six.”

  He took a long drink, then gave her an easy smile as if she hadn’t struck a nerve. “You’re right, no girlfriend.” He handed her back the water. “No boyfriend either—just in case you were wondering.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I’m gay,” he added quickly. “Does that make me less weird?”

  “No, it just makes you heterosexual.” Then she gasped in that theatrical way of hers that was proving strangely amusing. “You’re not homophobic, are you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Good, because some of my best friends are gay and I take offense easily.”

  Adam had to laugh. He was at least a foot taller, outweighed her by a good thirty kilos and had just taken her down like a ragdoll in the dirt. What, exactly, would she do if he had made some dickhead derogatory comment about gay men?

  “For the record, I like guys. Gay, straight, or whatever—just not as bed partners.” Then he shook his head to clear it. How had they got on to discussing his sexual orientation? He put them back on track. “I’m just a quiet, single, heterosexual guy making his way to Darwin to see a friend.”

  Evie stared at him a bit longer, then seemed to deflate in front of him. “I feel like such an idiot.”

  She wasn’t the only one, and because Adam didn’t want to dwell on his own humiliation over the absent jack, he picked up the bag of cannabis on the back seat and tipped it out over a bush. He hoped this action showed her exactly what he thought about drugs and would put her more at ease, but she still looked worried.

  “I’m scared,” she said, looking up at him with big baby eyes. “What if some lunatic drives up to us tonight?”

  “They won’t.” Those sad eyes were just too much. “We’ll park out of sight, and besides”—he nudged her shoulder, trying to cheer her up—“with Ted’s knife collection, we’re more ready for an ambush than the average army.”

  She gave him a little smile, and he was pleased to see it, though he suspected he hadn’t made her feel any better.

  CHAPTER 9

  Dawn was dusky pink and silent.

  Evie lay on the mattress Adam had given her last night, watching the thick pink-gray clouds moving slowly across the sky. She turned her head to look under the truck, through to the other side where Adam lay sleeping, spread out like a starfish on his new double mattress.

  Last night, they’d moved the truck into a clearing, and it was light enough now for her to properly see their makeshift camp for the first time. They were screened from the road by a line of trees and spikey spinifex grass. The fine sand-like earth was a rich red brown. She was covered in it and so was Adam.

  Like her, he’d slept in his clothes, and his T-shirt had now twisted up past his ribs to reveal those ridiculously molded abs. They were coated in fine dark hair that grew thicker and darker around the dip of his navel, tapering to a narrow trail toward the fastening of his shorts. His torso was too sculpted, she thought. Too in-your-face perfect to be real, but she’d not only seen all of Adam, she’d also felt him against her when he’d held her down to the ground last night, and yep—that body was real. It was hard and hot and solid, and made her think of tangled white sheets, noisy sex, and all the women he’d been with in the past.

  No doubt there’d been plenty and she’d bet her life—absolutely, deathly certain, without a shadow of a doubt—that none of them had ever, ever blown their nose on their vest … and in front of him, too.

  Evie groaned. She was only one spit, burp and fart away from turning into a complete Neanderthal. Could she be any more embarrassing?

  Afraid that the answer was, yes, she probably could, she looked miserably over at Adam again. Her imagination had gone nuts last night, but it was hard to imagine now why she’d been so scared of him.

  Her pressure-cooked emotions had reached a high-whistling pitch and, in the confusion, she’d even thought he’d been about to kiss her. Which of course he hadn’t. Men didn’t do things like that, not in the real world. And certainly not with crazy women who accused them of being drug-dealing thieves.

  Evie sat up and hugged her knees. It was so quiet here, so peaceful. The image of Zac’s son suddenly popped into her head again. Creamy-soft cheeks and tiny, tiny fingers. She pulled her hair tight into a bun, thinking, I was the problem.

  They hadn’t been able to make a baby together because of her. Was that why Zac had kept the truth from her? Because he hadn’t wanted he
r to worry about her own fertility? Because he hadn’t wanted her to think he was gloating in some way?

  “You should forget all about that dickhead,” Adam had said to her last night as they’d shared a tin of cold beans for dinner.

  “He’s not a dickhead.” She didn’t fall in love with dickheads.

  “Whatever. Get over him. He’s moved on and so should you.”

  She had tried to swallow the beans but any appetite was suppressed by her misery. “I have moved on,” she’d said. “I’m here—traveling alone—getting on with my life, aren’t I?”

  “So you’re just bitching now that another woman’s got what you once had.”

  “No.” She’d been defensive then. She wasn’t bitching. “And before you say it, I’m not jealous either.”

  Was she? She didn’t think so, but it was hard seeing past the disappointment that Zac had let her go to Australia so easily—past the disappointment that he’d lied to her. That was the real stinger, especially as he’d been witness to the years she’d spent coming to terms with her father’s deceit. Zac knew honesty in a person was one of the virtues she valued the most but he’d overlooked this. Had he forgotten absolutely everything about her? Fifteen years. Was she really that forgettable?

  Old insecurities had stirred but rather than dwell on them, she’d changed the subject to the Kimberleys and what her and Adam were going to do next.

  Which wasn’t a great deal.

  Adam had decided last night not to attempt the entire Gibb River Road, or the numerous tracks that ran off it, like she’d hoped. Once they’d discussed it further, he’d tried to persuade her that off-roading through the Kimberleys was totally unachievable for them. It was too remote, too hot, he’d said, and they were two unprepared amateurs.

  She supposed he was right, but what had made sense in the darkness felt a lot like failure in the morning light. She was so close to exploring the Kimberleys, and although Adam might feel like a travel amateur, she didn’t. It would be a shame to have come this far and not see the region in greater depth like she’d always dreamed.

  But part of her knew Adam was right—and his cash wouldn’t get him very far, anyway. Not even if she paid half the expenses to Darwin. He’d told her his replacement cards were being posted to his friends’ address, so until his friends returned from Sydney, Adam was a man of little means.

  No wonder he’d just driven up.

  Evie grabbed a packet of tissues out of her bag and walked away from the truck to squat behind a bush. When she returned, Adam was still sleeping. She made some noise dressing, cleaning her teeth, rummaging in her bag, but he still didn’t wake. Her stomach rumbled. She didn’t feel right helping herself to his limited supplies, so she glugged back water for breakfast and decided to go for a walk to the rocky outcrop that peeked above the tree line ahead. She’d seen it last night in the moonlight and had been looking at the dark craggy rocks since daybreak.

  Thinking the short walk would clear her head, she stuffed her water bottle into her day bag and left Adam a note under a windscreen wiper. Then she picked her way through the clusters of bushes, ensuring she left tracks so she could find the way back. When she got past the bushes, the base of the outcrop emerged from behind the trees. It was closer than it looked, just a couple of minutes’ amble, zig-zagging through the scrubland.

  After reaching the outcrop, Evie gazed up over the spindly branches and willowy grasses that grew among the cracks and ledges, and quickly spotted the natural pathway of time-flattened stone leading upwards. She hadn’t intended to climb, but the first ledge beckoned, and she began walking along the wide balcony-like ledges, inclining as they curved like a prehistoric helter-skelter to the other side.

  Soon she was above the tree line. She turned toward the direction in which she’d come. In the distance, the highway—hidden in places by trees—scored a long, straight line through the rugged earth. Below her, and much closer, was the top of the truck and the mattress on which she’d slept. She angled her neck but couldn’t see Adam. He was probably still sleeping.

  Nearing the top, she clambered and scaled over rocks cracked by the heat and rain of millennia. Some were taller than her, and when she reached as high as she could without risking injury, breathless with exertion, Evie was surprised to realize she was still no higher up than the average house. Sweat beaded on the side of her face and her vest stuck to her back where her rucksack pressed against it. She took her bag off her shoulders and drank some water, staring at the rugged vastness below.

  As far as the eye could see, not one building, pylon, or lamp post. Just land, baked hard and red, patched in green and brown. Evie took a deep breath and then another, tasting the adventure and discovery that coursed through her. A bolt of excitement, just like that night nearly a year ago, when she’d first told Zac about her idea to travel.

  But this view in front of her now was nothing like the images she’d seen on her laptop. This was real and magnificent, untouchable and beautifully raw.

  She knew then that there was no way she’d miss seeing it all.

  Adam stirred in his sleep. He knew he was dreaming but couldn’t wake up. The flash photography was too blinding, the voices shouting his name too loud. The exit blocked by too many people. There was nowhere to go, no air to breathe, and nothing to do but shield his eyes from the brightness as he stood before everyone, painfully conscious that he was butt naked and dripping wet.

  But when he removed his arm from across his face, he only saw Evie standing before him, just like she’d done that first morning, hands on hips, staring open-mouthed at his groin.

  Only this time, she was naked too.

  Adam’s eyes flew open. The flash photography turned into bright morning sun, the voices into tall grasses rustling in the breeze and a squawking bird. He shook his head clear, then rubbed his eyes but was unable to shed the naked image of Evie.

  What a stupid dream. And was it any surprise that she’d been in it? She was the only person he knew within a five-thousand-kilometer radius. It didn’t mean anything, and neither did those thoughts of kissing her he’d had yesterday. That had just been circumstantial. A man who hadn’t had sex in a while lying on top of a woman. What did he expect?

  He rubbed his eyes again and turned over, not quite ready to face the day. But then he looked under the truck and noticed Evie’s empty mattress. He propped himself up onto his forearms. Her clothes spilled out of her backpack next to her mattress and her sandals were gone.

  “Hey, Evie?”

  Judging by the sun’s position, it wasn’t long past dawn. He stood up and called out to her again. When he heard no reply, he assumed she was behind a bush somewhere so decided to find one of his own, keeping to his side of the truck just like they’d agreed to avoid any more awkward incidents.

  Adam emptied his bladder, thinking about last night. He’d apologized for his incompetence, making out that he’d been so focused on getting to Darwin after his wallet had been stolen that he’d neglected checking the truck over. He’d put his trust in Nutjob Ted, he’d told her, and she’d bought it with no further questions asked. He felt bad lying all the time.

  When he returned from the bushes, Adam called out to her again but there was still no reply. He pulled his TAG Heuer out of the glove box and checked the time. Seven forty. He’d slept for nine hours, but alone in the stillness and quiet, it felt like days. He replaced the watch, then noticed a trail of footprints in the dry earth. “Evie?” He followed it through the gap in the trees. “Where are you?”

  Quickening his pace, he continued to follow the trail to the outcrop. Prickles of anxiety stirred within him and he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t trapped by fans in a shop now and Evie was a grown woman, responsible for herself. But still—

  “Evie!”

  “Up here.”

  Relief hitched his breath. He looked up and saw her appear on a
ledge against the sky, waving both arms above her head.

  “What the hell, Evie!” he shouted up to her. “You can’t just go wandering off by yourself here.”

  Her arms dropped to her sides, then firmly back to her hips just like in his dream, except this time she was wearing clothes. “Do I look five years old to you?” He opened his mouth to speak, but that clipped accent of hers seem to cut the air to his brain. “Just come up and look at this view. It’s amazing.”

  Huh. So, while he’d been imagining Evie snake-bitten and limping, lost across the outback, she’d been looking at the view? Adam shook his head and although he reminded himself that she wasn’t his responsibility, something still niggled. Out here there was no one else, and they owed it to each other to keep safe. If something did happen to her and he was involved, he could bet his ass it would have international incident written all over it.

  And after Port Douglas, he’d had enough of those.

  He jumped up onto the first ledge, then located the path up to Evie. When he reached her, she was sitting on a rock with her back to him.

  “Next time you wanna go for a walk,” he said, “wake me up.”

  “A thunderstorm couldn’t wake you.” She turned to him. “And anyway, didn’t you see my note?”

  “What note?”

  She turned back to the view. “That’ll be a no, then.”

  Ignoring her sarcasm, he stepped to her side.

  “Look at this,” she said, holding out her arms to indicate the span of the landscape.

  Adam took it all in, a sea of treetops touching the dull gray sky, the horizon curving with the shape of the Earth. In the distance, to his far right, sticking out of the parched, pristine land, he saw several rocky outcrops similar to the one they stood on. Some, like theirs, dripped with vegetation, others were black and scorched from the sun.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said.