Knock, knock.
I tap my foot as I wait at the Darks’ front door, cringing at the sign hanging there: Families are like fudge — mostly sweet with a few nuts.
No-one answers.
I check my phone. It’s now 5.45 pm and I don’t have any missed texts or calls from Milo. I plop down on the steps and rest the tub of gelato on my knees. It’s starting to sweat, sending droplets of water down my legs and onto the concrete.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ calls an elderly man hobbling along the footpath with a tiny dog. He’s the fifth person to spark a conversation with me since I arrived.
‘Perfect,’ I call back.
Friendliness from strangers is one of the biggest differences between Durnan and the city — well, Durnan and most places I’ve lived. Everyone’s up for a chat here. I’ve already spoken with four other people in the fifteen minutes I’ve been waiting: a cheerful mum pushing her baby in a pram, two kids on bikes handing out supermarket catalogues, and the woman who showed up to mow my old backyard.
So much for hanging out in the treehouse today.
Alone with my thoughts on the step, I have enough mental space to contemplate the idea of being squashed in a treehouse with Milo. Maybe him not turning up is the best outcome.
Because me and Milo.
Both single.
Alone in a tiny space.
Oh God.
If we survive without breaking any of the rules, we’ll deserve a gold medal.
* * *
Layla: You’re late and I have gelato
Layla: Hey, jerkface! Coming? PS: A lady’s mowing my old backyard. Roar!
Milo: Sorry, Dad’s bailed me up at work. That sucks
Layla: I’m here — should I go?
Milo: Didn’t realise how late it was! No, don’t. Give me 10?
Milo: Actually, 20
Layla: C’MON
Milo: ASAP, promise
Milo: Key’s behind the pot plant
Layla: I’m eating ALL the gelato without you
***
I lick my fingers, sucking the last of the gelato out from under my thumbnail. Dragging myself from the couch in the living room, I wander over to a cabinet. It’s covered with photos in matching white frames: the Darks smiling at Christmas, the Darks smiling in a garden, the Darks smiling at Sea World, the Darks being the perfect smiling Durnan family.
‘Monty Burns! Didn’t know you were visiting me today.’
I turn to see Trent standing behind me. He’s flushed, and wearing a singlet and shorts with a towel draped around his neck.
‘Trenticles. Didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Back door,’ he says, gesturing down the hall. ‘You breaking in or what? All the expensive stuff’s in the folks’ bedroom.’
I smile. ‘Oh, totally. Milo’s running late but he told me to wait inside … that alright?’
‘Yeah, course. Always. How’s Kurt by the way? Saw him at a party the other night.’
‘We broke up so he’s …’ I shrug. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Ah, sorry. Didn’t know.’
Clearing my throat, I return to looking at the photos. Trent edges over. I can smell his muskiness.
‘Talbingo?’ He laughs and snatches up a shot of the Darks smiling by a lake. ‘Isn’t that where you confessed your love to me once? At the cabins?’
‘No.’ I snatch it back.
Trent grins. ‘I reckon I still have the letter you wrote me. Filthy it was too.’
I laugh. ‘Dream on.’
‘Deny it all you want. I think you’re still angry I turned you down for Valerie Rhodes. Biggest mistake of my life.’
‘Shut up.’
‘As you wish.’ He pauses. ‘But, ah, has Milo confessed his relentless thirst for you yet?’
‘I said shut up. We’re friends.’
‘You two are as in denial as each other.’ He smirks. ‘Anyway, I’m jumping in the shower. Big workout today. Huge. Make yourself comfy, Montgomery.’
He goes out, leaving behind the stench of sweaty armpits.
* * *
Layla: Save me! Trent’s talking about his HUGE workout
Milo: Ha! Run! I’m about 5 away
Milo: This bus is taking forever
Milo: Save me any gelato, Chicken Girl?
Milo: You ate it all, didn’t you?
* * *
I kick off my thongs and help myself to chopped-up mango in the fridge, before lying on the Darks’ couch again. It’s like it’s ten years ago and Mum’s in the next room playing cards with Jen.
My head presses into a cushion as I buzz through the TV channels. Boring. Funny but seen it. Hundred years old. Dumb and seen it.
‘Hey.’
I sit up, startled, and see Milo standing behind the couch, backpack slung over one shoulder.
‘Hi,’ I stammer, suddenly nervous. Being nervous around Milo is so out of the ordinary it’s like we’re in another dimension. ‘What is it with you Dark boys and sneaking up on people?’
‘Huh?’
‘Back door, right?’
‘Huh?’ He walks around the couch and eases himself down next to me.
‘Trent came in the same … doesn’t matter. How are you?’
He’s careful to keep about a metre between our bodies while we talk, but not seem like he’s keeping a metre between our bodies while we talk. We chat a lot about a little for a few minutes. Well, he does, while I nod along, pretending to listen while wondering what happens next.
‘So, no treehouse today, huh? Damn.’ He scratches his head. ‘Um, you want a juice?’
‘Sure. I’ll help you get it.’
‘Er, thanks.’
I spring to my feet, grateful for something — even something as trivial as juice — to focus on rather than the silence that creeps in every time one of us runs out of ways to stuff the air with small talk.
We head into the kitchen, and he fills my glass to the top with orange juice until nothing but a dribble comes out. He holds up the bottle: empty.
I point at it. ‘That’s dangerously familiar.’
‘What, the juice?’
‘The empty bottle.’
It’s what we used to play spin the bottle before we discovered empty wine bottles in the recycling.
He flushes a little. ‘Oh. Yeah. True.’
‘Yeah.’ Warning: rules down. ‘How’s Sal?’
I repeat: rules down.
‘Well, I’m totally, one hundred per cent, definitely single.’ He clears his throat. ‘And, ah, you?’
He already knows I am. My lip curls into a smile. It’s too late to fight it.
‘Yep. Definitely, totally. One hundred per cent.’
‘Interesting …’ He hasn’t let go of the bottle. ‘About you and me the other week …’ His cheeks are still flushed. ‘I was thinking and … well, it wasn’t that big a deal, was it? We can stay friends despite that … right? No weirdness. I can’t deal with the weirdness.’
Every time he says ‘weirdness’ it only amplifies the weirdness.
I hoist myself onto the kitchen counter. ‘Here’s what I think. We kissed once, and now we’re here and we’re friends and I’ve got juice and everything’s normal, so yeah … no big deal. No weirdness.’
‘Well, technically it was two kisses in one day.’
‘True. Well, maybe that makes it even less of a big deal. Twice and all is still okay.’
‘Better than okay. In fact …’
‘Yeah?’
I’m bursting for him to finish the sentence. His body is close to mine now. He’s leaning in towards me so slowly — painfully slowly — that it’s barely obvious it’s happening. But it’s happening.
‘I might be wrong,’ he begins. ‘But maybe three times wouldn’t be that different.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘You know, you’re right. If anything, it would just prove how much we can handle it. The kissing. As friends, I mean.’
‘Right. One hundred per cent.’
I can see his chest rising and falling now.
‘Maybe we’re friends who kiss sometimes. What a revelation. Who cares?’
‘I don’t get why everyone’s not doing this.’
‘It’s genius,’ I say and readjust my position on the counter, leaving my legs slightly splayed … just another space for him to stand in. ‘So, ah, what do we … oh! I’ve got it.’
I take the bottle from his hand and lay it on the counter next to me. Then I give it a spin. It whirls around, sliding across the bench, before slowing to a stop, the lid pointed towards the fridge, the base pointed at Milo’s stomach. The lid’s not pointing at him. It’s supposed to be the lid.
He leans in for a better look. ‘Now what?’
I look at the bottle. ‘Well …’
He steps in closer until I can feel his body against mine.
‘Well …’ He leans in and brushes my lips with his, just for a second. He breaks into a small smile. ‘Oops, I fell.’
‘Rules four and five,’ I mumble, feeling a flutter flow through my body. I link my bare feet around his waist to pull him closer. ‘See, we’re friends.’
‘Totally,’ he says, before moving his lips against mine again, faster this time, like he’s been holding it in.
My fingers slip up the back of his T-shirt, while his hands move over my jeans then slide up towards my shoulder blades. I press one palm onto the counter and wrap my other arm around his neck, when I hear a clatter. We look down to see the empty bottle on the tiles.
Then we hear slow clapping behind us.