Music pounding in my earphones, I head out the front door. Block after block, I run through how Layla and I might greet each other, what we might say, whether we’ll hug, or kiss on the cheek, or launch ourselves at each other with so much PDA that it horrifies all the families hanging by the river.
Then I remember. There’s still no word from her. She might not even show.
At the entrance to the car park, I hoist myself over a waist-high fence to take a shortcut. Long grass scratches at my calves as I wind my way down to the water. My heart starts to race as I conjure her in my mind. Messy hair. Skinny jeans. That voice that slices through a room.
I spot her car wedged between two SUVs.
Holy crap. She came.
* * *
I circle the car, tongue pressed against the top of my mouth, and peek through the windows. Nothing looks out of place. There’s a little extra rubbish littering the back seat, but that’s about it. It’s locked. I’ve checked twice.
Palms cupping the back of my head, I look around, half-expecting to see her bounding over, calling me ‘jerkface’. But she’s not down at the river bend, or splashing by the willows. She’s not up high near the rope swing. She’s not on the grass under the trees. She’s not chatting with the duo who’ve run the tourist centre for the past ten years.
I even wait outside the ladies’ for fifteen minutes, but the only person who comes out is a weathered woman in a sarong, jumper and thongs who tells me to scram before she pads back to her caravan.
I wander up to the main street to suss out if Layla’s at Joe’s, or stocking up for us at the gelato shop, checking my phone to see if I’ve skipped over something.
Nope. No messages or missed calls.
An hour has passed since I first arrived but this is all I know: she’s not here.
* * *
Milo: Hey, where are you, Chicken Girl?
Milo: I’m back at your car
Milo: Are we playing hide’n’seek?
Milo: Have we done that thing where you’re at your car while I’m by the water, or you’re in the bathroom while I’m up at the main street?
Milo: Well, that’s an hour and a half
Milo: Seriously, you OK?