Bella woke to find her bedroom filled with bright silver light.
She’d forgotten to close her curtains and, in the early morning, the huge glowing full moon had shifted to the west and was shining straight through the window onto her bed. Everything, inside and outside, was almost as bright as day.
From the moon’s angle, she guessed the time was somewhere around four and she needed at least another hour’s sleep. She rolled over, closed her eyes and pulled a spare pillow over her head, hoping to block the light out. Bad luck – her mind was already stirring to wakefulness.
It was very annoying that her first thought was Gabe. She could blame her aunt for raising that particular subject. She’d had enough trouble getting to sleep after their riverbank conversation. Now she tried desperately to expel thoughts of Gabe and to replace them with memories of Anton.
So what if Gabe smiled at her when he’d left yesterday?
Good to have you home.
Why was he being nice anyway? Why now, when it was too late, when she’d worked so hard to get over him, to change and move on?
With an effort, she wrenched her thoughts to Anton again, recalling his patience as he taught her to ski and the fun of their gang at Alpazur. She tried to remember the exact feel and taste of Anton, but her mind was like a wilful child; it kept running away. Again and again, as she tried to focus on her French boyfriend, her thoughts skipped back to Gabe, flashing up so many ancient memories . . .
After an evening by the waterhole she’d been practically soaked in nostalgia, remembering so many times she’d been there with Gabe, especially the first time Gabe kissed her in that blissful summer after her first year at uni.
On that day she’d miraculously managed to get Gabe there on his own – just the two of them – and after a long leisurely swim, they’d flung themselves on the bank and lain there, looking up at the sky through the gaps in the tree branches.
‘Look. A Simpsons’ sky,’ she’d said, pointing.
Gabe had laughed. ‘A what sky?’
‘You know the beginning of The Simpsons, when the title goes up and there’s a pretty blue sky with white fluffy clouds?’
‘Oh, yeah. You’re right. A Simpsons’ sky. I like that.’
The sky was especially blue and beautiful that day, but Bella was far more interested in Gabe lying beside her, all bronzed and muscular and manly. Whenever she stole a glimpse his way, she was filled with longing that made her skin feel too tight.
At uni, she’d tried to fall in love with other guys, with next to no luck, and now she was scared she would give in to her impulse and throw herself at Gabe and make a fool of herself.
She had to be careful. Gabe was her long-term project. If things worked out the way she hoped, they’d be together forever – so she was terrified of making a mistake that could spoil everything.
When they finally got together, Gabe would have to make the first move. That was an essential part of Bella’s fantasy. So, to stop herself from doing anything foolish, she quickly told him about the crazy word game that one of her housemates had introduced.
It wasn’t the first time she’d brought home one of these games. Last Easter, it had been metaphors where you chose the kind of furniture a person was most like or the time of day or whatever.
‘You’re a double bed, late afternoons, an electric guitar and rocky-road chocolate,’ she’d told Gabe. And he’d told her she was a kitchen stool, early mornings, country and western music and a bunch of white grapes.
She hadn’t been too pleased about the kitchen stool, but he’d said it was because she was slim and leggy, so she’d forgiven him.
‘With this game you give a line of dialogue,’ she said. ‘But the joke’s in the verb at the end.’
‘Don’t like the sound of that.’ Gabe frowned. ‘Sounds like an English exam.’
‘It’s not really.’ Bella told him her favourite. ‘I’m at breaking point – she snapped.’
She couldn’t help smiling when she said this, and although Gabe groaned, she insisted on telling him another one. ‘I’m bursting with anger – she exploded.’ Bella giggled now. She loved these. ‘It’s time to eject – the pilot ex-planed.’
Gabe groaned even more loudly at this one. ‘You’ve spent a whole year at uni and this is the best you can come up with?’
Bella pouted a little, thinking of names to call him as they lay there with the sun warm on their skin.
And then Gabe said lazily, ‘Okay. How about this one? I’m going to kiss you – he lisped.’
Bella was sure her heart stopped beating.
She knew Gabe was just getting into the swing of the game and he wasn’t actually going to kiss her, but his words still sent her into orbit.
‘Not bad,’ she said shakily. ‘But lisped isn’t quite right.’ Now her heart was galloping so fast, her voice was squeaky and breathy. ‘It’s pretty good, though. Lisped is almost like lips, and I guess you were trying to––’
She stopped talking when she realised how close Gabe was.
He was resting his weight on one elbow as he leaned in closer. His gorgeous face was only inches from hers.
‘How about – I’m going to kiss you – he mouthed?’
‘That . . . ’ Bella gulped. ‘That’s pretty close.’
But she couldn’t laugh, couldn’t even smile because she knew what was going to happen. This was it! The moment she’d been waiting for, the big moment she’d dreamed of and longed for and prayed for. The moment she’d feared might never happen . . .
Gabe kissed her and his lips were warm and dizzyingly wonderful.
‘Wow,’ he whispered.
‘What?’
‘Nothing . . . I can’t kiss you and have a good vocabulary at the same time. Just . . . wow.’
‘Are you going to kiss me again?’
‘Might have to.’
His kiss was assured and confident, but gentle and dreamy, too . . . and when his tongue touched her lips . . . wow only went halfway to describing the thrill that swept through Bella. She’d never been so turned on. Every part of her responded . . . her bones, her skin, her insides . . .
Anything might have happened then if they hadn’t heard the thudding of horse’s hooves signalling the arrival of Luke and Gabe’s sisters.
‘We wondered where you two had got to,’ Sarah Mitchell complained as they scrambled to their feet.