“It’s just me, Evie.” He put the guitar down so there was less of a physical barrier between them. “You know I can’t grow a proper beard, that I’m scared of needles and have a weak stomach. If I eat cheese bad things happen. You know I’m a broody drunk and what an awful guitar player I was.”
“Are you still a broody drunk?”
He nodded. A much better guitar player, but still not keen on needles, scruff was the best he could do and he avoided cheese for health and safety reasons. “I am the official unlife of the party.” He was almost an anti-rock star in every respect. No trashed hotels or drug-wasted orgies in his résumé. “It’s all downhill to sleep from the third beer.”
She smiled, her sunlit garden of goodness smile. “So will you write a song with me, Jay, broody drunk, cheese gives you the runs, not one single tattoo Endicott?”
Evie wrote the song, all he did was encourage her and record it on his phone so later when they woke again, inevitably starving, neither of them thought it was a flashback to a dream.
FIFTEEN
Evie trailed behind Errol, Grip and her brothers on the stadium site inspection, mostly to make sure Oscar didn’t peel off and disappear and Abel was comfortable with all the arrangements. She was also taking photos for a backstage tour post and she’d shoot video of the guys when they did their sound check.
Jay and the rest of World’s End were here somewhere but they hadn’t run across them yet. She almost didn’t need to capture more images of Jay with Lost Property. Their views, likes, shares, comments and engagement scores had gone ballistic since the show at the Grumpy Fiddler. And it looked like they’d sold two more shows in Sydney at the end of the Australian tour. Everyone was happy with that.
Not everyone had the timing problem Evie had.
If she didn’t have Jay’s lips to herself soon she might blow up an internal organ. Her heart was already so swollen and full of light that it floated in her chest in a way that made her whole body feel refreshed and vital. Given they’d barely had any sleep the last two nights, that was probably an indication of impending fatal organ shutdown. Like how trees and shrubs that were dying blasted out a last surge of out of season flowering before they turned to twigs.
Was that a real thing or had she imagined it? She probably should Google that. Or ask Teela.
Hey Tee, so I’m probably in love with Jay but I’m not sure if it’s good for my heart. I might even be *shudder* happy. Please send ice cream.
Nope, if she sent that message, Teela would make Evie come over for Vietnamese takeaway and force her to talk about it all and she’d have to confess to what Errol did, the no-kissing rule, the no PIV addendum, having slept with Jay and, cough, having written a song. Since all of those things were out of character, it might rock the foundations of their long friendship.
I wrote a freaking song.
She tripped up a step, making a racket on the metal staircase and let out a shout. Every member of her family rushed to see that she was okay. Joke, hah, hah. Not one of them even turned a head to check she wasn’t lying there bleeding out.
They loved her, they did. Bastards.
She wrote a song and it wasn’t terrible and she wanted to write another, if she could find the time. Catching Teela up was important but it was well down in the list of things she needed to do, way under have it out with Errol and find the right time to kiss Jay’s mouth.
And the timing was everything because s
he and Jay had worked out how to be together and not have each other’s mouths. Oh, it was a close thing; so many near misses, chins and cheeks and foreheads that were poor substitutes, lips that went enthusiastically to genitals to save the day and produce gasps and grunts and sighs. They’d been endlessly inventive to avoid breaking the rules.
Jay had been so tolerant of her boundary and had never once genuinely tried to push things.
It wasn’t only the rules keeping them from defining what they were doing together. Jay might still be afraid of needles and have a low tolerance for alcohol and a weak stomach, but he was also a different man. He couldn’t not be different to the painfully endearing guy with more front than skill that she’d fallen for at sixteen. He was secure in his abilities now, his confidence fit like lucky jeans and his opportunities were only limited by his interests.
And Evie couldn’t be more different either.
Back then she’d been the one with limitless opportunities. Sing, join a band, form her own, write, teach music, go into management like Errol, use her marketing degree. She’d also been the one with responsibilities. Family household manager, father backer, brother herder, argument settler and ego tamer.
Some of that she’d taken on without thinking about whether it was appropriate, some of it was foisted on her after their mum died in the bullshit way that emotional labor inside a family was still considered women’s work.
Jay had been her escape from indecision and the all-encompassing Tice politics. And she didn’t know how much of loving him ten years ago was bound up in the way she could be carefree with him.
She wasn’t responsible for him eating right or skipping class or showing up to rehearsals. She didn’t have to make excuses for him when he forgot a commitment, be the only one who washed his dishes or put away his clean underwear. Her first genuine adult relationship with someone she loved as an equal who didn’t need her to be his maid, pride or conscience was with Jay—and it had been easy.
It was only a small thing that she could never tell him about the family arguments that made his bandmates look greedy or arrogant, or missing necessary the brain cells for ultimate survival. And she didn’t tell him how much Errol disapproved of their relationship. She’d certainly never mentioned the pressure she was under to go professional. Jay was her stress-free zone. His only politics was spending time together and hers was to make certain nothing interfered with that.
It sure felt like his politics hadn’t changed. He told her in so many ways, from his hands on her body to the words he said; that he loved her.
Fast forward and the easy had grown a thick hide to cover over the scars, and horns and spikes to protect against new ones. They both had lives they liked, commitments they’d welcomed. He’d exceeded all her expectations for him, yet enough of the Jay who’d cooked for her and kept his dingy flat stocked with all the beauty products she liked best remained to make her want to forget all that and start again.
She needed more than lucky jeans to navigate this.