Where Sea Meets Sky

“Um,” he says, thinking for a moment before telling me a long-distance one with too many digits. “But I don’t really have a plan here so I guess only text, and maybe do it all in one go.”

So I can’t text you during all hours of the night? I think to myself. If Nick wasn’t here, I would be flirting my ass off. I’m a little disgusted with myself. But only a little.

“Wait, wait,” Nick says, raising his palms, “when is this road trip?”

I glare at him. “I told you. We leave on Wednesday.” Doesn’t he ever listen?

“And where are you going?”

I try to contain my annoyance, taking in a deep breath. “To the South Island. Then we’re coming back to my mom’s in time for Christmas, maybe even go up to the bach for New Year.”

“What’s a bach?” Josh asks.

I forgot that when I was in North America, half the people couldn’t understand what I was saying. “It’s what we call a beach house or a cottage,” I explain, trying not to let my aggravation show to him.

“Sounds choice,” Nick says. “Count me in.”

I raise my brows, feeling a surge of panic. “You said you couldn’t come. I invited you and you said you had to go home early for Christmas.” I’m practically complaining.

He folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah, now I’m changing my mind. I can at least go for a couple of weeks. I’ve never seen the South Island aside from Christchurch, and that was before the earthquakes anyway.”

An hour ago this would have been music to my ears. Now it just felt like this bag of crap was ready to fall on my head. It’s not that I had been planning anything . . . illicit with Josh. Lord, I hadn’t even gotten that far. And it’s not that I suddenly didn’t want to be with Nick at all. But being in an old VW bus for weeks with the hot-as-fuck guy I had a one-night stand with and the antagonistic, ex-rugby-playing entrepreneur I’m seeing is bound to be the most awkward thing I’ve ever done. Mr. Orange is already uncomfortable to be in; I can’t imagine how it’s going to be now.

Nick looks at Josh. “That alright with you, mate? Having another dick in the bus to break up the pussy?” Judging from his unfriendly tone, it’s more of a dare than anything else, and I’m so certain that Josh is going to back out.

But Josh only shrugs, a carefree look about him. “Not a problem with me,” he says and it sounds genuine. “The more the merrier.”

They both look at me expectantly and I paste a smile on my face. “Well, Amber is going to be happy. I think she was worried there would be too much estrogen.”

“Hey,” Nick says, coming over to me and putting his arm over my shoulders. He gives me a squeeze and then jerks his thumb over at Josh. “Maybe this bloke and your cousin can get their bonk on. She’s American, she’ll like the whole rock star, drug addict look, won’t she?” He smiles at Josh, all teeth. “But we’ll establish some rules—‘When this van is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’,’ and all that.”

Though it shouldn’t, the idea of pretty little Amber and Josh together makes me feel a bit sick.

“That won’t be a problem,” Josh says with ease and rocks back on his heels. “Well, I better go back to my mates at the beach.” He throws in the Kiwi speak and I give him the thumbs-up. “So, I guess, text me before Wednesday where to meet you and I’ll be ready.”

“Sweet-as,” I say, and Nick squeezes my shoulders just a bit harder.

Josh waves at us and then saunters down the street, disappearing around the corner.

As soon as he’s gone, Nick takes his arm off me. “Really, Gemma,” he says with disapproval all over him.

“What?”

“Where did you find that guy, in a druggie’s den?”

Anger flares inside me. “No, of course not. Just because he’s got tattoos and piercings doesn’t mean he’s a fucking drug addict.”

Nick waves me away with his hand. “You don’t know this guy. I’m surprised you even talked to him to begin with.”

“Why?” I ask, totally annoyed now. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He grins. “Because you’re one hot chick and he looks like he should be on skid row, that’s why. Look, I know it’s none of my business what you did when you were traveling, but the Gemma I know wouldn’t have befriended someone like him.”

I’m surprised he thinks we only befriended each other, but I leave it at that.

“Well, maybe you don’t bloody know Gemma at all.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me back to him. “You’re so dramatic. You know what I mean.”

And maybe I do know what he means, but just because I surround myself with certain types of people doesn’t mean everyone else is off limits.

“Anyway,” he says, “you’ll need me with you. Who else will make sure he stays in line? Last thing you need is for him to rob you of everything you have and leave you stranded in Milford Sound while he goes off looking for his next fix.”

I can’t believe his narrow-minded view of people and the world. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m so tempted to tell him the only drug users I know are him and his friends, since I know they’re all hopped up on steroids half the time. But that will open a can of worms that I don’t want to deal with. Though Nick is nearly thirty and has a successful business, he deals with personal problems like a five-year-old child.