I shook it off, climbing back into the truck beside her with our dinner inside two large, horizontal cardboard trays in brown paper bags.
“Can you do me a favour?” I asked, piling the two paper bags on top of each other. “Can you open the cooler bag for me? There’s an empty one inside there I’ll put this stuff into. Don’t want the hot stuff getting cool or the cool stuff warming up.”
She unzipped the bag and handed the empty one folded up inside over to me. “You really have thought of everything haven’t you?”
“I’ve tried to,” I said, as I carefully laid the paper bags of food on top of each other inside the empty bag.
I handed the bag back to her and she put it in the foot well.
“Food: check. Ready for the venue?”
She smiled, complete with dimples, and nodded.
We pulled out of the car park and made our way back along the waterfront and through town. Conversation came easier, and the truck’s cab filled with the delicious aroma of freshly cooked seafood. She didn’t ask me what it was, and I got the feeling it didn’t matter. Whereas just minutes ago I had been scared out of my wits, now it felt more like anticipation. And it wasn’t so bad. I found myself cocooned inside a natural high I couldn’t remember feeling for a very long time.
Ten minutes later, we turned off the main road and down a gravel one, winding down the side of the hill towards a place that held special memories for me. I hoped she’d like it as much as I did. I pulled into the gravel parking bay in a tiny cove that overlooked the beach and one of the most amazing views in the area.
I led the way down the path threaded along the shore, through shrubs and bushes, until we came to a small inlet and a grassy flat area, just above the shoreline. The ocean spread out before us, waves lapping gently on the beach just a few metres away.
“So beautiful,” she murmured, taking in the view.
I ignored the view in favour of her. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, with sunset at least a couple of hours away. It cast a golden glow over her face, igniting a fire deep within her eyes that turned them greener and lighter. I don’t know that I’d ever seen anything more incredible.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I murmured.
She turned to me and our eyes locked. A thrill buzzed through me as we stood there, standing close enough to touch. I fought the urge to kiss her, as my heart pounded inside my chest like a jackhammer. This had been one of our favourite picnic spots, Em’s and mine, and I was starting to see now that it might’ve been a mistake to bring her here. It was like the place had magical powers. Or maybe it was just the memories of what we used to do here that seemed to merge the past with the present.
I wanted to kiss her. Those rose-red lips taunted me. I fought the urge, but only because it seemed like the right thing to do. Or maybe that was just fear talking, because when I went to take the cooler bag out of her hand, her eyes widened slightly. As if she knew what I was thinking and she wouldn’t have minded.
I had never been what you’d call smooth. Most of the time, I felt like I was in over my head. It took Em to approach me one night, at a party on the beach with some friends. If she hadn’t, I don’t know that I’d ever have drummed up the necessary courage to ask her out.
But now, with Maia, things felt very different. Her lack of confidence gave mine a boost. The little signs were definitely there – the smiles, the looks, the way she both shied away from me yet sought me out at the same time.
I was sure now that I wasn’t alone in this. She felt it too, I’d put money on it. The realisation gave my flagging self-esteem a giant boost.
I set both cooler bags down on the ground and reached into one for a blanket, spreading it out on the grass. Thank God, because suddenly my knees felt like they were going to give way on me.
“Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold. I brought wine, beer and Coke. What would you like?”
She sank down onto the blanket opposite me and peered into the bag. “What kind of wine? I’ll drink anything except chardonnay.”
Okay. Another thing she and Em had in common. I never bought chardonnay anymore, out of habit. I hadn’t even realised it until that exact moment. Funny how habits just form without you even realising it. It was a little unnerving, these similarities. Little reminders, as if I needed any.
“It’s a sauvignon blanc. Is that okay?”
“That’s great,” she said, reaching for the bottle and the plastic wine glasses from the bag. “I’ll pour. What about you?”
“I think I’ll have a beer.”
She didn’t stand on ceremony, pulling out a beer for me then opening the wine and pouring herself a glass. I pulled out the paper bags containing our dinner, ripping them open to expose the shallow cardboard trays groaning with a selection of crisply battered seafood and chips.
“That looks delicious,” she said.