Page 22 of Jump Start

She would hang me for this.

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Harper

After a fairly quiet Saturday, I was keen for Sunday to arrive so I could make my way out to Thomas’s house, if for nothing other than a sticky beak. I fired up maps on my phone and turned the music up as I made my way out of the city and out towards the north-western side. The closer I got to Thomas’s house, the more picturesque the scenery was—green fields, horse studs, and beautifully presented homes lined each side of the roads. I pulled up outside two black gates and double-checked the address he gave me. All of a sudden, the gates opened and before I could stop myself, I was driving through them.

As I drove through, I rationalised to myself that this couldn’t be his house, that he was looking after it for someone, and I thought, why would he not have a nice house? He was successful. My inner monologue was rudely interrupted when I had to slam on the brakes for a small family of ducks crossing the driveway.

“Shit!” I said out loud to myself. Moments later, there was a knock on my window. I jumped and opened the door.

“You almost took out the family of ducks I’ve been nurturing for ages,” Thomas’s dry voice teased me as I got out of the car.

“In my defence, they came out of nowhere.”

“Ah, yes, every reckless driver’s excuse. Find the place, okay?”

“I’m here, so, yes?” I answered his stupid question with an even dumber one. Putting his arm around my shoulders, he shut my car door and kissed me on the cheek. I could feel the nerves building in my body, still a little unsure of how we weresupposed to interact with each other.

“This is such a nice house!” I spoke a little softer as I took in my surroundings. As we approached the newly built modern home, Thomas opened the door and let me step inside first.

“Well, some might say that I have achieved relative success so far, you know sponsorships and stuff, it all adds up.”

As I admired the entryway and adjacent room, there was already a lot to take in. The large cabinet full of trophies and small model cars, the racing sim set up in a spare room directly off the entry, and a long hallway, which I could only assume led to the lounge room or kitchen. I slowly walked down to find the large open plan living and kitchen area with an outdoor pool and deck.

“There is so much house for one person,” I whispered, not really meaning to say it out loud. He laughed but didn’t respond.

“So, what’s the plan today?” I asked looking over at Thomas who was leaning against his kitchen bench, long legs crossed at the ankles again. I didn’t realise before, but he was wearing shorts and an old T-shirt with holes in it.

“Thank you for dressing up for the occasion.”

He looked down at his legs. “Ah well, you’ll live.”

Were we even capable of having a conversation that didn’t involve banter or sarcasm? I wasn’t sure.

I decided I would try and move things along. “How long have you been here?” I questioned as I perched myself on the edge of his lounge suite.

“About eight months. The build was finished about a year ago, but I was living in my parents’ guest house and didn’t feel the need to move. I’m not home a lot.”

Looking around the living area, I felt unsure about how to proceed, not like me to be out of words very often.

“Well, let’s get lunch started, hey? You go sit out at that table on the deck and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Doing as he said, I took a seat on the wooden chair and placed my handbag on the table. Looking out across the parcel of land beyond his property, I noticed there were horses in the distance, grazing on fresh green grass, and other homes similar to Thomas’s. The sound of loud clinking in the kitchen distracted me and I turned to see what the commotion was, only to find Thomas trying to get out of the door without a free hand. I stood up to help him.

“Thanks, Harps,” he said, his gratitude genuine. I didn’t usually let people call me any form of nickname unless they were my family, but for some reason, I didn’t mind Thomas doing so. This could be the first of many things.

Sitting back down on my perch, I watched him fire up the barbecue and get the contents ready to put on once it was hot enough. He walked over to a small bar fridge on the deck, leant down and grabbed two beers, then handed one to me.

“Cheers, or something,” Thomas said as we clashed our bottles together.

“Or something, yep!”

Our conversation kept dying every few minutes, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was nervous, or he was.

“Let me put some music on,” he announced right before he threw food onto the grill.

“Better not be that shit taste in music of yours,” I yelled over the sizzling.

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