Page 2 of Love, Just In

What’s your news?

ME:I hope not bad-full-on?

The news is that I’m coming to Newcastle in a couple of weeks.

ZAC:Really? Cool.

How long will you be staying?

ME:Six months

ZAC:Seriously?

ME:I’m joining the Newcastle bureau (NRN News) for half a year to cover another reporter’s leave. It would be nice to see you.

ME:Only if you want to, that is …

ZAC:Yeah, of course

ZAC:When do you arrive?

ME:11th of Feb. I’ll be coming up by train because NRN is giving me a car.

ZAC:Cool.

ME:Cool.

ZAC:Hey, are you still arriving on Friday?

I’m off-shift that day, so I could pick you up from the station if you like. Where are you staying?

ME:Yup, still coming. I’ll be at the Quest Apartments for a couple of weeks.

Thanks, but I can get an Uber.

ZAC:It’s fine, I don’t mind picking you up.

ME:I don’t want you to put yourself out for me.

ZAC:That’s not what I’m doing. I’d be happy to pick you up. Can you get off at Hamilton station?

ME:OK, as long as you don’t mind. I just checked, and my train will get into Hamilton at 11:05 am.

ZAC:OK cool.

I’ll be there.

ME:Cool.

CHAPTER 2

Today

I set my suitcase on the dusty platform and scan the train station for a face I haven’t laid eyes on in two years. But among the smattering of bystanders in cargo shorts and singlet tops, there’s no sign of the tall guy with a mop of curly dark hair that used to stain my high school yearbook photos like an ink blot.

I double check that the tangerine-orange station sign says ‘Hamilton’ before rolling my suitcase over to an empty bench.

While blocking out the whiff of train fumes with one hand, I pull out my phone with the other and tap open my last message to Zac, my brow pinching when I find nothing to let me know he’s going to be late. When we lived together while we were at university, Zac was always so punctual that I used to tease him about waking up his own alarm clock in the morning. Is this a Newcastle thing? He’s on some kind of surfie-boy, beach-vibes timeline now?

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