Page 61 of Love, Just In

A little thrill of relief ripples through me as I watch him toss the cut carrots into a bowl. If Zac’s being this direct with me, he’s definitely comfortable in my company again.

I set my gaze on the dog, who’s licking her paws near my feet. ‘It’s just easier. It’s what they want to hear. I try not to stress them out or make them feel bad about being over there. It was a big decision for them to make that move, and I know they wrestled with leaving me behind. I don’t want them to think they made a mistake.’

Zac’s eyes cling to mine. ‘I’ve known your mum and dad a long time, Jose, and I think they’d much rather know what’s really going on in your life.’

I press my lips together and shrug a shoulder. I don’t tell him that part of the reason I put this show on for my family is because it almost makes me believe that my life really is going spectacularly. That I’m not slowly dying of fear and loneliness—tirelessly chasing after ideas and dreams that are only making me feel emptier, while convincing myself I’m filled with tumours. Maybe if I say I’m OK enough times, it’ll become true.

I slump on my stool.

Zac tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. ‘You know you never have to make shit up to me, right? I wantrealJosie. Always.’

‘Don’t worry, you’re stuck with her,’ I grumble, but the comment lights up his eyes, and I can’t quite look away.

On Tuesday, I’m typing up a script at work when my phone blows up with texts from Lindsay asking to meet up tonight.Hell, yes.This is exactly what I need to turn my focus off things I shouldn’t be thinking about.

I’ve got a craving for sushi, but the local football team is playing, so Lindsay talks me into meeting him at a sports bar in Wickham—a quirky inner suburb of the city that feels like it’s on the cusp of becoming super trendy.

When I arrive, Lindsay’s sitting at a high table facing a wall of TV screens blasting different codes of sports. We order cheeseburgers and beers and chat about some new software his company is launching, and I tell him about the insanely busy Sydney newsroom I was in before moving here, remembering the ruthless deadlines and how every toilet break felt like a race against time.

Lindsay drops a run of kisses on my neck and gets up to order a third round, but I swipe a hand across my throat. ‘I’m driving.’

He hovers there, glancing between the bar and me. ‘It’s OK; I’ll drive you home, babe.’

Zac’s repeated warnings ring in my head, and a confused chuckle leaves my throat. ‘You shouldn’t be driving either if you’re going to keep drinking.’

‘Don’t worry, I’vegot you,’ he says dramatically, wrapping an arm around me and kissing my cheek. ‘I’m drinking light beer. We can have one or two more, then I’ll drive us home. I’ll even bring you back in the morning to pick up your car. How’s that for five-star service? Only the best for my girl.’ He bends to stamp his lips on mine.

When he pulls back, I raise an eyebrow at him, but he darts off to the bar with an almost childlike eagerness. My shoulders tense as I watch him, everything inside me sayingno. No, I don’t want to sit here and drink late on a weeknight. No, I don’t want to leave my car overnight somewhere it might be broken into. No, I don’t want to get up any earlier than I have to tomorrow so that I can collect my car before work. And no, as much as I wish I did, I don’t want to go home with Lindsay and have sex with him.

My gaze travels down and up his nice body as he hunches over the bar, a hollow feeling expanding through my abdomen.

As hard as I’ve tried, I’m just not that into him.

There’s so much about Lindsay that fits the description of what I thought I wanted. He’s handsome, he’s career-oriented and, crucially, he seems crazy about me. But when something important happens to me, he’s not someone I think to text. When I’m in one of my panicspirals, he’s not who I want to confide in. He doesn’t make me so giddy that I never want our time together to end. There’s nothing about him that compels me to strive to be a better version of myself. Dating him hasn’t filled the hole left by whatever’s missing in my life that’s made me feel so lonely. He’s just a set of ticked boxes that’s come to feel shallow and meaningless.

But when he strides back to me with two overflowing beers and a cheeky grin, I know I should at least see this night out, even though it’s probably going to be our last.

After my third beer, my body is gently buzzing like someone has spiked my blood with lemonade, and Lindsay whoops happily when his team wins. Before the staff can change the channel, the late news fills the screen, and I watch a few seconds of the newsreaders’ bobbing heads before the frame cuts to my story about flood prevention.

‘Hey, that’s me!’ I say, sounding like I’m eight years old. Lindsay smirks up at the screen while my four-minute package plays out. When my phone pings with a text from Natasha Harrington saying ‘Good job’, I feel like high-fiving every fuzzy-eyed bar fly in the place.

‘My girl, the TV star,’ Lindsay sings, dragging my stool closer to him until our knees scrape. ‘Come home with me,’ he begs, nibbling my ear. His palm glides down my lower back, his fingers making seductive little flexes into my skin.

I rest my chin in my palm. ‘I think I’d rather go home tonight.’

‘All right. I’ll drive you back, then.’ Lindsay lets out a deep sigh, and I don’t blame him. That’s multiple dates now where I’ve insisted we part ways at the end of the night. It’s becoming pretty clear to us both that this isn’t working for me.

‘But I had a fun night,’ I add to make him feel better, lightly rubbing his knee.

He just pouts before chugging the last of his beer. On the way out, he ducks into the men’s room, and I pull out my phone, finding a text from Zac.

ZAC:Music channel isn’t the same without you.

You’d better be out having the time of your life because Trouble and I miss you.

My cheeks flush warm as I type out my reply.

ME:If I told you who I was with, you probably wouldn’t let me in the door tonight.

---