Page 12 of Begin Again Again

Her next Zero beer passed in a blur of conversation. Byron kept up a stream of one-sided questions, occasionally conceding details like enjoying blue Gatorade or a podcast about the history of household objects. Mostly he stuck to interviewing her. It was a little unnerving, but it had been so long since Beth had talked with someone that wasn’t Lara, Lara’s baby, or Lara’s husband that she enjoyed herself. She told him all about her job and being Angus’ pretend mum and joining a touch rugby team to make Melbourne friends.

“I played in Auckland,” she said. “But that was with my high school mates. Expectations were pretty low. I have no idea how good these guys are.”

“Worried?” Byron asked, turning his empty beer glass on the table.

“I’m not sure. We play at Princes Park tomorrow night. Hopefully the team’s the perfect combination of invested but not dicks if you drop the ball.”

“You’ve got it all figured out.”

“As far as touch rugby goes. God knows about anything else.”

He looked at her strangely, as though she’d let something slip. Then he smiled, and Beth didn’t care at all. She stared at the slash in his eyebrow, wanting to know how he’d done it and knowing it was too personal to ask.

As though he could hear her thoughts, Byron raised his slashed brow. “Bethany?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you all the way over there?”

Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. “The layout of the table, I guess?”

“Come over here?”

“Where?”

He patted his thighs.

“… you want me to sit on your lap?”

He nodded, a trace of a still smirk playing on his lips.

Beth looked around. No one was paying them any attention. All the other patrons were locked in their own conversations, their own bubbles. She was essentially alone with Byron, the insanely gorgeous Zoomer. Her gaze fell to her lap. She wanted to feel five years older than him, more mature and experienced, but mostly what she felt was terrified. He was so much more than she wanted for her first fling after Stephen, Auckland, sobriety…everything.

“Bethany?”

She looked up.

“I think you should come here now.”

Beth stood, chest tight, and walked to his chair. Holding her breath, she sat backward on his knees, like a kid on a mall Santa. His thighs were canvas-covered steel and he was so tall, her sneakers dangled against his shins.

Byron’s arms settled around her, and Beth’s stomach swooped. “Should someone take our picture?”

He bent his head, stubble brushing her cheek. “Take our picture?”

“Yeah,” Beth babbled. “It’s almost December, and I’m sure my friends would like it more than the other Santa photoshoots on Instagram.”

“You smell good.”

“Th-Thanks.”

She shifted against his chest. It was like a shield against her back, strong enough to protect her from swords and arrows. He moved slightly and she wriggled into the cradle of his hips, pressing her ass against him.

“Bethany.”

It wasn’t a whisper or a plea, more an acknowledgement of what she’d done. Beth smiled and looked up at the moon, milk and pearl in a black velvet sky. She waited for him to say something. Waited in vain. They sat staring at the sky, and Beth heard “Hell N Back” playing on the speakers for the first time. She debated telling Byron she’d once seen Bakar on the street in London, but that would have been dumb small talk and this breathless silence was better.

Byron pressed his stubbled cheek to hers. “You can see Mars.”

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