Tall, Dark & Distant (13 page)

Nik reached for her phone and quickly added his number to her contacts. ‘I’m not trying to push you away,’ he said gently.

‘It’s too late,’ she said, snatching back her phone.

Nik reached for Georgia’s hand, but she pulled it away and grabbed the doorhandle. She needed to get out of the car – away from his damned green eyes. Away from
this
car.

‘Wait,’ he said.

‘For what? More lies?’

‘Georgia, I really didn’t want to get involved with anyone here. I’ve just got out of a really toxic relationship,’ Nik pleaded. ‘I didn’t count on meeting someone … like you. I didn’t know things would work out like this.’

Georgia glared at him. ‘How do you figure they’re working out, Nik?’

‘I thought we were having fun,’ he said, almost apologetically.

‘I’m not. Not at all.’

Nik looked at the dashboard, apparently unsure where to go from there.

‘Is there anything else you need to surprise me with before I go?’ Georgia snapped. ‘Your father’s about to mine the Antarctic? You sponsor an army of child soldiers in the Horn of Africa?’

Nik looked shocked. ‘You heard that rumour? I swear, it’s not true.’

‘Argh!’ Georgia screamed, grabbing her bag, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind her.

‘Georgia,’ Nik called urgently. ‘Please! Let me explain.’

Georgia turned away. She didn’t want to know any more. ‘I was wrong. I’m
not
going to respect you in the morning. Get out of my life, Nik. Just leave me alone!’ she shouted.

She didn’t look back as she ran to the apartment, crying all the way.

Georgia woke at six the next morning. The sun was streaming into her room, promising a beautiful day, but she could barely see it – her eyes were so puffy from crying. She was facing the worst day of her life. Not because Nik had deceived her, but because she had overreacted when he’d told the truth.

She was the one who had asked him to be honest. Then when he was, she threw it back in his face. What did she know about being the son of a Russian tycoon, anyway? Who knew what kind of toxic relationship might drive someone to Australia? She didn’t know anything. Besides, Nik hadn’t chosen his family; he wasn’t responsible for his father’s business decisions. And maybe he had made some unfortunate mistakes of his own – but who hadn’t?

Georgia certainly had. She’d made some stupid mistakes in exams, she’d taken wrong turns on cross-country courses. She’d let down friends. She’d even failed her sister once or twice – refusing to help her with assignments, just to be spiteful. It didn’t happen often, but it had happened and it had always been a big mistake. Yes, she’d made plenty of screw-ups herself. Her biggest was walking away from Nik before he had a chance to explain things.

Is it really a crime to use a different name?
Georgia thought. She had spent long enough with him to know he was a clever, generous, thoughtful person – a bit unreliable at times, but she knew a lot of guys were. He was also a hell of a kisser. Surely she could have been a little more forgiving when he was …
flexible
with the truth? She should have at least heard him out.

Georgia knew that, in spite of everything, she was still in love with Nik. And she could see that he needed her – to rescue him from his past and save him from whatever emotional turmoil he was lost in. They needed each other.

Georgia pulled out her phone to send Nik a text. She outlined her feelings in a long message, saying what a good person Nik was, despite his family’s dubious connections and his dodgy past. She emphasised that she was the best person to show him the way out of his
emotional maelstrom
(desperate times called for big words). Then she added another line about how opposites attract and how destiny and a frangipani hair-tie had brought them together. She re-read the message, and then deleted the opposites-attract part and the hair-tie bit. Then out went the bit about what a good person Nik was, and the
emotional maelstrom
, and that didn’t leave anything but the salutation. She tried again, deleted it again and started over.

Finally Georgia settled on a message.

Hi Nik. Let’s talk. Gxx.

She pressed send, and then stared at her phone and waited. And then waited some more. Georgia filled in the minutes as she waited for Nik to respond by replaying their previous day together in her mind. Why had she ruined everything by storming off? Georgia looked at her phone again. Still no response from Nik, so she sent a follow-up message.

Call me.

Then she decided that was too pushy. That was bound to drive him away. So she sent another message.

If you want to.

That sounded too pathetic, so she sent another one.

I’d like you to.

Perhaps she needed to add a bit of urgency or she’d be waiting all day for a reply. She sent another message.

Now’s a good time.

Then

Please.

And

Love G.

When he still hadn’t responded, she started to get annoyed and sent him random salutations in different languages –
Bonjour!, Hola!, Jo san!, Ciao!, Sabaidee!
Before Georgia knew it, she had sent him sixteen texts in a row, and even she knew that was crazy-lady territory. She looked at her watch. It was only 6.09 a.m. and she was already a text pest. She felt her heart sink and her chance with Nik slip away.

But there was some hope – with any luck, Nik would still be asleep. She could run to his house, get in somehow, find his phone and delete the messages. After that, she would kiss him gently on the cheek. He would slowly open his eyes and smile at her.
What are you doing here?
he might say.
You told me last night to leave you alone.

Georgia would just smile right back at him.
You must have been dreaming. I wouldn’t say that.

Then he’d pull her towards him and they’d make love all day.

The plan seemed doable. She just had to get to Nik’s house. She was thinking twice about the running idea – it was a long way and all uphill. Maybe she could ride her dad’s bike. Georgia pulled on her running gear and looked for her shoes, which had found their way to Alice’s side of the bedroom, so it took a while to locate them under the mountains of clothes.

That’s when she noticed the Siamese fighting fish in a tank on the dressing table. She had bought it as a Christmas present for her dad, but now she thought it would make a nice peace gift for Nik.

Georgia found a plastic bag and poured the fish and water out of the tank, then tied the bag to the handlebars of her dad’s bike.

It was a hard, long slog up to Nik’s place, and as the road got steeper and the sun stronger, the gap between Georgia’s carefully crafted vision of events and what was actually happening widened. She’d planned to arrive looking sort of dreamy – all soft-focus with her hair tumbling loosely down her back. In fact, she’d arrive with an acute case of helmet hair. She was also going to be dressed from head to toe in sweaty Lycra. Her top was already drenched and she hadn’t even hit Nik’s steep driveway. And then there was the fish. Georgia suspected she might have overestimated the survival capacity of a fish swinging from a bike’s handlebars for half an hour.

By the time she actually made it to Nik’s house, she was feeling like a dirty, smelly dishrag. She untied the plastic bag from the handlebars and dropped the bike on the driveway. She tossed her helmet and tried to run her fingers through her sticky, matted mess of hair.

Georgia peeked at the fish, which, sure enough, had succumbed to death on the ride. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid, but there was nothing to be done. She emptied it into a nearby fountain then splashed a bit of fountain water over her face and under her arms to freshen up. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Then she turned her attention to the house.

That’s when Georgia noticed something. It wasn’t Nik watching her bathe in his fountain. It was worse than that.

When Georgia had visited the house the day before, it had been locked, but welcoming – outdoor furniture around the pool, shoes by the front door, tennis balls on the court. Today, the whole place was shut up. Security grilles across the windows and doors.

Georgia banged on the front door, calling, ‘Nik! Nik!’ But there was no answer.

She rang the door buzzer and banged some more. Then she shouted some more. No-one answered. Apparently Nik had taken her advice. He was gone. Georgia got back on her bike and sobbed all the way home.

The next day it rained. Georgia felt like the sky was crying on her behalf. She was aware that this was a self-indulgent way to look at the world, but she couldn’t help it – she was miserable. Georgia was so depressed about Nik’s disappearance that she was tempted to wallow in bed for the day, but she knew that a run would be the best way to clear her head and get the endorphins going, so she reluctantly dragged herself out of bed.

Heavy rain splattered Georgia’s face as she pushed up the hill to the Boiling Pot lookout. Even by rainy-day standards it was quiet in the park. She passed only three other runners on the way to the lookout. By the time she reached Granite Bay, there was not another person in sight.

Georgia tried to concentrate on the track. It was slippery and she needed to focus, but her mind was full of Nik. Their time behind the waterfall was burned into her brain. The way he touched her, the way he held her, every moment playing over and over in her head. But every time she replayed it, she couldn’t help but remember her last words to him:
Leave me alone.

Georgia really needed to be watching the slippery ground, but all she could see was Nik. For every rock Georgia noticed, she missed another. She was almost at Hell’s Gates when she drifted into another daydream and stumbled on a rock. She slammed into the mud, face first.

As she picked herself up, she noticed a guy in a red T-shirt, standing at the lookout just where Nik had once been. For a moment Georgia thought it was Nik, there to surprise her again, but although the man was still a hundred metres away, she could tell it wasn’t.

The man turned in Georgia’s direction and started walking towards her. Was he a kind stranger coming to help her out of the mud? Georgia had no reason to think otherwise – this was Noosa National Park after all, not the Bronx. But she had a feeling that something wasn’t right, and as soon as that thought hit her, she realised she was alone out there. It was just Georgia, the stranger and the rain. If she got into trouble, no-one would hear her scream. The words of a police officer who had visited her school flashed into her mind.
If your gut instinct tells you something isn’t right, go with it. Get out of there.

Georgia watched the man for another moment as she got to her feet and then she turned her back on him, her face stinging from the fall, her gut churning like a washing machine, and she ran. She pounded back past Granite Bay, the rain getting heavier. A trickle of blood mingled with the rainwater running down her shin. Georgia glanced around and saw the man was behind her, running at a steady pace.

Georgia’s shoes were sodden. She had tried to avoid the puddles on the track on the way out to Hell’s Gates, but now she ploughed straight through them. She kept her eyes down. She had to focus on the potholes. She had to keep ahead.

Georgia never wondered even for a second if she was making the whole drama up – if she had turned a fellow runner into a rapist because he was out on a rainy morning. Her mind was full of fear. She knew she had to get out of the park to get away from this man.

Georgia was halfway along the track, just metres from where the dirt path gave way to concrete, when she glanced around again, snatching a look at her pursuer. But as she did so, her feet stumbled over a rock, and she fell to the ground again. Desperately she scrambled in the mud, trying to get to her feet. The man got closer. His body thundered forward and his face came into view. His eyes weren’t those of a friendly stranger there to help her. They were the eyes of someone who could hurt her.

He was just a few metres away from her when he spoke. ‘Do you need a hand?’ he said.