17 017

Our lips grazed each other's, so softly at first as to barely touch. The world faded to a dim awareness beyond the sound of blood rushing through my ears and the million nerve endings in my lips overwhelming my brain with their screamed messages.

His breath on my skin sent currents of electricity writhing up the back of my neck. Our lips touched again, slowly at first, then more forcefully, desperately. Buddy's left hand was on the back of my neck, and his right wrapped around my waist, pulling me in roughly, pressing me firmly against his body. Something animal in us took over, casting away every thought except the deafening need to be closer, closer.

I knew that our touch was telling Buddy exactly what I wanted, sharing each bud of slowly unfurling desire with him, and in turn stoking the smoldering embers of his own desires. We were entangled, lit up together like a bunch of matches, each combusting those next to it as soon as it caught fire.

When we finally pulled apart, we were breathless, hearts hammering against our ribcages. We stood still, foreheads pressed together, unwilling to break our bodies apart completely. I was overwhelmed by the power of the fire we'd started. It wasn't a spark; it was a bushfire, and it was out of control.

The sounds of the world around us slowly clarified again, and I heard a magpie warbling in the tree above us. A dog barked, I heard some children nearby giggle, probably at us. I chuckled at their innocent behaviour, and stepped away from Buddy, running my hand down his arm and into his hand, tugging him gently to follow me. I felt no need to say anything. The kiss had said everything either of us needed to say, and then some. There was nothing left to add, and we couldn't take back a second of it even if we'd wanted to.

We both knew where this would lead, where it had to lead, eventually. Not today, maybe not even soon. I wasn't ready yet, despite what my entire body had tried to tell me just moments ago in the throes of the passionate snog. I was hardly celibate, but, as Lena had once sagely advised (but never obeyed): get inside their head before you get inside their bed. And what was going on in Buddy's head was still very much a mystery to me.

We walked back to the house in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt like the easy companionship of an old married couple, or the way a well worn bible fits in the hands of its owner. Despite the sudden and intense kiss, there was no coy pretense, no hiding from one another. We knew where we were, and we knew where we were going.

The rest of the week passed in a cycle of work, lunch breaks with Morgan (who was growing wildly curious about the new boyfriend he'd now heard of, but hadn't met), more work, evenings with Buddy and Lena, then hiding Buddy away in the garden shed like some kind of contraband. He still insisted it was fine, and that he didn't need anything, but I was growing more and more uncomfortable with the setup. If he was human enough to kiss, then he was human enough to deserve a proper place to stay. And, perhaps even more pressing, aside from the ethical issues, Lena had become suspicious. She'd asked where Buddy lived, and we'd managed to bluff that he was staying at a friend's place not too far from ours. But she hadn't seemed satisfied with the answer, trying to probe more. She'd asked which street he was on, and we had only avoided having to answer because the ad break in her TV show ended, drawing her back into the turmoil of the poolside love triangle she'd been placing bets on for weeks.

Talking it over later, Buddy had said he might be able to crash at a coworker's place. He was slowly befriending one of the other guys at the orchard, a Swedish backpacker called Anders, who was already sharing a house with a few other men. Buddy was pretty sure that if he played his cards right, he might be able to stay with them for a while. We had also briefly entertained the idea of him just moving in with me, but it just felt too soon.

On Friday afternoon, I knocked off work early to drive out to the orchard and pick Buddy up from work. We'd planned to hang out that evening, but I also had another motive. I was still curious about the weird exchange I'd seen at the orchard the week before, and I wanted to poke about a bit and see if I could pick up anything else going on.

When I arrived, a group of workers were milling about near the packing shed, obviously just finished work but still chatting as they made their way to their cars. I parked and waved at Buddy, who was standing among them, and began walking over. I could see him talking to the man next to him, and guessed by the blonde hair and tanned skin that he was Anders. There were five others there, three of whom were women, but I had no clue if any were the two I'd seen in the shed that day. They had sounded like men, but I couldn't even be certain of that.

Buddy reached out and put his arm around me as I reached the group.

"Hey you," he said, smiling widely at me, then looking up to the others. "This is my girlfriend Bea."

"Hi," I said in a general greeting. They all smiled or mumbled a hello, but the group quickly dispersed to their vehicles.

"This is Anders," he said, indicating the only person who remained with us, confirming my guess.

"Hi Anders, nice to meet you," I said, smiling. "Thanks for looking after this guy. I hear you've been keeping him in line," I joked.

"Yeah," Anders replied in his soft accent, grinning. "He's sort of high maintenance isn't he?"

"Tell me about it," I laughed, remembering when I'd taught him how to use a seatbelt.

"How long have you worked here?"

"About a year now," he replied. "But it's only seasonal work, so it's not full time."

"Do you enjoy the work?"

"Yeah, it's good, and it pays well."

"I told you she's a journalist through and through," Buddy interjected, grinning at me. "She doesn't stop with the questions once she starts."

We laughed, although there was a small part of me that felt chided by his words, as though there had been some barb intended behind the humour.

"Sorry," I said, hands raised in surrender. "Guilty as charged."

"I think it's good to ask questions," Anders added, suddenly serious. "How can you get to know someone unless you ask questions of them?"

I glanced sideways at Buddy, knowing that his experience was wildly different, and wondering if he bothered asking questions when he could learn all he wanted to know just by touching someone.

"I agree," I said, nodding. "You can't really know someone without asking questions."

"Anyway, we should probably get going," Buddy said, taking my hand and beginning to walk over to the car. "See you next week Anders."

"Seeya Dan," Anders replied. It took me a moment to remember that Buddy's official name was Daniel. "Nice to meet you Bea," he added, calling out over the roof of his beat up old sedan.

"You too," I smiled at him.

"Keys," Buddy said abruptly, holding out his hand.

I raised my eyebrows.

"You sure?" I asked with a lowered voice. "If you get stopped by the cops you're screwed."

"It'll be fine."

I drew in a breath sand tossed the keys over.

"You sure you know how?" I asked, suddenly protective of the old faithful Camry.

"I've learned from about fifty people, including you. Don't worry."

I couldn't argue with his logic.

We belted up and left the farm ahead of Anders. Once we were out on the open road, I decided to pry a little.

"What was that about with Anders?" I asked casually.

"What was what about?" Buddy replied blankly.

"I don't know. You seemed a bit funny back there, a bit abrupt or something. Is everything ok?"

"It's fine," he replied vaguely, confirming that it definitely wasn't fine.

"I can tell something's off. And I don't have your alien superpowers to get inside your mind, so you're going to have to tell me," I coaxed.

His eyes were fixed on the road, but his brows were pulled together in a frown, and he was tapping distractedly on the steering wheel. Finally he spoke.

"I don't want him hanging around you."

"What, Anders? Why?" I frowned, confused. "Is he a bit sketchy?"

"No, it's not like that," Buddy sighed. He wrung his hands over the steering wheel. I began to feel anxious when he finally explained.

"He likes you, that's why."