Hunter
My phone’s ringing somewhere near my head, but I’m struggling to locate it. It feels a lot like my eyelids were glued together overnight. As I’m feeling around for it, my hand touches a warm body, and my eyes spring open.
Shit.
I forgot that I didn’t come home alone last night. The brunette who beat me at pool is naked beside me, clothes discarded all over the bungalow. I snatch my mobile off the floor, trying to answer it before it wakes her. I’m not ready for that yet. I’d like to remember how we ended up here first.
‘Yeah?’
‘Really? That’s how you answer your phone?’ Bridget’s voice sounds in my ear.
I look back at the sleeping woman, covered to the waist with a sheet. ‘Sorry. Hi.’
‘Why are you whispering? And why does your voice sound weird?’
I press my eyes shut. ‘I was asleep.’
‘But I thought farmers rose with the sun.’
I glance at the clock. It’s nearing ten. Ten. I haven’t slept past 6:00 a.m. since arriving in Queensland. Kookaburras make the best alarm clocks—when not intoxicated. I don’t usually drink more than a beer or two at most. And I definitely don’t drink scotch. This is what happens when the Leroy boys come home for the weekend and insist I come to the pub for one drink.
‘You still there?’ Bridget asks.
I stare at the naked brunette beside me. ‘Yeah, I’m here.’
‘Next weekend is my birthday, and some people at work have talked me into celebrating it.’
‘You mean your friends?’ She has a bad habit of referring to people in her life as colleagues or artists or something equally as vague.
‘Real friends don’t make friends celebrate their birthdays.’
‘Fairly sure that’s not true, but go on.’
She draws a breath. ‘Would you like to come to a barbeque at my apartment?’
My mouth turns up. ‘That was hard for you, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
My lips twitch. ‘You left the religion four years ago and haven’t celebrated a birthday yet?’
‘Firstly, not your business. And secondly, haven’t you ever heard the expression “old habits die hard”?’
I still when the woman next to me stirs and turns her head to look at me.
‘Morning,’ she says sleepily.
What’s her name? Kylie? Kylie seems right. ‘Morning.’
‘Do you have company?’ Bridget inhales sharply. ‘Oh my goodness. That’s why you’re still in bed. Well, this is awkward. Sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’ I clear my throat and look away from my bed companion. ‘I’ll be there. At your birthday.’
‘Will you be bringing someone?’
My mouth flattens into a line. ‘No. Just me.’
‘Okay. Well, Sunday the fourteenth. Midday onwards. You remember how to get here?’