The Wrong Brother

I find a dry patch of bitumen beneath a jacaranda tree and lower myself onto the curb, the cool night air settling around me.

The apartment Sloane and I are staying in sits just across the road, the flickering red NO VACANCY sign casting a faint glow over the dark street.

It's cold and late — 10:41 p.m. when I glance down at my Apple Watch.

We've only just returned from the music festival Groove in the Grass. The smell of cigarette smoke hangs thick in the night air. Most of the rooms in the small, ageing two-storey brick apartment complex are occupied by other festival goers, either leaning over their balconies or gathered in small groups in the car park below, smoking and reliving the day.

Sloane is upstairs in our room, pacing around while she talks to her boyfriend Jared. I told her I was stepping out to call mine.

Though I had other plans.

My phone has been buzzing in my pocket on and off for most of the evening. Blake's name lighting up the screen again and again.

I know exactly why he wants to talk.

I just haven't figured out what I'm going to say yet.

I'm sitting a few metres away from a group of girls — five of them, maybe. Judging by their outfits and their loud, excitable energy, it's a safe bet they've just come from the festival too. A couple of them are smoking, and if it weren't for the light drizzle I'd probably move further down the road.

I'm not a smoker, but after spending all day at the festival I feel like I've smoked an entire pack anyway. My throat is dry, and every time I swallow it feels scratchy.

In addition to being a non-smoker, I'm not much of a drinker either. I had two drinks tonight — both of which I practically forced down because I'm yet to discover an alcoholic beverage I actually enjoy.

Geez. Listen to me.

Don't I sound like the life of the party.

Which is ironic, considering some of the ridiculous nights Sloane and I have had together over the years.

While I've definitely toned things down over the past couple of months, we've been inseparable since leaving school, spending countless weekends together at raves, house parties and crowded clubs. Alcohol was always part of the picture, of course. But if I'm being honest — and it's not something I say with much pride these days — the real excitement usually came in a different form.

From white unicorns to blue hearts to pink rainbows, we chased plenty of colourful little promises over the years. Tiny tablets that found their way into our palms and, before long, into our bloodstream, turning ordinary nights into something electric and unpredictable. Those little demons had a way of loosening every inhibition we had, filling our heads with reckless courage and mischief.

Don't get me wrong — we've had plenty of fun completely sober, and neither of us ever believed we needed to be drunk or high to enjoy ourselves. But if I'm honest, most of the outrageous stories we still laugh about today happened on nights when our minds weren't entirely our own.

I remember once finding Sloane outside a club, half asleep in a garden bed that separated the traffic lanes. Her skirt was practically up around her neck and she was humming a Kanye West song to herself. I couldn't stop laughing when I found her.

Another time, Blake, my boyfriend at the time dared us to enter a wet T-shirt competition at a bar. We both agreed, but Sloane pulled out moments before we were meant to go on stage. Unlike her, I lined up with a dozen other girls in white singlets and proceeded to dazzle the audience with my newly enhanced boobs. I still don't know what gave me the confidence to let strangers pour water over my chest, but I'd say it had a lot to do with Sloane fangirling for me from the crowd.

I ended up winning the competition and a $500 cash prize that night — something she has never let me forget.

We'd often party into the early hours of the morning and then walk back to her place, still buzzing, having those deep conversations that only seem to happen at 3 a.m. — about boys, about life, about how much we loved each other and our friendship. We'd sleep until midday and then roll out of bed feeling like we hadn't eaten in a week.

We've had so much fun together. That's why, six months earlier, we were both so excited when we bought tickets to this festival.

And to be fair, I've had a really good time. Two of my favourite bands were playing and they absolutely delivered. But we've been here all day. The festival started at ten this morning, which means more than twelve hours have passed. I'm exhausted, and if I'm honest, my mood has been dragged down over the last couple of hours by the constant stream of interrogative texts I've been getting.

I pull out my phone and send a message to Blake.

You can call now.

Within ten seconds my phone starts vibrating.

"Hey," I say, my voice raspy.

"Hey..." he replies immediately.

"What are you up to?" I ask, trying to ease into what I know might become a difficult conversation.

"Sorry, can you just explain what you mean?" Blake cuts straight to the point, his tone tense and a little frantic.

He's referring to the messages we'd been exchanging throughout the day — especially the one where I told him I'd been spending time with someone. That someone being Tyler, who Blake himself introduced me to a few months ago.

"Is it true?" he asks.

"Are you seeing him?"

My heart starts beating faster. I really don't want to hurt him, but I'm not going to lie.

"Blake..." I pause, trying to find the right words. "Yeah, I am. I'm—"

He cuts me off.

"How long?"

"About a month," I reply.

He doesn't say anything.

"It's all really new," I add quickly. "Please know we never meant to hurt you. We both still care about you."

Still nothing.

My palms begin to sweat. I stand up and walk a few metres down the road so no one around me can hear the conversation.

"I don't know what to say," he finally says, his voice heavy.

"Blake—"

"I know we broke up a year ago," he interrupts, "and I know we both said we'd moved on... but I haven't. Not really. I haven't even come close. No matter how hard I try, I can't help comparing every girl to you."

I don't know what to say to that.

Despite knowing he's been with other girls, I've always had the feeling that he never truly let go of me — or of the idea of us. Guilt settles in my chest as I kick a small rock across the damp road.

"I'll be having some words with him," Blake says suddenly, a familiar edge creeping into his voice. "Some friend... he knew how I still felt about you."

"You have to understand, we didn't plan for this," I reply, feeling a flicker of irritation rising inside me. He doesn't really have the right to interrogate me like this — or make me feel guilty for moving on. We're not together anymore, and Tyler isn't even the first guy I've dated since Blake and I split up a year ago. He knows that.

Blake mutters something under his breath, but I can't quite make it out.

"Blake, I really do care about you," I say firmly. "And I hate that this has hurt you. But you and I both know we aren't good for each other. We've proved that time and time again."

"Whatever," he says. "I'm gonna go, Kaili."

Light specks of rain begin landing on my face, so I pull my hoodie up.

"I'm sorry, Blake."

He ends the call.

I exhale slowly and cross the road, heading back towards our apartment complex. I open my messages and type a text to Tyler.

Hey babe, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed. Feeling wrecked. All good if we talk in the morning? xx

I know I won't actually sleep for a while. My mind is already racing, replaying the conversation with Blake over and over.

But right now, I don't want to talk.

To anyone.

I'm mentally drained.

I'm walking up the stairs to the left of our room when I feel my phone vibrate in the front pocket of my hoodie.

It's from Tyler.

Get some rest. Miss you and can't wait to see you tomorrow xxxx.

I scan myself into our room and find Sloane lying in her pyjamas on our double bed, still on the phone. I walk over to my bag on the small wooden table at the end of the bed and grab an oversized T-shirt, underwear, a crop top and my toiletries bag, ready to head for the shower.

"You okay?" Sloane asks, looking at me with concern.

Wow. Is it that obvious? I think to myself.

"Yeah," I say with a smile and a nod, making sure my voice sounds confident. "All good."

I close the door behind me as I step into the bathroom.

I toss my clothes onto the counter beside the sink and inhale deeply before leaning forward, elbows on the counter, pressing my forehead into my palms.

I exhale slowly and lift my head, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I start talking to myself — quietly, aware that Sloane is just outside the door.

I do this sometimes. I've always found it strangely comforting.

And right now, I need a little pep talk.

"Kaili," I whisper, looking straight into my own eyes in the mirror.

"You don't owe him anything. Remember what he did. Remember how he made you feel."

I pause, pulling one of those memories to the surface.

Instantly my body stiffens.

I inhale sharply through my nose, stand upright and pull my hoodie off, suddenly uninterested in entertaining the memory any longer.

I wake to laughter and thudding the next morning.

If the constant clinking of glass bottles hitting the recycling bin during the night is anything to go by, I don't think the guys next door slept at all.

I look to my right. Sloane is still asleep.

No surprises there. She could sleep through a house fire.

I roll over and tap my iPhone to check the time.

The screen lights up and the first thing I notice is a few messages.

Two from Blake.

One from Mum.

One from Tyler.

The time reads 8:10 a.m.

Knowing we have to check out by ten, I make a mental note to read the messages later and instead wake Sloane so we can grab breakfast before the four-hour drive home.

We quickly get dressed and walk toward the city centre, which is only about ten minutes away.

When we reach the main street, we're deciding between two cafés, both with lines out the front.

That's when Sloane spots three of her friends waiting outside Bobby Blue's Café. They wave as we approach.

Before we know it, we're being offered a table for five.

I've heard plenty about these friends of Sloane's but have never met them before. Allie and Rhiannon used to work with her in hospitality, and they're here with Allie's boyfriend, Ryan.

We're seated at a round wooden table near the back of the café.

A waiter brings over a jug of water while everyone studies their menus.

Everyone except me orders coffee.

"I'm happy with water, thanks," I say.

The waiter nods. "No problem."

"You don't drink coffee?" Rhiannon asks, smiling across the table.

I smile back.

"No. I love the smell of coffee... I'm just not a fan of the taste."

Ryan chuckles.

"I don't think I've ever met someone who doesn't like coffee."

People always seem surprised when I say that.

"I'm so fucking hungry," Sloane groans, clutching her stomach dramatically. "Are you guys ready to order?"

Before anyone answers, she places her order with the waiter.

I'm the last to order.

"Eggs Benny, please," I say, handing over my menu.

Sloane is sitting to my right, already deep in conversation with Ryan and the girls. They clearly have plenty to catch up on since Sloane left the hotel they all worked at six months ago.

I don't mind.

I take the opportunity to pull out my phone and read my messages.

01:01 Blake

Let's catch up when you're back.

01:02 Blake

Maybe Thursday? I get off at 3. Let me know.

07:39 Mum

Good morning my beautiful girl, how are you? I hope you and Sloane had a great day yesterday. Love you darling xx

08:03 Tyler

Morning beautiful, how are you? You girls on the road yet? xoxo

I smile as I reply to Tyler.

Morning babe! I'm good thanks, ready to come home. How are you? Not on the road yet, just at breakfast. I'll message you when we leave xx.

Then I reply to Mum.

Morning Mumma. I'm good thank you. How are you? We had a great day yesterday. Just grabbing brekky now and then we'll hit the road around ten. Love you heaps xxx.

Without fail, whenever I spend a night away from home, Mum messages to check in.

She's always been like that with my sisters and me.

And we've always appreciated it.

When I return to Blake's messages, an uneasy sensation settles in the pit of my stomach.

Strong enough that my appetite for the eggs Benny I just ordered begins to disappear.

I'm not sure what the feeling is.

But I let myself sit with it.

I breathe slowly, letting the sensation rise and fall like a wave, trusting that if I stay open to it long enough, it might tell me what it means.

I start typing.

Hey, Thursday should work. I'll double-check my roster when I get back and let you know.

I don't send it.

Instead, I pause.

I wonder how Tyler would feel about me seeing Blake

Considering everything — even last night's conversation — I don't actually think Tyler would mind.

He knows Blake and I share a long history.

We dated for six years.

When Tyler and I first started spending time together, he asked if I still had feelings for Blake.

I told him the truth.

I don't.

And once I shared what Blake had put me through, any doubts Tyler had quickly disappeared.

I roll my shoulders back and lift my head from my phone.

There it is again.

That feeling.

What is that?

Am I getting sick?

I take a slow breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.

My phone vibrates.

A message from Tyler.

Enjoy breakfast gorgeous. Seriously can't wait to see your face! And when you get the chance, have a look at these and tell me which ones you like best.

A link appears in another message.

I open it.

My face instantly lights up.

He's so thoughtful, I think.

Tyler and I have been going for runs along the waterfront a few evenings a week. Last week I took a hard fall when the sole of my left shoe — which had been slowly peeling away — finally gave out and caught on the pavement.

As Tyler brushed the dirt off my grazed knee and helped me up, he told me he'd buy me a new pair so we could keep running together.

I scroll through the different shoes.

"Long black?"

A waitress appears beside our table.

"That's mine," Ryan says, giving her a thumbs-up.

I lean slightly to the side so she can set the coffee down.

"Piccolo on oat?"

"That's me," Rhiannon says, raising her hand.

The waitress moves around the table.

"And the lattes?"

"They're ours," Allie says, pointing to herself and Sloane

As the waitress places the cups down, Allie smiles.

"Oh, I love your nails."

Naturally, I glance down.

They're long with square tips, painted a deep crimson gel that shifts shade under the light.

"Thanks love," the waitress laughs. "I love them too but they're a pain in the ass. They get in the way of everything."

I love her honesty. That's exactly how I feel about fake nails.

Which is why I've only had them twice in my life.

I prefer a natural look.

As she continues chatting with Allie, I glance down at her name badge.

And suddenly heat floods my chest.

A wave of tingles spreads through my entire body.

"Jess," I whisper under my breath.

Jess.

The name echoes in my mind.

Jess.

Jess.

And then it hits me.

She was in my dream last night.

Not this Jess standing in front of me.

The other Jess.

The real Jess.

The one I haven't thought about in years.

The feeling sitting in my chest suddenly makes sense.

It's her.

I should have known.

This feeling isn't new.

I've felt it before.

And ten times stronger than this.