CB 1.0

Two weeks.

That was how long it had been since I broke up with Sienna.

Two weeks since I had looked at the woman who had known every version of me since we were nineteen and said the words neither of us wanted to hear.

I think we need to end this.

Three years.

Three fucking years.

Long enough to know how she took her coffee.

Long enough to know what she looked like first thing in the morning, before the mascara and the perfume and the little things women did when they were getting ready to face the world.

Long enough to know her body.

Her laugh.

Her moods.

The way she’d curl into me when she was tired.

The way she’d say my name when she was pissed off.

Long enough for her to become familiar.

And maybe that was the problem.

Familiar.

Not boring.

Never boring.

Sienna wasn’t boring.

She was beautiful. Smart. Funny. Loyal.

She loved me.

Or at least, she had.

And I loved her too.

That was the fucked-up part.

I just didn’t know if I was still in love with her.

There was a difference.

I didn’t have the vocabulary for it at twenty-two.

Most men didn’t.

We could tell you exactly what we wanted to do.

Exactly who we wanted to do it with.

Exactly how many beers we’d had.

But ask a man what he actually needed?

What scared him?

Why his chest felt restless when nothing was wrong?

Why the idea of staying with the same woman for the rest of his life suddenly felt like someone had put a hand around his throat?

Silence.

We didn’t talk about that shit.

We talked about football.

Money.

Cars.

Women.

Sex.

Never the thing underneath it.

So I’d told Sienna the easiest thing.

It’s not you.

Classic.

It’s me.

Even more classic.

But it was true.

It was me.

Something inside me had shifted.

I wanted space.

I wanted to travel.

I wanted to wake up somewhere I had never been.

I wanted to walk into a room where nobody knew my name.

I wanted to meet people who didn’t know I was a Blackwood.

Didn’t know my family.

Didn’t know my father.

Didn’t know what was waiting for me when I eventually stepped into the family business.

I wanted to be twenty-two.

Not somebody’s boyfriend.

Not somebody’s future husband.

Not somebody’s son.

Just Cody.

Maybe that was selfish.

Probably.

But I wasn’t pretending otherwise.

I pulled into the petrol station just after four in the afternoon, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel.

The Sydney sun was dropping lower, throwing that golden shit across everything.

I hated how good the city looked at that time of day.

Made it harder to leave.

I got out, grabbed the nozzle and started filling the tank.

And then I saw her.

She was standing near the convenience store entrance.

Blonde.

Young-looking, but definitely an adult—early twenties, maybe.

White tank.

Denim shorts.

Sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

She was talking to the guy behind the counter, laughing about something, and then she turned.

Straight at me.

Her eyes travelled over me.

Not subtle.

Not even slightly.

Then she smiled.

I smiled back.

There it was.

That tiny exchange.

Nothing.

Everything.

She looked away first.

I laughed quietly to myself.

Okay.

So this was what I wanted.

Wasn’t it?

The unknown.

The possibility.

The little rush of meeting someone who had no history with me.

No expectations.

No three-year relationship sitting between us.

No memories.

Just a look.

A smile.

A question waiting to be asked.

She walked past me toward her car.

I noticed her hips. Her breasts. The outline of her nipples beneath the tight white tank.

Damn.

And that fine ass.

Then she stopped.

Turned.

“Nice car.”

I looked at my car.

Then back at her.

“Thanks.”

She smiled.

“You always this quiet?”

I laughed.

“Only when I’m being watched.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile.

Failed.

I liked that.

I liked the way she looked at me.

I liked knowing absolutely nothing about her.

And for the first time in two weeks, I understood something.

Maybe I didn’t want space from Sienna.

Maybe I wanted space from the version of myself I’d become while I was with her.

The good boyfriend.

The dependable boyfriend.

The guy who had a girlfriend.

The guy who was supposed to know where his life was heading.

Maybe I wanted to find out what happened when I stopped being that guy.

The blonde glanced back at me.

“Have a good afternoon.”

“You too.”

She got into her car.

I watched her drive away.

I should have forgotten about her five minutes later.

Instead, I stood there with the petrol nozzle still in my hand, staring at the road where she’d disappeared.

And I smiled.

Because suddenly the world felt bigger.

And I wanted to see how much of it I could get my hands on.