1 ~ Resfebar
Resfebar
(Swedish)
noun
The mixture of anxiety and excitement that a traveler feels before a journey begins.
MASON’s POV:
Traveling is heavily romanticized. There is nothing great about the stoic roar of the engine and being ripped out of a deep sleep by a glaring white light coming through a tiny, grimy airplane window that burns your pupils, even behind closed lids, so hard you see stars.
What the actual fuck?
Pushing the roots of my hands into my eye sockets to ease the sting, I hear the shrill chirping voice from the elderly woman sitting next to me. “Good morning.”
I repeat: What the actual fuck?
I’m used to private or charter flights, so for this long distance flight I thought at least in First Class people wouldn’t get on my nerves. That’s the main reason I chugged out a fuck-ton of money for this flight - to have at least a decent one. I don’t fashion myself as a fancy guy – give me a beer in a dodgy dive bar and I’m good – but I’d never in my damned life fly economy. I just can’t deal with fucking crying babies and narrow seats with no leg space. In business class stuck-up, suit-wearing office studs would only eye my stage boots with snippy disdain. So First Class it was.
But this woman, fuck, she’s been annoying all flight, rambling on and on about how she’s looking forward to meet her grandchildren for the first time. I think I’ve even gotten up once to use the lavatory while she was still talking. And when I came back, she just continued. Fucking Christ.
After a heavy dose of groaning and squinting I finally find my way back to the world of the living and my vision clears. Helen or Mary or Heather or whatever her name is continues blubbering while I keep ignoring her and look out the smudgy window.
The wavy, green and beige coastline of Australia spreads over the deep blue water which is lined with the turquoise outlines of reefs and sandbanks. Everything is tinted in bright yellow early morning light.
Okay, this is beautiful.
The announcement ringing through the airplane now is not. Even though you can hardly understand what the pilot says, I get the gist. Apparently it’s about seven in the morning in Brisbane and around twenty-seven degrees Celsius. However hot that is. I failed to get accustomed to the Celsius degree system. Okay, let’s be honest, I didn’t even try. I only know the temperatures can get pretty high.
The slender flight attendant with sleek black hair, Monica I think, who has been winking at me all flight, teeters through the aircraft making sure everyone is prepared for landing. She grazes my shoulder and inconspicuously drops a piece of paper into my lap. Smirking and shaking my head I shove what I know is her number into my front pocket for later use.
How many flights have I taken in my time? Hundreds. Yet I’m a little uneasy in my seat, wiggling with anticipation as we’re about to land in Down Under and I’ll be starting a brand new chapter of my life.
After my band Saving Curtis broke up in the middle of our North America tour four months ago, I’ve been moping around, drinking lots, smoking the occasional weed and sleeping until noon in my monthly rented loft. You know, stuff you do when you’re pissed and in a funk. That whole breaking up and shipping Curtis off to rehab was a complete shit-show that the tabloids just all too eagerly latched on to. There are the wildest assumptions and theories about what went down and who started it all.
But nobody did. The four of us were walking on eggshells around each other for months before Curtis thought going back to crack was a good idea. That was just the drop that brought the final straw.
As the contract-mingle began and our manager and lawyers tried to work out how to separate our income, I knew I needed a distraction, time to cool down. My usual go to ‘distraction’ would be a week in Cabo with good whiskey and a stellar racked woman - or two. But that wouldn’t have been enough to let the dust settle and get a clear head. So when my former band-mate from a few years ago, Danny, contacted me saying that he had a mostly empty house sitting on top of a cliff in Surfers Paradise, there was no debate on where I could find a change of scenery, a distraction and a new perspective best. Plus Australia has whiskey and women and hot weather, same as Cabo.
The landing is rough, but luckily I get to hop off the plane among the first few people – because First Class and stuff – and get out of earshot of Helen / Mary / Heather only to find out that the immigration process is even more torture than the flight. Apparently I look suspicious to the border police so they pull me out of line. Fortunately they don’t find anything and all my documents are fine, so I avoid getting stripped searched and pass by the many angry looking officers. If I wasn’t broadly built, tall and angry looking myself, I might actually be intimidated.
Luggage claim is easy enough being that I didn’t bring much. A smaller suitcase with clothes and my laptop plus my guitar is everything I need.
Besides coffee. I need coffee.
The coffee place of my choosing is small, but the barista behind the counter is cute, maybe a little vanilla though, and smiles shyly at me as I order my drink. Waiting, I shoot a text to Danny who deserves a fucking medal for helping me getting my visa sorted and who’s kind of adopting me for the next few months. I hope he knows what he’s getting himself into. I mean, he knows how I was back when he used to play bass for Saving Curtis, and after he’d left the band to move back home, we became even more successful. So he knows that the media calls me–what was it? An arrogant prick? Yeah, sounds about right.
But besides him and his girlfriend nobody here knows me or that I’m famous and I look forward to laying low a little while figuring out what I want to do next. I really needed a change and I already feel a little better. Being away from everything that exhausts me will help. No deadlines, no concerts, no red eye flights, no pressure, no arguing band colleagues who were once my friends.
But the best part is, in Australia summer has just begun and, man, do I look forward to bikini season in Down Under. And judging from my current view, as the busty barista slides my coffee over the counter, I’m not going to be disappointed.
Hitting the shy girl with a wink, amusement washes over me when her cheeks turn pink and she looks away. She’s cute, but I prefer girls with a little more wit.
My buzzing phone distracts me.
Danny: Welcome to Down Under, dick head! I hope your flight sucked. To add to your pain, I can’t pick you up. But my friend Riley will play the chauffeur for your fucking American ass. See you soon.
I can’t decide if I want to chuckle or roll my eyes. Danny’s one of the nicest and honest people I know. He’s blunt and will tell you if he likes you or not and I really look forward to spending time with him again. When he still was in our band, he used to keep us all in line and put us into place when needed. Well, me most of the time.
Okay, now I have to find this Riley person he mentioned. Downing the first swig of my coffee and almost burning my tongue, I march to the arrival area. A few people are in front of me, squeezing through the narrow doors before the room opens up, but luckily my larger ass can look over their heads.
I yawn, loudly, and push through the masses. Being surrounded by this many people instantly reminds me back to overcrowded New York – my hometown. Combined with my tiredness, it’s not a good combination for my mood.
Then I see my name written in capital letters on a piece of paper leisurely tucked under the elbow of a... good lord, a gorgeous woman.
I expected a guy to pick me up. But this? Holy fuck, this is too good.
Making my way over to the siren holding the paper with my name on it like a brand, I give her a once over. She’s average height with long wavy, rich brown hair streaked with caramel highlights that end just under her tits. The large washed-out band t-shirt, the flowy skirt and the chunky Doc. Martens can’t hide her athletic yet feminine build which would bring everyone but me to their knees. I’m never on my knees, but fuck me, she could be on hers for me for all I care.
She’s leaning against a wall, tanned legs crossed at the ankles and doesn’t look too excited to be here, a little bored even. Well, let’s try to change that.
With my quickly elevated mood and a smirk on my lips I walk over to her. As she looks around our eyes lock for a moment before she continues to scan the crowd – for me, but she doesn’t know that yet.
Getting closer, I notice the delicate tattoos spattered all over her arms, her full brows that frame big round ocean blue eyes and little freckles that dance across her cheekbones and snub nose, which is a little crooked when taking a closer look. Together with her pouty rosy lips, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top and softly edged chin she looks like a sexy devil mixed with a freaking angel. She’s drop-dead beautiful.
Puffing my chest I come to a stop right in front of her, a little too close for most people, but I like the dominance I have when most people step back from my proximity. This girl though, she doesn’t flinch. She tilts her pretty face up to me, because I have a good couple inches on her, and her eyes twinkle with a little mischief in them.
Okay, I like her. She’s not easily intimidated.
“I’m Mason,” I say, looking down with a wink.
She holds my gaze and takes a step forward, causing me to retreat and hit my calf against my suitcase. Well, fuck.
“Riley,” she states, cocking her head. Her face stays disinterested as she holds out her hand. Her tanned skin is soft but her shake is firm as I slip my hand into hers. “Nice meeting you,” she adds with indifference – almost sarcastically. Her eyes roam my face before meeting mine again. I can’t tell if she was checking me out or if she doesn’t believe I am who I said I was. She crumbles the paper with my name on it together, lowers the sunglasses that have been resting atop her head and turns. “I assume Danny told you I was going to pick you up.”
My tiredness makes me slow and I react a little late when she walks off. Like a lost puppy I follow Riley through the building towards the exit. She’s fast on her toned legs and even though my luggage isn’t big or heavy I fall back a good few feet.
Exiting the air-conditioned airport building, the blazing Australian sun hits me and my eyes, causing me to almost lose Riley out of sight as I try to adjust to the light and my body to the temperature. Gosh, it’s hot.
Riley stops in her tracks. “C’mon, Mr America,” she jokes and a laugh slips out, a nice one. “We’re already late.”
By the time we arrive at what seems to be our ride, Riley has thrown the crumpled up paper away and I’m sweating like a freaking pig. The sun is different here. And it’s still early.
The old brick-red pick-up truck in front of me has surely seen better days. It looks like it’s about to fall apart with rust and chipped paint everywhere. That thing won’t have air-conditioning. Honestly, it looks like a life hazard. I’m not religious or into praying, but I send something up to the higher powers to not let me die on the road with a hot stranger sitting next to me.
Riley opens the truck bed for me to heave my suitcase and guitar case up, but leaves me standing there without any further help. Remembering that the passenger seat is on the other side here I round the truck and tug at the handle.
Nothing.
Riley notices from her seat behind the steering wheel and leans over to open the door from the inside. Rolling my eyes I climb in. Just great. I know I wanted to lay low and I did not expect a limousine, but is a functional car with a functioning AC too much to ask for? The stagnant hot air inside and the long-sleeved Henley I’m wearing don’t help my serious sweating problem.
When the truck rattles as the engine kicks in, I roll up my sleeves and look for a way to crack the window open. The crack handle squeaks but moves and the little air movement cools my sweaty ass. Stroking my hands through my long hair, I gather it in the back of my neck, hold it up with one hand and rest my elbow on the edge of the window.
Out of fucking nowhere Riley holds up a hair tie for me with a grin on her face. Grumbling at thank you, I take it and tie my hair into a knot. I’ve always been proud of my hair and beard and how it makes me look and I don’t care how hot it makes me, I’ll never cut it.
Once on the highway, Riley drives steadily while the radio quietly plays some Australian pop music which I already hate, but she keeps drumming her fingers on the steering wheel following the rhythm. Watching her from my seat I let my eyes travel over her profile and further down. Several delicate and detailed tattoos decorate her forearms, but one catches my interest in particular. A slim palm tree runs from the root of her hand over the back of her arm up to her elbow. The thin but detailed lines swirl over her tanned skin and compliment her complexion. There are a few letters along its stem that I can’t read from this angle.
“Are you done?” Riley asks, a little irritated, noticing my staring without taking her eyes off the road.
I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out a little croaky. “Nice tattoos.” What the fuck?
“Yours too,” she replies dryly without even looking. I know, she hasn’t spent two seconds looking at my tattoos, and there are a lot of them. I have two full sleeves that bleed out over my chest and upper back, and I’m thinking about adding more – just haven’t found the right motives yet to keep it somewhat coherent.
I suppress a yawn that reminds me how tired I am and shake my head.
“How long was your flight?” She tries to make small talk, but it sounds a little forced.
“Twenty-two hours. I’m exhausted,” I answer honestly and allow my head to drop back.
“Well, nap if you want. We have a two hour drive ahead of us, so you can relax a bit.”
Suddenly I’m not that tired anymore. “What do you mean? I thought Surfers Paradise was only an hour away.”
“Oh boy,” Riley snorts a laugh while my face slides off. “It’s not Surfers Paradise. We are going to Connor Head which is a surfer’s paradise.”
“Connor Head?” What the fuck is going on?
“Uh-huh. It’s where Danny’s and Rathi’s house is and where he asked me to drop you off. You’ll like it.” It sounds almost apologetic but doesn’t help my instant mood drop. Apparently lack of sleep, heat and disappointment make me a moody bitch.
“I’m too tired for this,” I huff and slump down in my seat.
Riley giggles, she fucking giggles at my misery.
Someone swats my shoulder and I growl.
Another swat. “Come on, big guy. Wake up.”
I growl again but squint my eyes open. Still in Riley’s truck, she’s parked it on a gravel driveway in front of a white bungalow with a few wooden elements and a red front door. I try to rake my hand through my hair to push back the few loose strands, but my fingers get tangled in the messy bun. “I feel kidnapped and run over.” My voice has more gravel in it than the driveway.
“You’re being dramatic. C’mon, the view will make up for it,” Riley says and jumps out of her truck.
Opening my door, I yawn and as soon as I peel out of the creaking truck the heat hits me again, but this time with wafts of salty woody ocean air mixed into the breeze. From the driveway you can see the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean beneath the cliff. The sky is clear and only a thin line on the horizon separates it from the water below.
“Did I promise too much?” Riley asks next to me with a soft smile creeping over her face while her eyes are on the water. It’s the first honest smile I’m seeing from her and it makes her look even more beautiful.
Woah, okay. I’m clearly still sleepy.
“Connor Head is a small town, but I promise, you’ll like it.” Riley swats my shoulder again and turns around. “Trust me, being here over the summer is much nicer than being pushed around by tourists in crowded Gold Coast.”
“I’ll hold you accountable for that.” I’m not convinced yet.
“Alright,” Riley nudges my shoulder with her fist yet again, really hard for these small hands. “I will personally ensure your summer is fun.”
“Okay, deal.” My smirk is finally back in place as I lift one brow with innuendo and let my gaze roam her body again. I don’t try to hide it and usually women falter for my charm, my handsome looks and the fact that I’m a famous guitarist. But from Riley I only get an annoyed eye roll.
We unload my stuff from her truck and Riley ushers me to and through the front door she opens with a key. The inside is pretty much all white and cream colors which is a little atypical for Danny so it’s probably Rathi’s doing.
“How do you know Danny?” I ask Riley, putting my guitar case down.
“I’ve been friends with him and Rathi for a long time.” Is her simple and not so information-loaded answer. “You?”
“Same.” Two can play that game.
Riley scoffs lightly, but it’s followed by a tiny chuckle. I think she’s just playing tough. I’m sure she just doesn’t want me to see that she thinks I’m attractive. But for the time being this is fun and I’ll truly enjoy making her facade crumble for me.
“Wow, you look like shit!”
Danny’s voice is followed by the front door falling shut. My old friend and band-mate and a tiny woman who I assume is his girlfriend Rathi stroll into the living area where Riley and I have been sitting in awkward silence for a while. I may or may not have dozed off on the couch a couple times.
“Yet irresistible,” I reply with a smirk, getting up from my seat and turning around to face the couple.
His arm is around her shoulders, but he removes it once they’re closer and he opens them for me. Danny hasn’t changed much. His hair is still the same unkempt black mop, he’s still a little lanky and has a cigarette tucked behind one ear. We clap our hands together and throw an arm each around each other for a quick bro-hug. My family loves hugs. I don’t. I do hug some people, mostly my little nephew Noah, but I could live without them.
“Mason, this is Rathi. Rathi, Mason,” Danny introduces us and I shake her hand. She’s really short. I’d guess she’s around five feet tall with long pitch-black hair and a narrow build overall.
“So you are the pesky Seppo we’ve all been waiting for.” Rathi pinches me as if to make sure I’m real. Why are the women here so violent?
“Nice to meet you too?” I frown and rub my fingers over the sting in my arm.
Danny and Rathi make a beeline for Riley next, each hugging one of her sides. Danny places a kiss on top of her head while his girlfriend releases a squeak as she throws herself at her. Riley smiles with a scrunched nose and something within me pinches again, but I clear my throat to make that feeling go away.
Once they release each other, Rathi and Riley retreat to the kitchen. Danny taps my shoulder and gestures to me to follow him with a jerk of his chin. The house isn’t huge, but it has an open-plan kitchen and living room with an island and a couple of high stools, two couches and a large wooden coffee table and a patio with a priceless view over the bay. Danny picks up my suitcase in the entryway and turns to open the door on the left where I follow him into a bedroom with a queen-sized bed - I’d prefer a king-size but don’t say anything - a dresser, a desk and chair and two closed doors. Everything is in a creamy white and light wood color-scheme. The curtains and the little fluffy throw pillows are a little feminine, but well...
“Closet and bathroom are through there,” Danny says pointing at the closed doors. “Rathi and I only live here over the winter and usually rent it out over the summer, but this year it’s all yours as long as you need it,” he begins to explain while pulling open the closet doors to reveal a few towels, fresh sheets and a thicker duvet. “We may stay in our bedroom from time to time when we’re around. I hope you don’t mind.”
I only listened with one ear because my room has a nice view over the bay too. The soft waves crashing there and the seagulls are fascinating. “I don’t mind,” I finally respond. “As long as you keep the sex noise down.” I give him a smirk when I turn back around.
Danny only shakes his head and claps my shoulder. “Mate, I’ve heard you having sex more times than I’d like to admit, you’ll live.”
He might be right. Every once in a while my band-mates tried the exclusive and devoted relationship thing that includes pathetic facetime calls, long distance and all that shit. I’ve never been into relationships. I mean, I see the appeal if you find the right person, but I’ve never come across a woman who would’ve been worth all the work, so I settle for one-night or two-night stands, fuck buddies and casual sex. It’s easier and more exciting that way too.
Curtis said he got bored quickly of the long line of groupies willing to be just a fuck. I didn’t. The only thing I got bored of was that there was no thrill in getting to know someone. There was no chase because women literally threw their underwear at us.
I follow Danny back to the living room. “Thanks man, for letting me stay and everything.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Now I clap his shoulder. “But why didn’t you tell me your house is far off the mark? I mean, where are we, the outback?”
Danny knows what I mean and laughs. I’m convinced he said Surfers Paradise on purpose just to mess with me, but scanning the room for the other two, my eyes fall on Riley. Her big blue eyes first narrow at me and then she scoffs, waving a dismissive hand in the air. From what she said earlier she seems to be really attached to this area and now she looks offended.
Rathi stems her tiny hands into her hips. “I heard you wanted to relax and think about your life. Well, here’s the place to do it.”
We’ll see about that.
She turns to Riley and smiles. “Are you staying for lunch?”
“No, I can’t. I have a class down at Connor Beach in an hour.” Riley smiles apologetically. “And I still have to pick-up everything up beforehand.”
I know her smile isn’t directed at me, but it’s a cute one. I like how she scrunches up her nose a bit whenever she smiles. Okay, I clearly have a jetlag that’s fucking with my mind. But somehow the prospect of Riley leaving has me speaking up. “What kind of class?”
“I teach.” She doesn’t look at me, instead she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.
Okay, let’s try again. “What do you teach at the beach?”
She inhales audibly, walking over to the sofas. “Surfing.”
Danny places his hand on my shoulder. “That reminds me”. Mason, you should probably get a few lessons before the trip to Fraser in January.”
“You surf?” Riley lifts a questioning brow, turning to look at me now. Her lips pull to one side, doubting that I indeed am able to hold myself up on a surfboard. I shrug, not answering her question. “The waves in Fraser can get pretty big. You should know what you’re doing on your board,” she says, trying to sound casual, but I see the tension in her jaw. She’s intrigued.
“Will you teach me?” The corners of my mouth lift in a smirk.
“I’ll think about it.” Riley tears her eyes away from me, grabs the key to her truck and her sunglasses from the coffee table and sets the latter atop her head.
That’s no no, which is enough to keep my smirk intact.
Riley hugs Danny and Rathi goodbye without acknowledging me again before walking to the front door.
“Can you give me your number?” I ask, following her. What am I doing? Why do I follow her? “For teaching purposes.” A weak call to save my embarrassing behavior.
Riley stops abruptly and spins, giving me a once over. “I said, I’ll think about it.” Her voice and laugh are still mocking me when the door falls shut behind her.
“Real smooth, big guy,” Rathi snickers from her place at the kitchen island.
Yeah, don’t I know that. I blame the jetlag.
