I can’t help but laugh as I relax in my seat and he reverses us out of the driveway. I’m surprised he isn’t singing along, actually. He’s just tapping out the beat on the steering wheel with his fingers instead. When the track ends and 20th Century Fox starts playing, I’m the one who sings along. It’s actually been hurting me not to because I freaking love singing in the car.
“She’s a…” Tipping my head back, I yell out the chorus line. I can sing just fine. I’m actually capable of playing an instrument or two as well, but there’s something about yelling to really loud music that feels so good.
Marcus is grinning, alternating between watching me and the road, so I yell the song at him until it gets to the point where we’re both laughing so hard I can’t even sing anymore.
“What’s so funny? Don’t you like being yelled/sung at?” I ask, forcing my words through my laughter.
He responds with more laughter, and I find myself just watching him and admiring this moment of happiness with a person I never thought I’d want any moments with. He’s everything I promised to steer clear of, and here I am, breaking my own rules and creating secrets no one will ever learn. Slowly, my laughter fades and my expression grows serious as the song comes to an end. I force myself to look away from him. He’s just… too bright to look at sometimes.
Shifting my attention to the passing scenery, I realise we’re on the highway near Springwood. Since leaving Blaxland, we’ve passed a stack of cafes already.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I lower the volume of the music so I can be heard.
“For breakfast.”
“Where?”
“Katoomba.”
“Katoomba? Are you serious? That’s half an hour away. I’ll die of starvation by the time we get there.”
“If we were in my car, I could offer you a protein bar. But your freakishly long body cancelled out that option.”
“It’s not freakishly long. It’s elegantly long. Get your adjectives right, dude. And protein bars aren’t food. They’re soap mixed with dirt and plasticine.”
“What?” He laughs out the word.
“You heard me. Whoever came up with those things has no taste buds. I prefer to keep this tex-mex mix in my car for snacking,” I say, opening the centre console and pulling out the bag of nuts and corn and pretzels and whatever those other crunchy things are, and dig in.
“What the hell are you eating?” he asks with a frown.
“Tex-mex. It’s like cheesy barbecue flavoured nuts and crunchy stuff. I think they deep fry these corn kernels. They’re great.” I pull one out and crunch down.
“Do you know how many carbs are in that?”
“Nope.” I throw another handful in my mouth. “And I don’t care.” He eyes me while I continue eating. “Want some?”
“Maybe just a couple of nuts.”
“Dude, you have to eat the lot of it together. It’s a cornucopia of texture.” I tip some in my hand and hold it out to him. “It must be experienced as a whole.” He glances at my cupped hand and grimaces. “You’ll still have abs after it. I promise.”
With a roll of his eyes, he holds out his hand and takes the snack mix, shotting it into his mouth before crunching down. “It’s good,” he says when he swallows.
“It’s great,” I correct, refilling his waiting hand.
“It’s delicious.”
“Better than a protein bar.” I seal the bag and tuck it away before we end up eating the whole lot and ruin our appetites. “What’s in Katoomba that’s worth driving all that way just for breakfast?”
“Lots of cafés and lots of quiet. I find if I go where no one expects me to be, no one bothers me at all. People think celebrities hang out at trendy restaurants in the city. They don’t think you’d drive into the mountains for a quiet cup of coffee.”
“Good point. I’ll go with your judgement then. I’m sure you’ve got this down pat by now.”
“I do. If you look at the photos of me online, they’re all photos I knew about. Each one is posed for. There isn’t a single image of me walking down the street or sitting in a restaurant. I know how to Clark Kent my Superman.”
I think back and realise he’s right. Every photo I looked at was at an event or concert, and he was obviously aware of the cameras. He’s obviously careful and cautious about how he spends his time.
“You know, Marcus. I’m starting to think there’s more to you than a pretty face.”
“You’re just figuring that out now?”
“Previous to this I’ve been trying to get rid of you. This is the first time I’ve paid attention.”
He chuckles. “You weren’t paying attention when I showed up at your house the first time?”
“No way.” I wave my hand about. “That kind of thing happens to me all the time.”
“Men on your front step?”
“Celebrities on my front step. I’m very well connected, you know.”
“I’m sure you are.” He laughs, continuing to focus on the road.
I look over at him, studying his profile, wondering if he had any idea how well connected I am. I feel like he’d be one of the few people who’d understand why I keep the information to myself. But then, I can’t be sure he’d keep the information to himself. He obviously has impulse control problems. And you can’t trust people like that not to slip up and—
“What?” he asks with a grin and a quick glance in my direction. Oh, my god. What if he does know exactly who I am, and he’s targeting me to get close to my parents? “Lisa?”
“Huh?” I blink, clearing my head. What if…
“You’re staring.”
“I was?”
“You sure were.”
“Oh. I guess I was just thinking.”
“About me, I hope.”
“Kinda. Did you ever…” I bite my lip, trying to work out how to ask this without giving out unnecessary information.
“Did I…” He glances at me, brows raised.
“When was the first time you saw me?”
“What?” Now he’s frowning.
“I know it’s a weird question.”
“Have we met before?” he asks, a slight edge to his voice.
“No. Never. I…shit. I’m not making any sense.”
“No, you aren’t. Did you lie about not knowing who I was?” OK. Based on that reaction. Maybe this is just a coincidence.
“What? No. I’m just asking why. Out of all the people in this world, why did you chase a friendship with me?”
He shrugs. “I like that you don’t like me.”
“’Cause that’s the perfect basis for a friendship.”
“Of course it is. If someone doesn’t like me, I can win them over. If someone likes me instantly, I’m wary of their motivation.” I know what you mean.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll leak everything you tell me to the press?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t exist online.”
“You Googled Lisa Russell?”
“Fair’s fair.”
“I suppose. But not having an online presence doesn’t mean much.”
“Sure it does. Especially these days. It means you have zero interest in attention. And that summation is backed up by the fact you’ve repeatedly told me to leave you alone.”
“And yet you keep coming back.”
“I can tell I’m already wearing you down.” He flashes me a grin, and I can’t help but smile back. Maybe he’s genuine…
“It’s possible I don’t hate you as much as I thought I would,” I say, pulling out my phone when it vibrates with a call in my bag. I swipe at the screen to reject the call as soon as I see who it is.
“Boyfriend?” Marcus enquires. And it strikes me that with all his flirting and innuendo so far, he’s never found out whether I’m attached or not. Cocky much.
“No. It’s my mum calling for her Saturday gasbag.” I open up the messages to text her.
“You can talk to her. I don’t mind.”
Mum: ur neva busy
I laugh as my thumbs tap, glad I invested in a privacy screen so Marcus can’t see what I’m about to type. “I do. I’m grateful to have an excuse.”
Me: do any of you know Marcus Bailey?
Mum: Dad or K mite. I don’t
Me: can u ask K?
Her: Will ask when he wakes up.
Me: thx
Mum: y
Me: Work interviewed him and I’m worried he recognised me. But not sure.
Mum: u look 2 different now. I reckon its ur imagination.
Me: probably. Just check.
Mum: He’s hot.
Me: I’m not interested.
Mum: we could arrange it. I hear he likes the ladies…
Me: I will block you. I swear.
Rock (Beautiful Book 4) Page 7
