Unrequited

by Emma Grey

‘Just one selfie before you go?’ she pleads. ‘Come on, Angus. We look hot together. It’s good publicity!’

  ‘Angus! There you are,’ says band manager Michael, ‘Listen, there’s someone I need you to meet. Oh, hello Cassidy! Nice to see you.’

  ‘Michael, I was just begging Angus for a pic together. Great opportunity don’t you think? Good publicity for us both?’

  Michael sizes up the situation, takes Cassidy’s lead and seizes her phone. She throws her arm around Angus’s neck before he can escape the frame. She’s draped all over him and he’s got some genuine brooding going on, which isn’t intended to look sexy, but then, it’s bizarre what the fans find attractive.

  Great. Perfect shot to fuel even more speculation about the two of them.

  ‘I really have to make a call,’ he says, storming off before either Michael or Cassidy can get a word in. Not that they seem to care. The damage is done.

  By the time he pushes through the crowd and reaches the lower floor of the party, Reuben is handing Angus his phone and pointing out Cassidy’s Instagrammed shot, doctored up with a pink love heart in the corner and two kisses, which already has more than 25,000 likes. It’s been less than five minutes.

  ‘Plus a heap of haters,’ Reuben adds. ‘Those fans of yours are pretty protective. I hope she’s got extra security!’

  It’s exactly the kind of complication Angus doesn’t need right now, and he can feel the whole thing distancing him even further from Elle. She’ll take one look at a photo like that and make exactly the same assumptions everyone else will be making. Ugh! Cassidy and her relentless self-promotion!

  Neala messages him in response to it: ‘IDIOT! xo’. She cracks him up.

  And, in a moment of frustration, he takes a bored-looking selfie and tweets it with, ‘Get me outta here!’ which is instantly favourited and retweeted virally.

  Next, he phones his bodyguard. ‘Kev! I need you to open that envelope and see if there’s a letter inside,’ Angus yells over the top of the thumping music. He steps out into the hall where it’s a little quieter. There’s a pause and some rustling at the other end while Kev digs around in the envelope. Then he says, ‘You want me to read it out?’

  ‘Is it bad? How did she take it?’

  ‘Well. She starts off . . . Thank you for your unexpected gift . . .’

  That’s a good start, surely?

  ‘You rightly observe that I did not — and would never — ask a random stranger for a duet.’

  Uh-oh.

  ‘You do realise how totally arrogant it is to eavesdrop on and stampede into someone else’s private work, trample all over it in your big boots and leave your mark, don’t you? I mean, do you make a habit of this? I’m intrigued . . .’

  Angus can’t help smiling. ‘Kev, can we possibly do this without you laughing?’

  ‘Sorry. She’s right, though.’

  ‘Whatever! What does she say next?’

  ‘Oh, this is good . . .’ Kev mutters, reading on silently.

  ‘What does she say?’

  ‘She says, ‘All of that said, I played the piece. Maybe more than once. Probably about twenty times now, because despite your strangely stalkerish behaviour, what you’ve written is actually pretty good. But you already know that, don’t you?’

  ‘YES! I mean, yes she likes it!’

  Kev is giggling again. It’s an off-putting sound for a muscle-bound bodyguard to emit.

  ‘In case your ego is now completely out of control, you should know that I’ve made a few amendments in the second half . . .’

  Has she just? ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s pretty much it. Oh, she signs off as ‘Kat’.’

  It’s a better response than he’d hoped for. For a start, she’s not ignoring him . . . yet. And she’s made some amendments to his work? He’s got to see this. And wouldn’t mind seeing her, at some point, if the thought of arranging that wasn’t a logistical nightmare. If they’re this connected writing music apart, imagine what they could do in the same room . . . provided that, once she finds out who he is, she doesn’t run a million miles.

  Chapter 19

  Joel appears to have managed the impossible: calming Sarah down. It’s a particular achievement because he’s never had to calm her down before — except maybe that time she got a Credit in a law essay and had a tantrum about not getting a High Distinction because it would destroy her perfect record. That time, it had been incredibly amusing, not that he let her see it. One smirk and she’d have thrown something at him.

  This time, it’s not amusing at all. She’s struggling, big time, with something way more important than a uni essay, and Joel can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t want to know what it is.

  Another thought he’s finding hard to shake is really out of left field. It’s probably nothing but there’s something about this new, imperfect Sarah with her guard down, makeup off and volatile emotions that is strangely . . . something. Attractive? Of course she is, but she’s his best mate. He’s always had her pegged as ‘best man’ at his wedding. Yes, she’s gorgeous. Always has been. But apart from when they were kids and his imagination got the better of him . . . He’s never looked at her that way. He learnt long ago that he couldn’t afford to.

  He must be losing it. This is no time to get distracted by Sarah again. He’s got to focus on finding Kat, establishing whether or not the spark was real that day, and seeing if she feels even the faintest speck of anything for him. If he doesn’t give it a go, he knows he’ll regret it.

  Sarah’s asleep on the couch. He takes the crochet blanket and gently pulls it up around her shoulders. The movement makes her stir. She rolls over, and masses of blonde hair fall across her face in a way that makes Joel want to reach out and brush it back. What is wrong with him? She’s his friend. He really needs to get out of here.

  Scrawling a note saying he’ll be gone a couple of hours, he grabs his wallet and keys and leaves. Outside, he’s instantly less stressed. He wanders around the campus for a bit, stops at a coffee van near one of the sports ovals, and then remembers Sarah saying she’d left her library books at the Seymour Centre after running out of there the other day, sick. They’re holding the books for her at the admin desk.

  Joel wanders through the doors and there’s a sign at the box office saying ‘Back in 5 mins’. He entertains himself by looking at posters and photos in glass display cabinets around the foyer. They depict various previous productions, most of which he’s been to because Sarah was the lead in nearly all of them. Man, she’s confident!

  There’s a girl rehearsing in one of the rooms. He can hear her playing around with some chords and singing a couple of lines, over and over, changing the music slightly each time. She’s good, though clearly frustrated because after a few different attempts, she launches into ‘Chopsticks’ instead and then the music stops, the piano lid slams and he hears, ‘Get it right, Kat!’

  And that’s when Joel forgets why he came here in the first place. He recognises that voice instantly. It’s her. In the very next room.

  What do you do in a situation like this? Go in? Too weird. Wait here till she leaves? Also weird!

  And then the decision is made for him because the door beside him flings open hard, banging into the glass cabinet and causing . . . hmm, this is ironic . . . a photo of Sarah, as Sandy in Grease, to dislodge from the display and plummet to the foot of the cabinet.

  There’s no time for Joel to consider the poignancy of that little sign from the universe. Kat is storming headlong out of here and he’s going to have to say something to catch her attention.

  Except — wait, she swivels around and storms back towards him! Maybe she’s forgotten something. She hasn’t seen him there and she’s so riled she strides right into him before she can change course and he automatically reaches out and puts his hand on her arm to steady her.

  He can’t believe it. She’s been magically deposited, literally into his hands. Say something clever.

&
nbsp; ‘Kat,’ he starts, quite promisingly. ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this.’

  We’ve got to stop meeting like this? He could kick himself. Is that really the best line you could come up with, Isaacson?

  She looks stunned. And speechless. And so pretty. Half her hair is torn out of its ponytail, probably during her frustrating songwriting session, her blue eyes are wild with irritation.

  She stares at him and says . . . precisely nothing. For at least thirty seconds, although it feels like an hour.

  Great. She’s probably thinking ‘Who even are you?’ He takes his hands off her.

  ‘McDreamy?’ she whispers eventually.

  At least he thinks that’s what she says and he’s slightly confused until she blushes hot red and says, ‘Did I just say that out loud?’

  He smiles. ‘Say what out loud?’ And then he winks because he’s clearly a schoolboy now instead of a uni student. In any case, this causes her to blush again, and look away, and stammer something about having said nothing. Then she says to just ignore her. Which he can’t. And won’t.

  ‘Do you have time for a coffee, Kat?’

  ‘Haven’t you already got one?’ she asks, gesturing at the takeaway cup in his hand.

  ‘Oh, this old thing? No. I mean a new one.’ He tosses the offending cup into the bin across the foyer and thanks his lucky stars that he used to play basketball and it actually makes it in.

  ‘Impressive,’ she says, smiling. ‘But I’m not comfortable accepting a coffee invitation from you, McDreamy. I don’t even know your name.’

  She did say McDreamy, and without a shred of embarrassment this time. He has to hand it to her. She was rattled before but she’s back on track now.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I know that was rude of me on the train. It was nothing personal.’ Except that it was. He’d known even then that he was already in deep with this girl and he’d done everything in his power to keep his distance. Fat lot of good that did.

  ‘I’m Joel,’ he says. ‘Isaacson. It’s nice to meet you.’

  ‘Nice’ really isn’t a strong enough word, he thinks. His eyes drift to the goosebumps that are spreading along her arms. Keep talking . . .

  ‘I really like the song you were attacking in there,’ he says. ‘Particularly the line about the train.’ There’s the blushing again! ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

  She looks relieved to change the subject. ‘I’m in the Legally Blonde production, so I’ve been using the rehearsal space to practise.’

  Could the world get any smaller?

  ‘You’re kidding!’ he says. ‘Do you know Sarah Elliott?’

  ‘Of course! Do you?’

  ‘She’s my best mate!’

  Kat wilts a little at this news, and he likes it.

  ‘Is she okay?’ she asks. ‘I was playing this song for her on Wednesday and got talking about the, er, inspiration for it. She just went white in an instant and bolted out of the room . . .’

  Joel freezes.

  Sarah knew?

  It’s like he’s been winded. Whatever Kat is pretending about the song and the next verse and how ‘generic’ the lyrics are and how much respect she has for Sarah just floats surreally past him because all he can feel right now is an unspeakable mix of relief at having found Kat at last, and . . . betrayal.

  Chapter 20

  Just breathe, breathe . . . Kat commands herself, silently. At least, she hopes it’s a silent command. What possessed her to say ‘McDreamy’ out loud? He must think she’s an idiot!

  Her hands are shaking from the excitement of seeing him again, so she shoves them in her jeans pockets. Then her bag slips awkwardly off her shoulder and dangles from her elbow and she can’t get her hand out of her pocket easily. Damn these skinny jeans . . .

  Joel is onto it. He reaches over calmly and places the strap back on her shoulder. She tries to ignore the brush of his fingers on her skin and the confident but gentlemanly way that he did that. And his gorgeous sideways glance . . .

  But she fails. Miserably.

  Everything she remembered about him from the other day is eclipsed by the reality of walking beside him to the coffee van like they’re any other couple. Couple! ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kat!’ she whispers, firmly.

  ‘What?’

  Gah! ‘Ah, nothing. Um. So, where did you meet Sarah?’

  As attempts to change the subject go, Kat immediately knows this wasn’t the ideal choice. Why on earth is she bringing up that girl? He’ll just end up comparing her to Sarah and all her amazingness.

  Joel pauses for a second. He’s on edge. Clearly, Sarah is a touchy subject. Please don’t let her be an ex-girlfriend or something. Or worse! Current girlfriend!

  ‘You’re not together are you?’ Kat blurts. ‘I mean, sorry! Of course if you’re together that’s not an issue at all! I’m really happy for you, actually! Gosh, I mean we barely know each other. You’d make a great couple. She’s just so, so . . .’

  He frowns. That can’t be good.

  ‘She’s quite something, I know,’ he says. ‘What kind of coffee do you like?’

  Right, coffee. Here’s her moment. She wants a macchiato, pronounced ‘mack-ee-ah-toe’, right? Yikes! Is it that, or is it ‘match-ee-ah-toe’? Panic, panic . . . She’s a deer caught in the headlights of the university coffee van. She’s staring at the menu like it’s written in another language.

  ‘Um . . . flat white?’ she says after an absurdly long pause. Most. Boring. Coffee. Ever.

  He smiles. ‘Is that a question?’

  ‘No, I definitely want a flat white. Big flat white lover.’

  He smiles. ‘A flat white, thanks. An extra large one. And a macchiato.’

  Of course!

  She stands beside him, apprehensively. Should she pay? At least for hers, particularly as it’s so huge? She starts rustling around in her bag and he hands over a twenty-dollar note and says, ‘Kat, I’ve got it,’ then pockets the change, takes the coffees and hands her an enormous takeaway cup.

  They find a bench and she starts to wonder where the nearest toilet might be. A coffee this large and frayed nerves aren’t a good combination.

  ‘Thanks, Mc — Joel.’

  ‘McJoel. That’s got a ring to it,’ he says, flashing a quiet smile.

  She feels ridiculous and he says it’s okay, he’s just teasing. She tries to compose herself.

  Deep breath. Gulp of coffee. Don’t stare.

  ‘So, tell me more about this song.’

  Kat almost spits a mouthful. She really doesn’t want to talk about the song! The song is clearly about JOEL. At least, half of of it is.

  ‘Well,’ she says, ‘I’m actually co-writing it with another musician.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Who’s that?’ he asks, genuinely interested.

  Eek, good question. ‘It’s . . . Well, it’s a guy . . .’

  Joel sips his coffee and waits, but Kat offers no further information. Because there isn’t any.

  ‘Okay, so now it’s my turn to ask,’ Joel says calmly. ‘Are you seeing this guy?’

  She laughs and almost nails the nervous, flirty giggle this time. Except that she has another mouthful of coffee now and a little bit escapes her lips before she can slurp it back in. She doesn’t have a serviette so she has to wipe her chin with the back of her hand. Her mum would be horrified!

  ‘I’ll take that as a “no” then?’ Joel asks, chivalrously ignoring her atrocious table manners.

  She nods. Then shakes her head. ‘Yes. I mean, we’re not together. In fact, we’ve never met.’

  ‘How does that work?’

  She finds herself explaining about the secret passing of notes and music, then remembers that she has the evidence right there in her bag. She passes Joel her coffee while she retrieves it, then takes the cup back and gives him the notes to read. He’s quite intrigued by them, except that he’s frowning. Again.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  He looks at her for a
second, as if he’s trying to work out whether to say anything. ‘Kat, I know it’s ironic of me to mention this, but be careful. You don’t know who this guy is . . .’

  ‘I don’t know who you are, either.’

  ‘That’s my point! Guys aren’t always . . . what’s the word . . .’

  ‘Honourable?’ she offers helpfully, and he laughs.

  ‘Okay, what have you been watching? Robin Hood?’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘The thing is, I know this guy is really talented. Some of the transitions in this piece blow my mind. He’s phenomenal.’

  More frowning. ‘What about the lyrics? Who wrote those?’

  ‘Oh, the lyrics are a joint effort. He just understands what I’m thinking and feeling and puts the other person’s perspective into words in a way that just makes you melt. I’ve never worked with anyone like him. Not that I’ve worked with many people, other than on school projects. But this is different. I haven’t told anyone this, but there’s something about this song, and working with this guy. I feel this secret confidence that we’re really onto something here. Like we’re going to make it with this song. Joel, I know it sounds weird but I honestly think it could be a hit!’

  Kat realises she hasn’t drawn breath and must sound like an excitable teenager, probably because she is one. Nevertheless, she can’t stop herself from going on. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this! You must think I’m living in a fantasy world. Maybe I am . . .’

  ‘Maybe you’re not.’

  That stops her babbling in its tracks. Really? She clings to his opinion like it’s a life-raft in the sea of self-doubt she’s been drowning in for years.

  The thing about Kat is that she knows she usually comes across as really confident and sure of herself, and happy in her own skin and she is. Mostly. It doesn’t mean she’s not a little bit terrified underneath, though. Or a lot. It’s all very well having this dream, but what if she’s not good enough? What if the world finds out . . .

  Joel shifts in his seat. ‘And you’re not dating this mystery musician?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or any other musicians? Pop stars? You’re not dating Angus Marsden, for example?’