me amend my previous statement. Just as soon as I’ve paid off my credit card, and you find somewhere else to stay. And speaking of beds, run that idea past me again, would you?’
‘You mean, the idea where I’m spending the night in a fancy hotel?’
‘No, the part where you said you planned to get laid.’
‘Well, Mom sent me some money. She said to get something nice, so I thought I’d get myself—’
‘A man.’ Emma’s flat tone borders disbelief. ‘That does not sound like you.’
‘It’s not every day you have a special birthday.’ The big 3-0.
‘True, but—’
‘And, well, I’ve recently realised that along with cake and candles, gifts and birthday drinks, every year since I turned twenty, I’ve always had sex on my birthday. So I decided a lack of boyfriend wasn’t going to make a difference this year.’
‘Okay . . . ’ Her chuckle rumbles down the line before morphing into another yawn.
‘I just decided to treat myself to a night in a nice hotel.’
‘And a man,’ she repeats.
‘Because sex in a backpacker’s hostel is not my idea of fun. I’ll be damned if my birthday celebrations are reduced to a quick drunken fumble under a sleeping bag in a communal sleeping space.’
‘Speaking from experience, are we?’
‘After the past month in Thailand, I have enough experience as the audience. Let me tell you, millennials literally give no fucks who might be watching when they fuck.’
‘So Thailand turned you into a voyeur?’
‘Quite the opposite.’ A shiver of distaste ripples down my spine, and I’m almost certain I heard the ping of elevator doors closing. I’m heading in the right direction, then.
‘Birthday sex,’ she mutters. ‘Seems to me you have a bit of a wild side. All this time, you’ve been holding out on me.’
‘Hardly. I’m like the Diet Coke of wild—wild-lite.’
‘Mildly wild,’ she adds with a snort.
But I get where she’s coming from. If there truly is that kind of a girl, she’s not me. And my previous accommodations aren’t the only reason for my celibacy. I love sex and am a big fan of men in general, but sex is linked to intimacy for me. And intimacy equals a connection and, invariably, a relationship. And I’m far too busy for this kind of thing right now.
‘You’re crazy,’ Emma decrees.
‘Crazy horny, maybe.’
And therein lies the problem—yep, that’s totally what she said. She being me. And she being sex deprived and super horny. Besides, I’ve been telling myself I’m all about experiences outside my comfort zone this year.
‘Okay, suddenly nympho, what else have you got planned for your first visit Down Under? You know, apart from finding someone to visit your down under?’
‘Never say that again. But I’m gonna do all the things!’ I begin to animatedly tick my bucket list items off the fingers of my left hand. ‘Walk across the Harbour Bridge, cuddle a koala—kiss a kangaroo!’
‘I wouldn’t try that one,’ Emma says. ‘Haven’t you heard of boxing marsupials? Plus, I heard they kinda smell.’
‘Visit the Opera House,’ I continue undeterred, ‘sun myself on Bondi Beach, and absolutely drink gallons upon gallons of fabulous Aussie wines. But first comes—’
‘You?’
‘Obviously,’ I reply with a snigger. ‘And hopefully, not just once. Then tomorrow, I’m going to eat my weight in macarons because ohmygod, I found this place on the web where the pastries are reported to be as good as Pierre Hermé.’
‘Amber, don’t taunt me,’ she half moans.
‘Emma, don’t make sex noises at me,’ I playfully moan back. Pierre Hermé is a patisserie in Paris with the best macaron ever. We’d gorged on them together when Emma had used some of her vacation time to visit me while I was living there, working as an au pair. ‘Anyhoo, I’m going to visit tomorrow, and I intend to eat my body weight in macarons while drinking coffee strong enough to stand a spoon in.’
Because after that, I have to try to earn a little money. My plan is to travel around Australia for the next few months, taking in the sights while picking up a little work here and there. But for now, I’m just trying to find the elevator in this damn hotel. Where the hell have they hidden them?
‘Ah, so that’s the reason for tonight’s planned calorie deficit?’
‘Well, a trip to pound town is better than any gym session,’ I reply through a slightly tipsy giggle. Did I mention I’d helped myself to the minibar earlier? A girl can be determined and nervous, it seems.
‘And more fun,’ she responds. ‘What