Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,72

the sky. I wonder whether, under different circumstances, I’d be brave enough to reach out and touch his hand.

‘You know,’ I say, ‘I feel like I need to explain a few things.’

From the corner of my eye I see Raf ’s head tilt. ‘About?’

‘That night at the bush hut. Why I kind of ghosted you afterwards.’

Raf sits up, cross-legged. ‘You didn’t really ghost me.’ He picks a blade of grass and twists it between his fingers. ‘We just never talked about it.’

‘I messaged you about practically everything else except my feelings for you.’

He glances over, shoving his sunglasses onto his head, where they hold his wavy hair back like a headband. ‘You have feelings for me?’

‘Well, don’t get a big head about it,’ I say, blood rushing to my face.

He grins. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.’

Now I smile too. My heart thumps faster.

‘I don’t get it then,’ he says. ‘How come you dropped me like a hot potato?’

‘It’s not like I didn’t want the potato. I still want the potato.’

‘Okay,’ he says, tugging at his T-shirt, ‘let’s stop referring to me as a potato.’

My smile fades and I shake my head. ‘I was confused. Upset about Henry. You never mentioned it, so …’

Raf ’s lips twitch with amusement. ‘Hey, you never mentioned it. After that I was too embarrassed to bring it up.’

I nod. ‘Things got awkward.’

‘Yep,’ he says quietly, rolling the blade of grass between his thumb and finger before flicking it onto the path. He lowers his sunglasses again.

We watch the crowd again for a while, people stopping for selfies, children running off from their parents. My gaze falls on a man with salt and pepper hair in a polo shirt and blue jeans. He’s doing slow laps of the fountain.

I nudge Raf. ‘Check it out. Navy polo seems a bit suss.’

‘Hipster beard?’ he says. ‘You reckon?’

‘Why not? You really think Missy Ellwood is a thirteen-year-old girl?’

‘She might be.’

‘Ever heard of catfishing?’

‘Of course. But not everyone you chat to online is pretending to be someone they’re not.’

I stare at him, deadpan. ‘Raf, we pretended to be a thirteen-year-old boy to lure Missy here today.’

He snorts. ‘Good point.’

‘Come on, let’s get closer.’ I stand slowly, half crouching.

‘Uh, I admire that rhinoceros stealth of yours,’ Raf says, ‘but you do realise you’re more conspicuous creeping around like that in broad daylight?’

I straighten up, realising how silly I look.

‘Missy,’ he continues, ‘is searching for a thirteen-year-old boy dressed in red. So we’ll just blend into the background. We’re hiding in plain sight.’

He slides his hand into mine and it takes me by surprise. Before I can figure out what he’s doing, he casually strolls towards the other side of the fountain, dragging me with him. He swings my arm back and forth and starts mid-conversation about some random TV series.

Hiding in plain sight. I get it.

I smile and nod as Raf chatters on, my eyes locking onto the bearded guy in the polo shirt. He’s texting, and I hold my breath, expecting my phone to chime with a new message in Henry’s Messenger account. It doesn’t, though. We pause right beside him while Raf pretends to take a photo of me in front of the fountain.

I pull out my phone and type a message to Missy.

I’m already here. Are you?

I hit Send and watch the bearded guy. His phone doesn’t chime, but somewhere on the other side of the fountain I hear a ding. Raf and I exchange a glance. Twenty metres away, partially hidden behind one of the fountain’s bronze sculptures, is the back of a figure in a red coat.

I’ve had it all wrong. It is a girl, with a dark curly ponytail. Missy is just some fibbing thirteen year old who is here to meet her online friend.

‘Come on,’ I say to Raf, grabbing hold of his hand again. We dash over to her, our footsteps heavy on the pavestones.

Missy half-turns at the sound of us drawing close. Her thumbs are busy typing a message on her phone.

‘Wait …’ I say, catching sight of her profile. My lips part in surprise.

‘Rina?’ Raf says to her, lifting his sunglasses. ‘What are you doing here?’

Her head turns, eyes wide. My phone dings with the message she just sent Henry.

‘Okay,’ she says, raising defensive hands, ‘I can explain.’

* * *

I want to kick myself. As soon as I see Rina’s face, so many things click into place.

Missy’s questions about Mason. The ballerina sister. Knowing Sally is a good