Bryce woke to the sound of a car grinding up his track, the gravel crunching under tyres in a rhythm he knew before he even opened his eyes. He rolled out of bed, pulled on jeans, and walked to the door in bare feet.
The morning light was thin and grey, the kind that promised heat later. Holly’s blue hair caught it as she climbed out of her hatchback, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a grin already on her face.
“You’re up early,” she said, dropping the bag on the veranda boards. “Or late. Depends how you count it.”
“Depends what you did last night.”
“Drove.” She stretched, arms over her head. Her loose singlet lifted with the movement, exposing a strip of stomach before dropping back into place. “Got a text from Grant. Long weekend, riverside camp, the whole crew. He said you’d already agreed.”
Bryce leaned against the doorframe.
“He said he’d check with you.”
“He checked. I’m here.”
She picked up her bag and pushed past him into the cabin.
He made coffee while she wandered the room, running a finger along the windowsill and peering into the kitchen like she was sizing the place up. She wore cut-off shorts and the loose singlet, and her feet were bare.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, taking the mug he offered. “We driving together?”
“If you want.”
“I want.” She sipped, watching him over the rim. “I also want to know if you’re going to be this chatty the whole weekend, or if you’re saving it for the campfire.”
He laughed.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Don’t strain yourself.”
She set the mug down and hooked a thumb toward the door.
“Come on. Grant said to be there by ten, and you know how he gets about a schedule he made up himself.”
They threw Holly’s duffel into Bryce’s ute and left her car beside the cabin.
The drive took two hours, the bitumen giving way to gravel and then to a dirt track that wound through stringybark and ironbark, the river appearing in flashes between the trees.
Holly sat with one arm resting along the open window, tapping her fingers against the door to something on the radio she kept turning up and then down. She talked about a job she’d just finished, a fence-line mustering gig up north, and Bryce listened.
The camp was already half-set when they pulled in.
Grant’s ute was backed onto a flat patch of grass, horse float still hitched behind it. Elara was at the rear of the float sorting tack while Grant wrestled with a tarp that kept catching the wind.
Callan and Mauve had claimed a spot under a big river gum, their tent already up, horses settled nearby. Adele and Ethan were arranging chairs around a fire pit that looked like it had seen a hundred weekends exactly like this one.
Tessa was there too, her chair angled toward the river, a book open in her lap.
She closed it when Bryce’s ute rolled in.
“Finally,” Grant called, abandoning the tarp. “I was starting to think you’d got lost.”
“We took the scenic route,” Holly said, hopping out before Bryce had cut the engine. “Bryce wanted to show me a tree.”
“A tree.”
“A big one.”
Holly stretched again, arms above her head. Her singlet rode up, baring her stomach.
Bryce caught Tessa’s eyes flick toward Holly.
Then to him.
Then away.
“Where do you want us?” Holly asked.
Grant pointed toward a flat stretch near the water.
“Plenty of room there. You two aren’t bringing a horse, so at least I don’t have to find somewhere else to put one.”
“I’m here for the camping,” Bryce said.
“And the beer,” Callan called.
“Mostly the beer.”
“That’s why I like him.”
Holly grabbed the tent.
“We might not be sleeping that much anyway.”
It landed exactly as she intended.
Callan laughed. Ethan raised an eyebrow. Mauve smiled.
Elara kept working on the saddle in front of her, but Bryce saw the corner of her mouth move.
Tessa picked her book up again.
She didn’t open it.
The weekend had always been planned as both a riding trip and a camping trip. The others would take the horses along the river tracks whenever the weather suited them.
Bryce had been asked if he wanted a horse.
He’d declined.
Nobody seemed particularly surprised.
He was happy with the river, the campfire and a cold beer waiting when the riders came back.
Bryce drove the tent pegs while Holly sorted the bedding, and when he looked up she’d already stripped down to her bathers.
She caught him looking and grinned.
“Eyes up here, cowboy.”
“They are.”
“Sure they are.”
She tossed him a towel.
“Come on. Water’s perfect.”
The river was cold and clear, the kind of cold that stole your breath for a second and then settled into something almost warm.
Grant was already in, floating on his back with a beer held above his head, and Callan was wading in slow circles near the bank, looking for somewhere deep enough to dive.
Adele and Elara sat on a fallen log with their feet in the water, talking in low voices that carried over the current.
Bryce waded in up to his chest, the cold tightening his skin.
Holly swam past him in a smooth crawl, blue hair streaming behind her. She surfaced a few metres downstream, treading water.
“You coming, or you just gonna stand there looking at it?”
He pushed off the bottom and swam to her.
When he surfaced she was right there, close enough that her feet brushed his legs beneath the water.
“Better,” she said.
“You’re a lot.”
“You like it.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
She swam away, and he followed.
That evening, the fire pit gathered everyone the way it always did.
Grant had brought an esky full of beer and a bag of potatoes he insisted on burying in the coals. Mauve produced a cast-iron pan and a bag of onions she said were non-negotiable.
The stories started slow and then picked up speed, each one becoming slightly less believable than the last.
“—and I swear to you, the horse just walked into the kitchen,” Grant said. “Didn’t touch a thing. Stood there like he was waiting for a beer.”
“He was waiting for the carrots,” Elara said. “You’d left them on the bench.”
“Details. The point is, he had better manners than half the people I’ve hosted.”
Holly was sitting cross-legged on the ground beside Bryce’s chair, leaning back against his leg.
She laughed, tipping her head up to look at him.
“You ever had a horse in your kitchen?”
“Not yet.”
“Give it time.”
She stayed against him.
Bryce rested one hand loosely against her shoulder.
Across the fire, Tessa looked over.
Only for a moment.
Then Adele said something to her and she turned away.
The potatoes came out of the coals black and steaming, and everyone ate with their fingers, salt and ash mixing with the taste of beer and woodsmoke.
The stories kept going.
The fire burned lower.
At some point Holly’s hand found Bryce’s knee and squeezed once.
Later she stood and slung a towel over one shoulder.
“I’m taking a shower.”
She picked up the soap.
Then looked at Bryce.
“You coming?”
Callan whistled.
Grant laughed.
Mauve shook her head.
“You heard the lady,” Ethan said without looking up from his beer.
Bryce put his bottle down and followed her.
As he passed the fire, Holly looked back over her shoulder.
“I already told them what I’m planning.”
Bryce stopped.
“You what?”
She kept walking.
Callan started laughing.
Bryce looked at him.
Callan lifted both hands.
“Nothing to do with me.”
“Bullshit.”
Holly was already at the shower.
Bryce followed.
The outdoor shower was a simple timber enclosure fed from the river pump, open to the sky. Its walls came high enough to hide everything below chest level but left heads and shoulders visible from camp.
Holly was already under the spray when Bryce stepped inside.
She faced away from him, head tipped back beneath the water.
“Took you long enough.”
“You stopped to announce the itinerary.”
“I’m considerate.”
Bryce pushed his board shorts down and stepped beneath the water behind her.
For perhaps thirty seconds, they actually showered.
Then Holly shifted back against him.
Her hand reached behind her.
Bryce sucked in a breath when her fingers closed around him.
“Holly.”
“Shh.”
She stayed facing away, her back against his chest, one hand braced on the wall while the other moved slowly between them.
Bryce looked over the top of the enclosure.
The fire was only a few metres away.
Grant was talking.
Mauve was listening.
Callan glanced toward the shower.
Their eyes met.
Callan’s gaze dropped as far as the wall allowed, then came back to Bryce’s face.
His grin widened.
He turned straight back to the conversation.
“Fuck,” Bryce muttered.
Holly laughed.
“They can see us.”
“They can see our heads.”
“They know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I told you. I already told them.”
Her grip tightened.
Bryce put one hand against the timber wall.
The other settled on Holly’s hip.
She looked back over her shoulder.
“They’re not sitting there watching.”
Bryce glanced across again.
Elara happened to look over at the same moment.
She saw his face.
Her eyes moved to Holly.
Then she took another drink and turned back to Adele.
Bryce lowered his head toward Holly’s shoulder.
“That isn’t helping.”
“It’s helping me.”
Holly worked him slowly at first, water running over both of them, her body pressed close enough that every small movement transferred through him.
Bryce’s breathing shortened.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
Her hand moved faster.
At the fire, conversation carried on.
Someone laughed.
Bryce couldn’t tell who.
Holly’s fingers tightened around him.
“Nearly?”
“Don’t start.”
She smiled.
He could feel it against his shoulder.
She kept going.
Bryce came hard, his body tensing behind her. His hand tightened around her hip while the other gripped the wall.
Holly kept stroking him until the tension passed.
Then she turned her head and kissed his jaw.
“There.”
Bryce exhaled.
“You’re trouble.”
“You knew that before you followed me.”
They finished washing.
When they walked back toward the fire, Holly was rubbing her hair with the towel.
Callan looked up.
“Thanks for the show.”
Bryce stopped.
Holly grinned.
“You couldn’t see anything.”
“Didn’t need to.”
Grant laughed into his beer.
Bryce looked back toward the shower.
Then at the height of the walls.
“Fuck.”
“Relax,” Callan said. “We had a pretty good idea what was happening before you even got in there.”
“Because she told you.”
“That helped.”
Holly dropped onto the ground beside Bryce’s chair like nothing had happened.
Mauve handed her a beer.
“Successful shower?”
“Very.”
Bryce sat down.
“No one asked you.”
Mauve laughed.
The next morning, Bryce woke to the sound of birds and the weight of Holly’s body curled against his side.
The tent was warm and close, the sleeping bag tangled around their legs.
For a moment he just lay there listening to her breathe.
She stirred, her hand finding his chest, eyes still closed.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
“Just waking up.”
“Same thing.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder.
“What time is it?”
“Early.”
“Go back to sleep.”
He stayed there until the sun began to warm the tent.
When he eventually got up, Grant was already nursing a coffee beside the fire.
Elara, Mauve, Callan and several of the others were preparing the horses for the morning ride.
Tessa sat on a log near the water with a mug in her hands.
She looked up when Bryce walked past.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
He stopped.
“Sleep okay?”
“Well enough.”
She gestured loosely with her mug toward his tent.
“You?”
Bryce felt heat creep up the back of his neck.
“Fine.”
A small smile touched her mouth.
She said nothing else.
Bryce walked to the river and splashed cold water over his face.
When he came back, Holly was sitting by the fire with coffee and a grin that suggested she knew exactly who he’d been talking to.
She didn’t say anything.
Grant tightened a girth and looked at Bryce.
“Last chance. Riding?”
“No.”
“You could still change your mind.”
“I could.”
Grant waited.
Bryce took a drink of coffee.
“I’m not going to.”
Callan laughed.
“Told you.”
The riders left not long afterward, hoofbeats fading along the river track.
Bryce stayed behind with Holly.
Tessa had chosen not to ride that morning either.
For a while everyone occupied themselves.
Bryce shifted chairs out of the sun and put another billy on the fire.
Tessa rinsed mugs at the river.
Holly wandered down toward her.
She stopped beside Tessa.
“You’re going to have to be less subtle.”
Tessa looked up.
“What?”
“You like him.”
“Holly.”
“What?”
Tessa glanced toward Bryce.
He was crouched beside the fire with his back to them.
“He’s with you.”
“So?”
“So leave it alone.”
Holly smiled.
“For now.”
Tessa stared at her.
Holly took the clean mug from her hand.
“Thanks.”
Then she walked back toward camp.
The riders returned before lunch, horses damp with sweat and everyone talking over one another about the track.
Bryce handed Grant a beer as he dismounted.
Grant looked at the bottle.
“You know me too well.”
“Unfortunately.”
The rest of the weekend unfolded in the slow drift these weekends seemed built for.
Swimming.
Eating.
Drinking.
Talking.
The riders disappeared along the river again later in the day. Bryce stayed behind without anyone trying particularly hard to convince him otherwise.
Sometimes he drove downriver and met them.
Sometimes he stayed by the fire.
Holly swam whenever the heat climbed.
Tessa read.
Or appeared to.
One afternoon Bryce found himself helping her with the food, chopping vegetables for a stew while she worked the fire.
She reached across him for the salt.
Their arms brushed.
“Sorry.”
“You’re right.”
She smiled and went back to the pot.
From her blanket nearby, Holly looked over.
Said nothing.
Bryce kept chopping.
The last night, the fire burned low and the stories finally ran out.
Everyone was sprawled around the pit in various states of half-sleep, the river a low murmur in the dark.
Holly sat beside Bryce with her head on his shoulder.
He handed her his beer when she reached for it.
She took a drink.
“Yours tastes better.”
“It’s the same beer.”
“Still better.”
He took it back.
She settled against him again.
Across the fire, Grant and Callan were arguing quietly about which track they should take next time.
Mauve had fallen half asleep in her chair.
Adele and Ethan shared a blanket.
Tessa stared into the coals.
Holly’s hand settled on Bryce’s thigh.
He covered it with his own.
They stayed there until the fire had almost gone out.
Morning came too early.
Everyone moved around camp in the slow, reluctant rhythm of packing up—folding tents, rolling sleeping bags, loading tack, clearing rubbish and returning the campsite to something close to the way they’d found it.
Bryce took their tent down while Holly packed the bedding.
Grant and Callan loaded horses.
Elara walked the campsite once more, checking nothing had been left behind.
When Bryce shut the tailgate, Holly leaned against the ute.
“Good weekend.”
“Yeah.”
“You even survived without riding.”
“Barely.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
She climbed into the passenger seat.
The drive home was quieter than the drive out.
Holly slept for part of it, one foot tucked beneath her, head against the window.
When Bryce turned into his track, her car was still sitting where she’d left it.
He pulled up beside it.
Holly got out and collected her duffel from the back.
She tossed it onto the passenger seat of her car.
“Thanks for the weekend.”
“You invited yourself.”
“And you loved it.”
Bryce smiled.
“Yeah.”
Holly stepped close and kissed him.
“See you around.”
“See you.”
She climbed into her car and started the engine.
Bryce stood beside the ute as she reversed out.
Holly lifted a hand through the open window.
He returned it.
Then she turned onto the road and disappeared.