The Same Deep Water Read Online Free

tone suggests this is his a usual greeting for women. “Hello, Guy. How are you?”
    Guy pulls a canvas wallet from his shorts pocket. “Such a polite lady. I’m very well, yourself?”
    Is he mocking me? “Good, thanks.”
    His blue eyes capture mine again, crinkling at the edges as he smiles at me. “Liar. What do you want to drink?”
    “I’m okay.” I indicate the glass of water and he nods.
    Weeks of communicating by text have led to a friendship of sorts, but I never expected him to behave as if we’re old friends meeting for a quick coffee. Will he mention what happened the last time we met, because this meeting is as if nothing happened?
    The condensation runs down the glass and I watch the drops fall as I wait for him to return. Our second face-to-face meeting and his nonchalance matches my nerves. Does he meet a lot of girls? Is that why he’s relaxed about the situation?
    Guy returns and settles back in his seat with an old-style bottle of Coca-Cola, then pulls a piece of paper from his board shorts. I smile at the image, my work follows me everywhere because in front of me is a man straight from an advert for summer happiness. Bronzed guys on the beach laughing with bikini-clad girls, eating fast food, and drinking sugar-filled soda. Models with bodies that don’t belong to people who eat much at all, and definitely not burgers. All Guy needs to do is lose his t-shirt and he’s ticked all the boxes.
    “Am I funny?” he asks, unfolding the paper.
    “No, you remind me of someone.”
    “Oh?”
    “Just some guy,” I say with a half-smile.
    He shakes his head. “I knew there was a sense of humour in there somewhere.”
    I relax back in my chair, my fear this would be awkward dissipating. Guy’s behaviour matches his texts, light-hearted and friendly with no hint of the weirdness that underpins our relationship.
    “Thanks for meeting me,” I say.
    “At last!” He pushes a strand of his fringe away, fixing me with his deep-water eyes. “I was beginning to think you’d bottled on me and I’d never see you again.”
    “Bottled on you?”
    “The bucket list. We’re doing some together, remember?” He shakes the paper at me. “I’m looking forward to having some fun with you, Phe.”
    I look up sharply. A man like him could no doubt persuade any girl with a pulse to have fun with him, but the innuendo isn’t matched by any expression that could suggest he’s serious.
    “You look unhappy. Are you okay?”
    “Better than last time we met.”
    “That’s not difficult, is it?” He drinks. “You can’t hide behind text messages when we’re face to face.”
    “I’m fine, Guy. Normal everyday stress. Work stuff.” I lower my voice. “You know I got help. Things are different. I’m getting better and the dark thoughts have gone.”
    Guy scrutinises me, and the outside world fades, returning me to the last time he looked inside my soul and yanked me back to reality. Empty of the thoughts controlling my mind that night, others flood in instead.
    Who is he?
    What’s killing him?
    Why can’t I stop picturing what he looks like under his t-shirt?
    Why does he want to know me?
    Guy chews on his bottom lip, his own thoughts guarded. “Get it out.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Your list. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
    “Oh, right.” I pick up my small, black handbag and delve to the bottom. “Sorry.”
    “That’s okay, I’m quite the distraction.”
    Of course, looking like he does Guy has to be a self-love kind of guy. I give him a small shake of my head and he winks.
    My small note pad on the table contrasts with his tattered page ripped at the edges, the large black scrawl much less legible than my neatly printed handwriting.
    “We going to read them out?” Guy asks.
    My chair is centimetres from touching the one behind and too many people are in earshot of what promises to be a very weird conversation.
    “No.”
    “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” His mouth