Free Nobody Knows by Rebecca Barber Page B

furniture. The cupboards were lined with photos and knick knacks collected over the years. Some were childhood collectibles while others reminded me of my parents, things I hadn’t been able to part with when I started to throw things out.
    With the glasses full, I returned to the lounge and tucked my feet underneath me. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Joel walk around inspecting everything. I sipped my wine as he quietly inspected photo after photo. His eyebrows raised over some while sadness seemed to consume him as he examined others. Part of me wondered if he saw something else in the photos, some pain that was in his own past, but I knew better than to ask.
    When he sat down next to me minutes later, the silence that consumed us was dangerous. I could feel the sexual tension filling the foot wide gap between our bodies. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I downed the rest of my glass of wine, hoping to take the edge off.
    “Need more wine?” I asked, springing off the lounge with overwhelming enthusiasm.
    I watched in awe as Joel finished his glass in one long pull. “Sure,” he agreed, reaching out and handing me his glass. In the exchange of glasses, the moment our fingers touched, I felt my face turn a beetroot red.
    I busied myself in the kitchen trying to hide while I pulled myself together. I grabbed a box of crackers and half a slab of cheese and dumped them unceremoniously onto a plate before overfilling the glasses. As I was mopping up the spill with a floral tea towel, Joel called out, “Need a hand in there?”
    “No, umm…thanks. I’m fine. Won’t be a second,” I dodged. I took the moment of privacy as a sign. I ran a hand roughly through my hair in a vain attempt to tame it, then tried to straighten my shirt and brush the fluff from it.
    Walking back into the lounge it was strangely alluring to see that Joel had made himself comfortable in my home. I know I had invited him to do so, but to see him with his shoes kicked off, tie hanging on the arm of his chair, was simply intoxicating. Handing him his wine, I was extra careful to ensure no physical contact was made. If I let myself, I could see us easily back in the same situation as the other morning.
    “So…” Joel began stuffing his face with cheese and crackers. “Remind me again why I’m watching this chick flick?”
    Slightly relieved, I laughed sincerely. Despite the nerves and the erotic fantasies playing in my head, I genuinely like spending time with him. He was fun. He made me laugh. And that was exactly what I needed.
    “Because this is my house and I control the remote.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Yep. My house, my rules,” I said stubbornly. I was trying to be tough, but this was definitely heading for treacherous ground.
    For a while Joel didn’t say a word. Instead, he just slowly put his glass on the floor next to him and reached for the throw hanging on the back of the lounge behind our heads. When he spread it over my legs I almost died of shock. He was being so sweet. No one other than my dad had ever been that nice to me without wanting something in return.
    Quietly he got up, placed his wine glass back in the kitchen, and then stood next to the TV. “I should head home. It’s been a long day,” he admitted, sliding his feet back into his shoes and stuffing his tie in his pants pocket.
    “Oh, o-okay,” I stammered, unable to hide my disappointment.
    “I really am sorry, Gillian. I didn’t mean to be such an arse.”
    “Forget about it. It’s all good.” I smiled, gaining confidence.
    “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon after the exhibition and let you know how it went. Hopefully it will be good news. Just think, you could even have it sold by then,” he said, slipping from human being to real estate agent without even pausing for a breath.
    “Hope so. At least that will be one less thing to deal with.” As soon as I said it I immediately regretted my choice of words. I had made my life sound like a