Corbin
Prologue
Melbourne, Australia
Shelby
Strange request, but I need your mum’s number. I dropped my phone in the toilet and lost all my contacts. I even tried stalking her on socials, but she is either FBI private or I’m losing my touch.
Cornflour
With one eye open, I swiftly calculated the time difference. My fingers flying across the screen as quickly as they could for 5:00am on a Monday. Shelby would likely already be in bed indulging in her favourite form of therapy – colouring – and if I was fast enough, I might be able to get in a few messages, both before I hit the pavement for a jog, or she fellasleep.
Corbin
Hey, Shelbs.
I’ll send it through now. Everything okay?
Burnt Umber
Shelby
Burnt Umber?
You Googled that, don’t even lie. They haven’t made that colour since the 1940s.
I’m great. Just pondering while I colour.
An image loaded and my quiet chuckle filled my otherwise empty apartment. An outline of the word fuck was front and centre, half-coloured in a cornflour blue, with empty swirls surrounding the profanity awaiting their turn to be filled.
Shelby
Cornflour x2
But once I speak to your mum, that may change.
Corbin
I’m intrigued.
What’s the etiquette here? You’re deliberately being evasive.
Do I ask or pretend I don’t care and then just ask Mum?
Raw Sienna
Shelby
So grumpy in the morning, Corbin Chambers.
I’ll be in touch tomorrow – my time. But I think I’m coming to Australia.
Electric Lime
Hugs. xo
Tying the laces on my running shoes, I tucked the aglets in and grinned. Shelby Hudson always knew how to draw a smile out of me when I least expected. She’d been able to do it when we were six year olds living next door to each other, our faces sticky from jam sandwiches; when we were seventeen and she’d cried laughing while Mum Facetimed her to show her the top hat and cane I thought was the perfect accessory to my formal suit; and thirteen years later, from the other side of the world, she could do it through a few short sentences over messages.
