Where the Wind Takes Us

Colton had asked me earlier to be his unofficial photographer of the night, since he (and the rest of the group) knows about my artistry skills, and I told him I was happy to do so. This is why I’ve spent some of the night taking happy snaps of people from school, and some of Colton’s friends from the footy club. Some of them have hit on me and it’s left my ego very lifted, especially when paired with alcohol, which has made me a happy drunk, considering my current love (or lack of) situation.

Though a part of me wishes I could be getting paid, the better part of me is just happy I’m capturing these moments with my friends before I hopefully leave.

I spot Mick laughing at something some guy on the footy team has said – he’s sipping on his beer and suddenly he throws his head back in response. I snap a picture, taking notice of how beautiful Mick’s smile is when it’s genuine. Feeling the need to take a picture of the birthday boy, I try to look for him but he’s nowhere in sight, until I spot him and Georgia ravenously making out in the kitchen. I snap a few photos, knowing how creepy it looks but it’ll be something for the five of us to laugh about after. James walks into the kitchen and spotting the pair, he makes the ‘peace and pout’ pose in front of the two, with me holding a hand over my mouth to quieten the giggles trying to escape from my mouth.

“Hey!” Georgia exclaims, noticing me and James’ exaggerated gangster pose in front of Colton and Georgia, as I get a passing drunk to take a photo of us. “Seriously guys?”

James shrugs. “Don’t hook up in public, then?”

“If you must know,” Georgia huffs, “We are celebrating.”

I roll my eyes at her. “We know it’s Colton’s birthday G, duh.” It’s obvious to now everyone at this point that yes, I have had a couple of drinks of my own.

Colton chuckles. “I just asked Georgia to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

Immediately I throw my arms around the pair. “Fina-fucking-lly!” I exclaim.

“Far out,” James shakes his head, slapping Colton on the back. “Took you some bloody time.”

Colton ducks his head and blushes, while Georgia beams proudly at her boyfriend. I’m so insanely happy for them, but I wish I had what they had and that thought makes me sad.

“Let me take a picture of the new couple,” I say excitedly, attempting to push the sadness down. Yanking the camera out of the drunk guy’s hand, I fiddle with the camera and start counting down.

“Cheese!” Colton and Georgia shout at the same time. This brings on a new wave of laughter between the four of us.

“Let’s take a group photo,” Mick offers, joining the four of us in the kitchen. He glares at a couple hanging in the area, and immediately they scram. I set the photo on timer on the counter, and the five of us pose - each person different to the other. I’m in the middle, my arm linked with Georgia’s, who’s sharing a kiss with Colton. Colton’s smiling into the kiss, but I think a part of it may be because he looks like he’s about to knee James in the balls. James is on my other side, my head pressed against his sweaty armpit (lovely) as his hand rests against the side of my face. Mick’s in front of me but not blocking my way – he’s crouched down onto his knees, with my left hand resting in his hair. We’re all grinning our wildest grins, and after the camera has taken our photo, none of us move.

“Hey guys,” Colton starts. I can tell he’s a little drunk by the way his words are starting to slur. “Thanks for being my best friends. Love you guys.”

If any of us were sober, we would have made fun of him, but because we aren’t, we all have the same plan in mind.

“Love you too, man,” Mick slurs and the five of us rearrange ourselves to form a group circle. “Let’s never leave each other, ‘kay?”

We nod in agreement but with a pang in my heart, I know that that’s the opposite of what I have planned for myself in the future.



I’ve run out of film and I’m annoyed because I don’t think I’ve brought any more with me. Informing Colton of this, he assures me that he has some extra film in his room in case I’ve forgotten and also asks me if I could please sober up so no boys try to get with “my fine ass” (Georgia’s words, not Colton’s). So I take a long swig of water, letting it settle into my stomach before I make myself a burger that Colton’s dad has made, before hurrying up to Colton’s room to grab the extra film.

When I eventually come back downstairs, the burger proudly demolished by me, myself and I, the spare film, and a fresh mint in my mouth that I’d stolen from Colton’s, I bump into a familiar backside that I’ve admired so many times before.

“Hey, Sweet Ass!” I say enthusiastically, beaming at the guy in front of me.

Josh smirks. “Nat, are you drunk?”

I place a hand on my hip. “What, I can’t soberly appreciate God’s gift to the world?”

We’re both silent for a second before bursting out into laughter.

“Is it okay if I take you away from the party for a bit?” Josh asks shyly. I’ve never seen Josh shy, but the way he looks down before staring into my eyes is not one does when they’re confident, that’s for sure.

I nod. “Lead the way. Preferably with a bottle of something.” I pause for a moment. “Oh wait. Colton told me to sober up. But I don’t really feel like it.”

“Tequila shots it is, then,” Josh decides and I nod again as he leads me to the front of his house. We can still hear Colton’s beats from the back of his house, but they’re slightly dimmer. The grass is dry and looks comfortable, so we sit down, Josh sitting opposite me. He opens the bottle and hands it to me, and I take a short swig before passing it to him. We probably look like two drunken hooligans, but I don’t really care.

The tequila hasn’t fucked up my brain just yet, so I take this time to fiddle with the film, delicately taking out the used roll of film and placing it in my handbag so it doesn’t get ruined.

“Used up a roll of film already?” Josh questions. I nod, replacing the film. “Are you just putting it up on facebook or you gonna use it for something else?”

“I’ll probably contribute the PG rated ones to Photography,” I say to Josh. “And some other photos too. I plan to submit the photography folio into a few schools in Melbourne.”

“You want to move interstate for uni too?” Josh is surprised. “I thought you’d never be able to leave your group.”

“I’ve applied to a couple of schools in Melbourne,” I confide, quietly wondering whether it’s because I’m drunk that I’m spilling this information to him or because I trust him. My drunken haze tells me it’s both. “Some artsy schools. I’m going to submit my photography folio and whatever folio I end up making for Studio Art.”

“So do I,” Josh replies, his now dark green eyes (funny, I thought they were hazel) intently gazing into mine. “I want to go out and see what ‘straya has to offer, y’know?”

I nod excitedly, because I know exactly what he’s talking about.

“It’s called wanderlust,” I murmur. “The desire to travel and see new things and stuff. My friends are the only thing holding me back from moving away, but I want to see new places and get out of my comfort zone, y’know?”

Josh nods solemnly and places his warm hand on my knee. “I know.” We share a smile for a few moments before he drops his hand. Shame. His hand felt nice. “So. You in Melbourne, huh? Maybe you can visit me sometime.”

The words ‘I’d love to’ get stuck in my throat, because before I’m about to answer, I hear a familiar voice calling my name. Turning my head around, I see Mick standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Colton’s about to cut the cake,” Mick says in a hollow voice. I think he’s just talking to me, but Josh takes the hint and smiles at me, brushing past Mick as he enters Colton’s house.

I leave the bottle on the ground, since my hands are full with my handbag and camera. Mick and I walk silently through the side gate that leads to the backyard.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking about moving to Melbourne?” Mick asks suddenly, stopping me in my tracks.

I want to answer him, but I’m reaching a point where my mind doesn’t want to comprehend words, let alone what Mick’s asking me to answer.

“I’m drunk and it’s too deep of a conversation to have right now,” I tell Mick, attempting to move past him.

He doesn’t budge. “But you told Josh and not me?” His voice rises at the end of his sentence.

“It’s easier to talk to Josh because he doesn’t judge,” I say in a moment of complete honesty. I shrug. “Sorry, Mick.”

I only realise afterwards that I may have hurt Mick’s feelings, but once again, I push them aside like I pushed down my own feelings aside.