Beautiful Series Boxset, books 1-4
Author: Anderson, Lilliana
Date: 2019-08-25

Beautiful Boxset

Beautiful Series, books 1-4

Lilliana Anderson

Contents

Struggle

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

The Backstory

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Forever

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

The Backstory

Phoenix - Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

4. Six months earlier

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

9. Eight months after the note

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

13. 10 months since the note

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

16. One week in the overpriced motel

17. The morning after the plan

Chapter 18

19. Six months faking it with Ed

Chapter 20

21. Zero days since my last fuck up

Chapter 22

23. Three months into the ho life

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

27. The day I stopped counting

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

31. The day the numbers start back up

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

36. One month sober

Chapter 37

38. 8 months clean

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

41. 18 months sober

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

45. Five

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

48. The first day of the rest of my life

Chapter 49

Melody

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Epilogue

The Side Story

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Rock

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

And then there was a wedding…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Also by Lilliana Anderson

About the Author

Struggle

Book One

Foreword

Here we go, people. One last goodbye to our favourite characters. The Beautiful Series has been around since 2012. This group of gorgeous survivors have melted hearts and come to feel like family over the years.

Knowing the series had to end eventually, I’ve gone back to the beginning and rewritten every single Beautiful Series book, adding new content and tidying up the stories into something new but with the same heart it always had.

In this new edition of A Beautiful Struggle and Too Close, you’ll find a huge amount of added content. I’ve torn it down to its basic foundation and built it back up again. This is the book it was always meant to be.

I hope you love it as much as you did the first time—maybe even more.

Prologue

“Pay attention.” I giggle, pushing David on the side of the head for fake snoring.

“Why are you making me sit through this girly movie?” He gestures towards the TV screen as Keira Knightley and James McAvoy struggle with their forbidden attraction. “Just fuck and get it over with already.”

“Because it was my turn to pick. You made me sit through that horrible action movie that didn’t even have a plot last week. Consider us even.” Atonement is one of my favourite movies. So heartbreaking and beautiful. David could do with a little angst in his life. Especially since he’s the reason for most of the angst in mine—long story.

“Fine,” he grumbled, tapping my legs where they lay across his lap. “But I’ll need more beer to get through this. You want one?”

Shaking my head, I shift my position, my eyes glued to the screen as the library scene is about to happen. I’m dying here. I’ve seen this movie five times, and I still get caught up in it.

Over my shoulder, I hear David at the fridge, twisting the cap off a beer. I know he hates these kinds of movies, but my boyfriend, Christopher hates them even more. Since David has been my best friend since primary school, he gets to be my romantic movie buddy. I don’t really have girlfriends, so…

“Shit,” David mutters, as a key turns in the door.

My heart gallops inside my chest. Shit is the understatement of the year. Fuck might be more appropriate because my aforementioned boyfriend—the boyfriend who hates David and forbade me to see him—is home.

I lock eyes with David, my stomach souring. I know it was wrong to lie to Christopher about seeing David. Just like I know it was wrong to lie to David about Christopher being OK with our friendship. But I feel caught in the middle, forced to choose between my boyfriend and my best friend. When I love them both, how am I supposed to do that? I lied because I hoped that with enough time, they’d figure out their differences and come together for the sake of me. Christopher would accept that David isn’t trying to steal me away, and David would accept that Christopher loves and wants me. But, now isn’t the time. Emotions are still too raw.

Christopher will lose his shit.

“Stay,” I whisper, jumping to my feet to meet Christopher at the door and try to explain before he sees David. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You’re e-early,” I stutter, wincing when my nerves betray me. Without meaning to, I glance at David for support. It’s the worst thing I could do.

Oh god.

Christopher’s face darkens as he follows my line of sight, spotting David. I swear I see steam hiss out of his ears as mottled anger climbs up his neck, reddening his skin.

“G’day, mate,” David says, flashing a smile that’s anything but pleased.

They lock eyes in silent challenge.

This is not OK. This is not OK.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Christopher bellows, launching himself at warp speed in David’s direction. He doesn’t even hesitate, he simply cocks his arm back and lands his fist with explosive force into the side of David’s jaw. I hear his teeth clack as the beer slips from his hand and smashes all over the floor.

“No,” I scream, covering my mouth in horror. David’s eyes roll back and he drops to the floor. “What are you doing, Christopher? Get away from him!”

Furious, Christopher ignores my plea, grabbing David by the front of the shirt and shaking him. “Think you can come into my house and drink my beer,” he spits, David’s head rocking back and forth.

“Please, stop!”

He pulls David close and growls in his unconscious ear. “Did you fuck my woman too?” He releases his shirt, dropping him with a thud.

The impact jolts him conscious, confusion registering moments before he scrambles to get up, impaired by Christopher’s unyielding grip. Protesting, fighting and kicking, David fails to break free as Christopher opens the front door and throws him into the hall.

“Stay the fuck away for good this time,” he booms, slamming the door and flicking the lock.

“Fuck you!” David yells, banging at the door in frustration.

“What is wrong with you?” I screech, tears streaming down my face.

When Christopher turns, fear claws its way up my throat. Gone are the soulful brown eyes I spent hours falling into. In their place, sharp angry beads of untamed fury. He’s going to kill me. “You lying bitch.”

Propelling himself across the room, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back, snarling in my face. “How long have you been fucking him behind my back?”

“No. I didn’t. Nothing happened,” I scream, eyes closed tight as I wish for this to be over. Like a little girl in trouble, I wish like wishes exist. Please make this stop. Please don’t let this be real.

“Lies.” Grabbing my face with his free hand, he squeezes my cheeks together until my jaw hurts and I taste blood.

“Stop,” I whimper, crying uselessly.

I claw at his arm to stop him. But, the moment my feet leave the ground, I know it’s over.

As I fly through the air, everything around me slows. A romantic movie continues to play on the TV. The half-eaten box of pizza sits open on the coffee table. Christopher spits as he hurls distorted insults. And the front door rattles on its hinges. I find it strange that I notice a room full of details, but my life doesn’t flash before my eyes like it should. I don’t see every important moment in a slow motion montage. I wish I did. Because then I’d be dancing, dancing with David at the year ten formal, hoping he’ll finally choose me.

Now it’s too late.

Time speeds up and I scream. I scream for David, wishing for him as my heart and soul cries out for everything we never were to each other. Everything we never would be.

I love you...

I’ve always loved you.

A blinding pain. A thumping heart. My vision blurs. Then…

Nothing.

One

12 months later

If my life was a movie, it’d be playing Dolly Parton’s Nine to Five, as I enter the building in Sydney’s Martin Place that houses the law offices of Turner, Barlow & Smith. It’s my first day as the part-time librarian. Actually, it’s my first job full-stop, and I’m nervous as hell.

In that movie, the music would come to a screeching halt the moment I approach the reception area and open my mouth.

With a finger held up to silence me, the frosty receptionist gives me a look that tells me I’m no better than the crud under her beautifully manicured fingernails. She isn’t even on a call. But she makes me wait until one comes in and she answers it.

“Turner, Barlow and Smith. How can I direct your call?”

I have to admit I feel a little intimidated by her looks. She’s beautifully made up and very curvaceous; like one of those sexy cartoon pin-up girls you see from wartime posters. She has jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders, and a bust daring to break through her fitted blouse that a flat-chested girl like me would pay dearly for. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster standing near her.

I wait while she answers and redirects a few calls. And even when it’s obvious she’s doing nothing, she still makes me wait. I feel my nerves skitter about in my chest before I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

She looks at me with her lips pursed, and her perfect brows arched. It makes me wonder how she’s kept this job. She’s not good at greeting possible clients.

Despite feeling ill at ease by the frostiness of her gaze, I take a deep breath. “I’m Katrina Mahoney. I start work here today.” She keeps staring. “Uh, in the library?” It comes out as a question, her blank look making me second guess myself. Am I in the right place?

“Take a seat.” She tilts her head back and looks down her nose at me—a difficult thing to do to someone as tall as I am, but she succeeds insurmountably. “The office manager will come for you when she’s ready.” Cutting eye contact, she immediately returns her attention to whatever she feels is more important than having some fucking manners.

Great start. I’m making friends already.

Taking a deep breath, I turn and look around the waiting area, sighing when I see the low-set furniture. I walk towards it, wondering how the heck I’m going to fold my long legs in some sort of dignified manner—I don’t want to flash the office manager when she comes out to collect me.

I perch on the edge of a cream leather couch with my knees angling down and my legs tucked to the side. I imagine I look a little like a daddy longlegs, but I don’t have much choice in the matter. This world isn’t built for tall girls in short skirts. #tallgirlproblems

Being a librarian in a legal firm isn’t my top-tier career goal. I applied for this job in the hopes it would be a foot in the door by the time I graduate. I’m two years into studying a humanities/law degree at Western Sydney University. Ultimately, I want to practise family law and landing a job in a big multi-focused law firm like TBS could be the in I need to get my career off to the right start.

My skirt isn’t that short. I’m just overly gangly.

Trying to look conservative for my first day, I put on a black pinstripe skirt that ends above my knees. I’ve teamed it with a crimson satin blouse and black low heeled Mary-Jane shoes. I straightened the natural wave out of my honey-blonde hair so it sits just below my shoulders, and I’m wearing enough makeup to give my lips and cheeks a rosy glow and cover an angry-looking scar that runs along my hairline. Hence the Frankenstein reference.

I only have to sit awkwardly on the low-set chairs for a few minutes before a small woman who appears to be in her mid-forties and of Indian origin comes out to greet me. “I’m the office manager on this level; Priya.” She extends her hand in greeting. “You must be Katrina Mahoney.”

I immediately rise, dwarfing Priya with my six feet of height, smile, and shake her hand. “Yes, that’s me. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Priya looks up at me and says the first thing most people say upon meeting me. “My, you’re a tall one aren’t you?” I smile and nod to be polite, while inwardly rolling my eyes. Thanks for the brilliant deduction there, Watson. “Follow me. I’ll show you around the office.”

I do as I’m told, following closely behind and trying to take in as much information about my surroundings as possible.

Priya speaks over her shoulder and points things out as we go along. “In here are the conference rooms. In your position, you’ll only need to know about them for drinks on Friday nights—there’s a social committee in charge of all that. You can join if you like. Mary runs it. She should come and talk to you about it at some point during the day. We like our employees taking part in group activities. Helps us work better as a team.”

She flashes a smile then continues down the corridor, passing different offices and cubicles. She explains that the corner offices are for the partners, and the window offices are for the junior and senior solicitors. In the area outside their offices, the personal assistant's cubicles reside with a block of windowless offices in the centre of the floor for accounts and other support staff. This centre block also contains the library and the break room.

“Here’s where you’ll be working.” Priya stops outside a room, two regular offices wide. It’s lined with built-in bookcases on three walls that reach up to the high ceiling. Through the centre are two rows of smaller bookcases, and on the third wall, a reference computer, an ancient-looking microfiche reader, and a photocopier. Crammed behind all of that is my desk.

Priya walks towards it and places a hand on top of the cubicle divider. “You can put your bag in the bottom drawer,” she says, tapping the desk with her foot. “It locks.” Then she takes me through the computer login process and sifts through my already full desk tray, showing me law journal updates and explaining how the firm’s library system works.

“The microfiche machine lives in here, but since everything is online now, it isn’t commonly used. However, we do still have a number of solicitors who prefer the old tech. They’ll send you a request for the microfilm and you’ll need to get them from the archives. Elliot—one of our newest junior solicitors—is in charge of those. He’s also responsible for cataloging these law magazines.” She pulls them out of my tray and I wonder why they aren’t just sent to him directly. “I’ll take you to meet him now.”

Priya leads me down the busy corridor to a small office wedged between the partner’s big corner office and all the regular-sized offices. I would have thought it a storage room if I wasn’t shown different.

“He’s just in here.” She taps on the closed door and waits patiently for the OK to go in. When she opens the door, a man in his early twenties looks up from his work revealing the most vivid blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

I catch my breath as I drink him in, feeling shocked I’m even reacting to him. Since my altercation with Christopher, I’ve barely even noticed the opposite sex. But this man—this Elliot—well, he’s something else. He’s gorgeous.

Even through his dress shirt, I can see how well muscled he is, his face showing that smattering of stubble I love on a man. I don’t know how else to describe him, except to say he’s stunning—those blue eyes, that full mouth, his light golden-brown hair and broad shoulders—I feel myself swoon a little but return to reality when I notice him arch one of those perfect eyebrows in question.

“Sorry to interrupt, Elliot. But, I just wanted to introduce you to our new librarian, Kat,” Priya says, indicating me.

“Um, no. It’s Katrina,” I correct, hating my name shortened to that of a small furry animal.

“Sorry—Katrina,” Priya amends with a slight eye roll.

Elliot doesn’t speak at first. He just sits there, studying me.

Is there something in my teeth?

My cheeks flush involuntarily, as the discomfort of being stared at causes me to look nervously around the room, out the door. Anywhere but at him.

My apparent unease seems to make him realise he’s staring. He quickly clears his throat and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Katrina.”

His voice, wow. It’s as beautiful as the rest of him with a deep rumble that sends chills up my spine.

I’m trying desperately to be cool so he doesn’t notice my immediate attraction. A guy like this must have women swooning all over him. I don’t need him to think I’m one of them—despite his hotness. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty years on this earth, it’s that hot guys and I don’t mix. We’re better off as friends. I’ve dated guys who look as good as him before and it’s never ended well. The scars I bear are the perfect testament to that.

I manage a tight smile. “Hi, um, uh, Elliot.”

Inwardly, my eyes roll. You sound like an idiot. And to make matters worse, there’s silence after that. Nobody says a word, and this awkwardness envelops us like a scratchy woollen blanket.

Say something smart. “Ah…” My eyes dart around the room, trying to find a talking point to move things along. “Nice window.” I wince, regretting the comment the moment it leaves my mouth. You are too stupid to live, woman.

Elliot’s brow lifts again as he glances over his shoulder at said window “It came with the office.” His blue eyes meet mine but reveal no emotion.

I nod and press my lips together so I can’t talk anymore. He thinks I’m a complete ditz. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, while moths of embarrassment churn through my stomach. Kill me, please.

Priya raises her eyebrows at the exchange. “Well, this was fun.” She ushers me out of his office as she says, “Just thought you should meet Katrina so you know what she is doing leaving things on your desk. Enjoy your day, Elliot.”

She gently closes his door and leads me back towards the library, not saying anything more until we’re back inside. “So, your bright-red face tells me you noticed he’s a bit of spunk, huh?”

I try to act nonchalant and shrug my shoulders a little. “He’s OK.”

“All the girls are after him, but he doesn’t show any interest. Don’t get any ideas. There’s a strict no-dating policy here, and he adheres to it. There’s a list of junior solicitors a mile long wanting to work here, and I really don’t think he will risk his job. Do yourself a favour and don’t get your hopes up.”

“My hopes are adequately low,” I say, mentally kicking myself for feeling a little disappointed.

“Someone nice to look at though, huh? Stops the office being so boring.”

“I suppose,” I answer carefully.

“Well.” She smiles. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

I nod and thank her for the tour before getting started with work. As I flip through the items in my tray, I can’t imagine I’ll have any trouble. Everything is basic. Sort books, gather microfiche and follow a simple instruction sheet for the law journal updates—take out page twenty-two, insert the new page twenty-two—I’ll be fine.

Alone, I take some time to look around my new work space so I can take it all in. It feels peaceful being surrounded by books, and the colours of the room help add to the calming effect: pistachio green for the small spaces of wall, and a dim grey for the bookcases.

I have a job. Smiling, I twist lightly from side to side biting my lip as an idea comes to me. I peek over my partition to make sure I’m still alone then tuck my legs in tight and spin around in childish abandon. I place my hands on the desk to stop the spinning and sigh happily. It’s exciting to have my own space within an office. Even if it feels a little like a girl playing dress up.

Gathering the law volumes I need to update, I focus my mind on doing what I’m getting paid for. I don’t get far into the update before a woman a few years older than me with chestnut brown hair and a Mediterranean complexion comes in to introduce herself.

“Hi, you must be Katrina. I’m Mary, Francis’s PA—you may have seen him on your tour. I’m the head of the social committee!” She announces it to me like there should have been a Tada! at the end. She seems very peppy. “I thought I’d pop in to welcome you to Turner, Barlow and Smith and give you a rundown of the things we like to do as a team here.”

“A team,” I repeat, bobbing my head as she prattles on.

“Yes. We do lots of fun things outside of work hours.”

I sit silently listening to her chatter about Friday drinks and various social activities that come up throughout the year.

“Last year we had a team enter a dragon boat race. And the year before that, we competed in a half marathon for charity. I hear you’re a bit sporty.”

“I’m a triathlete, yeah,” I say, regretting putting that information on my resume. Between uni, work and training, I won’t have time for corporate sports.

“Just what we need. Maybe if you come to Friday night drinks this week I can introduce you around? You drink don’t you?”

“Ah, sure. Yeah, I drink.”

“Great. Well, it’s only half an hour, straight after work in the conference room.”

“OK, I’ll make sure I’m there,” I say, feeling the pressure to fit in.

“Excellent. This is your first job, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, very first,” I admit.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll like it here. We’re a pretty good group of people. I mean, you get your cliques like you do everywhere, but most people here are real nice. I’ll see you around, if not, on Friday, OK?” she turns to leave and practically bounces out the door.

“Sounds great,” I call after her, smiling weakly. I really don’t know if I’m a Friday-night-drinks kind of person, but I figure I’d better show my face if I want to make any friends here. It sounds important.

After I get a little more work done, I leave the library to grab a coffee at morning tea time. There are two PA desks outside the offices in front of the library door, and one of the girls—a small, slightly rotund girl with a friendly face and dirty blonde hair tied up in a bouncy ponytail—gets up as I approach.

“You’re new,” she states in an Irish accent. “I’m Kayley.”

“Katrina,” I reply, and we shake hands briefly.

“I’m Greg’s PA. He's creepy.” She whispers the last part.

“Is he?” My eyes skitter around nervously. I’m not sure I should be having this conversation.

“Yeah, sometimes I go in there to drop something off, and he is under his desk.”

“Doing what?”

“Exactly! That’s the part I find creepy.”

I laugh, my concern ebbing away as we start to talk about how long she’s been working here and what some of the other girls are like.

When we reach the kitchen, I’m introduced to Anne and Carl, who are both filing clerks, and Albina and Joanne, who are both PAs. I can’t help but notice that most of the people in the break room are all support staff. Any solicitors who come in make their coffee or tea, utter some small talk and leave.

“They don’t really associate too much with all of us plebs,” Kayley explains, handing me a cup for my coffee as we move along the line of people waiting for the water heater.

“Mary made it sound like the whole company was a team.”

She laughs. “Yeah. That’s a no. Management set up the social committee to foster some kind of cohesion between solicitors and support staff. It doesn’t really work, but they provide free drinks and food.” She shrugs as if that explains it all before she sucks in her breath and taps my arm. “Wouldn’t mind a little cohesion with this one, though. Check him out.” Her eyes are on the doorway where I find Elliot joining the end of the queue. He nods and says hello to a couple of people on their way out, but mostly stands there quietly, waiting his turn for coffee, tea or whatever his chosen refreshment is.

“Him? Yeah, I met him a little earlier. Doesn’t seem too friendly.”

“Pity.” Kayley doesn’t hide the fact she’s openly staring at the guy. “He could make coming to work a hell of a lot more fun.”

One of the other PAs moves towards him and starts up a conversation. I’m stupidly standing here, watching it all play out when he realises and looks at me, stopping mid-sentence for just a beat. Oh shit! The girl talking to him follows his gaze and finds a now red-faced me, who for some insane reason is still looking at them. Look away. Look away! She squints her eyes, shooting daggers in my direction, flicking her long honey streaked hair over her shoulder as she laughs and continues her conversation with Elliot. Is she laughing at me now? Why am I still staring?

Kayley leans in, thankfully snapping my attention back to a safe area. “He’s delicious, huh? The one talking to him is Beth. She’s his PA and thinks she has dibs on him. But every woman here is lusting after the man. He’s divine. Did you see that body? And the hair, the eyes? I could go on.” She sighs happily as we spoon granulated coffee and sugar into our mugs.

“Priya told me there’s a 'no-dating' policy here.”

“That’s only a problem if you get caught,” Albina cuts in, leaning between us to grab a wooden stirrer. “I’d fuck that guy in a heartbeat.” She saunters off with an appreciative growl, and I grin, enjoying her audaciousness but refusing to look at Elliot again. I don’t want to get stuck staring.

Once we’ve added our hot water and milk, we take our drinks to one of the tables and sit down. At our table is Anne, Carl, Albina, Joanne—who prefers to be called ‘Jo’—Kayley and myself. The whole setup feels like a scene from a high school movie with predetermined groups sticking together in the cafeteria.

My new friends seem eager to fill me in on office gossip. I find out that one of the senior partners is going through a nasty divorce and sleeps at the office most nights. And the IT guy is having an affair with one of the admin girls.

“They think no one knows, but they aren’t very good at pretending nothing is happening,” Jo says.

“Yeah. But no one cares enough to report them,” Carl adds. “As long as I never walk in on them fucking in the file room, I don’t give a shit what they do.”

“Fair enough,” I say, taking a mouthful of my coffee.

“Tell us about you, though,” Kayley says.

“Yes,” Albina adds. “What’s your deal? You’re young. Are you still at school? Boyfriend? Family? Tell us everything.”

“My deal?” I sit back, holding the warm mug between both hands while I try to decide how much I want to tell them. “There’s not much to me. No boyfriend, I still live at home, and I’m studying a humanities-law degree. Second year.”

“So you want to be one of them?” Carl asks, brows raised as he points to the solicitor retreating out the door.

“I do, but I’ll make sure I’m still kind to the little plebs,” I tease.

“You better,” Kayley says with a laugh. “You already know too much.”

Two

Still on for lunch? The message flashes on my screen as I fish it out of my bag. I’ve worked steadily since morning tea, feeling like I have a good grasp on what I’m doing. But, the moment lunch hits, I’m ready to get out of here. I have plans to meet up with my best friend, David. We’ve known each other since we were nine and have been inseparable ever since. We’re even studying together at Uni. He’s the smartest person I know.

Definitely. Leaving now. 5 mins eta 😊

David is actually the one who had the idea of gaining entry-level jobs in law firms before our studies end. His job is a couple of blocks away as a filing clerk, so we get to travel to and from the city together.

Slipping my phone back into my bag, I head for the door, not quite making it to freedom when a grey-haired man blocks my exit and asks me to help him locate a book. It isn’t in the library, so I have to chase it down. In truth, it only takes about ten minutes, but I’m feeling really bummed that I’m running late to meet David.

Got held up. I’m commmmmiiiinnnnngggg!!! I type as I rush towards the lifts.

“Hold the lift,” I yell as the cab doors slide to a close. “Wait.” They’re not waiting. I run for it, jumping through the shrinking gap before it gets too small for me to fit through. “Thanks for nothing,” I mutter as I straighten my blouse and check my hair.

“Nice Indiana Jones impersonation,” a deep rumble says. “I think you left your hat out there, though.” I suck in my breath when I discover I’ve jumped in the lift with Elliot. Only Elliot. Will he mention my strange break room staring? God, I hope not. He’s leaning against the side of the cab smiling his sexy and very amused grin. He seems friendly, a stark contrast to the stoic man I met earlier today.

“Ah,” I say. Because it seems to be the only thing I can manage to say around this guy. I actually look over my shoulder for a moment to make sure he’s talking to me, and when I look back at him, I must look confused because his brilliant blue eyes dance in amusement.

“Indiana Jones?”

I blink twice. “Who?”

“You don’t know who Indiana Jones is? Harrison Ford? Runs from a boulder and just makes it under a door before it hits him, but he has to reach back for his hat?”

“I haven’t seen it.” I shake my head, and he laughs as he puts his hands on either side of his head like it might explode. I gulp as I notice the curve of his bicep through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. I can’t believe you haven’t seen that. Everyone has seen that movie.”

I shrug. “Sorry?”

He’s still laughing as he shakes his head. “No worries. It's a classic. You should watch it sometime.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my to-do list.”

“You won’t be sorry.” He puts his hands in his pockets and focuses on the numbers as they count towards the ground floor.

Standing close to Elliot, I notice his height. I guess he’s around six-foot-three since he’s a notch above me in my low heels. Gorgeous and tall, I’m practically a puddle at his feet. I can feel my body humming with attraction. I wonder if he’s feeling it too, while images of him hot, sweaty and naked flash through my mind and make me a little dizzy.

Don’t think like that!

I chastise myself, not wanting to fall prey to my hormones and make a fool of myself when men—any man—should be the last thing on my mind after my previous relationship.

“How’s your first day going?” Elliot’s rumbling baritone invades my thoughts and snaps me to attention.

“Huh? Oh, not too bad,” I answer quickly. “Just trying to find my way around. The layout is a little confusing.”

“It’s not so hard once you realise the office is just a big circle. If you keep going eventually, you’ll work out where you are,” he says. The elevator doors chime open and we step outside. “I’ll see you around, Katrina. That was a pretty cool elevator entrance.” He chuckles. “Made my day.” I blush uncontrollably.

He lifts his hand in a wave as he leaves, and I linger back near the elevators, shamelessly watching him walk away until David places his head next to mine.

“Who are we looking at?” he whispers.

I blink away my erotic thoughts of Elliot and turn to David. “Nobody,” I answer coyly.

“Nobody, huh? Wish you looked at me like I was nobody. Wouldn’t mind doing whatever’s making your cheeks all pink like that,” he teases, nudging me in the side. I smile and feel a slight sadness at the same time. Because I know that statement is untrue. David has made it clear on more than one occasion that we can only be friends.

I swat him on the arm to cover up any reaction my face gives away. “Get your mind out of the gutter and come get lunch with me. We've lost fifteen minutes already.”

“As you wish, my dear Trina,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows up and down comically. He takes my arm and links it with his, making me feel like I’m home as I lean against him. We set off across the street to the nearest food court to have a quick chat and an even quicker meal.

Now, David’s usually popular with the ladies. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with through the years. So, it’s no surprise to me that as we walk along, I notice a few girls from my office in the food court looking at him with interest. In my heels, he’s the same height as me. He’s pretty easy on the eyes with sandy blond hair and blue eyes that crinkle shut when he smiles his dashingly dimpled smile. Many a girl has fallen prey to that smile of his—even me—and it’s gotten him both in and out of trouble more than once. He’s fairly fit, with a lean, muscular build with broad shoulders and a small waist. Occasionally, he trains with me, always holding his own fitness-wise.

His features are fairly similar to my own, and because of our closeness, we've often been mistaken for brother and sister. That’s second only to being mistaken for a couple. I love everything about David, but becoming a couple is a line we’re unlikely to cross. It saddens me because in a lot of ways, David is my perfect mate. But, he has major commitment issues and has a new girl on his arm every week. I’m more of a long-term relationship kind of girl. Which means neither of us is willing to risk our friendship for the sake of a relationship that probably wouldn’t last and would lose us both the only friend we’ve ever known.

“You gonna tell me about the guy you were perving on before?” he asks, as we sit down and eat.

I roll my eyes, knowing that if I don’t tell David, he’ll tease me mercilessly until I give up the information. “It was Elliot. He's the office ‘hottie’. All the girls are drooling over him.”

“How about you? Are you ‘all the girls’?” he asks, pausing with his burger held in front of him while he waits for my answer.

I shake my head then bounce my shoulders.

“That’s how it looked to me,” he adds, causing me to shift in my chair uncomfortably, not really wanting to talk to him about this topic. But he keeps staring at me, waiting for a response.

Sighing, I relent and answer. “He’s hot, yeah. And I admit I was perving. But that’s all it was. I won’t make a fool of myself going after some guy I can’t have.”

“Trina, you could have absolutely any guy you want,” he comments, and I hold in a scoff. I can’t have you.

“Don’t lie to me.” Maybe that was true at one point in my life, but I’ve never been able to have the guy in front of me. That alone is frustrating enough. I pick up my drink and take a sip from the clear straw.

“I’m not lying.”

“David. Look at me. Look at my scars. Why would anyone be interested in me when there’s an office full of gorgeous girls interested in him? And he hasn’t dated one of them.”

“I am looking at you, Trina. I see you.” He looks at me for a moment, and I get this uncomfortable twisting feeling in my stomach. I hate it when he says things like this; things that are so sweet and meaningful. Things that make me wish he really saw me the way I want him to. I look down with a frown then suddenly, he’s back to normal again. “Maybe he’s gay?”

I clear my throat. “No, I don’t think so. There’s a 'no-dating' policy.”

“That sucks. Where’s the fun in that?”

I laugh at this. “We can’t all be Mister Sex-in-the-filing-room-with-the-receptionist, you know.”

He laughs. “You believe absolutely everything you hear.”

“Are you denying it? I’ve seen you with so many girls over the years that even I’ve lost count.”

“Hey, I’m all about the pleasure,” he says, with a cocky half grin on his face.

“I don’t know how you get all of those girls to sleep with you. If they knew you like I do, they’d run a mile.”

He shrugs. “You know the real me and you don’t run.”

“That’s because you need me to remind you you’re not all that.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah that’s so,” I tell him, only half-seriously. Truthfully, I think any girl who can hold David’s interest for more than ten minutes would find herself a very lucky woman. He has the most beautiful heart. He’d die for the people he loves.

He laughs and throws his scrunched up napkin on his tray then looks around the food court, watching people moving around us. I turn my thoughts inward before bringing the subject back to me again.

“All joking aside, David, I still don’t think I’m ready to date.”

His face goes sombre as he returns his attention to me. “I know you’re not, baby girl.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry for teasing you about Elliot. I wasn’t thinking.”

I blink back the emotion that’s suddenly prickling the back of my eyes as visions of broken glass dance through my vision.

“It’s fine. You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who needs to let go and move on.” I take a deep breath and put a smile on my face, pulling my hand away from his before I become too comfortable and don’t want to let go. “Besides, a bit of harmless perving on a guy I can’t have seems pretty safe to me.”

David looks at me with an assessing gaze. “You need to stop thinking like that. You’re gorgeous, and you don’t give yourself enough credit.” He clears his throat and pushes his chair back, assuming the usual jovial persona he likes to present to the world. I feel sure his mother and myself are the only ones who ever see the serious side of David. Sometimes, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing, because knowing him as I do, understanding his heart and his insecurities, only serves to remind me he’ll never be mine. He’ll always be too scared to love me. I wonder if I’ll ever be happy knowing that, or if I’ll be stuck like this forever: forever wondering, forever wishing things were different. How do people exist knowing they’ll always have to settle for second best?

“Well,” he says. “I hate to leave the company of a beautiful woman. But, I need to get back.”

There he goes again, calling me ‘beautiful’. I’ve often wondered if I should tell him to stop. Tell him how his flippant words hurt me. But, I don’t do that. To say those words would be admitting I still want more from him than friendship. I tried that once, and he friend-zoned me so fast I got whiplash. I fear that pushing the point again would only chase him away. And I’m not willing to risk everything we have on that conversation. I can’t imagine my life without David in it. So, I do what I always do and play his comments off as a joke.

“That’s what you say to all the girls,” I respond in a mock sexy voice.

He shrugs and kisses my cheek goodbye before he clears away our trays. “See you on the train?”

“I’ll meet you outside the station.”

He takes two steps away from the table before he seems to remember something and pauses, spinning slightly on his heels before facing me again. That’s when I notice something.

“Are you wearing hi-tops?” I ask, surprised to see them sticking out of the bottom of a pair of dark grey dress pants.

He gives me a half smile that shows his dimple on one side. “What can I say? They’re comfy.”

“You look like you secretly play basketball in the filing room.”

He winks. “Busted. But, I wanted to ask you; you wanna hit the town Friday night? We haven’t been out in the city for ages.” Actually, we haven’t been out since well before my accident. I haven’t felt like partying. But maybe it’s time I tried to get out there again and have some fun.

“I do, but I have to go to drinks at work beforehand. The social committee chick was pressuring me, so it seems pretty important. I’ll have a drink there and then meet up with you, OK?”

“Sure, I’ll message you where to meet me.”

“Sounds good,” I say, standing to leave myself. We hug goodbye, giving each other another cheek kiss before we head back to our respective jobs.

* * *

The lift is more crowded on my way back up to the office. The snooty receptionist is in there with Beth, and maybe ten other people.

“Katrina, is it?” the receptionist asks. “Was that your boyfriend I saw you having lunch with? He’s hot.”

I frown and look at her, not understanding how we went from frosty glares, to questions about my personal life so quickly. I don’t even know her name.

Taking my frown for incomprehension, she repeats herself slowly. “I said: was… that… your… boyfriend?”

“I heard you,” I reply. “I’m just not clear on why you’re asking me.”

She narrows her eyes and purses her lips, exchanging glances with Beth. Beth smiles charmingly. In her stiletto heels, she’s still half a head shorter than I am. Her skin is so creamy and flawless that she looks like a porcelain doll with large hazel eyes, full lips and a heart-shaped face. My pores feel enormous just looking at her. She’s dressed impeccably and has a very slim build, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine.

“Let’s try this again,” she says with a giggle. “I’m Beth, and this is Bianca.” She holds out her hand to shake mine, and I reluctantly take it.

“Katrina,” I say coolly, not at all comfortable in this situation.

“I’m Elliot’s PA, and Bianca, as you probably already know, is the receptionist.”

I nod, confirming I did already know.

“Forgive, Bianca. She just saw you with a gorgeous guy at lunchtime, and we’re debating over whether he’s family or a friend. I said family, but Bianca was picking up boyfriend vibes. No harm intended.”

“I’m sure,” I say warily. There’s something about these two that set my internal alarms off. I don’t like them.

“So, which is it?” Beth pushes.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, so he’s your brother?” Bianca probes.

“Why is this so important to you?” I ask, willing the lift to travel faster so I can escape this conversation.

“Just curious. He’s a good-looking guy. I want to know if he’s fair game,” she says, challenging me with her eyes.

I narrow my eyes a little. “He’s not my brother or my boyfriend, and I don’t discuss his ‘game'. It's none of my business.”

Beth and Bianca once again exchange glances as the elevator opens, and I’m granted the freedom to walk straight back to my desk instead of continuing a conversation with those two.

I’m not stupid. I knew Bianca was interested in David the moment she started asking. Every fucking girl I’ve ever met seems to be interested in David. And I don’t want to know about it. I’m not his pimp, and I don’t do matchmaking. He’s always been perfectly capable of finding girls on his own. He doesn’t need me.

I let out an exasperated sigh as I plonk down onto my chair and wiggle my mouse to wake up the computer screen. I’m happy to move on from the elevator interrogation, to checking my emails and sorting through my 'in' tray again. But it’s hard. Girls like that always seem to make their way into my life. It’s like they can’t stand that a man like David would want to waste his time on a girl like me. It’s why I don’t have any girlfriends—they always make me feel like we’re competing for David’s affection. Boyfriends on my side aren’t any easier. They get competitive and jealous and someone always ends up bleeding on the floor.

In the eleven years we’ve been friends, David and I have never found that delicate balance between our friendship and external relationships. We try, but so far all we’ve managed to do is hurt people—ourselves included. That’s why it’s better if we keep things simple. He and I can have our friendship, and everything else is… separate. For a long-term relationship girl like me, it’s a difficult situation to be in. But until I find a guy who isn’t threatened by my friendship with David, it’s the way it has to be. David and I are for life. We bled for each other. No one is coming between that.

Three

“Wake up, baby girl.” David bounces his shoulder, gently jostling me to my senses.

“Already?” I complain, sitting up straight and working the kinks out of my neck.

“Yep. Next station. Did you sleep much last night?” He frowns with concern as we gather our bags and rise from our shared seat. Train travel from Sydney’s west is an epic journey in itself; over an hour each way not including delays. When you start work at 8:30am in the city, it makes for an early morning. Napping on the train is a survival skill. David however, prefers to read. Just as well since he’s also my alarm.

“I never sleep much anymore.” I always have nightmares of Christopher. “But I left the house extra early to go swimming. I think I’m gonna regret that decision by lunch time though.”

“You think?” he says, sarcasm lacing his words.

“Yeah. I was planning on going for a run too.”

“Are you nuts?”

“I need to get my fitness back up so I qualify for the national team this year. I lost a lot of training time from my injuries and recovery time.”

We line up near the carriage exit as the train pulls into Martin Place station.

“I’m worried you’re pushing too hard,” David says as we alight and head for the ticket barriers.

“It’s been a year. I’m all healed. I just want life to go back to normal. I want to compete again.”

“You know I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

“But?” I glance at him as we move with the crowds up the stairs to street level.

“But nothing. I just want you to be careful. Don’t push too hard.”

“The Olympics doesn’t happen for me unless I push hard. It’s kind of the point.” Before that horrible day when my ex broke me, I was on track to make the national triathlon team which would lead to me qualifying for Olympic selection. With all the time I needed to take off training to heal, I’m way behind my peers. I have to train hard or the damage from Christopher will become more than the scars on my skin. He’ll have broken my dreams too.

* * *

“Hey there, new girl,” Carl says as I pass him in the hall on my way to the library. He pulls a stack of files out of his trolley and tucks them under his arm. “Didn’t see you here yesterday.”

“That’s because I was at uni. I work here Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Uni Tuesday, Thursday.”

“And you’re doing law, right? How do you get time to study?”

“I keep my social life to a minimum, and I don't sleep much.” I flash him a smile.

“That sounds, like, really boring.”

“Gotta make sacrifices for those ambitions, Carl.”

“Well, I’m glad I have zero ambition. Pushin’ this trolley is the life.”

I hold up my hands. “Hey, no judgement here. You do you.”

He gives me a smile and a wink. “I’m studying marketing at TAFE. I’ll see you in the break room?”

“Instant coffee and semi-stale biscuits? Hell yeah, I’m there.” I hold my hand up and he just looks at it.

“Do you seriously want me to high-five you right now? I’m twenty-three.”

“And you stopped being cool, when?”

He lifts his free arm and claps his hand against mine. “I’m always cool.”

Laughing to myself, I make my way to the library, saying a quick hello to Kayley as I walk past her desk. She’s on a call, so I signal I’ll catch her later. The library is a mess, with books out of place and a pile of microfiche scattered on the desk beside the machine. Are these people lawyers or children? Jesus. It takes most of the morning to set it right.

“We’re heading to Sydney Tower for lunch today if you wanna join,” Jo says in the break room. We’re sitting at the same table we did on Monday and it looks like I’m one of them now.

“I can’t, sorry. I was planning on using the time to get a run in.”

“For fun?” Albina asks, her hazel eyes wide and confused. She’s one of those naturally tiny but busty girls.

“Kinda. I compete in triathlons and I’m aiming for Olympic selections.”

“You’re going to the Olympics?” Carl asks, his eyebrows lifted.

“No. I’m not even sure if I’m good enough to be honest. But my goal is to at least be considered this time round,” I explain.

“Then what’s the point?” Kayley asks. “If you don’t think you can make it, why go through the process?”

I smile and cup my hands around my mug. “Because it means I’m one of the best in the country. They only take two men and two women Australia wide. I haven’t even had the chance to compete at the adult level yet, so if I can qualify for selection that’s pretty special.”

“So, bragging rights?” Carl confirms, and I laugh.

“Yeah. Bragging rights.”

“Cool,” he says.

“You must be very dedicated,” Albina says, looking me up and down. “There isn’t an ounce of fat on you.” Her scrutiny makes me nervous.

“Yeah,” I say, pushing away from the table when her eyes clock the raised scars on my forearms. I pull my sleeves down and mumble something about needing to study before the break is over.

“But we still have ten minutes,” Kayley objects, catching me by the elbow. “Sit and talk to us.”

“I… I can't. I’m behind on my reading,” I tell them, backing away before dropping my head and making a beeline for the door. I’ve never been good under the examination of others. Never felt as though I fit in the way most other girls do. I'm not a particularly curvaceous woman, built primarily of muscle and sinew which is compounded by all the training I do. Even without it, I’ve always been on the skinny side. A boyish figure, my mother calls it. But these days, with the addition of hundreds of tiny scars on my forearms, a few extra-long ones from reparative surgeries and the big gash on the side of my face, I’m even more self-conscious. I don’t handle being studied well. My scars encourage questions. Questions I don’t feel like answering.

As I approach the library, I’ve re-buttoned my blouse at the wrists so I can’t accidentally push my sleeves up again and somewhat composed myself. I shouldn’t have freaked out the way I did, but I’ve only just met these people. They need not learn my sad and sorry tale of domestic violence before they’ve had the chance to get to know me as a person. I’m not interested in looking like a victim when I’m anything but.

All the internal offices have windowed walls so you can see inside at all times, and the library is no different. I can see that someone’s in there before I’ve even made it to the door. I can also see that that someone is Elliot. The man I struggle to form solid sentences around. Great.

My stupid stomach gets all jittery despite me wishing I didn’t react. But I can’t help it; he’s a beautiful figure to behold—especially from behind.

He’s got a great arse. And those pants of his are tailored to hug those well-trained glutes perfectly. It’s enough to make a girl sigh out loud. Which I nearly do.

“Hi there,” I say when I enter the room, letting him know he isn’t alone while also trying to be friendly. “You look busy.” I indicate the thick law volume he has open on top of one of the low shelves.

“I am,” he says, giving me a cursory glance before returning to his reading.

Wow. Talk about the cold shoulder. I’d have thought after our interaction in the elevator on Monday he would have at least said ‘hello’ Typical. Seems my original summation of the guy was right: He’s too good looking and he knows it. Makes him the exact kind of guy I should avoid at all costs.

Brushing off the stagnant feel of our non-eventful conversation, I take my seat and pull my iPad out of my bag, bringing up the reader app with my uni texts inside it. I’m trying to concentrate, but I still see him there, leaning over his book while ignoring me. I mean, couldn’t the guy even manage a smile? A nod? Why give me a cold stare?

Maybe I imagined the elevator thing on Monday? Maybe we didn’t have a conversation at all? No. That definitely happened. And David saw him as well. Why is this bothering me so much? I frown a little while I’m looking at him, and unluckily for me, he looks up and catches me. Shit. I flit my eyes back to my reading, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I keep acting like a weird stalker around this guy.

Needing to look busy, I tap at my screen and highlight random sections of text. I figure if I look interested enough in what I’m doing, he might think I was frowning about my work and not at him.

Every sound in the room seems amplified. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, and I seem to breathe so loudly it fills the room. Where’s a rock to hide under when you need one?

I keep my head down, turning pages and pretending to read, highlighting here and there while still focusing on him. In my periphery, I can see him closing the book and sliding it back on the shelf. Good. He’s leaving. Except he isn’t leaving. He’s walking towards me. Why is he walking towards me? I try hard to look too busy to notice—highlight, highlight; thoughtful expression, page turn, highlight.

“Katrina?” he asks briskly, trying to get my attention from where he’s been waiting next to my desk for the last five seconds.

I look up with feigned surprise. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I was engrossed in”—I wave my hand at the open text on my iPad—"What can I do for you? Um, Evan?”

His brow twitches as he pulls his head back when I deliver his name incorrectly, a dirty trick an old foe from high school taught me. She used to call people the wrong name when she wanted them to feel unimportant.

“Uh… It’s um… Elliot.”

“Who?”

“Elliot. Not Evan. My name’s Elliot.” He frowns and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to ask if you had any microfiche for me.” He points to the pile I collected during my clean up this morning. “Figured since I was here, I’d grab them to save you walking them over to um… my office.” He lifts his hand, rubbing at the back of his stylishly messy hair as he gives me a sheepish grin.

It takes everything I have not to laugh.

“They’re all yours,” I reply magnanimously, handing him the pile.

“Thanks.” Tapping the pile on the inside of his other hand, he turns and heads for the door, pausing before turning back and saying, “See you round, Katrina.”

I smile at his pointed use of my name and nod in return. The moment he’s out of sight, I put my hand over my mouth, smothering my laugh. I made Mr Hotstuff himself get a little tongue-tied. I guess he isn’t used to women ‘forgetting’ his name. Score one, Katrina.

Kayley walks in with a conspiratorial grin on her face. “What was that about?” she asks in a low voice.

“What was what about?”.

“Don’t play all coy. Elliot just walked out of here with a very confused look on his face. What did you say to the guy?” she asks with her hands on her hips.

“Nothing. He was looking at a book then asked me for the microfiche some arse left lying all over the place yesterday. I gave them to him. He left. That’s the extent of it.”

“Yes, but what did you say to each other?”

“‘Can I have the microfiche?’ ‘Yes, you can’,” I parrot somewhat robotically.

“Seriously? That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She narrows her eyes. “I just haven’t seen the cool, calm and collected Elliot Roberts look confused over anything before.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Kayley. Maybe he read something confusing in his book.”

“You’re playing games. I can tell. But, all right, I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

“For now?” I laugh as I set my iPad down on my desk.

“You’ll tell me everything, eventually. I just have to be patient.” She grins as she leaves the library, giving me this crazy eyebrow wiggle as she sidles out the door.

With a huge grin on my face, I slide my iPad back into my bag and tear open a new law book update. My parents always made out that working was akin to being imprisoned. But so far, I’m really enjoying it. Especially the look on Elliot’s face when I called him Evan. I squash down yet another laugh.

That’ll teach him for being so rude.

* * *

When lunch hits, I change into my running gear and head straight for the Botanic Gardens. It’s the beginning of August and spring has come to the city of Sydney. The gardens will be beautiful to run through with all the newly blooming flowers and sweet-smelling air. It’ll make a great change from the river run I normally go on at home.

There’s an excited pep in my step as I jog the short distance between work and the gardens as my warmup. I can already smell the blossoms mixed with the ocean air when I hit the entrance. It’s invigorating.

I stop to stretch in front of one of those signs that provide information on the plants nearby, using it to balance as I take in my surroundings. People laze about on the grass in their office wear, eating their lunch and enjoying the sun. Others are in the distance doing tai chi, and I see a couple of women with a personal trainer doing burpees and looking unhappy about it. No one likes burpees. Not even me.

The running track is dotted with people who all have the same idea as I do. And who could blame them with this view? Sydney harbour to my left and gorgeous gardens under my feet. I could get used to this.

Shaking out my legs, I twist back and forth at the waist as I check my watch for time. Since I have an hour for lunch, I figure I can run for twenty minutes in one direction then turn around with enough time to get back to the office, shower and return to my desk before my time is up. I set a timer.

“Katrina?” A newly familiar voice breaks into my calm. I turn around and come face-to-face with Elliot. So, now he wants to talk to me.

“Are you following me, Evan?” I ask with a cheeky lopsided smile on my face. I can’t help myself. He’s making it too easy with his inconsistent personality.

Elliot laughs. “No. I'm not following you. I workout most days: a run or the gym. I go stir crazy sitting behind a desk all day.” He catches my eyes with a curious glare. “You do know it’s Elliot, right?”

“I don’t know,” I tease. “There’s this guy who works in my office called Elliot, you see. He’s a bit of an arsehat. Grunts at people when they say hi. He looks a lot like you, actually. And I’m confused because I saw him today, and I thought he was the same friendly guy I was talking to in the lift on Monday. But, no. It was some guy I’m assuming is your evil twin?” I keep a straight face, my hands on my hips.

He laughs, amused and a little uneasy as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I try to keep to myself at work. Don’t enjoy being the subject of office gossip.”

“Are you often the subject of office gossip?”

He laughs, but only offers a shrug for an answer. “I’ve been working there a while and find it’s best you keep to yourself around those people. Don’t take offence if I don’t stop to chat.”

“Those people? How do you know I’m not ‘those people’?”

“Just a hunch.” He grins. “You running?” He jogs backwards along the path. I take a deep breath as I eye him up and down. He’s wearing running shorts and a quick-dry tank top, giving me a perfect view of how well sculpted his arms and legs are. My head spins a little as those dirty images flash through my mind again. Get a grip, girl. He’s just a guy.

“Yeah, I’m running.”

“Come on, then.” He turns the right way around when I fall into step beside him.

“Are you sure you can be seen with me?” I ask, pressing start on my timer as we pick up the pace.

“This isn’t the office, and I don’t normally see any of the gossip mongers out running. Productive people run. Layabouts gossip.”

“They’re productive. It takes a lot of effort sticking your nose in other people’s business. There’s a certain finesse to manipulating a story and making people believe the worst about others for your own entertainment.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“Let’s just say high school came with some interesting pitfalls.”

“Is that a nice way of saying the bitchy girls bullied you?”

A laugh catches me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting him to have a sense of humour. “Bullied. Spread ridiculous stories. Whichever suits.”

“Ridiculous stories? I’ve gotta hear these.”

“Maybe another time. I don’t think I’m ready to share my high school embarrassment with you just yet.”

“How about I tell you something about me to make it easy?”

“You’re going to tell me something embarrassing about yourself from high school?”

“Sure. Why not?” He shrugs, his footfalls matching mine. When his arm brushes against me, I have to force myself to focus so my knees don’t buckle. What the hell?

“I’m waiting for this story.”

“Give me a minute, I’m trying to think of a good one.”

“Jesus. How many embarrassing stories can you have?”

“There are a lot. Believe me. I was a big kid in high school. Bit of a nerd too. Prime bully material.”

“I never would have pictured that.”

“Nothing like the stinging welts from a round of pink belly to encourage a guy to pick up the weights.”

I wince a little. “Ouch. Pink belly is when they hold you down and slap your stomach, right?”

He nods. “That’s the one. We were getting changed after PE and a group of guys thought it would be funny to pick on the fat kid. I had handprints on my stomach for days.”

“Harsh.” I have a sudden urge to go back in time and protect teenage Elliot. No one deserves that.

“Embarrassing enough for you?”

“Heart breaking, more like it. But it deserves a story in return. Although, my tormentor sounds like an angel in comparison.”

“All boys' school,” he says, like it’s the explanation to everything.

“Mine was co-ed. Which is just as well because my best friend in the world is a guy. We’ve known each other since we were nine and the friendship tends to complicate everything else.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, this girl, Cassie had a massive thing for him all the way through high school. We were all friends at first, but when things didn’t work out between her and David, she took it out on me. Spread a rumour that David and I were half-siblings who were sleeping together—which has never happened—but she got everyone calling us the incest twins. Bathroom wall graffiti and all. It sucked.”

“You must be close if your friendship survived all that.”

“Yeah. We’ve been through it all. He’s like family, you know?”

“Just without the incest.”

I meet his eyes and grin. “Definitely without incest.”

“OK. So we’ve covered the shittiness of high school. What about since then?”

“Life since high school?” Uncomfortable memories surface and flash behind my eyes, causing a falter in my step.

“Whoa. Gotcha,” he says, catching me about the waist before I face plant on the concrete.

“Thanks.” I turn and push the hair out of my face, realising how close we are as the heat of his body presses against mine.

“You OK?” He knits his brow, releasing me as I push away and nod.

“Let’s keep going.”

My skin tingles everywhere his hands were, causing a war between my mind and body. He’s a guy you can’t have and don’t want, Katrina. Stop being ridiculous. Still, I can’t deny the fact that every time I see Elliot, I somehow imagine him naked… on top of me… underneath me… stop it!

“Are you in training for something? Or do you run for kicks?” he asks, interrupting my not-so-innocent thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, I’m a triathlete,” I blurt, hoping he isn’t reading my mind.

“Ah, explains the good pace.”

That gets a smile out of me. “Thought you’d have to slow down running with a girl?”

“I did actually.” He flashes me a smile. He’s gorgeous when he smiles. “You any good at triathlons?”

“I’m decent. I’ve been competing sprint distance in under nineteens until now. Went to nationals and worlds a couple of times. But I’ve never had to race against the big guns of the sport. That’s the next goal; to be competitive against them.”

“Worlds. I’m impressed.”

I shrug. “Just in my age group. When I make the Elite World Championships, then you can be impressed.”

“Nah. I think I’ll be impressed right now. I know how competitive top level sport is. I used kayak in my late teens. Qualified for nationals, but never made it to worlds or anything big like that. Anything world level is a massive achievement. Be proud.”

“I am proud. I guess I’m just feeling behind the eight-ball these days. I had an accident, and it took a bit to recover.” Oh my god. Why did I just say that? “I, uh, came off my bike.” I recover quickly with a lie. “It was pretty bad.”

“That’s what this scar is?” He touches his own forehead in the same location as my most obvious scar.

“Yeah. Had a run in with a minivan. Went through their windscreen. Got pretty cut up. Broken ribs, snapped forearm. I look like I’ve had a fight with a lawn mower.” I laugh it off, uncomfortable in my lie, but happier with the narrative. I don’t want Elliot seeing me as the girl with a damaged past. I want him to see me as a fighter.

I don’t know why that’s so important to me.

“Well, I’m always up for a lunchtime run if you want a training partner.”

I smile his way. “I might take you up on that.”

“What age category are you in now?”

“If that’s your way of fishing for my age, I’m twenty.”

“I wasn’t fishing. But that’s good to know.”

“Why’s that?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I have no idea. I guess I’m just glad you’re twenty and not a teenager or something.”

“Why would it matter if I was a teenager?”

His laughter becomes a little uneasy. “Because I’d look like a dirty old man hanging around you.”

“Dirty old man?” I raise my brow in question. “What are you? Thirty?” I tease. He doesn’t look thirty.

“I’m twenty-five,” he says, giving me a sideways glance. “Do you seriously think I look thirty?”

Releasing a big belly laugh I shake my head and slow my pace, my watch vibrating against my wrist. “You don’t look thirty.”

“That’s a relief.” He stops running, turning to me with a frown. “Why are we stopping?”

“So, I can get back in time.”

He checks his watch. “There’s still half an hour until the end of lunch. Another five minutes and we’ll loop around.” He moves his arm in an arching motion to demonstrate, causing his muscles to flex and my mouth to go dry. My lord, this man is hot with a capital H.

I swallow then squint against the sun. “I need to shower and what not. Gotta put my makeup back on, do my hair: pitfalls of being a girl,” I call out as I start to run away from him.

“You don’t need makeup. You’ll be just as gorgeous without it.” He thinks I’m gorgeous?

I laugh and shake my head. “That’s not helping.”

Elliot frowns and holds his arms out to the side. “Helping what?”

Helping me not visualise you naked. “Goodbye Evan.” I wave over my shoulder before running back to the office, leaving him to finish the circuit on his own.

* * *

I walk the last stretch along Phillip St for a cooldown and do a quick stretch before going inside to ride the elevator back up to my floor. There are maybe fifteen people waiting for the next one to arrive, and I’m not very excited to see Bianca is one of them. I try to hang back, but of course she notices me straight away.

“Oh, it’s you. I thought you were a man with muscles like that.” She titters as she looks me up and down, grimacing like my running gear is covered in cockroaches. “What are you wearing?”

I take up her challenge and do the same to her, slowly sliding my eyes over her clothing with an unimpressed look on my face. “I don’t think you’re really in a situation to be giving out style advice,” I say, even though her skirt and blouse combo is actually quite pretty.

She rolls her eyes and huffs out some air. “Why don’t you use the gym upstairs like everyone else. We shouldn’t have to look at, or smell you when you’re like that.”

Most girls would gasp at a slight like that. But the thing about us Western Sydney girls is we’re not afraid to put our fists forward. It takes a lot of effort not to grab her hair and throw down in the elevator bay. Growing up, I quickly learned that you either keep your mouth shut, or you prepare for things to get physical. Normally, I opt to keep my mouth shut. But with Bianca, I’m willing to make an exception.

“I’ll tell you what,” I level with her, already tired of her horrible attitude towards me. “Why don’t you use that stick up your arse and go fuck yourself?”

Her mouth falls open, and I can hear some muffled snickers from the people waiting around us. She narrows her eyes, surely preparing some witty retort, but the chime on the elevator cab pings, stealing her moment as the small crowd waiting with us surges forwards.

We stand in opposite corners, ignoring each other as we ride up eighteen floors. When the doors open, she’s quick to storm out in front of me. I pretend not to notice and make my way to the bathrooms to shower and change, trying to put the energy of the altercation behind me.

Why is it that those kind of women exist everywhere I go? Sometimes, I feel like high school will never be over.

Four

“Hey, Mrs Mahoney,” David calls out as he saunters into the kitchen after letting himself in. Years of coming and going has made him like a family member. If the door’s open, he comes right on in.

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiles when he spots me in the kitchen too, walking over to kiss us both on the cheek.

“Did you come straight from the station?” I ask. He’s still in his button-down shirt from work, dress pants and Hi-Tops. He had to work back later than me so we caught different trains home.

“Yeah. Didn’t want to miss dinner.” He leans against the bench next to me. “Smells good, Mrs M. Your carbonara is the best.”

Mum looks up from the pasta she’s stirring and smiles. “You know I always make extra just for you, David.”

“A woman after my own heart.” He gives her a cheeky grin then steals a piece of the garlic bread I’ve just cut up. I tap his hand playfully, and he just chuckles as he pops it in his mouth.

“You’re the worst.”

He winks while he happily chews. “You love me.”

Don’t I know it. I ignore the pang in my heart as I transfer the bread from the cutting board to the basket.

“I was just about to tell Katrina about my tennis game today,” Mum says as she taps the spoon on the edge of the pot. “It was my first game since you kids were all little.”

“I remember hanging out at the courts during school holidays,” David says.

“How’d your wrist pull up?” I ask, knowing tendinitis was the reason she gave up.

“I wore a brace, so it was OK. I’ll see how it feels tomorrow before I pay my membership fees. But I had a wonderful time. Met a few lovely ladies. One of whom is the mother of someone you might know from work, Katrina.”

“Really? What a small world,” I say, genuinely surprised. “Although, I’m not sure I’ll know them; I haven’t even met everyone yet.”

“Well, her name is Katey Roberts, and her son's name is Elliot. She said he’s a junior solicitor there.”

“Elliot, huh?” I place the cutting board next to the sink to mask my surprise at hearing Elliot’s name. David watches me closely, obviously recognising the name also, and I shoot him a warning glance. I have to think carefully about how I respond as my mother has a tendency to see relationship potential where there isn’t any. Her life’s goal is to see me married off and popping out gran-babies. She’s never really gotten off my back about how much time I spend with David. Even though both David and I have been adamant that our relationship wouldn’t work as anything but friends, she clings to the hope that one day David will officially become her son.

“Do you know him?” I move out of the way when she picks up a colander and sets it inside the sink, pausing to look at me.

“I think so,” I say carefully. “I met one guy called Elliot on my office tour. I’m not sure what he does though.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name. I’m sure that’s the one. Is he young?”

I shrug. “Mid-twenties, I think.”

“That’d be him.” Confident with her summation, she collects the pot and pours the pasta into the colander. “His mother is very nice. She invited me to a lunch with all the tennis girls next weekend. I think I might go.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, Mrs M,” David cuts in, and I hope to god he’s about to change the subject. “Would you like me to take the bread and bowls to the table?”

“That would be lovely, David.” She smiles and I mouth ‘thank you’ to him as he reaches for the bread basket. He winks then indicates the stack of bowls with a glance.

“I’ll give David a hand,” I say, picking them up and following him to the table.

Like clockwork, Mum calls out, “I don’t know why you two aren’t a couple yet. You spend so much time together.”

“Mum!” I admonish, rolling my eyes as I set the bowls down.

“What? You’re so in sync with each other. I don’t understand you two.”

“Oh Mum, I couldn’t date David. Even if I wanted to, he wouldn’t have time for me because he sticks his dick into a new girl every night.”

“Untrue!” David laughs and throws a piece of garlic bread at me. With lightning reflexes, I catch it and take a bite, sticking my tongue out at him.

“I don’t believe he’d do that," my mother says adamantly. “He spends most nights here. So, he can’t be sticking his… as you put it: his dick in a new girl every night.”

David and I burst out laughing at my usually very straight mother swearing. “Thanks, Mrs M. Glad someone has my back,” David says as mum busies herself mixing the pasta and sauce together.

“Where’s your dad and Tom?” David asks as we lay the bowls and cutlery around the table.

I lower my voice before answering. “Dad’s at work, and Tom is out with his girlfriend who Mum and Dad don’t know about, so shhhhh.”

David’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is she hot?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met her yet.”

“Haven’t met who yet?” Mum asks, catching the end of our conversation as she carries in the serving dish.

“Here, Mum. Give that to me,” I offer, reaching out for the bowl.

“Thank you, sweetheart. So, who haven’t you met?” she asks again.

“Oh… just the big boss at work,” I lie, taking my seat. “Supposedly he’s a bit abrasive and I’m nervous about making a good impression.”

“You’re so smart. I’m sure you’ll wow him,” she says, smiling as David fills our bowls for us.

“I agree,” David says. “Did you go running today?”

“Uh, yeah.” My cheeks heat even though no one knows I went running with Elliot, so I focus on my bowl to hide the reaction. “The Botanical Gardens is real pretty this time of year.”

“Yeah?” he says. “Shame our lunch hours don’t totally align or I’d come running with you.”

I open my eyes wide and nod, thankful my mouth is full of pasta. That wouldn’t be awkward. The guy I’ve always wanted with the guy I’m not supposed to want at all. What could possibly go wrong with that?

“What do you mean your lunch hours don’t align?” Mum asks. “I thought you had lunch together on Monday.”

“We did,” David says. “But I had to take it early, which isn’t really the done thing.”

“I see. Well, that’s a shame. I’d be happier if Katrina wasn’t off running in the city alone. Is there a nice young man at the office you could go with?” she asks, almost causing me to choke on my carbonara.

“I’m fine running on my own, Mum.”

“Oh, but surely there’s someone you could go with. A good-looking fella with the same interests as you. It could turn into something more.” She practically sings the last part, giving me her hopeful wide-eyes.

“I’m not interested in having anything become more with anyone right now,” I retort, immediately annoyed.

Giving me a sad and sorry look, she turns to David to enlist his influence. “Don’t you think she should date again? I’m just concerned she’ll miss out on the right guy because she’s worried he’ll turn out like Christopher.”

“Mum.” I put my fork down hard.

Like a deer in headlights, David seems too afraid to move, frozen with his fork midway to his mouth.

“Well, David?” she presses.

“Um… I think she’s only twenty, Mrs M. She has plenty of time.” He sticks his fork in his mouth and flicks a careful glance at me. I feel sure there’s nothing but storminess brewing behind my expression.

“But time goes so fast,” Mum argues. “And she’s very mature for her age. I don’t want her turned off men just because of one bad decision.”

That pisses me off. “One bad decision? Mum. Please leave this alone.”

“But—”

“Stop. I’ve had enough of this. I only moved in with Christopher because you pushed me to. I wanted to wait until I was at least finished Uni before moving in. But you insisted I shouldn’t wait. Seriously, Mum, stop trying to marry me off. If you don’t want me living here again, that’s fine, I’ll look into campus housing tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Katrina. I’m happy you’re home. But I don’t want you to end up like your brother; nearly thirty, still at home and no partner in your life.”

David, very sensibly, keeps his head down and shovels food into his mouth.

“Mum, it’s my life. Please let me live it. I don’t need you to push me again, especially after what happened.”

A wounded expression fixes itself upon her face. “How could I have known what Christopher was like? He was your boyfriend, and you didn’t know yourself. Don’t you put that on me.”

I shoot up from my seat, anger flashing behind my eyes. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it? If you hadn’t pushed me, David and I wouldn’t have been there, and none of this”—I hold up my forearms and flash my hands at my face and shoulder—“would have happened.”

“Katrina, that’s not fair,” David puts in.

“It might not be fair. But you both know it’s true,” I spit as I flee to my room.

Flopping on my bed, I grab my pillow and cover my face with it, letting out a muffled scream. Is it over the top? Maybe a little. But, I’m angry. Angry that I can’t be left to heal and move on in my own time. I think it’s the least she can do since she is literally the reason I was living with Christopher. We’d only been dating six months when he asked me to move in, and I’d wanted to say no. I didn’t think it was the right time of life for me. But she convinced me that, “Good-looking young men with great jobs like Christopher don’t come around too often, you know.” She campaigned for me to say yes to him, and when it all went horribly wrong, all she could say was, “How could we have known?”

I just keep thinking if she’d left the decision up to me, I would’ve waited. I don’t know if things would’ve ended up the same way, but I’d like to think they would’ve been different. I’d like to think I would have seen Christopher for who he was before I was trapped under the same roof as him. Then I wouldn’t be scarred, and David wouldn’t feel the need to keep such a watchful eye over me.

It feels like he’s waiting for me to break.

Mum was right, before. He is here almost every night, and it makes me wonder when he finds time to see these women I'm always accusing him of sleeping with. Truth is, I haven't seen him with a single girl in the past year. I'm just assuming he still has his roster of women like he did before. Since my accident, he hasn’t mentioned anyone to me. But he also hasn't denied it when I make comments, so....

I’m still brooding when there’s a gentle knock on the door. It opens slightly, and David’s hand slides in, waving a white sock as a surrender flag. “Is it safe to come in?”

“Of course.” I can’t help but laugh at his choice of flag.

With his dark blond hair looking unruly, he pokes his head in first, and seeing me sitting calmly on my bed, he walks in and joins me, putting his sock back on. “Your mum’s pretty upset.”

I place a hand on the top of his head, taming the mess of hair before I sigh and sit back against the wall. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Then why did you? After all this time, it seems kind of out of the blue.”

“I know. I just want her to stop pushing me to find a ‘good man’.” I roll my eyes. “We’ve been down this road already, and even though the last time put me in hospital, she hasn’t changed. Why can’t she wait until I’m ready?”

“Have you ever thought she already blames herself over what happened? That maybe encouraging you to get back out there is her way of trying to help?”

“How is pushing me into a new relationship going to help?”

“Because in her mind, her ultimate happiness came from marrying your dad and creating a family. It’s how she defines herself. She just wants that same level of happiness for you, however misguided.”

I look down, picking at an imaginary speck on my pants as I think about it. “Maybe. But I really need her to stop.”

He slides an arm around my shoulder and hugs me into him. “I know, baby girl. I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss in my hair.

We sit like that in silence for a while, my head against his shoulder as I inhale deeply, breathing in his familiar scent. I feel at home in his arms, like I belong. I don't want this to end.

“Hey Trina?” David speaks, nudging me gently with his shoulder.

“Hmm?” I murmur.

“Do you blame me for what happened too?”

I sit bolt upright and look at him, my brow knitted tight. “No. How could I ever blame you?”

“Because I didn’t protect you,” he says, breaking my heart as he lowers his eyes.

“But you did, David. You saved me.” My heart aches with sorrow at the thought of him blaming himself. Especially when he was the one who risked his life to get me out of there. I don’t think I’d be alive if he hadn’t broken through that door.

“Barely,” he says.

“Entirely,” I counter. “You know, if we break it down, I’m mostly angry at myself. I should have listened when you said you didn’t trust him. I should have stood my ground and never moved in with him. I rushed into it with blinders on and my head in the clouds, thinking you and Christopher would just get used to each other because you both love me. I was naïve and foolish, and I never expected it to explode the way it did.” I take his hand and lace our fingers together. “But it did explode. Now we move on,” I say, squeezing his fingers in reassurance.

“Then why don’t you?” he asks in an almost whisper.

I drop my eyes, unable to look at him as I shake my head at the memories flashing through my mind. “Move on to what? A new relationship isn’t going to fix me, David, and I can’t do what you do. I can't go out and pick up, have it mean nothing. It’s different for me. I’m fine as I am.” Fine.

Fine as his friend. Fine outside a relationship because they only bring me pain. I’m done trying to have it all. It doesn't work.

“I get it.” A strange look crosses his face as he drops his gaze for a moment, returning it with nothing but anguish in his eyes. “Everything is different since that day.” He reaches out and brushes his fingertip along the pink scar that runs down the side of my face, along my hairline and past my ear. “For all of us.” My eyes flutter closed under his touch. It makes my chest ache, and I want to lean into it. But I don’t. “Does he ever call you?”

“Yes,” I admit in a whisper, moving my hair to cover that side of my face when he pulls his hand away. “But it’s nothing to worry about. He just leaves messages, and I delete his texts. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the day you got me out of there.” I bite my lip, uncomfortable with yet another lie. It’s what my life has become now, a series of tiny lies designed to protect the people I care about, to protect myself from unwanted questions and judgement. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t seem to stop. Like David said, everything is different since that day.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, I get up and move away from him. “I should go talk to mum. Tell her I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

“All right. I have to go meet someone, anyway.”

“Can’t keep your ladies waiting,” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

He gives me a small smile and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later. Be nice to your mum, OK?”

“I will,” I whisper, swallowing hard as I watch him turn and walk away from me, hating that he always leaves me to go visit one of his conquests.

I wish he’d choose me. Despite his argument for the contrary, I know he’d stick around and make it work. He’s not his father. He wouldn’t fuck it up.

With my heart in his hands, David heads for the front door, saying a quick goodbye while thanking my mum for dinner. As always, she hands him a takeaway container full of leftovers and sends him on his way. He’s family.

Taking a deep breath, I shake away my troubles and walk over to Mum, putting my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She stops what she’s doing and leans against the sink, a sob breaking out of her chest. “You were right,” she chokes out.

“No, I wasn’t. I was wrong.”

She turns to face me. “But it’s true, Katrina. If I hadn’t encouraged you to move in with him when he asked, it never would have happened.”

“You don’t know that. It could have happened anyway. Mum, I’m sorry I said what I did. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame David. I only blame him. Just him.”

“Really?”

I nod. “I snapped at you because I don’t want to talk about guys and dating right now. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. Goals and dreams that don’t involve boys. And I’m happy this way. I need you to be happy for me too. I will date again when I’m ready. But it has to be on my terms. Is that OK?”

“Of course,” she sniffs, grabbing a hold of my hands with her damp sudsy ones. “And please don’t move out. I missed you when you were gone, and I’m overjoyed to have you back.”

I give her a hug and grab a tea towel to dry the dishes. “Why did David go so soon?” she asks.

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s off to meet his current girl for a quickie, I think.”

“Katrina! I can't imagine David is like that. Why do you have to be so crass?” she chides, flicking bubbles at me to make light of the situation.

I grab some and flick them back at her. “Because I like seeing your face go all pink.”

“I’ll show you pink.”

I squawk with laughter when she claps her hand against my face in retaliation, bubbles finding their way into my mouth.

“Now you’re gonna wish I moved away,” I yell, flicking water over the front of her dress.

She gasps and grabs the scourer, throwing it at me so it lands with a wet thud against my shirt.

Things escalate quickly, and it’s on for young and old as suds and water fly around the kitchen, both of us ducking and weaving while trying not to slip in the mess. But we’re laughing so hard we’re crying, our frustrations forgotten and love found.

When Dad walks in the door, we both look like drowned rats.

“What’s all this then?” he asks, shock registering on his face as he takes in the ridiculous scene.

With synchronised movements, Mum and I glance at each other before looking back to dad and saying, “She started it.” Bursting into hysterics again.

“God help me. I need a beer,” he mutters, leaving the room.

Mum turns to me and hugs me tight. “I love you, baby girl,” she says, borrowing David’s pet name for me.

I squeeze her back and close my eyes. “I love you too, Mum.” Family. It’s the only kind of love I have.

Five

After a night filled with unsettling dreams, I wake up the next morning way before my alarm is due to go off. The moment my eyes pop open, I know there is no way I’m getting back to sleep. My heart is racing and my skin feels tight. I need to work this agitation out of me; exhaust it with exercise.

I flick on my bedside lamp before I swing my feet out of bed, catching my reflection in the mirror as I do. I’m a mess. My blonde hair is sticking up all over the place, and I have a crust from drool in the corner of my mouth. My normally clear blue eyes are dull and bloodshot with dark circles underneath them, and my golden tan looks pale, causing my scar to look an angry red instead of the pink it’s faded to.

“You’d be gorgeous without makeup,” I mutter, recalling Elliot’s words from the day before. At the time they felt honest and flattering, but faced with my sallow complexion, I’m feeling lied to. What kind of game is he playing?

I pull out a cleansing wipe and clean my face, discarding it before raking my hair back into a ponytail.

If Kayley is to be believed, Elliot has never had a friendship with a woman from the office. Priya said he’d never risk his job for the sake of an office fling. So, why is he going to the effort of getting to know me? Is this some joke they’re all playing on the new girl? Was I befriended for the sole purpose of seducing and mocking? Would they do that?

Holding out my index finger, I squeeze the cream I use to help fade my scar onto the tip and rub it across the jagged line.

No. That’s too ridiculous to even consider. I’m running on too little sleep and need a heavy dose of caffeine to get my brain functioning in a somewhat logical fashion again. “You’re not in high school anymore, Trina. Maybe he just wants a running partner?” Or maybe he’s interested in you?

That seems almost as crazy as the plot to make a fool out of me.

Sighing to myself, I quickly put on my bathers, along with a pair of shorts and a hoodie jacket. Then I pad quietly into the kitchen and grab a banana and my training bag before I slip out into the cool morning air, heading for the local pool.

Swimming is my weakest triathlon leg. To help with my technique, I usually train with a squad. But arriving so early means I’ll miss them. I haven’t even checked if I can get into the swim centre at this time—something I wish I’d considered before driving here.

Thankfully, another squad is already training, and after a quick chat with their coach, I’m allowed to join the squad in the water.

For two hours, I drag myself through the water, up and down the pool, trying to clear the fog from my mind. But it won’t leave me.

I lied to David the night before. I have seen Christopher. He came to the hospital while I was recovering after his attack on me. I didn’t want to see him. I was so hurt, both physically and emotionally, that I just wanted him to go away and never darken my door again.

But he insisted on talking. And since I was in no position to run, I was forced to listen. He broke down and cried, begging me not to leave him. He swore he loved me, that he’d change if I’d just give him another chance. He admitted to being on some sort of steroid and blamed their side-effects for the aggression behind what happened.

Steroids. What possessed him to take those things?

Despite the drugs, I knew I could never forgive him or even consider taking him back. But after talking to him, after seeing his remorse, I promised not to press charges. That decision didn’t go down well with my dad, my brother or David. But it was what felt right to me. Christopher made a horrible mistake, and I’d suffered the consequences. But I didn’t have the heart to destroy him because of it.

After I was well enough to leave the hospital, I went with my dad to pick up my things from the apartment. Christopher did as I asked and stayed away, making the move as easy as possible. Getting out of there, I thought I was free. But after a couple of months, he started leaving notes or gifts on my car; he’d call to beg me to take him back. It freaked me out at first, made me wonder if I'd been wrong to drop the charges. I'd thought if he quit taking the drugs and got himself together, he could move on with his life, far away from me. But he couldn’t seem to move on.

In the end, I caved to his request and met him for coffee in a public place. It wasn’t because I still felt something for him; it was to say that I needed him to stop with the gifts and the begging. It was over for us. Thankfully, he listened, and now, he only calls occasionally to say he misses me, and he regrets scaring me away. I wish he didn’t call at all. I let it go to message bank every time.

I stop swimming and heave myself out of the pool, sitting on the side as I pull my swim cap and goggles off my head.

Every problem in my life stems from the men around me. No wonder I’ve sworn them off.

Six

Still on for tonight? David’s text lights up my display as I collect my bag for the gym.

After the altercation I had with Bianca on Wednesday, I figure going to the gym upstairs might help me avoid her altogether. It’ll also mean I skip seeing Elliot. Despite the fact we got along and I really enjoyed my run with him the other day, I think it’s best I keep my distance. I don’t need the extra drama in my life.

Of course, I type back. Where do you want to meet? We’re still undecided about which nightclub to patron. Some of our uni friends suggested Home or Marquee. But we don’t want to go anywhere that has a line.

Will meet you downstairs. We can grab food first. Don’t need you puking on me again 🤮 😅

Hefting my bag on my shoulder, I smile and roll my eyes. The last time David and I got drunk together in the city, I did just that. I barely even remember it, but I’ll never do B52 shots again. That hangover was the worst.

Food is good. Don’t forget I have work drinks at 5. Will be down at 5:30.

He replies with a thumbs up emoticon then I shove my phone into my pocket as I arrive in the lift bay. Elliot walks out at exactly the same time in his running gear.

Oh great.

About half a dozen other people are waiting for the lift to go down so he doesn’t straight up ask me why I’m not dressed like him. He uses his eyes to indicate my work outfit, and a creased brow to ask why.

My answer is also silent, meeting his eyes then stepping forward and pressing the up button. He nods slightly in acknowledgement then the elevator pings, and the doors open to a semi crowded cabin, heading to the ground floor.

As everyone around me files in, I impatiently press the up button again. Every second that ticks by is a moment I miss in the gym. I’m trying to maximise my time here.

Stepping back to watch the numbers change, I almost stand on someone’s foot. “What the?”

Startled, I spin around and place my hands on a rock-hard chest to steady myself. “Elliot.” I frown, slowly forcing my hand to move back to my side instead of letting it caress the smooth skin that’s showing at the neck of his tank top like it wants to. “I thought you got in the lift with everyone else. Aren’t you running?”

“Turns out my running buddy can’t make it. Thought I’d use the gym instead. Keep you company.”

“I don’t need company. I’m fine training alone.” I step away.

“Ouch.” He puts his hand on his heart. “Here I was thinking we’d connected over a shared fitness obsession. If I was wrong, just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.”

I close my eyes, feeling shitty for throwing his offer in his face like that. He’s just trying to be friends. And honestly, training is a lot more fun when I have company. Whenever David comes cycling with me on the weekends the time and distance goes so much faster. And I enjoy squad training too.

“I’m sorry.” I touch my fingers to my head. “I’m just having a moment. Of course I’d love it if you trained with me.”

“Bad day?” he asks, looking genuinely interested in hearing the answer.

“Bad year.” I laugh as the lift opens to take us upstairs.

“I should probably ask if you’re planning to join a spin class or aerobics, or something. Because I’ll rescind the friendship if that’s the case.”

“I didn’t realise we were friends already. But, OK, if your loyalty is that tenuous then I’m glad I learned early.”

He laughs. “My coordination doesn’t extend to any form of dance or rhythm keeping.”

“You raced a kayak and you have no rhythm?”

He leans in a little. “Why do you think I didn’t make worlds?”

With an amused grin, I meet his gaze. “Then you’ll be happy to learn I’m doing weights.”

“Weights it is.” His blue eyes shine with mirth, reminding me of David when he teases me. I wonder if that’s what makes Elliot so comfortable to be around. He feels familiar. Safe. Will he make me fall for him and friend zone me too?

Probably.

“What happened to the Elliot who doesn’t want to be seen talking to the girls in the office?”

The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying to suppress a grin. “Oh, I’m not Elliot. Elliot’s my evil twin, remember? I’m Evan.”

I laugh, enjoying this joke we have going. He’s so quiet and stoic in the office, I get a kick seeing this different side of him. It doesn’t match any of the stories Kayley and the others told me about him. And since we’ve only known each other for a few days, I feel special. Which is something I think I needed to happen.

I enjoy feeling special.

When the lift doors open, we step off then enter the gym. It takes up the entire left side of the floor, and I can hear the gentle thump of music and the tapping of weights as soon as we approach. I take a deep breath and smile.

“You look impressed.” Elliot says, his mouth kicking up at the side.

“I fucking love gyms,” I say wide-eyed, and he laughs.

“Come on, then.” Since Elliot’s a member he scans the little card on his key chain then arranges for me to use one of his visitor passes so I can get in for free. While I wait to the side, the girl behind the counter is more than happy to help him, smiling and batting her eyelashes in the hopes he’ll notice her. And who can blame her? Elliot is divine to look at and attracts the same attention David does. The parallels just keep coming. How do I find these guys? It’s like they get a kick out of flirting with every pretty girl out there while making me watch.

I fold my arms and roll my eyes, ready to look away until a jolt of realisation hits me in the chest. Elliot isn’t flirting back. Wow.

With a polite nod, Elliot thanks her for the guest pass, the smile not returning to his face until he finds my eyes and holds up the tiny slip of paper in triumph.

He’s completely adorable. I find myself smiling back, this strange emotion flitting about inside me on damaged wings. Hope. He scans the paper barcode, and the turn styles activate to let me through.

“Thank you for that.”

His grin widens. “My pleasure.” He puts his hand lightly on my upper back and points out where the change rooms are. It gives me the chance to catch the eye of the girl behind the counter who was all sweetness and light towards Elliot but has nothing but death stares for me.

“Looks like Evan’s got himself an admirer,” I tease. “Don’t think she likes me.” I shouldn’t feel happy about it, but I do. I’ve always struggled with female friendships and the competitiveness surrounding men. Having a good-looking ladies' man for a best friend has compounded that feeling, but it feels so good to be on the winning side for a change. He barely even noticed her.

Elliot looks back at reception then shrugs as she smiles sweetly again, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “Evan’s not a fan of the Insta-crowd.”

“The Insta-crowd?”

“Yeah. You know how there’s those Instagram celebrities influencing how everyone looks, what clothes they wear, how they do their hair and makeup?”

“I don’t have Instagram. But yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s this cookie-cutter image that feels copied and pasted over every girl I see. I like different.” His eyes meet mine. “I like unique.”

“And what about Elliot? What does he like?” I ask, lowering my lashes slightly.

Lifting a hand, he reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear before placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

It’s hard to concentrate when he just touched me intimately like that. “Yes,” I say, feeling a little dumb.

He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Evan and Elliot. We’re the same person.”

My mouth cracks into a smile. “I should go and get changed.”

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “Come find me when you’re ready.” When I’m ready for what exactly? The comment feels double-edged. Innocent yet full of promise. I’m not even sure what’s going on here. But nothing good can come of this, whatever it is.

When I finish changing, I find him running full trot on a treadmill by the window. Long confident strides, a damp sheen to his taut skin, muscles bulging. He steals my breath as I take my time walking up to him, ogling his lovely physique.

Based on the small group of women who’ve migrated towards the machines behind him, I’m not the only one staring at his arse. Back off, ladies. This one’s mine.

Did I seriously just think that? I’ve lost my mind.

With one last sinful look at his behind, I walk around, letting him know I’m here, my eyes dropping to his long muscular legs as they move without falter, like a well-oiled machine.

He smiles, and it touches his eyes. “Wanna warm up first?” He hits a few buttons, so he slows to a walk.

“Of course.”

I take great delight in the disappointed faces of the surrounding women when he steps off and lightly touches my shoulder. “All yours.”

I jump on, hitting the start button as he moves to stand in front of me, between the window and the machine.

“What if I wanted to look outside?”

He grins and pulls his arm across his chest, stretching while he watches me pick up my pace to a run. “This view is fine.” His eyes travel down my body, barely covered in a pair of short black running tights and a mint green crop top that leaves my midriff exposed. I don't know if it’s the way he’s looking at me or the speed I’m running, but it’s getting a little hot in here.

“I think you have better abs than I do,” he says, shaking his head on a laugh. “Wow.”

Normally, I have no qualms about displaying my body while working out. In competition, we wear little more than a sports bikini. It’s normal for me to train like this. But when he looks at me, I almost feel naked, bare. Without thinking, I place my hand on my stomach as my insides clench and I almost falter my step, almost. Shit.

Used to hiding my emotions around men, I smile and dig out a bit of bravado. “If I’d known your ego was so fragile, I’d have covered up a little more.”

He laughs easily in response. “My ego is fine. I’m simply impressed by you.”

Impressed by me. I’m confused by him. He doesn’t match his description at all.

I chew my lip as I work up the courage to respond. He keeps stretching like it’s normal to tell a girl you met on Monday that you like her abs and are impressed by her by Friday. If I’d met him outside the office, I’d feel sure he was hitting on me. But with the no dating policy in place, and him at the beginning of his career, I can’t imagine he’s willing to fuck his life up just because he likes my abs. I don’t get it.

Hitting stop on the treadmill, I jump off. “You’ve seen mine. I want to see yours.”

A laugh bursts from his chest. “You want to see mine?”

“Your abs,” I reiterate, nodding towards his tank as I try to figure out what this is. I can’t be reading him wrong. I’m not that out of touch.

He pauses mid-quad stretch and raises his eyebrows before slowly complying, eyes locked on mine like we’re the only two people in the room.

Holy shit. I am not reading him wrong. This is reckless.

I hold my breath as I watch, my tongue sneaking out to wet my lips as he reveals his abs, one well-defined bump at a time.

With my heart hammering against my chest, I push things further, making a show of inspecting him, running my fingers over his smooth skin. He sucks in his breath, muscles shuddering. “Nothing wrong with them,” I whisper near his ear. They’re actually much more defined than mine are. And over the waistband of his shorts there’s a hint of that sexy V shape men get. “I’m impressed.” I pull my hand back as my insides clench. If I’m not careful, I’ll soon be nothing but a puddle of arousal. This is nuts. I’ll end up fired before my six-month trial is up.

Elliot clears his throat and lowers his shirt. “I flexed,” he admits with a cheeky grin, lightening the mood a little.

I laugh, and my laugh sounds… seductive. I’m losing control. God, I must need to get laid. It’s been a while.

“We should get moving,” I say, shifting back for some much-needed distance. “Those weights won’t lift themselves.”

He nods and follows me towards the free weights area. “Do you have a set weights routine? Or do you just wing it?”

“Set routine,” I say, producing the folded up piece of paper I tucked in the back zip pocket of my running tights.

He takes it, ensuring our fingers connect at the same time. Cheeky. The electricity between us shoots up my arm and sets me off again. Pelvic floor exercises aren’t on that list, but I’m definitely getting a lot in today.

Perusing the list of exercises, he takes a step back from me. “You do cleans?”

“I do,” I confirm, taking the piece of paper back while not connecting this time. I spin on my heels and head off to the first exercise on my list with Elliot trailing behind me. Probably looking at my arse. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that theory.

We move around the gym following my weights routine together. It’s like a sweaty erotic dance. Each time I look at him, I have to restrain myself from jumping on top of him and running my tongue over those beautiful abs of his. Oh god. This is torture.

The whole situation confuses me. I’m as attracted to good-looking guys as any red-blooded girl. But normally, I have so much more control than this. Ever since I ended things with Christopher, I’ve been a beacon of self restraint. I haven’t let my hormones get the better of me once. Now I’m suddenly exchanging heated glances and placing my hands on a man I barely know? If I wasn’t living in my head, I wouldn’t understand myself. But it all comes so easy. Too easy. Elliot has breezed into my life and blanketed my worry-plagued mind with his levity and unexpected attention. And without really doing anything, he’s helped me feel like me again. I’m not sitting here thinking about the pain Christopher put me through, or the longing I feel around David. I’m living in the moment and it feels almost magical.

Finished with our training, we both stand across from each other shaking out our muscles and stretching.

“I was watching you today,” Elliot says as we sit on the ground and stretch out our legs.

“Is that what all the staring was?” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, unable to stop what seems to be flirting on my part. “What was that about?”

“Insanity on my part.”

Here it comes. I lower my eyes as I lean across to my other leg, stretching to my toes. “Because acting on what’s going on here would be insanity?”

He smiles. But it doesn’t make his eyes shine like his regular smiles do. “I fucking hate my job,” he confides. “I’ve been working for TBS for a solid year now, and all I’ve done is catalogue law journals and sort through old microfiche. I haven’t written a single brief, touched a file on an active case. My entire life has been curated so I become some big shot in the legal field. All the Roberts men are barristers or QCs.” He shakes his head. “I’m on the cusp of doing some real work, following my family footsteps. I don’t want to lose sight of that.”

Forcing my own lips to curve in a positive manner, I keep my eyes locked on his. Welcome to the friend zone, Trina. You don’t need a tour, you’ve been here all your adult life.

“I get it, Elliot. You don’t need to explain.” I pick up the paper with my routine on it, folding it between my fingers. “I didn’t expect anything to happen, anyway. With the no dating policy at work and the over-the-top flirting, I just took it as a little harmless fun.” I’m so full of shit it’s embarrassing. “You have a career to focus on and I have my sport. Not to mention I’m so emotionally unstable that I have no business mixing my life in with another person’s.” I laugh as I stuff the folded paper into my pocket. “We’re better off being friends. Training buddies at most. Don’t even sweat it.”

I stand up and keep offering the same manufactured smile. “I should hit the showers. See you back at the office, or at drinks maybe? I’ll pretend not to know you so the gossips can’t invent anything.” I back away.

“Katrina,” he says, wincing slightly because he probably feels like a real douche for leading me on. I should introduce him to David. They can find women who aren’t me together.

That’s not fair. I knew the stakes here.

“See you, Elliot. Oh, and thanks again for the pass. I owe you one.”

I turn away and wish I could rewind the last hour, go back to the lift and insist on training on my own. Now I’ll have to avoid him at work and on the running track and gym so I don’t feel like a naïve idiot every time we cross paths.

How foolish of me. A few days ago, I couldn’t even imagine blatantly flirting with a man I just met, constantly thinking about sex. Then I come face to face with a real life Adonis and lose my mind. Despite the fact we could both lose our jobs if we dated, it’s just a generally bad idea. I shouldn’t even be considering letting another man into my life. Ever since David made it clear years ago that nothing could ever happen between us, I’ve been trying to fill that void with other guys. But it never works out. Every partner I choose only ends up hurting me and making me feel even lonelier than before. I’m not sure I can go through that again. In love, I’ll always be the one to finish last.

My heart and my body can’t take anymore.

Seven

“You coming to drinks?” Kayley asks from the doorway of the library.

I pop my head over the partition. “Yep, just give me a sec to turn off my computer and I’m all yours.” Clicking it closed, I push myself away from my desk, grabbing my bag.

“Don’t look so freaked out. These are pretty fun.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never done after-work drinks before. It’s a little nerve-wracking. You look nice.” Kayley has changed from the skirt and blouse combination she was wearing earlier, into tight black pants and a matching tank top covered in sequins. Her dark blonde hair is tied up in a messy ponytail, and she’s adorned large gold hoop earrings, darker makeup and a pair of cute red kitten heels. “Are we supposed to dress up for this?” I look down at my outfit. I’m wearing a pleated skirt in brown, purple and white tartan, with a white blouse and a purple sweater vest. I look dowdy in comparison.

“No, you don’t have to dress up. Some of us get changed to hit the clubs later. You should come with.”

“I’ve got plans to go clubbing with David tonight.”

“That’s right, you mentioned that at morning tea. Well, why don’t you invite him along? The more the merrier.”

“I’ll text him and see what he wants to do,” I say, as she guides me to the conference room. I pause in the doorway and survey the room as we enter. I didn’t expect so many people. There are maybe thirty inside. It’s a fairly good mix of support staff to solicitors, even a couple of partners in here too.

Music plays at a reasonable level. To the left of the conference table there’s a bar laden with bottles of wine, beer, spirits and soft drinks. Whoa.

“Hey, you made it,” Carl says from within the usual group. “Let me get you a drink.” He reaches over the bar and hands me a glass of the wine I indicate. It’s sweet and fruity with a fairly low alcohol content that won’t mess with my training.

Thanking him, I take slow sips and continue to look around the room while Albina talks about how long and drawn out the week was. Jo keeps checking her watch because she has a hot date, and Anne is agreeing with Albina. “I think work should be four days and the weekends three,” she says. “Better work/life balance.”

Admittedly, my mood falls a little when I don’t see Elliot anywhere. I don’t think he’d talk to me here, but after the way we left things this afternoon, I feel the need to at least smile at him from across the room, let him know there are no hard feelings and that our friendship is fine. He was right putting a pin in things. There was no way we could be anything more. And that’s OK, I’ll just call him David number two now. Maybe they’ll meet and become the best of friends. That would be pretty funny.

“Taking it all in?” Mary asks, as she moves to stand next to me. I’ve somehow drifted away from the group.

“Um, yeah,” I reply, as brightly as I can. “I didn’t really know what to expect.” I sneak a glance toward the door as it opens to see who enters, my actions at odds with my reasoning as a disappointed pang fires off beneath my ribs when Bianca and Beth walk in.

Mary starts rattling off the details of some of the office sporting events, trying to get me to commit to a softball team. When I tell her I can’t add anything extra to my plate, she tries to negotiate with me. “You could just attend the games then. Be our extra man. We could really use you.”

“I really can’t. I’m sorry,” I explain, rattling off my already full schedule in the hopes she’ll understand. I’m part of the way through specifying my study load when a male voice speaks low in my ear.

“What’d I miss?” Mary’s eyes widen and a lust-filled grin takes over her face as tiny sparks zing up my spine, excitement on my skin.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Mary says as David slings an arm casually around my shoulders.

“That’s because I don’t work here,” David says, cheeky grin in place. “I came to show this one a good time.”

I elbow him in the ribs. “Mary. This is David, my best friend. David, meet Mary. She runs the social committee and seems to think you’re dreamy.”

David’s grin widens as Mary’s face goes bright red. I’m in serious need of a filter. I seem to have lost mine somewhere in the last year.

“I don’t,” Mary blurts. “I mean, I run the social committee, but I don’t think, uh…”

“That I’m dreamy?” David finishes for her, his expression amused.

“Yes. I mean, no. No.” She closes her eyes and winces. “That’s not to say you’re not ah, dreamy. It’s just that I have, um, someone. And I wasn’t trying...” Her voice trails off to an imperceptible mumble.

“It’s OK, Mary. Katrina here was just razzing you. Weren’t you, Trina?”

“I was. I’m sorry, Mary. I’m not feeling myself this week.”

She nods. “I understand. Travelling to the city for work three times a week would be a big adjustment on top of your school and sport.”

“It is. And I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“It’s fine,” she says, touching my arm. “I’ll leave you to it. Nice to meet you, David.”

“You too,” he says as she moves off and he takes her position in front of me. “Remember when you thought catching a train from Penrith to the city would be the worst thing in the world?”

“Remember when you wanted to leave me out west so you could live on campus at Sydney Uni?”

“I’ll have it noted that I wanted you to move to the city with me. It’s you and me against the world, remember?” He nudges me with his elbow.

“Always,” I say. “Who the hell let you in here, anyway? I was supposed to meet you downstairs.”

He shrugs. “I got your text and thought I’d come up and see these new people you want me to share you with. Followed the sounds of frivolity when I got here, and since someone was kind enough not to check behind them when they keyed their code in the door, here I am.”

“Very James Bond of you.” I smile as I link my arm through his, happy to have my favourite person by my side.

“Eh, I got here early anyway. Didn’t want to go to drinks at my office tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Things are a little awkward with the girl from the filing room.”

“Is she getting a little clingy?”

He wrinkles his nose. “She likes the rumours better than the reality.”

“There are rumours?”

“You know me, wherever I go, there are rumours. My reputation seems to precede me.”

“You bring it on yourself with the way you behave.”

He leans close to my ear speaking so I feel the warmth of his breath tickle my skin in the most delicious way. “How do you think I behave, Trina?”

I place my hand on his chest and push him back. “Same way you always do.”

“Take me to the filing room and I’ll show you.” His eyes darken as they lock with mine, and I have a moment where I wonder if he’s serious. But we’ve been through this a thousand times. He teases me. I blush. Then we laugh and he ends up fucking someone else. I’m just not relationship material, he says. Most of the time I think it’s a copout. I think he’s just afraid of turning out like his father: drunk and belligerent, resenting the people he’d promised to love. That man really messed with David’s head.

“Behave,” I say with a smile, poking my finger in his chest as Kayley and the others join us.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Albina asks, giving David an approving once over.

I do the round of introductions while Albina makes her interest painfully obvious. David doesn’t help matters much, flashing his ‘yeah, I’m hot’ smile and running his fingers through his already messy hair. She licks her lips seductively at him. And I feel a little lightheaded.

I can’t keep going through this.

I excuse myself to go freshen up.

As I leave the conference room, my breath catches a little. Elliot is coming toward me. A smile creeps over my lips, but I freeze when I see his eyes drift over my shoulder to check if anyone is looking. He’s acting aloof, and it instantly annoys me.

What is with these men?

“Are you leaving?” he asks, looking at his watch. “I thought you were staying a while.”

“Not just yet. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

His eyes drift nervously to the conference room again. “I might see you in there.”

I want to say, “Don’t do me any favours.” But, I just nod then head into the bathroom. It’s not fair to take my frustrations about David out on him. It’s not his fault I seem to have a thing for unattainable guys.

Once I’ve visited the loo and washed my hands, I sigh as I look at my reflection. I reapply my makeup and brush my hair, wishing I’d thought to bring some clubbing clothes with me. I’m good at making myself look casually pretty, but I’m terrible at getting dressed up for nights out on the town. It’s something my mother tried to coach me on, but it never stuck. I’m no match for the likes of Bianca and Beth, or even Albina. They all make themselves up so beautifully, and I’m very plain in comparison. The difference in our looks doesn’t make me feel unique as Elliot suggested. It makes me feel dowdy.

I return to the conference room, a lump forming in my throat when I see Bianca flicking her hair while talking to David. The last thing I need is for David to do his usual hump and dash with someone I work with. Especially Bianca. I can only imagine how nasty she’d get if she felt used by him.

“Hey,” I interrupt as cheerily as I can, focusing my attention on David. “You about ready to go?”

“Ah, yeah sure. These guys are all heading to Pontoon. You want to wait and go with them?”

“We’d love it if you came.” Bianca smiles at me but touches David’s arm. God, give me strength.

“Oh, I don’t—” I start, before Kayley bounces over and excitedly tells me she’s so happy I’m going to Pontoon with them “—think it was ever my decision.” I finish the sentence under my breath.

“It’ll be good for you,” David murmurs in my ear. “We can dance the night away. I won't leave your side, I promise.”

I flash him a warning glare. “Just keep your hands off the girls I work with.”

He pulls his head back and frowns. “Where would you like my hands to be?” he challenges, gaze drilling into mine as we stare at each other for a moment, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t find the words. I hate feeling this way. I just want to leave and go out with David on my own. I won't be able to handle watching him hook up on my first night out since the accident. I know we’re trying to act normal and not make a big deal about this. But I don’t want to share him with anyone else. This was a mistake.

“Let’s just get something to eat and meet up with them later,” I suggest just as Elliot positions himself at my side.

“You must be Katrina’s friend,” he says, sticking out his hand for David to shake. But it isn’t friendly, it’s… possessive. “I’m Elliot.” Fuck.

I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this.

The air becomes heated and tense. David takes his hand and shakes it firmly, maintaining eye contact to the extreme. “David. And yes. I’m Katrina’s very close friend.” They stand there having one of those silent battles of the mind that males have when they’re sizing each other up. What the hell is Elliot doing over here?

“OK.” I interrupt the uncomfortable exchange. “David, would you mind getting me another wine?” I hand him my almost empty glass.

“Sure thing, baby girl,” he says, kissing me on the side of the head like he owns me, eyeing Elliot before moving towards the bar.

“I’ll come too,” Bianca says, trotting off to join him. I completely forgot she was there and wince over the knowledge she just witnessed that exchange. Things are going from bad to worse. I can’t handle this.

“Hi.” Elliot smiles once we’re alone, looking momentarily relieved before he clears his throat and looks around as though he’s just remembered where we are. “How has your first week been?” He goes into office mode, his eyes straying to the partners talking together off to the right.

I can’t even with him right now. “I’m leaving,” I say curtly, about to turn and walk away, when he gently touches my arm to stop me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?  Talk nicely to a girl twice in one day? Or behave like a person at work?”

He grins. “Both, I guess. You know what’s at risk,” he murmurs.

“I thought we already agreed this was a terrible idea?”

“We agreed it was insane, actually.”

“Then why are you even standing here?” I ask, laughing a little. Mainly out of frustration.

“I don’t know. I guess I figure there’s no harm in talking to the people—the person—I want to talk to.”

“I suppose that would be fine if all you were doing was talking. You came over here beating your chest and practically pissing on the ground.”

He lets out his breath. “It’s possible I’ve lost my damn mind,” he mutters.

His brow furrows, and his eyes search mine with what looks like confusion and perhaps hope. I feel my annoyance slip away; he’s struggling with this sudden attraction as much as I am.

“You know, a bunch of us are about to head to Pontoon. Maybe you want to come? Practice being a human. You might even make a friend so work doesn’t feel so sucky every day.”

“I have work friends. I hang out with Andrew over there. Well, we discuss work over coffee sometimes, but that counts.” I follow his line of sight to another of the junior solicitors—a very tall lanky, dark-haired guy who looks around the same age as Elliot. He’s standing in the corner speaking quietly with one of the account managers. She’s a little more than half Andrew’s height with red curly hair and looks to be in her mid to late twenties.

“Maybe you could ask if he’d like to come along too? It’ll be good for you,” I say, borrowing David’s line.

A smile curves his full lips. “All right. I'll try to make it.”

David returns and hands me my drink with Bianca trailing behind him. “Everything all right?” he asks, giving Elliot the once over again, and positioning himself firmly at my side.

“Everything’s fine,” I assure him, touching his arm in a ‘back down’ gesture. “Why don’t you guys get to know each other instead of the girls?” That last part is directed at David. “You might find you have something in common.” I know I sound snippy, but I can’t seem to help it. Too much is going on. There’s too much testosterone in the air. Everyone needs to calm the fuck down.

Leaving the both of them, I avoid eye contact with David and move over to Kayley, Albina and Jo to socialise where there isn’t so much tension.

We end up staying there for another hour before we all head off as a group to Darling Harbour—Elliot included. As we walk, he introduces me to his friend, Andrew, and the woman Andrew was talking to earlier, Carmel.

“I think I saw you and David on the train the other day,” Carmel says. “Do you live near Penrith?”

“We do. Out in Cranebrook.”

“I’m in Jaminsontown.”

“We should catch the train home together then,” I suggest, and we swap mobile numbers in case we separate.

Pontoon is packed. The music is loud; the air is thick with body heat, and the bar is ten people deep. You need to be slightly aggressive to maintain your position to make it to the front of the line.

Much to my annoyance, Bianca has David well within her sights and won’t leave his side. He offers to get me a drink, and she tells him she’d love one too. So, he obliges, and it pisses me off that he’s even entertaining her advances in front of me. I'm sure he'd say he's just being polite, but it irks me.

Unwilling to engage Bianca in conversation, I attempt to busy myself trying to spot where the rest of our group has gotten to. Elliot is talking to Andrew and Carmel, whilst Kayley and the others have gone straight for the dance floor. I smile as I watch them swaying their hips with their arms above their heads, getting plenty of attention from surrounding men. It feels like forever has passed since I’ve possessed such abandon. I wish I could revisit that time of my life again, when the possibilities were endless, and I wasn’t broken.

Despite my efforts to ignore her, Bianca stares at me openly. “So, what are you? A cutter or something?” she sneers, indicating my scarred forearms.

It’s hot in here, so I’ve rolled my sleeves up, never expecting that in a million years someone would have the audacity to accuse me of something like that. Even if I was into self-harm—and I’m certainly not—that’s not how you broach the subject. I’m categorically taken aback.

“What is your problem?” I search her face to gain some understanding and find myself expecting a forked tongue to flick out of her mouth.

“You’re my problem.”

“What could I have possibly done to you?”

“I see the way you’re going after Elliot.”

“I’m not going after Elliot.”

“And yet you were with him during the office drinks and walked most of the way here with him.”

I frown. Who is this woman? “I need to talk to him for work. We get along. Is that against the rules now?”

“Just stay away. Beth’s been working on him for months, and she doesn’t need some Amazon like you getting in the way. God only knows what he’d see in you. If you didn’t wear skirts and have long hair, I’d swear you were a boy.”

My mouth drops open, and an animalistic rage seems to build deep inside me. In my mind, I’m jumping on her, screaming at her, while I scratch at her face and pull at her hair. But in reality, I keep my cool, knowing that all she wants from me is a reaction. I'm not stupid enough to give it to her.

Instead, I look away, my eyes landing where Elliot stands with his friends. Beth has joined in and they’re all chatting happily like old friends.

“It’s only a matter of time before he breaks,” Bianca says in my ear. “See how they look at each other? They’re perfect together.”

I can’t deny the truth. Beth and Elliot look neat and tidy together. Like the poster children for perfection. He’s smiling; she’s smiling. Their hair seems equally shiny, and she’s just the right height, just the right size. They look right together.

“I thought there was a ‘no-dating’ policy at work,” I say, struggling to drag my gaze away. Beth links her arm with Elliot’s and rests her head on his shoulder, laughing at something he said.

“There is. But I’m sure they’ll find a way around it.”

“He wouldn’t risk his career.”

“You sure about that?”

Jealousy flares within me as he puts his arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. It’s more bodily contact than he’s had with me.

I need to look away. “Well, I guess it’s his life. He gets to do what he likes with it.”

She grins. “I reckon he’ll be doing Beth by the end of the night.”

“Good for him,” I state, refusing to allow even a shred of distress to enter my voice.

Her eyes move over my shoulder. “David. You’re such a sweetheart.”

She takes her Vodka Cruiser from his grip as he hands me a Bacardi and coke. My favourite. “I ordered us some food as well. This is like your third drink on an empty stomach,” he says in my ear.

“Thanks for keeping count,” I say, knocking it back in two gulps before filling my mouth with the ice left over and crunching down angrily. “There. I ate.”

“Is something wrong?” He frowns, taking the glass from my hand.

“I’m fine. I'm going to dance.” I need space. I need to forget about men and move away from Bianca before I say something I’ll regret.

“I'll come with you,” he says.

“No,” I say, placing my hand on his chest. “I want to go alone.”

His eyes meet mine with hurt disapproval. But he backs off, nodding before indicating that he'll be watching me. “Be careful.”

I roll my eyes and walk away, pushing through the crowd, knowing that's bullshit. He'll be too busy seducing Bianca. Elliot will continue seducing Beth. And I’ll attract some random guy who’ll be terrible for me. But I’ll have some massive relationship with him anyway, just because I need to feel something more than rejection. Fuck my life.

Kayley’s group has grown, and she squeals, hugging me as I squeeze in next to her. She seems pretty drunk at this point, claiming she loves everyone. She yells in my ear, introducing me to the other people she’s dancing with. They’re mainly her housemates and all Irish like her—they came over to Australia on working visas at the same time she did. One guy is her cousin, and he leans into me to shake hands and introduce himself properly. “I’m Connor,” he yells above the music in his Irish lilt.

“Katrina,” I yell back.

“Katrina. Beautiful name.” He smiles and releases my hand.

Letting the music wash over me, I bounce and sway, closing my eyes and trying to forget about the men in my life. I can’t force David to love me. And I can’t change the rules at work, or the path Elliot is choosing for himself. I can only focus on me. And on having a good time.

Before I know it, my prophecy is fulfilled and Connor and I have broken off from the group, rocking together to the music. He keeps talking close to my ear. I can’t really hear him, but I’m laughing anyway because his voice is really sexy. And the heat, coupled with the alcohol is making me forget myself. Maybe I should have had that food.

Song after song, we dance and we laugh, our faces close, but always skirting past our lips. I know he wants to kiss me. But each time he nears my mouth, I turn my head, suddenly feeling out of my depth. I’m not ready for this.

My eyes leave Connor and search for David. I need him with me. I need him to take me home. But I’m still dancing, still so close to Connor, and he leans in to kiss me properly this time. The moment I realise how close he is, I panic.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I yell above the music, pushing him away then wrestling my way through the crowd to get outside for some fresh air.

The moment I step out, I feel the cool air coming off the water wash over me. I gulp it in greedily and walk farther along the wharf to escape the noise. What’s wrong with me? That’s not the kind of person I am. This isn’t who I want to be.

“Katrina?” I turn to the voice. My head throbs as I realise Elliot has followed me out.

I’m pissed off at him as much as I’m pissed off at David. I can’t have another guy in my life who sets my heart on fire but won’t do anything about it. “Go away, Elliot,” I tell him sternly.

“No, I’m not going away. What the hell was that about? You invited me out, to what? Watch you dry hump some guy on the dance floor?”

I turn on him, the fire in my heart filling my veins. “You haven’t even spoken to me since we got here. You’ve been focused on Beth.” Releasing how insane I sound, I shake my head and step away from him. “Oh my god, what am I even doing? I’ve spoken to you what? Three, four times? We’ve trained together twice. I don’t even want a relationship right now, and I’m acting like some jealous girlfriend. Fuck this shit.” I try to catch my breath as I run my hands over my head in frustration. This guy is making me act stupid.

“It’s not just you. I'm behaving the same way. I just met you this week, and I've done nothing but break my own rules for you,” Elliot says gently, moving closer, hands out like I’m a scared animal who might run or lash out. “I don’t act like this. I never go crazy over a girl. Especially one I work with. I don’t know what’s happening. In a week you’ve got me at a bar chasing you out because I couldn't handle watching you with that guy. I even acted like a fool at work in front of the partners when I saw you with David. I just… I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t even care if we’re not supposed to date because of that stupid policy at work. All I know is I want you, and I don’t even want to think about you with anyone else.”

“You could lose your job, Elliot.”

“So could you.”.

“Who cares about my job? It’s entry level. I can get another one.”

He stops in front of me and lifts his hand, brushing his fingers along the side of my face. “I care about your job,” he whispers as a rush of longing courses through my body. I lean into him and close my eyes, revelling in the touch of a man who wants me. “My days are better when you’re in them.”

“We only just met,” I whisper back, almost crying because this is crazy. Totally fucking crazy.

He draws my face towards his and ever so lightly, brushes his lips against mine. “I don’t understand it either.” Our mouths connect, and I let out a slight whimper as he encircles his arms around me.

I part my lips and his tongue slides against mine, searching my mouth for a response and sucking my lips between his. My reaction becomes urgent as I reach my arms behind his head and entwine my fingers into his hair, pressing myself against him. Melting.

His hands move down toward my arse, lifting me up in a show of strength as if I weigh nothing. I circle my legs around his waist, clinging to him and kissing him like I’m an addict and he’s my drug, not giving a thought to where we are. Crazy. Insane. Nuts.

I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been drinking when I shouldn’t, or because I’ve been without a man in my life since Christopher, but my emotions are swimming around in my head, overriding any common sense I may have had in this situation. I give into my need for this man’s touch and tighten my grip around him as my tongue dives into his mouth more forcefully, exploring him, drinking him in.

“Um, Katrina?” an Irish accent interrupts the moment.

My eyes pop open, and I pull away from Elliot slowly, peering over his shoulder. I see Connor standing there with a look of disbelief on his face, closely followed by Kayley, David and worst of all, Bianca.

She stands there behind the others shaking her head disapprovingly, while I remain frozen: my hair a mess, my lips swollen from kissing Elliot so hard, and my legs still wrapped around his waist.

“What’s going on?” he whispers, not daring to turn around.

I push myself away from him and lower my legs while he supports my weight until my feet touch the ground.

Embarrassed from losing control in such a public place, I look from Elliot to the group before I stammer out, “I… I’m sorry. I h-have to go.”

I run.

Barely even five steps away, I hear David yell, “I’ll go!”

I don’t stop.

I know he’s chasing me, but I just keep going. I’m angry at him too.

At full speed, I dash through Darling Park with the single thought of making it to Town Hall station. I need to go home.

“Trina!” David calls out, catching me before I’ve even exited the concrete park. “Stop. What the hell was that about? Are you OK?”

“What the fuck do you care?” I shoot back, slowing down to a walk, but continuing at top speed.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Trina. I care. Slow down, damnit.” He reaches for my shoulder. “Talk to me properly.”

I stop and look at him face on. “I don’t know what I’m doing, David,” I cry. “I just made a complete fool of myself in front of my co-workers. Every time I’m around him, I can’t even think straight.” Tears of frustration fall from my eyes, and I shake my head, annoyed that I can’t seem to fight them. “I’m sick of feeling like this. I’m sick of going without.”

Catching my face in the warm palms of his hands, David shushes me and holds me steady, wiping my tears away as his thumbs gently caress my cheeks. “Hey, baby girl. Please don’t cry. Just calm down. Everything will be all right.”

“No, it won’t. I don’t want this David. I don’t want to want something I can’t have. And Bianca saw. My god. Of all the people in that club, why did you have to choose her? She hates me.” I throw my hands up in exasperation and pull my face out of his hands. “I am a walking magnet for drama. All this, and it’s only been a week. This isn’t me, David. This isn’t the kind of person I am.”

“Bianca?” He frowns. “What’s she got to do with all this?”

“Bianca is nothing but a bitch toward me, David. She might have been all gorgeous sex kitten towards you tonight. But as soon as you left me with her at the bar, she asked me if I was a cutter because of my scars then warned me off Elliot. Every time I see her, she has something bitchy to say to me. She keeps calling me a boy. Why do you keep doing this to me? Why do you choose girls that are everything I’m not?”

David takes a step back, his brow knitted tightly together. “I didn't choose her at all. I was just making conversation. I didn’t even know you were having trouble with her. You never told me she was giving you a hard time. You’ve hardly talked about your work at all. I only know about Elliot because I caught you staring after him on your first day. Otherwise, before tonight and that… that scene on the wharf, I’d have no clue. You have to talk to me, Trina. We're best friends, and before Christopher came along and fucked everything up, you and I were everything. I know you’ve been going through a hard time, and I’ve been patient, waiting until you’re ready to...but…” He pauses and shakes his head. “You’re everything to me. Don’t push me away because I remind you why Christopher hurt you.” He stares into my eyes, showing me how serious he is before he draws me into a tight hug. I sigh against his shoulder, realising I haven’t been a fantastic friend lately.

“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I'm sorry. I’m a mess.”

“It’s OK, baby girl. It’s OK.”

As soon as I’ve calmed down, we walk arm in arm towards the train station, remembering half way there that we were supposed to catch the train back with Carmel. “I should call her and tell her where we are.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything with Bianca,” David says while we wait for her to catch up. “Bitchy isn't really my type.” I lift my brow, knowing to the contrary so he adds, “Anymore,” with that lopsided grin of his that melts my heart and instantly makes me smile in return.

“It doesn’t even matter, David. You can sleep with whomever you like. And like always, it’s none of my business. Although, I do think you should steer clear of Bianca. I’m pretty sure she’s a siren who’ll drown you if you get too close,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

An amused burst of air leaves his nose, but he stays fairly serious as he meets my eyes. “I didn’t realise you and Elliot had gotten so close.”

I take a deep breath. “We’ve been training together,” I admit.

He seems taken aback. “For how long?”

“Just since Wednesday. We were both running, so we ran together. Then we went to the gym at lunch together.”

“I see.”

“I don’t really understand what’s going on because he runs hot and cold. There’s that no dating policy at work, so he acts like he barely knows me in the office, but then we’re best friends at lunch. And he’s funny and easy to get along with.” I reach out and touch his arm, trying to relax him as he tightens his jaw. “He’s a lot like you, really. I think you’d get along if you gave each other a chance.”

“Jesus, Trina,” he mutters, looking away as he runs his tongue along his bottom teeth.

“I know,” I say. “It’s reckless. I don’t even know him.”

“Hey guys.” David looks over my shoulder at the sound of Carmen approaching, the dark look on his face telling me she’s not alone. I turn around and see Carmel walking toward us with both Andrew and Elliot. David takes a step away from me.

“Thanks for waiting,” Carmel says brightly. “I hate catching the train home by myself at night. I normally go home much earlier than this, but since you guys were staying, I thought, what the hell.” She giggles, a little breathless from her brisk walk. “I was freaking out when you left without me.” Elliot stands beside her watching me intently, his eyes dark and serious.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”

“Ah, that’s what phones are for.” She waves my apology away.

“My car is at the station if you need a ride home,” I offer, trying not to focus on Elliot’s gaze as it bores through me.

“Will you be sober enough to drive home?” Andrew asks.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I only had three drinks. I just didn’t eat much today, and it went straight to my head. Anyway, it takes an hour and a half to get home at this time of night. I’ll be well and truly sober by then.”

“In that case, I’d love a ride home, thanks,” Carmel accepts, reaching up to Andrew and giving him a quick kiss goodbye. I watch the exchange and realise that Albina was right; the 'no-dating' rule doesn’t stop anyone at all. However, it could definitely cause problems if the wrong people knew about you. Like Bianca for example.

Elliot touches my hand and lifts it toward him a little. “Can we talk before you go?”

I nod and squeeze David’s arm to reassure him before walking a few steps away to talk to Elliot more privately.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, frowning as he shifts on his feet. “I’m sorry if I pushed you or embarrassed you. It wasn’t my intention. I lost control.”

“You didn’t do anything, Elliot. I embarrassed myself.”

He studies my face for a moment, gauging my state of mind. If he could really see inside it, he’d find chaos and storms. “About Beth: she’s my PA. I know she has a thing for me. But I try not to encourage it. Putting my arm around her tonight was…a lapse in judgement.” He runs his fingers though his hair causing it to stick up at an odd angle.

I curl my hands into fists as I resist the urge to reach up and smooth it down for him. He frowns in thought and continues. “When Priya brought you to my office on Monday, I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting to look up and have this jolt hit me in the chest. It really freaked me out. And honestly, I probably would have gone out of my way to avoid you but then you jumped into the elevator and”—he shakes his head and frowns again—“suddenly you were the only person I wanted to see.” He reaches out and brushes the backs of his fingers along my cheek, and once again I close my eyes as his touch sends pleasure ripples through my body.

“I hated seeing you dance with that guy tonight,” he whispers, stepping closer to me.

My head clouds from his proximity, and I’m finding it hard to breathe, let alone speak. I flounder for my words. “I… I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Elliot. It’s all too much. It’s happening too fast.”

“Then we take it as slow as you want.” He shifts closer to me. “Take our time because I don’t think I could stay away from you if I wanted to.” He places his hand on the back of my head, and I catch my breath as he leans down and kisses me slowly. I feel like jelly in his arms as I relax against the hard plains of his body, languishing in the feeling of his mouth on mine. Out of breath, I’m trembling as we pull away from each other.

“Give me your phone.” He releases me and holds out his hand. I fumble through my bag and hand it to him, watching as he taps in his number and calls his own phone. “There. Now we both have each other’s numbers,” he says as he hands it back.

I smile to myself as I look at my call list and notice he saved it under ‘Evan’. “I guess I’ll call you some time then.” I hug the phone to my chest.

“I’d like that.”

“We ready? There’ll be a train soon,” David calls out impatiently.

“OK, we’re coming,” I tell him, smiling as we all walk together to the station. Elliot takes my hand and interlaces our fingers, leaning in close. Carmel and Andrew hold hands as well.

David is the odd man out, walking beside me with his hands in his pockets and his head down. He’s become silent, and, noticing the change, I worry about him.

Upon reaching the station, the train is due within a couple of minutes. “Message that you’re home safe,” both Elliot and Andrew tell us as we say a quick goodbye.

“I’ll be sure to,” David teases as he hurries Carmel and I through the barriers. With a wave over our shoulders, we rush down the stairs and make it to the platform just as the train is pulling in.

“How long have you been dating Andrew?” I ask Carmel as we take our seats at the front of the carriage. She sits in the rear-facing seat across from David and me.

“About a year now. It’s going well.” She smiles, her cheeks glowing.

“And there haven’t been any repercussions at work?”

“Not really. The no-dating policy is only a problem if someone else has a problem with you dating. No one cares if Andrew and I are together so we haven’t been reported. We keep to ourselves, don’t flaunt the relationship during work hours and we seem to get on OK.” She shrugs. “But let’s face it, he’s no Elliot, so no one is paying attention. You, on the other hand, will need to be very careful—especially after tonight. A lot of girls will have their noses out of joint when they find out he kissed you in front of everyone. You’ve got the guy they’ve been after for months after only one week. Dating him will ruffle some serious feathers and most likely get you both fired.”

I lean back in the seat and let out a heavy sigh. “We’ll have to hide it.”

David sits forward, frowning. “Listen, this may be none of my business here, but do you think that’s wise? I’m all for you moving on, but I don’t know if a secret relationship is a good thing for you.”

“No, David. I don’t think it’s wise.” I sigh again and look out the window at the passing lights of the tunnel. “But I feel drawn to him, and I need to find out where that takes us. Hopefully, without either of us losing our jobs.”

“I just want you to think about this seriously. You’ve gone from saying you didn’t want a relationship, that it was all happening too fast. And now you’re talking about risking your job for a guy you’ve only known for two minutes. You’re flip-flopping, and I’m worried for you.” He crosses his arms over his chest and puts his feet on the seat across from him. Doing exactly what the sign above his head tells him not to.

I place my hand on his thigh. “I know what I’m doing, David.”

“Well, I’m glad you know,” he mumbles, as he chews on his thumbnail and stares out the window. I watch him for a moment. He only chews his nails when he’s agitated. And I get why he is. I’m agitated too. But I’m also excited. I’m feeling hopeful. When he sees how happy I am, he’ll calm down and be his regular supportive self again.

When the train pulls into Penrith Station, David walks us both over the bridge and to my car.

“Will you come over tomorrow?” I ask him before he leaves.

He leans forward and kisses me roughly on the cheek. “Sure,” he says without feeling, raising his hand to say goodbye to Carmel. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she says as she gets into the passenger seat of my car. “Is there something going on between you two?” she asks once the doors are closed. “I mean, did you used to date or something?”

I start the car as soon as I see David get inside his own. “No. He doesn’t see me that way. We’ve never dated and there’s nothing going on. He’s just… protective of me. We’ve been through a lot together... as friends.”

The explanation seems to placate her, so she doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, making small talk as she directs me towards her house, thanking me for the lift as she gets out of the car.

“You’re more than welcome,” I reply. “It was nice meeting you tonight.”

“Same to you. And good luck with Elliot. It’s nice to see him smiling again.” She shuts the door and waves to me before walking up the path that leads to her door.

Watching until I see her step inside, I put the car into drive and release an exhausted sigh. “Luck, huh? Between David and Elliot, I think I’m gonna need it.”

Eight

“Katrina. Wake up!” My eyes pop open as my mother shakes me from my sleep.

“What happened? Is everyone OK?”

“You were moaning and whimpering in your sleep. I could hear you from the kitchen,” she says, her face full of concern. “It sounded like you were having one of your nightmares.”

Pieces of the dream come floating back to me, the throbbing between my legs telling me my dream wasn’t scary at all. I sit up and awkwardly clear my throat. “Mum, I’m fine… I don’t even remember what it was.”

“Oh, look at you. You’re all flushed.” She attempts to reach out and smooth my hair like she always does when she thinks I’m upset. Moving my head to the side, I catch her hand and pat it reassuringly.

“Seriously, Mum. I’m fine… Thanks for worrying about me, though.”

“As long as you’re sure?”

“I’ll let you get dressed then,” she offers, standing as she backs out of the room. “I was thinking of making eggs. Do you want some? Or are you training first?”

“I’ll train first.”

She nods and shuts my door on her way out.

Getting up, I lock my door, flopping back on my bed with a dramatic moan. The dream is clear now: Elliot settled between my thighs, lapping away like a pro. It felt incredibly real. I can’t believe I was moaning so loud my mother heard me!

My face feels like it’s on fire from both the dream and the embarrassment. I’ll have to remember to lock my door before bed in the future. Can’t have mothers busting in on erotic dreams too often. Talk about awkward.

Oh, but that dream!

I sigh as I shift a little in my bed. My clit aching badly from the effects of dream Elliot’s tongue. Or was it Evan?

I giggle to myself as I close my eyes, remembering the intensity, the way he felt as my fingers pulled at his hair. It seems a shame to waste an arousal that tightens my entire core. I bite my lip in daring, feeling pretty safe with my locked door, deciding to finish what my dream started.

Closing my eyes, I slide my hand inside my pyjama bottoms and into my panties. I’m so aroused that my body flinches involuntarily when my finger touches my sensitive spot and makes its way between my slick wet folds. I let out a silent moan as I reach two fingers inside and massage my inner walls, allowing the palm of my hand to press against my engorged clit.

Sheathed in my wetness, my fingers move like they’re gliding over silk as I gently tease my nub. Exploding in seconds, my body jolts euphorically, a gentle pulse beneath my finger syncing with the rapid beat of my heart.

With my body tingling happily, I lie there with my eyes closed, drifting off again and thinking of nothing but him.

* * *

Grabbing an apple to eat before I train, I munch on the sweet flesh as I hitch my bike up to the back of my car.

“Where you going?” David asks, walking up behind me. “I thought you wanted me to come around?”

“I did. But I wasn’t expecting you so early.” I glance at my watch. “It’s eight-fifteen. You're never out of bed this early on a Saturday.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he says, looking at his feet as he scuffs them on the driveway.

“Why don’t you come for a ride with me? We can talk.”

“Sure, I’ll go home and get my shit together. Pick me up in fifteen?”

I nod and he trots off.

David only lives a couple of streets away from me. It’s part of the reason we became such good friends during school. We live at the far end of the bus route, so we got used to talking to each other and eventually started hanging out until we became inseparable.

I finish hooking up my push bike and go inside to get my helmet and bag. Calling out to tell Mum I’m leaving.

“Was that David I heard outside?” she asks, popping her head out of the laundry.

“It was. I’m heading round to pick him up now.”

“Tell him I’m making ravioli for dinner. The one with bacon in the sauce.”

“OK. I’m sure he’ll come hungry.” I smile as I head back to my car and jump in, dropping my gear onto the back seat.

When I get to David’s, he’s left his garage open, knowing I’d load his bike for him while he changes. He’s so spoilt. I laugh to myself as I tighten the bolt on the bike rack.

“All ready?” I ask when he emerges from his house carrying his helmet and water bottle. He nods then walks over to the garage and pulls the door down before we get into the car and drive out to Penrith Lakes.

We don’t really speak on the way. We just listen to my playlist through the stereo system. He drums his fingers to the beat, and I sing along to Lana Del Ray’s Off to the Races. I sneak a glance at him now and then. But, I know him well enough to know that he’ll talk to me when he’s ready.

We sort out our bikes as soon as we arrive and set off along the path to lap the lake for the next two hours. There are a few rowers training on the water, and a coach cycling up and down the far side, giving them instructions through a megaphone. I don’t speak, preferring to enjoy the scenery, while I wait for David to get things straight in his head. This takes almost half an hour.

“I wanted to talk to you about this thing you have with Elliot,” he ventures.

“All right, talk away.”

“I just… Can we stop for a minute?” He hits the brakes on his bike, not waiting for an answer, so I follow suit. We both unclip our shoes and wheel our bikes off the track before we sit on the ground. He sits with his knees up as he pulls at the grass between his feet, breaking the blades up and letting them fall as he stares out at the water. “Are you sure having a secret relationship is a good thing?”

“It’s not that much of a secret. You know about it. Carmel and Andrew know about it. Half the office probably does now too. But, we can play that off as drunken stupidity, I guess. Save our jobs for a little while.” I let my words hang in the air as I focus on the boats rowing past us and turn to watch their coach cycle past.

David lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m worried about you. I mean, how much do you really know about this guy?”

“I know that we get along, that we’re attracted to each other... I just… I don’t know. I feel connected to him, which is strange for me, because besides you, I didn’t think I’d be comfortable around another guy. But things are easy with Elliot. He likes me without pretence. He likes me despite my scars. He like me for me, damaged as I am.”

“Does he know how you got the scars?”

I shake my head. “And I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention anything.”

“And give the guy ideas? No way.”

“You’re worried he’s like Christopher?” I’m surprised because Elliot doesn’t give that vibe off at all. He’s the complete opposite to Christopher—quietly confident instead of brazen and cocky. It’s what I like about him.

“I’m going to be worried about every guy you’re ever alone with. I’m worried that if you go out with this guy in secret, I won’t know where you are to get you out this time.” He looks at me intently, and I can see the pain of those memories in his eyes. “I want to protect you, Trina. I don’t know what I’d do if you were hurt again.” He takes my hand and turns it in his lap tracing his fingers over my scars, speaking to me softly. “What if something like this happens? What if you’re not so lucky next time?”

“David,” I whisper.

“Let me finish. I’m happy you feel ready to move on. But does it have to be with him? This secrecy thing doesn’t sit right with me and... and seeing you with him last night, well, it felt wrong. I didn’t like it.”

“I understand.” Giving his hand a squeeze, I pull free from his grip and stand up. Hearing his worries means I can offer him a solution and we can get back to training. “I’ll tell you what. Every time I go somewhere with him, I’ll turn on active location so you know where I am. Will that make you feel better?”

Breaking a piece of grass between his fingers, he throws the pieces on the ground in front of him and looks up at me, squinting slightly in the sunlight. “What if I asked you not to see him?”

I pull my head back in surprise. “You’d really ask that of me?”

“Would you do it?” he counters.

A burst of air leaves my lungs and I shake my head. “He’s nothing like Christopher, David. And we click. I feel safe with him.”

“Safe? Did you feel unsafe with Christopher in the beginning?”

“No. But it was different. Christopher was too good, too charming. Elliot is… he’s raw. He’s the way I think you’d be if you weren’t so angry at your dad.”

“Don’t throw that in my face.”

“I’m not trying to. I’m just being honest. You’re my best friend. Nothing will change that. Can’t you just be happy for me? I’m moving on like everyone wanted.”

Shaking his head, he stands and picks up his bike. “It’s your life. Do whatever you want. But I’m not going to be the third wheel in your relationship this time. I won’t fight some guy so I can spend time with you. I’ve been there, and I’m done with that.”

“What the fuck, David? How many women have I had to stand aside for? How many times have you ignored me to go off and fuck some random who never wanted me around? I have had two serious boyfriends. Three if you count Ben. And I never ignored you. I never made you feel like you weren’t wanted.”

“You think I’d choose any one of those girls over you?” He shakes his head. “Never. If you’d asked me to stop seeing someone—anyone. I’d drop them in a heartbeat. Hell, there have been times you’ve needed me when I was in the middle of something, and I up and left. For you. You are my number one. No one else.”

“That’s the problem, David. You call me that, but I’m not your number one. When you want me to live as a nun waiting around while you run off fucking everything else, I’m not even number two. I’m something else entirely.”

“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

I take a step back. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what I heard.” He holds his hands out to the side. “Let’s go, Trina. Let’s fuck so you can finally feel as important as you need to.”

My stomach twists. “Stop it.”

“What’s the problem? Is my dick too used for you? Is this not the romantic proclamation of love you hoped for? Tell me, because I want to know: how do I make you feel like my world, Trina? How do I make you understand that no one else matters? Being by your side for the last eleven years hasn’t cut it. I’m at a fucking loss here.”

I blink away my tears. “I think you need to go.” My voice shakes as I wrap my arm around my middle. Why is he doing this? Twisting the knife in my already scarred heart? My tears fall.

“Fuck.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I can’t even look at him. “Just go. Please.”

He holds his hands out in a plea. “Trina.”

“Go. I want to be alone.”

“Shit.” He gets on his bike and puts his helmet back on his head. “Will you be OK by yourself?”

Pressing my lips together before I say something to make this even worse, I tighten my arms across my chest, nodding almost imperceptibly, both stung and confronted by his words.

“Please believe me when I say I didn’t mean any of that.”

I nod again, holding my sobs as a knot in my chest. How could he not? He just took the one thing he’s denied me all these years, sharpened its edges and cut me with it. David is many things. But I never thought he was cruel.

“I’ll call you later. OK?”

Another nod. I turn away, knowing that if he doesn’t leave soon I’m going to burst into tears. I’m thankful when he pushes off with a sigh and heads for home.

I let a single sob escape my chest as I watch his form grow smaller, sucking in huge lungfuls of air until I can breathe again without crying. How could he say those things to me? How could he throw that in my face when he knows I’ve always wanted more from him? Knows I would be with him if he gave me that option. He chose this. He drew big thick borders around our friendship, separating us from becoming anything more. He made us everything a couple was—minus the intimacy. And I went along with it because I loved him in all the ways you can love another person. I loved him so much I was willing to have him in my life, however it pleased him, just as long as he was here. And I accepted that we’d never be more. I pushed my longing deep down into the depths of my soul so I could love him without wanting him, and it was hard. It’s still hard. Every time I see him it’s hard. But I accept the man for who he is, accept my role in his life as his best friend. And I need him to accept his role in mine. I know my relationship with Christopher was hard on him. I know he’s scared of seeing me hurt again. But I can’t give up on finding happiness because he’s afraid. Short of never dating again, I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m just… I’m hurt.

Nine

With my phone switched off, and a white lie about feeling sick, I successfully avoided David for the rest of the weekend. Even when the gentle taps on my window woke me during the night, I remained quiet and unresponsive. I couldn’t get up and let him inside my room like I had so many times before, couldn’t lie in his arms and share a bed with him while we whispered into the night, platonically. Always platonically. I needed some of my own boundaries for a change. And this was one of them.

His words cut me deeper than the glass that scared my skin. He got me right to my core in the most vicious way possible. I needed some time to myself.

On Monday morning, I’m still not ready to see him so I catch the earlier train to work. The place is eerily quiet save for the gentle clacking of the keys on Bianca’s keyboard. She pauses her typing as I pass, a smug smile curving her plum coloured lips. I don’t have the energy to battle her, so I just smile and wish her a good morning.

The moment I reach the library, Kayley races over and follows me to my desk. “Oh my god, oh my god! I can’t believe you kissed Elliot on Friday night.” She squeals and I drop my bag into my desk drawer with a sigh. It’s funny how something wonderful can be quickly overshadowed by something painful. I’ve already lost the heart full of hope I’d discovered through Elliot. It leaked from the wound David’s harsh words delivered.

Kayley doesn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm and clasps her hands together. “You, my dear friend, are my new hero. Although, I have to say you upset my cousin by rushing off like that. But, I’ll forgive you if you give me all the details.” She grabs one of the library chairs and wheels it over to sit next to my desk, looking at me expectantly.

I can’t help but laugh at her wide-eyed, awe-filled expression. But I’m not sure what to tell her. I don’t even know how I feel about things anymore. “I don’t remember much. I’d had a few drinks by then.”

“What?” She scrunches her face and sits back in her chair. “Are you telling me you got the glorious Elliot Roberts to lock lips with you and that’s all you have to say about it?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.”

She folds her arms. “That’s bullshit you don’t remember. Just tell me it was hot. It’s all I need, and I promise not to breathe a word to anyone.” She places a hand on her heart, a solemn expression on her face.

I sigh, looking around to make sure no one is within earshot before I concede. “It was hot.”

That small admittance causes her to squeal and bounce on her chair happily. “I knew it. Please tell me you’re dating him now. Someone in this place has to, and I would just love to see the look on Beth’s face when Bianca tells her.”

“Sorry but no. I’m not dating him. It was a mistake. A drunken mistake. It can’t happen again.” When I deny my involvement with Elliot, it’s because I’m in the office and don’t want to fuel gossip. But by the time I’m finished, I believe my words to be true. As harsh as David was this weekend, he’s also right. Having a secret relationship with a guy I work with is a stupid idea. I need to stop it before it goes any further and messes my whole life up.

“Seriously? One kiss and it’s over?” Well, two. But who’s counting?

“It’s how it needs to be.”

Kayley raises her eyebrows as she gets up to move her chair back in place. “I don’t believe you by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t a mistake, Katrina. Look at you: you're beautiful, tall and into sports. Same as him. The way I see it, you two are made for each other.” She turns and walks out the door, heading back to her desk.

I’m so busy watching Kayley that I don’t notice Priya come in after her. “Katrina, can I see you in my office?” she asks, looking unimpressed.

Anxiousness fills my head and buzzes in my ears. I nod and look out the window towards Kayley, who pulls her lip to the side in a grimace. Crap.

I immediately get up and follow Priya out, trying to walk tall and confidant, despite feeling much like a head of cattle being led to slaughter.

When we arrive at her office, Elliot is already sitting there with his legs crossed ankle to knee, his elbows on the chair arms and his fingers steepled in front of him. Now I understand what Bianca was so happy about this morning.

I think I see a flicker of a smile pass his lips when he sees me. Although, he sets his face to impassive, eyes following us as we take the other two seats in the room. We’ve been ratted out. That didn’t take long.

Priya takes her seat and leans her elbows on the desk to begin. “I got an interesting email this morning that said a few of your colleagues witnessed a rather public display of affection between you two.” She eyes us both closely.

“Between us?” Elliot asks, his thumb pointing from himself to me. “When?” I press my lips together, not trusting myself to say anything.

“Friday night at Darling Harbour on the wharf outside a club called Pontoon.”

“Is there proof of this? Or are we going purely on speculation?”

Priya sighs, and I’m pretty sure she mutters something about ‘bloody lawyers’ under her breath. “The email is quite detailed. I just need to know if it’s true,” she states.

Elliot and I look at each other then turn back to her and shake our heads. The burden of proof lies with the prosecution. Legal studies 101.

“Is that a no? Or are you declining to answer? I can always ask around the office, find a few more of these eyewitnesses.” Priya looks at the screen of her computer before eying us both, her gaze lingering on me longer than is comfortable.

“Go for it,” Elliot says. “Eye witness testimony from a group of intoxicated twenty-year-olds?” He shakes his head. “How reliable could they possibly be? It was dark. They would have been at least fifty metres away. Without photo proof, this is hearsay at best, gossip more likely.”

Priya presses her lips together. “I don’t hear you denying anything.”

Elliot uncrosses his legs. “I don’t see you offering any evidence.”

I can see why Elliot was chosen by the firm. He has skills—even if he doesn’t get to use them often.

Giving up on Elliot, Priya shifts her attention to me. “You’re new here, Katrina. And I can understand that a new job can be overwhelming and slip-ups are made. Especially when alcohol is involved. I think I can let this go if you can give me a straight answer and promise this is the end of it.”

I take a deep breath, feeling Elliot’s eyes on me. Like every tiny lie that’s come before, this one slips easily from my lips. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Priya purses her lips as she sits back in her chair. “I’m not entirely convinced, but without proof or an admission, there’s not a lot I can do. You can go.”

“Thank you, Priya,” I mutter, my palms sweating against my thighs.

She nods. “Just consider this a warning. We take our office policies seriously, and you both agreed to abide by them when you signed your contracts. If I receive proof you two are dating, there won’t be another chance. You will both lose your positions.” She looks at Elliot. “And I don’t care who your father is.”

“Understood. Thank you, Priya.” Elliot nods politely as he stands to leave. Gesturing for me to walk out the door before him. I can’t even look at him. I just duck my head and practically run back to the library and the safety of my little desk.

“What did she want?” For the second time today, Kayley rushes in for some gossip. “Was Elliot in there with you?”

I don’t bother lying. “I think Bianca dobbed us in for Friday night.”

“Oh no. Are you in trouble?”

“No. We denied everything. Elliot went all lawyer on her and demanded she show proof. Since she had nothing more than the email reporting us, she just reminded us of the policy and let us go.”

“You’ll have to be more careful. If I hear anything, I’ll do my best to redirect the conversation. Insist there’s nothing going on. You know, since I’m your best friend here and all.”

With a chuckle, I power up my computer. “I appreciate that, Kayley. But there really is nothing going on. I promise.”

Offering a conspiratorial smile, she winks. “Exactly. That’s what I’ll say too.”

I roll my eyes and laugh as she heads back to her desk, her ponytail flicking from side-to-side as she walks. My best friend in the office? Weird. I’ve never had a female best friend before. Are you even supposed to rank your friends once you hit twenty? I haven’t got a clue.

While I’m still smiling to myself over Kayley, my internal line rings.

“Library, Katrina speaking,” I say into the handset.

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text.” Elliot’s voice rumbles down the line, sending delicious little ripples racing beneath my skin. “If I was any other guy, I might think you weren’t interested anymore.”

I look around the room to make sure I’m alone before I say, “Are you insane? Can’t they track who’s calling whom?”

“Probably. But I’ll keep it brief and we can say I needed a book.”

“Do you?”

“Who knows? I’m sure there’s something boring in my tray that requires me reading an entire act from front to back.”

“Being a lawyer isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?”

He sighs. “Not in the beginning, anyway. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“You asked one?”

“Why didn’t you call me this weekend?”

“Did you call me?”

“You’re avoiding.” I can actually hear the smile in his voice. “And yes, I did. Several times. Possibly forty-eight times. But who’s counting?”

I place my fingers over my mouth as I laugh. “My phone was switched off. I needed some time to… process, I guess.” And lick my wounds over my fight with David.

“Second thoughts?”

“After this morning? Definitely.”

“Let me take you out for a drink tonight. We can discuss your concerns.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, I have training.”

“Wednesday then? We can argue over the terms, establish boundaries, plan this out so we both get what we want with minimal risk.”

“You sound just like a lawyer.”

“I’m told it’s in my blood.” I hear his intake of breath as he pauses. “Say yes.”

Closing my eyes, I squash down my nerves, push away the fear-filled thoughts in my mind and focus on my breath, on the way I feel when I’m around him, on the sliver of hope I have remaining in my heart. I’ve spent the entire weekend as an emotional wreck after my fight with David, and just listening to Elliot over the phone has me smiling again. I want to take this risk with him.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out again before I nod. “One drink.”

“I’ll let you know when and where,” he says, a smile in his voice as he disconnects then a request for a book comes through asking for the Australian Indigenous Law Review, Vol 18.

I pull out my phone and power it up, ignoring the incoming notifications as I select Elliot’s number and sent him a text.

Do you seriously need that book?

Sure do, he replies immediately.

Finding it on the shelf, I print out the receipt and mark it ready to collect. Beth will most likely come and get it shortly.

Deciding I don’t want to be sitting in the library waiting for that confrontation, I grab my phone and take it to the bathroom, locking myself in the stall while I scroll through my weekend’s worth of notifications. Most of them are from David, a lot of from Elliot. There aren’t forty-eight, but there are a fair few. I feel kinda bad for leaving him hanging like that.

Most of David’s messages are in the form of an apology or a plea for me to call him or let him come see me. Eleven years, Trina. I messed up. Please talk to me.

Opening the reply box, my thumbs hover over my screen as I try to come up with something I can say to express what I’m feeling right now. I don’t want to push David out of my life. But I do need a break.

I’m hurt. I need time, I message back.

I’ve barely sent the message before my screen lights up with a call. My heart jumps into my throat and my eyes burn as a smiling picture of David fills the screen. I hit decline.

A moment later, a message comes through. OK.

* * *

David’s and my lives are so intertwined that it’s hard to avoid him. He’s everywhere I normally am, and I have to make adjustments to my schedule to keep that distance I need. At uni, I arrive late and sit close to the exit so I can be the first one out. Travelling to work, I catch a different morning train and leave a little earlier in the afternoon. It’s crazy and if I’m honest, it’s a little lonely. But I need to figure out where my head’s at. I can’t face him when I’m hurting like this. Every time I consider it I almost burst into tears. I’m a mess.

My arrival at work on Wednesday morning is met with a look of surprise on Bianca’s perfect face. I can’t help but smirk as she almost chokes on her sweet-smelling coffee. She probably expected I got fired over that email. I smile, glad she didn’t get the satisfaction, offering a polite finger wave as I head past her towards my desk.

As I move around the library, replacing books left about, I’m hoping that the workplace interest in Elliot’s and my relationship status has died down enough not to cause me any more drama. I need to venture out of the library and take the new law magazines to his office, and I’m not keen on doing it to a chorus of whispers. It was so awful on Monday that I barely left the library at all, Kayley bringing me coffee so I could hide out during morning tea. It was insane how similar a large firm was to high school, all the groups and petty backstabbing games were the same.

Taking a deep breath, I put on my big girl pants and walk confidently over to Elliot’s office, determined to behave as professionally as possible. With Beth in the cubicle outside his door, I smile and show her the magazines.

“He’s on the phone. But you can put it on his desk.” There’s no smile or fake platitudes from her. Just cold indifference and a calm façade. Better than nothing.

“Thanks,” I say, continuing through.

Pushing his door open, I tap on the frame and wait for him to notice me. Wearing a sky blue dress shirt and maroon tie, he looks commanding from his high-backed office chair as he taps his fingers on his wooden desk, listening to his caller. “That precedent won’t stand,” he says. “No. It predates the one I provided you.” During the pause in his side of the conversation he smiles, mouthing ‘hi' before gesturing me inside. I marvel that a simple smile from him can send my stomach excitedly flipping around inside my body. He could be the salve I need right now.

Moving to the other side of his desk, I hold up the law journals, and he points to his 'in' tray. Dropping them on top of the pile, I step back to leave him to it, stopping when he holds up his hand and signals for me to wait while he scribbles something down on a Post-It note then hands it to me.

Star City Sports Bar 6:30pm? After reading it, I nod my agreement before folding it and tucking it inside my pocket.

As I walk back, Carl is wheeling a heavily laden trolley down the hallway. “Hey, new girl,” he says, smiling when he sees me.

“Hi Carl. How’s it going?” I stop beside him for a moment.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. You’re the topic of the week, I hear.”

“I was hoping that had died down already.”

He laughs. “A promising young solicitor and the new girl busted for fraternising? No way, that stuff is gold. I was inside on Friday night, so I missed the show. Heard it was hot though.”

I flush a little. I hate that people I don’t even know are talking about me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. Just watch yourself, OK. I’ve been privy to some bitchy conversations. I don’t think the other girls are taking it very well.”

I smile and place a friendly hand on his arm. “Thanks for letting me know.”

I pat him on the back and return to my desk where my internal line is already ringing. “Library. Katrina speaking.”

“Hey, sorry I was on the phone.” Elliot’s baritone rumbles through the line, caressing me in places it shouldn’t be over the phone.

“Don’t sweat it. We can’t talk here, anyway. I think we’re being watched fairly closely right now.”

“Probably. You look hot today,” he whispers into the receiver.

I blush and lower my voice to a murmur. “Thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

I practically hear him smiling. “Are you running today?”

“I am.”

“Want some company?”

I smile. “I wouldn’t say no.”

“I’ve been dying to get you alone for days.”

“The running track is hardly deserted.”

“You know what I mean. Away from here.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll meet you there?”

“Sure, same place as last time.”

We disconnect, and I work through until morning tea time, feeling a little nervous about facing everyone after the conversation I had with Carl, but knowing I can’t hide in the library forever.

When I enter the break room, there are a few murmurs and stares as I line up to get my coffee. I nod hi to Kayley, who’s already seated with Anne and Jo, waving me over to join them.

“Bring biscuits,” she calls out.

With my coffee and a plate of Arnotts Nice in hand, I head for the table, keeping my eyes forward and trying to ignore the sounds of mine and Elliot’s names mentioned together. You can do this. It’s not the first time I’ve been the subject of gossip. Head held high.

In my periphery, I spot Bianca entering the break room and heading towards me. For some reason, I don’t think much of it. I just think she’s in here getting her tea or coffee like the rest of us, and do my best to pretend she isn’t there. A hard thing to do when she walks directly at me, blatantly knocking her shoulder into mine. Biscuits shoot through the air. Coffee sloshes over my hand, dribbling all over my skirt. “Ow.”

“Watch where you’re walking,” Bianca spits, moving straight past me, to join her friend in line.

Mother fucker. Clenching my jaw, I bite back a retort, choosing to ignore her behaviour as I grab some paper towel and clean myself as best as I can. I’m thankful I at least had the foresight to wear dark colours today.

“Are you OK?” Kayley rushes to my side as Jo and Anne clean up the broken biscuits and Albina collects some more.

“I hear coffee is the latest in body spray scents, so yeah, I’m fine,” I joke. We giggle a touch and she grabs me a fresh coffee before we take our seats with the others. “I feel like I’m watching Mean Girls,” Jo says, biting into a biscuit. “I’ve never seen everyone this crazy before.”

Albina raises her eyebrows. “Looks like you’re public enemy number one at the moment. Bianca and Beth are on a rampage.”

Anne leans in to talk quietly. “You should have heard Bianca yesterday. She was telling everyone she got you fired.”

“Well, she tried,” I say. “But there wasn’t any proof.”

“But people saw,” Albina says. “Kayley and Connor saw. You can’t deny it.”

“You know what,” Kayley says. “I was drinking, and it was dark. I don’t know what I saw.”

I smile gratefully at her then sigh. “I don’t know why everyone’s making a big deal out of it. I’ve known the guy for a week.”

“Yeah and in that week you had your legs around his waist on a public wharf,” Albina counters.

I really don’t think anything I say will convince them there’s nothing between Elliot and me. So I stand to take what’s left of my coffee to my desk instead. “Don’t go,” Anne says. “We’re just talking.”

“We’ll even change the topic,” Kayley says. But I make my excuses anyway, needing to escape the tense air.

As I’m leaving, I overhear Bianca. “Maybe he’s into boys, and that’s why.” Unable to stop myself, I spin around to give her a piece of my mind, hating the snide giggles from the girls she’s with. This is Cassie all over again.

When I open my mouth to speak, Bianca gets in first. “Are you going to go cut yourself now?”

The hatred I feel for her in this moment can be heard crackling through the air. I want to hurt her. I want to slap that smug face of hers so hard she goes cross-eyed. But that would only make me look bad.

Digging deep, I shut my mouth and spin on my heel, getting out of there. This isn’t worth it. I need this to stop.

When I get back to my desk I’m shaking, my face burning hot with humiliation while I pace the floor, raking my fingers through my hair. I can’t do this. With fumbling fingers, I grab the office phone and put a call through to Elliot. He picks up on the second ring. “Elliot Roberts.”

“It’s me.”

“Hey, you. What’s up?”

“I don’t think we should train together.” I’m a coward. I’m a scared little coward.

“What? Why?”

“I think it would be a mistake to be seen together.”

“Are you backing out on me?”

I sigh, not knowing what I’m doing. I’m torn. And this feels too risky. “Can we just cool it, please? I have all this animosity directed at me and I need to take a step back until it calms down.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Until what calms down?”

“Do you seriously have no clue about the gossip spreading through the office?”

“I don’t listen to it.”

“Well, you might want to this time. It’s all about you and me on that wharf. And it’s gonna get us both fired.”

I hear him sigh as his chair creaks over the phone. “There’s something I need to do.” He disconnects abruptly and I look at the phone, a pain in my chest as I try to piece together this mess of a life around me. One week. One week out in the world on my own and I’m fucking everything up. I’m not equipped to deal with this. I don’t know how to navigate my emotions or fight against nasty women without a certain someone at my side. Call it a crutch. Call it codependency. But there’s only one person who can talk me down from this.

Pulling my mobile out of my drawer, I unlock the screen then take a deep breath as I type, Can we talk?

David’s reply is almost immediate. Give me a time and a place and I’m there, baby girl.

I almost cry. I need my best friend.

* * *

David pulls me into his arms, holding me tight while the city crowd teems around us. “I’m so fucking sorry, Trina,” he murmurs in my hair. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been avoiding you like that. These past few days…”

We pull back and our gazes meet, his hand cupping the side of my face. “Were torture,” he finishes for me, and I nod, falling into his arms and trying so hard not to cry. When I’m not close to David, it feels like a part of me is missing.

“I’ve had the worst morning at work, and I needed you. I hate it when we fight.”

“Me too.” He takes a deep breath and kisses me on the forehead. “Lucky it doesn’t happen often.”

I nod again, and we pull apart, linking arms as we walk with the flow of people on the footpath.

“You hungry?” he asks after a while. “Wanna get something to eat.”

“Not really. But I’ll eat, anyway. Find somewhere quiet so we can talk.”

“We can always beg off the rest of the afternoon. Call in with a stomach bug or something?”

I lean into him as I groan at the thought of walking back into work. “I can’t. It’s like, my fourth day. If I start calling in sick I might never go back there.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asks, indicating an open restaurant with only a couple of tables occupied.

“You want me to run away from my problems?”

We take a seat and a waiter comes by with two menus. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just water for the table, please,” David says, waiting until the waiter leaves to continue. “It’s not running away when you’re doing it to protect yourself from getting hurt.”

“But if I leave, she wins. I can’t let her get the better of me.”

“Wait. She?” David’s brow knits. “What are we talking about here?”

“Bianca.” I give him a rundown of the fallout from Friday night and our altercation at morning tea this morning. “I told Elliot we need to cool it until things calm down, but I don’t think he’s happy about it.”

“So, you’re still considering this secret relationship thing with him?”

“No,” I say adamantly before I wince and add, “Yes. Maybe? I don’t know.”

David sits back and blows out his breath, taking his hand through his hair like he really wants to say something but won’t.

“What?” I press, putting my menu down in front of me.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just hope you know what you’re doing. That’s all,” he says.

“I don’t,” I admit. “But I will be careful. I promise you that.”

His jaw clenches as he nods slightly, his attention shifting as our waiter returns to take our order. After that, David takes a mouthful of water and sits back in his chair. “I was thinking we could have a do over this weekend? Dinner and a club. Just you and me this time.”

A little of the tension in my chest easing, I let out my breath. “I’d like that. A lot, actually. But maybe just dinner? I don’t think I’m ready for the club scene just yet.”

“Dinner it is,” he says, offering me a smile that leaves me wondering how I made it through four days without seeing his face. I need him. When our food arrives, we fall into easy conversation about friends and uni, the focus primarily on our exams, and by the end of my lunch hour I’m feeling normal again. Whole.

Ten

“I had a feeling you were taking lunch half an hour early to avoid me.” Elliot falls into step next to me and I almost yelp from the shock.

“Are you stalking me now?” I ask, maintaining my running speed while glancing up at the clouds. They look set to burst. “Maybe I’m out here early to avoid the rain?”

“Every day for the last week?” He touches my arm, urging me to stop. “I thought we were friends.”

I check my watch and shake my head, noting my heart rate is higher than usual. “I don’t know what we are, Elliot. But I do know I need to run. And I know this is all easier when I’m not around you.”

Taking off down the path again, I’m not surprised when he continues by my side. “You think I’m a complication?”

Glancing his way, I ease out my breath. He’s so damn handsome. “You’re a huge complication,” I admit.

“What’s complicated about this?” He gestures to the path beneath our pounding feet. “We’re two people outside exercising, getting fresh air. Maybe we talk a little? Maybe we learn some stuff about each other? Maybe we say nothing at all? Either way, there’s no harm.”

“That’s not all this is, and you know it.”

“Tell me what this is then, Trina.”

I flash him a look of warning. “You don’t get to call me that.”

He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. Too familiar. Full names only.”

I stop running abruptly and push my hand over my tied-back hair. “You don’t understand, Elliot. I can’t do this. I can’t be seen with you. I can’t be afraid because of you.”

“Afraid?” he asks, brow tight. “Of losing your job?”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand,” I repeat, ready to run again. But he places a hand on my arm to stop me.

“Make me understand.”

His blue eyes bore into mine, concerned and intense, and I feel my resolve slipping because I want to let myself fall into them. I want to lose myself and forget everything else. I want to feel wanted by him.

“Why don’t we just do each other a favour and quit while we’re ahead? No good can come from us being around each other, Elliot. Surely you can understand that.”

“I don’t.” Placing his hands on his hips, he closes his eyes for a moment, releasing a sigh.

I make a run for it. Call me chicken. Call me crazy. But the moment he comes after me, I pick up the pace, getting faster and faster until I’m sprinting as fast as I can.

Of course, he keeps up.

Thighs burning, lungs heaving, I stop before I fall over and drop in a heap on the grass. “Fuck,” I groan, gasping for air as I look up at the angry sky. There’s a flash behind the clouds then Elliot’s face fills my vision.

“I admit the office policies complicate things,” he starts.

“It’s not just the policies, Elliot,” I put in, pushing up to my elbows as he squats down in front of me.

“I know,” he says. “It’s the gossips too. Carmel explained to me that some of the girls have been giving you a hard time.”

“Then you understand why—”

“No. I don’t. In the entire year I’ve worked there, I’ve never given any of them reason to think I’m interested in them.”

“What about Beth? You put your arm around her when we were at Pontoon.”

He sighs. “Yeah. I did. But that’s not a regular thing. I don’t hug her. I don’t exchange longing glances. If anything, I’m cold and indifferent towards her. Towards everyone. That night; I let my guard down. For the first time in twelve months, I was actually happy to be at work, happy to be socialising with those people. But only because you were there.”

I shake my head. “You barely knew me then. You barely know me now. I’m not worth your job. Or the drama being seen with me creates. Maybe it’s not affecting you because, well, because you’re you—they consider you the prize. I’m the competition. I’ve been insulted, mocked, knocked into…” I roll my eyes and look away. “I never imagined grown women could behave like this, but I’m not shocked. I’m just disappointed. All I did was kiss you.” A tear escapes and I swipe it away before meeting his gaze, expecting it to have softened with compassion. Instead, his eyes are crackling pools of fire and brimstone, dark and cloudy like the sky behind him. It makes me suck in my breath.

“Fuck. Them,” he growls.

“Excuse me?”

He stands up and holds out a hand for me to take. “Fuck them.” I slip my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet. “I’m not letting bitter mean-girl shit dictate who I do and don’t spend my time with. Fuck that. I get manipulated enough by my own damn family without letting Beth and fucking Bianca have their way too. No. Fuck that. Fuck. That.”

His rant hits me right in the chest. Simple yet powerful. Because that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m allowing the bullies to win because I’m too tired or scared to fight. When am I going to stand up and fight for myself? I’m so used to running to David that I never deal with confrontation on my own. We can’t orchestrate our lives so we’re always together. Sometimes I have to stand up on my own. He can’t always rescue me.

“Listen,” Elliot continues. “I’m one hundred percent in agreement that we should behave professionally in the office. But, I don’t see why we can’t train together at lunchtime, maybe even see each other on the weekends. There’s no rule against friendship, Katrina. Hell, there’s this whole committee dedicated to getting us to hang out. Consider this team building. And if it turns into something else, we’ll learn to be discrete. Other people in the office manage, you know this. Don’t dismiss what we could be just because you’re afraid of the negative shit.”

“And what do you think we could be?”

A grin pulls at the side of his mouth. “I think we could be awesome.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Team Awesome, huh?” The sky crackles and a few fat raindrops land on my skin. “Well, we’ll be Team Drenched if we don’t get back soon.”

Elliot looks up, flinching when a rain drop almost gets his eye. “Race you?” He cocks a grin.

“You’re on,” I say, sprinting off in the direction of the office, laughing the whole way.

Eleven

Over the next few weeks, things calm down all round. I don’t go to Friday night drinks anymore and spend as little time in the break room as possible. Kayley missed me, of course. Being the self-appointed work-best-friend comes with its pitfalls when one of you is absent. But I make it up to her in other ways, bringing her a container of my mum’s delicious chocolate chip cookies to share with the others so I was there in spirit.

“We can’t eat these without you,” Carl said from the library doorway. Behind him, the rest of our little gang huddled, ready to make the library their new morning tea space. My desk has never been so fun or so crowded. Who knew I could make actual friends all on my own? I love it.

Speaking of co-dependant friends, David and I are back to our usual selves. He suggested last night that once our exams are over this year, it might be an idea to take a road trip up the coast for a few days of R and R.

“There’s actually an Ironman Triathlon happening on Hamilton Island,” I said in response. “It’s the weekend after we finish so we could make a whole week of it?”

He grinned and took my hands in his. “I think that’s the most perfect idea I’ve ever heard.”

The fact he even made that suggestion means the world: David hates the beach. He hates the sand; he hates the sharp shells and floating seaweed. And he’s willing to spend the first week of our uni break there for me. He’s all kinds of special and I love him to bits.

Training is going well. Really well. I’ve competed in my club’s first triathlon of the season already with another coming up towards the end of this month. I didn’t place, but since it was my first race after a season off, I was thrilled with the result. Baby steps, as my coach likes to say.

“Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows,” I say to Elliot as we run through the Botanical Gardens at Wednesday lunch. I’ve fallen into a comfortable routine now: Mondays I have lunch with David, Wednesdays I run with Elliot, and Friday sees us in the gym. Of course, I also train on weekends and outside of work hours, but this is a happy medium, giving me time for everything I find important in my life. And Elliot is definitely becoming someone important to me.

“My dad is about to marry a woman who’s only a couple of years older than me,” he states, his voice flat, eyes forward.

“Ouch,” I wince. “I hope you didn’t go to school with her?”

“No.” He laughs. “All boys' school, remember? Thank god. He met her through work or something. I don’t really know. I’ve only met her once.”

“Was that to tell you they were getting married?”

He sighs. “Pretty much.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have the greatest relationship with your dad?”

“You guessed right. Our relationship is primarily driven by the power of money. I live in an apartment he owns and pays for, so he thinks he gets to dictate my life. It’s fun. Really.” He chuckles but there’s no real humour in it.

“Why don’t you just move out on your own? Take away his power.”

“Because until I get a promotion, I can barely afford to live in my car.”

“That sucks,” I say. Although it’s understandable. Sydney rentals are ridiculously expensive. Even out west. It’s why both my brother and I are still at home. It’s easier than finding a share house.

“It is what it is. But what about you? What’s something you don’t tell anyone?”

We run past a cool-looking bee sculpture covered in blooming flowers. Over the weeks, Elliot and I have discussed many things. Covering our families—his mum and dad divorced when he was young—high school—he didn’t fit in until he took up a sport and was suddenly popular with the guys and the girls at the sister school—and university—he attended Sydney uni, his full focus on law because ‘that’s how it’s done in his family’. We’ve covered all the normal ‘getting to know you’ bases, but are yet to delve into anything too personal. My walls have been a little high.

“I think you know everything about me,” I lie, flashing him a smile. “I’m not particularly deep.”

He laughs. “There’s a shitload of stuff I don’t know about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

He thinks for a moment. “Why did you react when I called you Trina?”

“It’s what David calls me,” I reply immediately, preparing myself for the inevitable questions that every guy has—have David and I ever had sex?

“And no one else can call you that?”

“I prefer it if they don’t.”

“OK,” he says, quiet for a moment.

In my mind I’m counting to see how long it will take before the next question comes out. I know what it is before he says it. I get to the number three.

“Have you two ever…” He hesitates and I can’t help but jump in.

“Had sex? No. Anything else?”

“Is there a possibility?”

I shake my head. “If my best friend was a girl would you be asking me these questions?” I really hoped Elliot would be different and not ask me this at all. On our first run I told him David and I were platonic. And David was right there when Elliot kissed me. Twice.

“No,” he says. “It wouldn’t have crossed my mind.”

“Then why, when I’ve already told you we’re friends only, are you asking now?”

“I don’t know: his level of protectiveness when we were introduced. The fact he has his own special name for you. The vibe I got from him.”

“He also calls me ‘baby girl’.”

“Well, there you go.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that any guy will have a hard time competing.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“If you say so.”

We push on for a while in silence, questions hanging in the air like tiny tension-filled bullets. I don’t want this to become an issue. I don’t want to have to defend my relationship with David to yet another guy. After the disaster that was Christopher, I swore I’d never date a guy who couldn’t accept David again.

“I’ve known David since I was nine,” I say, deciding that telling Elliot what’s behind David’s protectiveness might help. “My family moved a couple of streets away from him and I ended up at the same school, same bus. Over the years we grew close; brother and sister close, I guess. We’ve gone through all of life’s ups and downs together—other guys, other girls; broken hearts and fist fights—they all come and go, but our friendship is always there.” Up ahead, there’s a big gazebo that I gesture to. “Maybe we should sit for the rest.”

“Jesus,” he says as we alter our course. “How pissed am I gonna be at the end of this?”

“You wanted to know something no one else knows.”

“Does David know?”

I meet his eyes. “David knows everything.”

Running his tongue past his lips, he slows to a stop, placing his hands on his hips as he walks back and forth, slowing down his breathing. “I’ve gotta tell you, Katrina, I’m jealous of the guy.”

With a small smile, I gesture to the park bench, urging him to sit so we can talk. “They all were,” I say.

“OK. Hit me with it,” he says, legs bouncing nervously.

I sit beside him and place my hand on his thigh, stilling his movement. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

“We stopped running and we’re sitting down. It feels pretty bad.”

I take a breath as he meets my eyes. Here goes… “I lied to you about my scars.”

One eye narrows slightly. “You didn’t go through a windscreen?”

I shake my head. “I went through a sliding glass door.”

“Did David do that?”

“No. But he was there. He’s the reason I’m still alive.”

Both of his knees stop bouncing as he angles his body towards me. “What happened?”

“I’ve had three boyfriends in my life. None of them handled David well. They tried. Some more than others, but ultimately, jealousy got the better of them.”

“Jealousy did this?” he asks, taking my hand and running his fingers over my scarred forearm.

“His name was Christopher. He was charming, funny, and a fair bit older than me. I was… enamoured. I wasn’t quite nineteen and this guy who seemed to have his shit together was interested in me. He was one of those guys who seems to be everyone’s best friend. My parents thought he was great and everywhere we went, people knew him and liked him. Except David and my brother.” I pull my hand free and wrap my arms around my middle. “I should have listened to them.”

“What did he do to you?”

A tear falls from my eyes and I wipe it away, shaking my head. “I hate talking about this,” I whisper. “I hate being the victim in a story. It’s why I lied and said it was a cycling accident. I didn’t want you to look at me and see a domestic abuse survivor.”

“Survivor is the operative word here, Katrina.”

“I know.” I nod, blowing out my breath. “It’s still hard to talk about because you look back and you can pick out these things. These moments where everything doesn’t quite add up. But it isn’t until it’s too late that you manage to piece them all together and realise that his outburst wasn’t unusual. His control was.”

“When I was at uni we looked at a few domestic abuse cases, and no one saw it coming until it was too late. No one expects that a person who claims to love them is willing to hurt them.”

I wipe at my cheeks again, tears falling without my permission. “Yeah. It’s what I thought too. We moved in together after only six months, and I explained away his change in behaviour as teething problems. It’s difficult to share your space with another person, you know.” I clasped my hands together and shrugged, struggling to let my mind revisit those memories. “Then he became demanding, making rules about when I could and couldn’t go out, restricting my ability to see David. I thought it was just a bit of jealousy, and that eventually—for my sake—they’d learn to get along. I thought if he truly loved me as much as he said he did, he’d see that David was important to me, and that he wasn’t trying to steal me away. But he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t stand me spending time alone with another guy. He couldn’t believe we’d been platonic all these years. I mean, I even told him about David’s commitment issues and his inability to maintain a single girlfriend for over five minutes.” I looked up and smiled through my tears. “But he didn’t believe me.”

Elliot sits motionless beside me, his hand resting on my thigh as his eyes remain glued to my face, filled with emphatic emotion.

“We’d been living together about a month and David and Christopher had an argument. It was something stupid that triggered it, but it got nasty and Christopher banned David from the apartment. I didn’t want to fight, so I just made sure David was only there when I knew Christopher was at work. It was stupid. But I kept telling myself they needed time. I never…I never expected.” My hand flutters up to my chest as I struggle to keep my composure. Elliot catches it between his hands and holds it steady.

“It’s OK,” he whispers. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard.”

“I…” I start. “No. I want to. I want to give you the chance to understand.”

“All right.” His thumb caresses the back of my hand soothingly, and I draw strength from it.

“On the night I left, David was over watching a movie with me. Christopher was supposed to be at work, so I thought it would all be safe, and I could spend some quality time with my friend.” I shake my head and swallow before I can speak. “Christopher came home from work early and lost his mind. David didn’t even have time to react before Christopher dropped him then tossed him out. Then…” I hold tight onto his hands, squeezing as my body shakes at the memory of those eyes, the anger pouring out. “He came at me. I yelled but he wouldn’t stop. It was like he’d gone mad, quit being human… He grabbed me by the back of my hair and ran—like I was made of nothing—slamming me straight through the glass sliding door.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t remember anything after that,” I say, pulling a hand free to wipe it across my face. “The police report says there was evidence he continued hitting into me after that. David kicked through the door and reported finding him tearing at my clothes with the intention of…well, you know.” I press my lips together. “I owe him my life, Elliot. He risked his to save me, and the least I can do is make sure that any man I let into my life understands that there’ll be no choosing. David is my best friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. You accept him, or you walk away from me.”

“Oh, Katrina,” he says on an exhale. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say you understand. That you’ll never come between me and David.”

He places a hand on the side of my face, running a thumb down the jagged scar before he wipes my tear damp cheeks. “I promise,” he whispers.

“And you understand,” I whisper.

Letting his hand drop to my shoulder, he traces the curved scar near my collarbone, letting his fingers feel their way down my arm, inspecting my scars, touching each one tentatively with his fingertips. “I understand,” he says, lifting my hand and pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist, my heart skittering in response across my chest. “I would be protective of you too.” He presses another kiss against my shoulder, his lips lingering against my skin.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Elliot,” I whisper, my eyes losing focus as I fight the emotions coursing through me.

“I don’t. I think you’re incredibly strong,” he whispers, lifting both hands to cup my face. “Beautiful and powerful. A fighter.”

Closing my eyes, an intoxicating wave of desire floods through me as I lean into his hands, not caring where we are, ignoring the fact we shouldn’t be touching like this in the open.

I let him kiss me. At first I don’t fully respond, but as he gently sucks my lip with his, I part my mouth and let out a soft gasp, allowing him in. My body is on fire as his arms circle around me, and I move to sit on his lap, not breaking the kiss.

Our tongues dance together as they explore the crevices of each other’s mouths, replacing the pain I feel from telling that story with something new and full of promise.

My head tips back as he rains kisses down my neck and across my chest, leaving a tiny trail of fire in their wake. Our breathing heavy, I feel his arousal pressing against my own, causing me to grind instinctively against him. He moans and captures my mouth in his again, hugging me tighter as his hands caress the exposed skin on my back. My god, I’ve missed this.

A sudden beeping brings us crashing back to reality. Panting, I sit back, and he slowly releases me so I can switch off my alarm.

“I guess we better get back,” I breathe, laughing a little.

His eyes are dark as he cups the back of my head and pulls me towards him, kissing me deeply again. “Now we can go,” he says when he releases me.

I run my hand down the side of his face. “You’re going to ruin me, Elliot Roberts. I can already tell.”

His eyes sparkle as he laughs. “Then consider me destroyed.”

Standing, he holds out his hand to help me up. I do a quick scan of the park, hoping no one has seen us here and chance one last brief kiss. “I’ll go ahead like I normally do, OK?”

He nods. “I might sit back down here a while and ah… calm down.” I look down and notice he has a decisive tent in his running shorts.

“I think that might be a good idea,” I say, laughing as I move off.

“Katrina?” I stop and turn to face him. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“I do. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you would.”

“See me this weekend?”

I grin, walking backwards along the path. “Maybe.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a, maybe.”

“So, a no?”

I laugh and turn away. “A maybe.”

Twelve

“I’m taking you out tonight,” David says with a grin. I’m surprised to find him sitting in the foyer waiting for me after work on Friday when we normally meet outside the station. He looks relaxed with the top button of his dress shirt open and his tie loose.

“Mum will be devastated,” I say with a smile, reaching out to tug his grey tie when he stands to greet me. “She’s making lamb for dinner.”

He slings his arm around my shoulders and guides me towards the exit. “I already called her and told her we won’t be there.”

“You’re a good son,” I tease. Sometimes I think mum likes him more than me to be honest.

“I do what I can,” he says. “You up for a bit of a walk?”

“Well, I do have my sensible shoes on.” I lift a leg, showing him my trusty Mary Janes.

“Excellent.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He grins. “You’ll see in about ten minutes.”

Ten minutes passes with happy banter as we walk through the city streets until we arrive at King Street Wharf. “Are we getting fish and chips to share with the sea gulls?” I ask, watching the angular looking birds squawk in the sky above us.

“Better. We’re going on that.” He points at a small cruiser, covered in fairy lights with a banner up advertising a nineties cover band.

I grin. “Are you serious? I love nineties music.”

With a chuckle, he pulls out his phone to show me the tickets. “Precisely why I booked this. I thought it would be fun. Dinner. Dancing. You and me. No outside distractions to mess things up.”

“I love it,” I say, bouncing on my toes as I hug him tight. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”

He nods his head towards the boat. “Let’s get onboard.”

“So, what’s the occasion?” I ask when we’re seated at our table. There’s an open cabin area that looks much like your regular function room, but being on a boat, it has a three-sixty view of the harbour. There’s a stage up front where the band has set up. However, they’re pumping tunes through a stereo system while they welcome everyone on board.

“Does there need to be one?” He thanks the server who stops at our table and offers us sparkling wine from the heavily laden tray she carries. She’s super cute, and while she’s trying to be professional, she does the usual posturing girls do while checking David out.

It’s OK. I’m used to being invisible beside him. But for once in his life, he doesn’t flirt with the girl. He simply takes the glasses then turns back to me. Wow.

“A toast?” he suggests, handing me my drink.

My mouth hangs open a little as I look from him to the server who’s moved on to the next table. “Did you even see her?”

He grins. “No distractions tonight, remember? It’s just you and me hanging out alone. I never fully apologised for the way I treated you that day at the Lakes. When I saw this advertised, I thought it was the perfect gesture to show you how important you are.”

“Well then,”—I hold my glass up—“to lifelong friendship.”

His gaze drops a touch before he lifts his glass to mine. “To lifelong friendship,” he says, before we both drink.

As we cruise around the harbour eating a pre-set menu of chicken parcels and potato au gratin, the band plays slower hits like Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, and Natalie Imbruglia’s Torn. The setting is sublime and the company perfect. We never run out of conversation, chatting about my upcoming club race, and his industrial relations professor who mumbles when he talks. David does this great impression that has me almost falling off my chair laughing.

“Thank god for transcripts, huh?” he says.

“They were my saving grace when I was recovering.” My cheeks hurt from smiling.

“I remember.” He studies my face then lowers his eyes while placing his knife and fork together on his finished plate. “How’s the drama at work?”

His eyes return to mine and I press my lips together before answering. He won’t like hearing how close Elliot and I are becoming. But I don’t want to lie to him. I’ve had enough of lies and pretending.

“Well, I’m still taking morning tea in the library. But I told you Kayley, Anne and the rest are taking it there with me, didn’t I?”

“You did. They sound like good friends.”

“I think they’re becoming that way. They certainly make work a little more fun.”

“And the rest of the office?”

“Bianca still hates me, and Beth doesn’t really talk to me anymore. But that’s OK, I just make sure I only drop things at Elliot’s desk when she’s marked away from her computer.”

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t stay and talk to him. I just hand him some journals and leave.”

He frowns. “But you train together. Why can’t you have a conversation in the office?”

I shrug. “It’s easier not to.”

“I thought you’d both agreed to be friends. I don’t understand the need for secrecy.”

OK. Here we go. “Well…” It’s my turn to adjust the cutlery on my plate. “It’s because we’re on the radar after getting hauled into Priya’s office. And… we’re a little more than just friends now,” I say, meeting David’s eyes to take in his reaction.

Keeping his expression even, he sits back in his seat and runs a hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing out his tie. “How much more?”

I bounce a shoulder. “I don’t know yet. A little? I mean, we have vague plans to maybe see each other this weekend. And I already read him the riot act.”

His brow lifts. “The riot act?”

“Yeah. It’s new. It’s the one where I insist he treats you the same way he’d treat a female best friend. I told him I wouldn’t be forced to choose again.”

Folding his arms across his middle, his eyes stray towards the band as the intro to Step by Step plays. “That sounds serious.”

“I felt the need to set some ground rules early.”

He looks to the band again. “Wanna dance?” A grin curves his mouth as he nods to the dance floor, suddenly filling with people.

“New Kids on the Block is playing. Of course I want to dance.”

Standing up, he holds out his hand. “Come on, then.”

We slide seamlessly into the growing crowd, David bouncing his shoulders to the music before performing a suave little spin that has me giggling and dancing along, singing lyrics I’ve learned by heart. We dance to covers of Jennifer Lopez, Destiny’s Child and Backstreet Boys. David has all the moves, knows all the words, and stays true to his word, keeping his focus only on me. No distractions.

“Sway with me,” he says with a lazy smile as the intro to Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing plays. With a quick glance around the dance floor, I see everyone coupling up or holding hands with friends.

“This feels like one of those scenes in the movies,” I say as I step into his waiting arms.

He quirks a brow, his arms settling around my waist. “And what scenes are those?”

I thread my fingers together behind his neck, looking into his happy eyes, a smile becoming a permanent fixture on my face. “Oh, you know. The ones when high school friends suddenly realise they like each other as more than friends. A total cliché, but we all love a slow dance first kiss.” I giggle a little then rest my head on his shoulder, enjoying the sensation of being in his arms, feeling safe and protected.

“As I recall, your first kiss had nothing to do with dancing,” he says, his nose in my hair.

“No.” I lift my head and meet his eyes. “Someone stole my first kiss through an open window.”

With his trademarked cheeky grin, he brushes the back of his fingers along my jaw and tucks my hair behind my ear. “At least you don’t deny it now.

“How could I? We had our first fight over it.”

“And I guess I just kept fucking things up from there.”

I release a charged breath, hating that David feels in any way responsible for the hurt I’ve been through. “No, David. You valued our friendship, and you’ve always been there for me. Always. Even back then, when I asked you to give me more, I understood why you couldn’t. And you know what? I'm glad.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Because we’ve had eleven years together as best friends. Imagine you’d given in and been my first everything? It would have changed us. In the beginning things would have been great. But as time went on and our lives changed, we’d feel stuck together because we didn’t want to lose our best friend as well as our partner.” I shift my hand to the side of his face, running my thumb lightly against his stubble. “What is it you used to say to me? Better to be a friend forever than a lover for a moment.” He nods once to confirm it. “You were right. I’ll take forever as your friend any day of the week. I love you. I love what you are to me. Just as you are.”

“Trina.” With a deep sigh, he pulls me against him, hugging me tight as we continue to sway lightly to the music, breathing each other in. When I'm with David and all his attention is on me I feel like the centre of the universe. He’s so damn charismatic, and I can understand why women flock to him, why men are jealous of him. And I realise that I'm jealous of him too. I wish to my very core I had his confidence, his zest for life. It’s never mattered what negative shit was going on, he always had a smile and the desire for a good time. He makes the world fun, and he needs to know that I don’t resent him any of that. He is who he is and I accept him.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like you weren’t enough,” I say over his shoulder. He twitches like he wants to move so he can see my face, but I hold him tight, preferring to say this part without eye contact. “That day out at the lakes when you asked me what I wanted from you; it hurt me. Not just because of the crass way you did it, but because you touched on a nerve. If I’m honest, somewhere inside me, I’ve always thought you slept with those girls because you didn’t want me; that maybe I wasn’t pretty enough or desirable enough. You kept telling me you didn’t want a relationship with anyone, but I wasn’t listening. I just kept hearing you didn’t want a relationship with me.” With that part said, I pull back and meet his eyes, a swirl of confused emotion as they lock with mine. “I was wrong to think that. I was wrong to put that negativity on you, to tease you or try to make you feel guilty for your choices. You were honest. Always. And I’m sorry for pushing you like that. It was cruel and judgemental and I really am sorry.”

His eyes move between mine, his lips slightly parted like he’s searching for something to say but can’t find the words. I place my hands on either side of his face and smile up at him tenderly. “You, David Taylor, are the best person I know. And I never want you to change.”

“What if I want to change?”

“Then you’ll still be my best friend,” I say, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug.

“Your best friend,” he repeats.

I squeeze him tighter. “Always. Thank you so much for tonight.” It’s just what we needed to clear the air and strengthen our bond before anything more serious happens between Elliot and me. David needs to know that our friendship is safe and secure.

With his chin tucked against my neck, he breathes in deep. “I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too. Best friends forever?” I pull back and look him in the eye.

“Yeah. Best friends forever,” he echoes, bringing me close until the slow song is over, signalling a break in the entertainment while dessert is served. I take the opportunity to visit the ladies, and when I return, David is talking animatedly with the server from before, doing that suave spin of his to show off before she laughs and leans into him. I hang back for a moment, observing the ease at which he interacts with the opposite sex. It’s like second nature to him. He could have any girl he set his sights on. Anyone at all. He just has that special something about him that draws people in.

Instead of taking it personally, I smile this time, still feeling that familiar tightness in my chest, but without letting it turn into a negative emotion I have to brush aside. I accept him for who he is. And I love him just the same. Because love comes in many forms, and you don’t have to be with someone to love their soul.

Thirteen

“This is the famed Bondi markets, huh?” I say, turning a slow circle as I take in the eclectic mix of stalls. There’s a woman selling crystals and jewellery, and a man selling honey. Across from them is a tent filled with women’s clothes, then a stall for antiques. The scent of cinnamon in the air tells me doughnuts are nearby. My stomach grumbles.

“Maybe I should feed you.” Elliot catches my hand as he laughs.

“I skipped breakfast,” I say, placing my hand on my stomach. I was so nervous about coming to see him I spent far too long choosing my outfit and not enough time on the regular things like eating.

“But it’s the most important meal of the day. Surely you know that.”

“I know. I just woke up late and had to get ready quickly to catch the train,” I fib, hoping the cute white summer dress I chose looks as good as I think it does. It’s hard to find clothing that looks feminine on my non-curvy body, but the flare of the skirt gives the illusion of hips. If I had to describe this dress with one word, I’d call it flirty.

“I would have waited,” Elliot insists, giving my hand a squeeze. “But, since you didn’t eat, it just means I get the pleasure of sharing two meals with you today.”

“It’s almost lunch. I can just have a snack and eat something more hearty later.”

He glances at his watch. “It’s almost eleven which means we can eat now and call it brunch. Then we’ll scour the markets and when we’re done we can eat again and call it…linner?” He frowns. “Lunner? Dinch? Hmm. I don’t think I like any of those.”

“My vote is for linner, because it’s past lunch and before dinner. That works for me.”

He pulls me a little closer, his hand catching me about the waist. “Then linner it is.” He leans forward and pecks me on the lips. “But first, brunch.”

I grin. “Is that all you’ve got for me?”

“Brunch?”

“I travel all this way and all I get is a peck?”

His eyes shine with mischief as he positions himself in front of me and slides his big hand into my hair, holding my head steady. “You want more?”

“Yeah, I want more.”

I part my lips as his mouth moves closer, my tongue snaking out in my eagerness for this kiss. I feel his breath tickle against my flesh then my stomach voices its discomfort again.

“Oh my god,” I gasp as Elliot chuckles and drops his forehead against mine.

“Food first. Kissing later.”

“OK. But don’t you dare let me down, otherwise I can’t promise I’ll stick around until linner.”

Threading his fingers through mine, he tugs my arm lightly so I follow him. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

As much as I wanted the doughnuts I could smell, they were hardly a decent breakfast—or brunch—fuel. So Elliot took me to a little café in the strip of shops nearby where we grabbed a couple of toasted sandwiches and bottled iced coffees then took them to the grassy foreshore where we sat watching the surf and the busy beach.

“Do you ever use that gym over there?” I ask, pointing to the white and steel equipment littered with people doing strength exercises.

“No.” He laughs, shaking his head as he places the cap on his empty drink.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I like the regular gym.”

“Do you ever swim at the beach?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes in the summer. I surf some mornings and weekends, but I’m not a big swimmer.”

“Me neither, really.”

“But it’s literally one third of your sport.”

“Yeah. My worst leg. I lose a lot of time on the swim.”

“Then we should do more swim training. There’s a pool not far from work, and there’s that one right over there.”

“Why would I use the one over there?”

He gives me a half smile. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll wake up one morning and find yourself in Bondi.”

“Hmm.” I rise on my knees and shift a little closer. “Do you think I’d find myself wrapped around a certain someone?” I slide one leg across his thighs so I’m in my favourite Elliot themed seat—his lap.

“God, I hope so,” he says, eyes darkening as his gaze drops to my lips, my breasts then back up again.

“I think I’d like to get to the kissing part now,” I whisper, my hands on his muscular shoulders, my lips against his.

He doesn’t respond with words, only action, shifting a little closer so his lips meet mine.

I hum my pleasure, draping my arms around him as he pulls me close, hands on my back, almost crushing me against him. He makes me feel wanted; he makes me feel chosen, and when he pulls back and runs his fingers through my hair, the look in his eyes makes me feel beautiful.

“Where did you come from?” he whispers, like he’s amazed I even exist.

“Western Sydney,” I say, pushing off his lap. “Somewhere a city boy like you wouldn’t dream of visiting.”

“My Mum lives in Parramatta,” he offers.

“Mate, unless you pass Blacktown, it doesn’t count.”

“Well then, consider me schooled.”

Standing, I brush off the back of my dress then hold my hand out to him. “You lured me here with the promise of market browsing. But I’d like you to show me around your town.”

“OK,” he says, allowing me to pull him to standing. “But I’ll need one of these for the road.”

He leans in, his hand cupping the back of my head as he kisses me deeply. I like the size of his hand as it cradles me; I like the decisiveness of his mouth as it takes control, and I like the gentle intrusion of his tongue as it bosses mine around. But most of all, I like kissing him. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to enjoy this.

* * *

“A harbour cruise? Shit. That would have been awesome,” Elliot says, sitting with me on the rooftop of his favourite restaurant. It’s a little wood-fired pizza place that makes a mean mushroom and prosciutto slice with chilli oil drizzled on top.

“It was. Nineties cover band, good food. I had a blast.”

“What was the occasion?” He leans forwards and takes a big bite of pizza. I even like watching the way his jaw works when he chews.

“That’s what I said too.” I pick a mushroom off the top of my slice and hold it midway to my mouth. “He said it was an apology gift. We kind of had a fight a few weeks back. Said some hurtful things to each other, and this was his way of saying sorry.” I pop the mushroom in my mouth and chew before continuing. “And it was good because I think we cleared the air on a few issues. Like how protective he is since the incident. Plus, I told him how things are going with you and me, explained that you understood what our friendship was like and you’re cool with it.”

“I’m cool with it, am I? I sound like a great bloke.”

I nudge him under the table with my foot. “You are though, right?”

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I am. I promised you I understood, and I do. No green-eyed monster here.” He releases my hand and picks up his beer, taking a drink. “Although, I’d like to hear more about how things are going with us. What was that part about?”

I grin as I take a bite of my slice, making him wait until I finish the mouthful and take a drink before I answer. “I said we were more than just friends.”

His brow shifts upward. “More than just friends,” he intones. “And how do we move past that? I mean, what comes after ‘more than friends’?”

“Is that what you want? To be more than ‘more than friends’?” I ask carefully.

He adjusts in his seat and tilts his head a little. “Well, yeah. I think that’s where this is headed. Don’t you?”

“I hope so.”

“OK. So that would make me your boy-friend?” He enunciates each syllable carefully.

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face if someone paid me to. “I think I’d like that.”

“OK.” He nods, seeming relieved. “Then it’s settled. We’re dating now. Exclusively.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Fourteen

“Who’s Evan?” Tom asks, grabbing my phone before I can respond to the text alert.

“Give that back!”

He holds it above his head, out of my reach as he reads the text out loud. “Miss you already. Spend the whole weekend next time. Kiss face emoji.” He makes a fake vomit sound. “You can tell you haven’t let him in your pants yet or it’d be an eggplant and water drops.”

“What’s an eggplant and water drops mean?” Mum asks, walking in the lounge room at exactly the wrong moment.

“Don’t tell her,” I warn him, snatching my phone back and sticking it in my pocket. Big brothers really suck sometimes.

He gets this evil glint in his brown eyes and I know this won’t end well. “An ejaculating penis, Mum,” he says, before looking at me and adding, “What? She’s a big girl. She knows what sex is.”

“How else do you think you two got here,” Mum says, placing her hands on her hips. “And I’ve done it more than twice. Why, just last week when both of you were out, your father came home and—”

“Stop!” I cover my mouth and giggle. “I so don’t want to know.”

“Well, I’d like to know why some boy is sending you eggplants. Who is this Evan person?”

Tom holds onto his side, cackling until I nudge him with my foot and he falls off the couch with a thud. “Grow up,” I say. “You’re almost thirty.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” he counters.

“Close enough.” He pulls a face as he gets up and leaves the room.

Mum places her hands on her hips and eyes me. “I’m waiting.”

“He didn’t send an eggplant, Mum. He sent a kissy face.” I show her the notification on my phone.

“Oh, well, that’s sweet, isn’t it? Who is this boy?”

“Man, Mum. He’s not a boy. And he’s from work.”

With an interested spark in her eye, she sits down beside me. “What does he do? How did this happen? And why don’t I already know about it?”

Shaking my head with an amused smile, I count the answers off on my fingers. “He’s a junior solicitor. We’ve been exercising together at lunch. And you don’t know about it because we literally only made it official earlier today.”

“That’s who you were with today? The boy you train with at lunch?”

“Yes,” I say. “It was kind of our first date.”

“I thought you trained with Elliot at lunch?” She frowns.

“Why would you think that?” I ask, taken aback because I haven’t mentioned it. I’m always careful talking about boys with her because she’s obsessed with romance.

“Well, his mother; Katey. I play tennis with her, remember? She told me you two were getting along.”

A grin tickled the corners of my mouth. “He told his mum about me?”

She shrugs. “I suppose. But I don’t know who this Evan character is.”

“Oh.” I laugh as I touch her arm lightly. “It’s a joke because I called him the wrong name a couple of times. He saved his number in my phone that way.”

“How could you call him the wrong name? Elliot isn’t exactly common.”

I shake my head. “It was just a joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“But you are dating him now?”

“Yes.”

“Does David know?”

Tucking my leg beneath me, I turn to face her. “He knows it’s coming. I haven’t spoken to him yet today though.”

She purses her lips thoughtfully but doesn’t add to the conversation.

“Why?” I ask after a while.

With a bounce of her shoulders, she blinks innocently. “No reason. I’m just sure he’d like to know that you’re off the market again.”

I release a slow breath. “I know my relationships are hard on him, but we’re older now. And I’ve already made it very clear to Elliot that David and I are a package deal.”

“And how did he take that?”

“I pointed out he wouldn’t get jealous if David was a girl.”

“Yes, but odds are, if your best friend was a girl, she wouldn’t also be secretly in love with you.”

“Oh my god, Mum. David is not secretly in love with me. He’s always been adamant we’ll never be more than friends. He doesn’t believe in long-term relationships.”

“But you said yourself that you’re older now. I’m sure he said those things before….” She pauses and gently touches the side of my face. “Well, before we nearly lost you.”

Taking her hand in mine, I pat it lightly before releasing her. “We spoke on Friday night. We’ll always be just friends.”

“Oh,” she says, her brow creasing lightly. “I thought… oh, it doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is that you’re happy. You are, aren’t you? You seem brighter.”

“Yeah, Mum. I’m happy. Elliot is…” I take a deep breath and think about the quietly reserved man who seems to understand me without trying. “He’s wonderful.”

“When will I get to meet him?”

“It’s new, Mum. But soon. Just give it some time.”

Fifteen

“What are you still doing here?” Kayley asks, pausing inside the library door on her way out to lunch. “Don’t you normally eat with your friend on Mondays?”

“I do. But there was some pipe rupture at his office over the weekend and they’re working through trying to save all the files.”

“Yikes. I hope they have digital backups of everything.”

“Probably.” I shrug then she grins.

“You know what this means, right?”

“That I’m available to have lunch with you?”

“Of course.” She waves me over dramatically. “I don’t even know why I had to stand here and point that out to you. Get your bag, woman. Albina and Anne are waiting for us.”

“What about Jo and Carl?”

“They have their own stuff on today. Let’s go.”

Heading across the street to the closest eatery, we find Anne and Albina already sitting at a table with two spare seats.

“What I’m doing is keeping my calories really low all week. So on the weekend, I can eat whatever I want and never put on weight,” Albina says as we sit down, stabbing her fork into a piece of chopped up lettuce.

“But aren’t you dying of hunger all the time?” Anne asks, looking into her container of creamy-looking pasta with a frown.

“Well, yes. But to combat that I drink coffee and eat lots and lots of salad. I literally shit green right now.”

“That’s gross,” Kayley says, opening her burger and pulling off the onions. “And what about the calories from the coffee?”

“I drink it espresso. No milk.”

“Doesn’t that stain your teeth?” Anne asks.

“Oh no. I use a straw,” Albina explains, her expression serious.

I place my hand over my mouth, trying to control my laughter.

“What?” Albina laughs. “It’s science. There’s a delicate balance needed to maintain these curves.” She pushes her chest out and pouts her lips.

“Whatever works for you,” I say, tucking into my sandwich.

“I could never do all that training you do, Katrina. I have to get creative.”

“I’m happy being plump,” Kayley says around her mouthful. “If I had to count calories, I’d have to give up wine. And I’m not interested in doing that.”

“Speaking of wine,” Anne says, her eyes falling on me. “When are we seeing you at Friday drinks again? You came once, caused a stir and there’s been zero drama since.”

“I think that’s a good thing, don’t you?” I smile.

“No. It’s boring,” Albina puts in. “Your Elliot is there most weeks, but he doesn’t come to Pontoon with us anymore.” She pouts. “We need you to entice him. Beth and Bianca keep trying but he’s too busy schmoozing the partners to bless us with his hotness.”

“I think that’s a good thing too,” I say. “He’s focusing on his career. And he’s not my Elliot.”

Both Anne and Albina scoff, leaning into each other, disbelieving.

“You go out exercising together. Everyone knows.” Anne lifts her brow.

“That doesn’t mean he’s mine. It just means we’re friends. Training partners.”

Albina blows a raspberry and waves a hand dismissively.

“Anyway,” Kayley puts in. “Albina’s obsession with Elliot aside; why don’t you come to drinks again on Friday night?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m only just starting to feel like I can walk through the office without whispers following me.”

“All the more reason to come,” Kayley says. “Show everyone there’s nothing going on between Elliot and you. People won’t stop talking until they see it with their own eyes.” She directs a pointed stare at Albina.

“I know I won’t stop talking until then.” Anne giggles, nudging Albina.

“Me either. Although, if you can bring that sexy friend of yours again, I’ll consider it.” Albina gives me a dramatic wink.

I laugh. “I can ask, but I don’t know if David wants to go down that road again. We’re both kind of scared off by the drama.”

“Please come,” Kayley begs, holding her hands together and pouting at me. “Please, please, please.” She adds fluttering lashes and I don’t think my heart can take it.

“All right.” I cave, laughing as Kayley pumps her fist in the air.

“Connor is going to love me,” she sing-songs. “He keeps asking about you.”

“Oh lord.” I put my hand on my heated face. “He hasn’t, has he?”

She nods. “He was quite taken. But I keep telling him you’re not looking.” When our eyes meet, we exchange a knowing look. And I’m grateful that she’s redirecting the conversation away from Elliot and me.

“OK. I’ll come.” I shrug as a round of girly squeals goes around the table. For the first time in a really long time, I’m starting to feel like I fit in. I’m really enjoying this.

* * *

“Are you mental?” David asks on the way home on the train.

“No. I’m trying to bond and fit in.”

He groans, slouching lower in his seat, his long leg sticking out into the aisle. “You’re killing me here. Why would you want that?” An older lady looks over at us and shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Sit up.” I laugh, slapping him on the chest. “I just told you why. And you can come too, you know. Only if you promise not to be a big flirt though.”

He holds his hand up solemnly. “I'm wounded. What's it going to take for you to realise I only have eyes for you?”

A blush creeps over my cheeks as I shake my head and laugh. “You and I both know you're not capable of having eyes for only one girl,” I say, as he sits up and straightens his shirt. “Which is precisely why you need to promise not to sleep with anyone I work with. They’ll fall for you and it’ll be a disaster.” When I look at him, there's something strange in his eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if I pushed too far, especially after I assured him I understood his anti-relationship stance.

“It’s OK, Trina. I won’t hit on your co-workers. But I am going to have to decline. I kinda promised to do drinks at my office this week. My buddy Tom is having a birthday and we’re all going out after. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to that.”

“Oh.” I blink a couple of times, surprised he has plans without me. “Well, maybe we can meet up after?”

“Won’t you be hanging out with Elliot? I thought things were moving forward with you two.”

“Around work friends? No way. The whole point of this is to be seen without Elliot so they stop talking.”

“Throw the scent off the secret relationship, huh? Sounds serious.”

“I don’t know how serious it is. But we did make it official over the weekend.”

His head jerks towards mine. “He’s your boyfriend now?”

I nod. “He’s a good man, David.”

“Yeah.” He pulls his phone out and checks the time, swiping away a couple of notifications. “I guess we’ll figure that one out soon enough, huh?”

“Aren’t you even a little happy for me?” I ask, nudging him in the shoulder as he keeps his focus on his phone. “I took this slow, just like you suggested.”

He puts his phone away with a sigh, slipping his arm around my shoulders before pressing a kiss to the side of my forehead. “If you’re happy, Trina, then I’m happy too.”

“Thank you,” I say, relaxing against him. “I am happy. Everything is finally looking up.”

Sixteen

“Friday,” Elliot says in the gym at lunchtime. Skipping our usual run because of the rain, we're doing sit-ups and throwing a medicine ball to each other as an alternative.

“It’s Wednesday,” I point out with a smile, catching the ball before touching it to the floor over my head.

“I’m aware of that.” He catches the ball as I sit up and lob it back to him. “I’m talking about Friday night. I want to take you out.” He mirrors my movement, lying back with the ball then throwing it back to me.

“A date after work?” I grunt a little as I heft the ball. “Don’t you think that’s risky?”

“As long as we don’t leave the office together, it should be fine.”

“I don’t know. I promised Kayley I’d go to drinks then Pontoon with everyone.”

“Is that wise?” he asks cautiously, keeping the ball and stopping the exercise. “We won’t be able to talk there without the rumours starting up again.”

I rest my forearms on my knees. “Then we don’t talk. I think we need to show them you and I can be normal around each other. You’ve been going every week haven’t you?”

“Yeah. I normally stop in so I can talk to the partners—networking, you know?”

I nod my understanding. “Well, I think if I stay close to Kayley then head out with them afterwards—without you—it may just end any 'supposing' about what’s going on between us.”

“Without me, huh?” He takes a deep breath, his eyebrows raised. “This is sounding less fun by the minute.”

I tilt my head slightly, frowning as I reason it out. “You know we can’t go out with them all together. Bianca and Beth will most likely be there, and if Bianca sees anything or catches a picture of us, we’re fucked. She’ll send it straight to Priya then we’ll get hauled into her office again. I doubt she’ll let us off this time.”

This time he lets his breath out, shoulders sagging slightly. “I think I could control myself, but OK. I get your point. I’ll stop by for drinks then go home like normal.” He raises the ball above his head to resume the exercise, touching it to the floor before it to me.

I catch it but don’t sit back, still having more to say. “How about Saturday? I have squad training in the morning, but I can come see you in the afternoon? Maybe even dinner? You could show me your place?” I pull at my lip with my teeth as I let the suggestion hang in the air, knowing full well what being alone in his apartment with him would mean. I’m more than ready to have sex with him. I’ve waited weeks.

His eyes widen in happy surprise before he leans in and lowers his voice. “Maybe you could bring an overnight bag?”

My heart rate quickens my breath. “I can make that happen. But will I need it? I mean, will I even be wearing clothes?”

He groans lightly as his eyes darken, his reaction sending an excited thrill through my veins. “I bloody well hope not.”

I giggle. “Me too.”

“Katrina.”

“Yes?”

His eyes skim over my flushed body as he bites his lip. “You need to throw that medicine ball before I make a spectacle of myself and get us banned from the gym.”

* * *

After a long couple of days, five o’clock on Friday rolls around and Kayley swiftly escorts me to the ladies' room where we change and she helps me with hair and makeup.

“You’re a supermodel,” she says when she’s done, standing back to admire her handy work.

When I turn to face the mirror, I find an almost recognisable version of myself. With dark smokey eyeshadow, the blue of my irises pops, and my cheekbones look high and sharp with the help of a little contouring. My lips are a neutral pink, and my hair is braided on one side and scrunched into messy curls on the other. Coupled with the black strapless dress I'm wearing with a thick belt to cinch in my waist, I look badarse.

“You are quite literally my fairy godmother,” I say.

She grins, clapping her hands together. “I think we need a selfie for prosperity.” Holding out her phone, we pose in the mirror as she snaps a pic. “That one’s going on my Instagram.”

I have a moment when I remember Elliot’s comment about not liking Instagram girls and their excessive makeup and wonder if I should wash my face. But I decide against it because that would upset Kayley after all her hard work, plus I’m not going out with Elliot tonight. If he doesn’t like my look, it’ll make it easier for him to stay on his side of the room.

“Whoa-ho-ho. Baby girl, is that you?” I find David waiting for me at the empty reception desk as we head for the conference room. He lets out a low whistle. “You look a-ma-zing. Stunning.”

“David.” I grin. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Figured I should come and keep you out of trouble. Thank god since you’re going out in that,” he comments, taking me by the hand and twirling me around, his hand sliding around my waist as he leans in to kiss my cheek. I catch the familiar scent of his cologne, and I inhale contentedly. “You really look gorgeous, Trina.”

“Thank you.” I blush.

“And what about me?” Kayley asks. “Am I not stunning too?”

Releasing his grip on me, David leans down to kiss Kayley on the cheek. “Exquisite,” he says, his lips hovering near her ear.

She giggles and swats him on the chest. “Oh, you.”

When he’s done melting panties, I take him by the hand and we all head into the conference room. People are already milling about and chatting amicably and we head straight for our usual group, greeting each other like we haven’t just spent all day working together. Someone laughs to my left, and David talks about his office flooding with Albina and Carl. Something else happens, but I don’t catch it, because across the room sits Elliot. His eyes find mine and I struggle to maintain focus. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

The surrounding conversation becomes more of a humming, despite the energy I’m exerting to listen to it. I feel his eyes on me; the awareness filling my body and numbing the sounds around me to silence. I’m attuned only to him.

“Katrina.”

I blink, surprised. “What? Huh?” I bumble as my attention drags back by David, standing in front of me, attempting to hand me a drink, looking annoyed.

“Where the hell were you just now?” He frowns. “I was trying to hand that thing to you for a while.”

“I don’t know. I just kind of switched off for a while. Long week, you know?” With a thanks, I relieve him of the glass and take a mouthful of the cold liquid.

“I’ll bet.” David glances over his shoulder to where Elliot is talking to a couple of senior solicitors from his department. They catch each other’s eye and nod out of respect. “Let’s move you over here,” he says, steering me so my back is facing Elliot instead. It doesn’t stop me from being aware of him, but it stops me from doing something stupid. David was right. I need him looking out for me.

* * *

The great thing about Friday drinks is that people relax and show a side of themselves they don’t normally show around the office. Even the partners are laughing and smiling, acting more or less human.

As the night moves on, we all gather around the conference table and talk as though we’re long-time friends.

One of the named partners, Ken Barlow, a small man with mousy brown, curly hair that bounces as he moves his head, sits in the chair next to me to spark up a conversation. He’s wearing a tie covered in Looney Tunes characters and, finding it a refreshing change to the usual spots and stripes, I compliment him on his choice.

“Thank you,” he says, running the tie through his fingers as he looks at it himself. “It’s to remind me not to be so serious all the time.”

“A good way to do it,” I agree.

“You’re studying at university?”

“I am. I’m studying law.” I smile.

“Law, huh?” he comments, sitting back in his chair and looking over me with that tipsy glint people get when they’ve had a few drinks. “Are your grades good?”

“Decent,” I say. “Mostly Credits and a few Distinctions.”

“Do you work hard?”

“Always.”

“What area of law are you thinking of focusing on at the end of all this study?”

That answer is easy. “I really like family law. Something about making sure everyone is taken care of speaks to me.”

“Ah, if you do it right, it’s a noble area of the law to enter. Although, it all depends on how much money you’re looking to make. Being noble isn’t always profitable.”

“I’m not doing it for the money. I’m doing it because I want to make things right.”

His eyes narrow slightly as he lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip. “A lot of emotions involved in family law. I can’t imagine dealing with that on a daily basis. It’s why I handle Trademark law. Not too many emotions there. Tell you what, at the end of your degree, I want you to send me a copy of your grades. Maybe I can open a few doors for you.”

A happy smile takes over my face. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

“No problem. I did the same for this young fella here.” He turns his head and looks across the table to where Elliot’s been sitting unobtrusively, nursing his drink and acting as though he’s watching the room. We’re getting better at ignoring each other as the night wears on.

“You did,” Elliot says, nodding politely.

“See, I know his father from way back when. We were crownies together when I had a mind for justice. But criminal law was too much for me. I didn’t enjoy putting them away. Didn’t like defending them. Takes a hard heart to put those crooks back out there. I take my hat off to anyone who can separate their work and morals like that.”

“I like to think we help keep innocent people from going to jail too,” Elliot puts in.

Ken leans forward. “Yes. But doesn’t it eat at your soul? Picking apart a case and bending the law?”

Elliot’s eyes drop to the liquid in his glass. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t really gotten to that part yet.”

“Ah, of course. You’re a glorified paralegal, aren’t you? Give it another year, kid. You’ll get your teeth into some meat soon enough.”

“Another year?” Elliot keeps his voice even, but I notice the way his eye twitches.

Ken shrugs and downs the last of his drink. “Give or take.”

Elliot’s shoulders tense as he looks away, the muscles in his jaw ticking uncomfortably. “It’s almost ten,” he points out, prompting Ken to splutter a few expletives and spring from his chair.

“All right, people,” he says, clapping his hands for attention. “I think we better call it a night or my wife will lock me out of the house.” He laughs then sets about shooing everyone out of the conference room.

I chance a glance at Elliot amid the mass exit and mouth, “Are you OK?” He nods, but he doesn’t look fine. He looks pissed. Finding out from a name partner that you have to work in a position you hate for another year must be a serious blow. He thought he was almost done with grunt work. Shit.

A huge part of me wants to go over there and give him a hug. But I know that’s the worst thing I could do right now, so I just give him a smile I hope he takes as comfort before I return to the group with David.

“Hey, baby girl,” David says, sounding a little tipsy as he reaches out and pulls me against him, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “I’ve missed you.”

“I was talking to one of the big partners,” I say to him quietly. “He said I should send him my marks at the end of uni and he can open some doors for me.”

“That’s awesome. He didn’t say it in a creepy way, did he?”

I laugh. “Shockingly, no. He did the same for Elliot from the sounds of things.”

He frowns at my response then clears his throat. “It’s good you’re making the right friends then.”

“None that can hold a candle to you,” I say, giving him a nudge. His body relaxes into mine as the smile returns to his face and his eyes soften.

“Are we really going to Pontoon again?” he asks softly.

“Seems that way. I think it’s tradition.”

“OK. But no running away this time?” He brushes a stray curl back into my hair.

“I promise.”

He offers his elbow. “We should probably catch up then.”

Slipping my arm through his, we move into the reception area where the others are gathering so we can walk together. Elliot moves past us all with Andrew and Carmel, saying quick goodbyes on the way to the lifts.

“You’re not coming with us?” David asks, his eyes moving between all three of them.

“Not this time,” Elliot answers, his eyes flicking to me and then back to David. “I’m going to a late dinner with these two. Then I have some friends to meet up with. Have a good night, though.” He nods politely.

David reaches out and shakes his hand, leaning in to kiss Carmel’s cheek and clap Andrew on the shoulder. “Have a good one, guys.”

There’s all this polite nodding and waving going on as they continue to the elevators.

David gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You OK?” he asks, as I release a sigh and drop my head on his shoulder

“I'm fine. Just a little tired.”

“We can go home if you like.”

I lift my head and turn to face him. “No, I'll be fine once I get some fresh air.”

He grins. “Well, I hope you're ready to dance the night away. Although, I don’t know how I’m going to keep the guys away from you in that dress,” he says, biting on his lower lip and shaking his head, making appreciative noises.

“Do you think it shows too much leg?” I ask seriously.

“There’s always too much leg with you, Trina. Those things go on forever.”

“You make me sound like a spider,” I grumble, pushing him on the shoulder.

He laughs, pulling me closer and planting a kiss on the side of my head. “Your legs are hot, Trina,” he whispers in my ear. “And so is the rest of you.” The comment causes me to blush as butterflies dance within my stomach. I try to suppress my reaction as Bianca and Beth join us because I know he’s just teasing me. This is what we do.

“Is everyone ready?” Kayley calls out like she’s the tour leader.

There’s a chorus of 'yes' and 'let’s go' before we all move as a group to catch the next lift down and walk to the bar.

The bar is even more packed than last time with people spilling out onto the surrounding patio area. As soon as we’re within a few feet of it, Kayley waves her arm above her head animatedly, calling out to her friends and cousin, Connor.

Oh shit, I totally forgot about him being here.

They're sitting at one of the outdoor bench tables and move around so we can join them. Baskets of hot chips sit on the table and they’re offered to us. We all dig in ravenously.

“I don’t know why they don’t have nibbles at work,” Anne says around a mouthful of starchy grease.

As I sit beside David, listening to the conversation around me, his hand rests protectively on my knee beneath the table. Connor catches my eye occasionally, and I wonder if I should apologise for running off on him last time and explain my situation so I’m not leading him on. Movement against my side draws my attention as David’s body jostles with laughter. I turn to see what’s so funny, feeling slightly deflated when I realise he’s chatting with Beth. They’re sharing some joke that no one else is in on, and I wonder why in the world she and Bianca come out with this group when they don’t have much to do with us within the office.

Bianca sits across the table, looking like she’s the odd one out. If she wasn’t such a bitch to me, I might feel sorry for her since I’ve been in that situation around David more times than I can count. But now I’ve finally accepted my place in his life, accepted that he can’t help but flirt, I’m just happy he’s having a nice time.

“I’m going to visit the ladies,” I say to David, giving his hand a tap so he removes it from my legs.

“Come back to me when you’re done,” he says, squeezing my leg before letting me go. When the majority of the table stands up with me, I can’t help but frown.

“We’re going to dance,” Kayley says, demonstrating some of her moves. “Meet us on the floor when you’re finished with the loo?”

Separating from the group, I use the bathroom, then go and get a drink from the bar. As I line up, I’m forced to push my way forward or risk missing out entirely. It's such an effort I buy four Bacardi and cokes at once. Standing to the side, I hold two drinks stacked in each hand, transferring my straw between each glass as I drain the one before.

“Thirsty?” an Irish accent asks me. I look up to see Connor standing in front of me smiling.

Releasing the straw, I let out a nervous laugh. “Well, I didn’t want to drink much at work and I want a buzz while I dance. Plus, I don’t want to keep lining up.”

“Makes sense. I have to say I like the system you have going on there.” He indicates the glass stacking and straw swapping technique I’m using.

“Thank you. Laziness is the mother of invention and all that. No. That's not how it goes.” I frown, the alcohol already starting to do its job.

“I think you mean ‘necessity’: necessity is the mother of all invention.” He laughs.

I suck on the last of my drink and wink at him. “That’s the one.” By the time I drain the glass, my body is well and truly buzzing with the effects.

“You planning on dancing tonight? I’ll try not to chase you off this time,” he says, needing to yell over the noise.

“Oh, that wasn’t you, Connor. It was one hundred percent me.” If I wasn’t such a bundle of confused emotion, I think I would gladly let this Irishman win me over. He has this mischievous glint to his eyes that promises fun.

“Yes. Well, I heard there were some problems at work over the fella you were kissing outside.”

“Kayley told you?”

He nods. “And I’m happy to offer my services as a decoy if it helps. I’m very discreet.”

I grin. So, that’s why she made a point of mentioning Connor was asking after me. She really was proving to be a good friend.

“That’s such a nice offer. But I couldn’t do that to you. What if you miss out on meeting someone special because you’re too busy pretending with me?”

He shrugs. “Then I’ll break up with you in a dramatic display of public humiliation which will prompt this special person to come and console me. No one likes seeing an Irishman cry. It’ll be a win all round.”

“You’re crazy,” I say with a laugh, glancing over to the dance floor where I see Kayley and most of our group together, but I don’t see David.

“Ready to dance?” He waggles his brows and finds a flat surface to put my empty glasses on.

“Almost. I just want to find David first. I thought he was dancing too.”

“He’s the best friend, right? The tall guy Beth was talking to?”

“Yeah. That’s him.”

“Then you’ll find him right over there.” He points over my shoulder, and I turn to find David standing with Beth near the pool tables. He’s laughing about something while she chalks his cue.

A familiar pang hits me low in my stomach, but I remind myself that he promised he wouldn’t add any of my work colleagues to his harem, so I have to trust in that.

“I guess I’ll leave him to it then.”

Making our way through the crowd, we join the others, bumping and grinding our way into a sweaty mess as the beat vibrates the air. I have a moment where I think my coach should add dancing at a nightclub as an alternate training session once a month or so, because I’m tired on my feet and breathless by the time the bar announces last drinks. There’s still a few hours left of dancing, but the law stems the flow of alcohol.

Realising I haven’t seen David in over an hour, I search for him in the crowd. Although when I spot him, I wish I hadn't looked. He’s on the dance floor with Beth, his hand around her waist as she leans up against him, her back to his front. Her hand reaches into his hair as they move with the music and he says something in her ear. The way her eyes glaze over tells me he’s saying all the right things. Things he promised he wouldn’t. Liar!

Bianca spots me watching them and smirks. I shoot her a smile and a shrug of my shoulders to try to play it off. But then she blatantly moves in front of Connor and dances with him, trying to section him off from the group while shooting glances my way. I suppose she’s trying to prove she can steal men from me—perhaps as a payback for my friendship with Elliot. Although, I could never claim to truly know what’s going on inside that girl’s head. She’s a total other breed of human, and I wonder why Beth is such good friends with her. Beth seems kind of nice.

I shouldn’t react. I’ve worked hard these past few months getting my head on straight. Immature bullshit shouldn’t even be on my radar anymore, but as my intoxicated brain shifts my gaze from David to Bianca and back again, irritation swirls inside my stomach. Why did I think I could do this? Why did I think I could come here and not react when Bianca pushed me? Because I knew she would. Why did I think David could be here and not try to sleep with one my co-workers? Because he can’t help himself around pretty girls. Why did I think I could handle watching him suddenly? Why, why, why? I’m not that mature. I might never be that mature.

My god. My eyes flick between them. David. Connor. Bianca. Beth. The buzzing in my blood vibrates throughout my body until something inside me clicks. I need to do something.

Lacking the mental faculties to stop myself due to my inebriation, I set my sights on ruining Bianca’s night, deciding to take all of my annoyance toward this situation out on her because I can’t take it out on David. Not after I gave him that whole speech about accepting who he is and how he operates. It’s stupid, I know. I have a boyfriend now, I know. But I’m too drunk to care. Too drunk to think about how my actions will affect anyone else. I just want to feel something. Something other than second best.

Pushing through the bodies, I position myself so I’m dancing in Connor’s line of sight. I know I told him I didn’t need him as a decoy, but something tells me that getting him away from Bianca would piss all three of them off—David, Bianca and Beth. It’s selfish of me, I know. But I don’t care right now. Connor offered to help deflect the attention away from my relationship with Elliot, so why wouldn’t he be OK if I use him to annoy David? Alcohol makes my logic sound. I just want to strike out, and I don’t care how.

When Connor catches my eye, I smile seductively before closing my eyes to let the music flow through me as I dance.

That’s all it takes to switch his attention.

He sidles up behind me, slipping his hands around my waist and moving side to side with me. I lift my arms and let them drop, running my hands lightly over his head before I open my eyes to see that Bianca’s dancing has dropped to a slow bounce.

“Well played,” Connor says in my ear. “If I wasn’t aware of the situation, I’d be incredibly turned on right now.”

I turn in his arms as Bianca merges back with the group, feeling victorious, because I won. I beat her and—

My breath lodges in my throat as I catch David’s eye. He’s stopped dancing completely and is staring right at me, his eyes dark and stormy as he shakes his head then turns away. What’s his problem? It’s OK for him to dance like that with someone, but when I do he’s angry? Talk about double standards.

I watch him until he disappears outside with Beth hot on his tail. I’m sure she’ll do a great job of consoling him.

Knowing he’ll need time to cool down, I continue dancing. Sway by sway, Connor leads me deeper into the throng. We dance together while my mind spins and turns, cursing myself for believing this time could be different. David and I work but only when I’m single. The moment I show an interest in other guys, everything goes to shit. And I know he tries. I know he wants me to be happy. But the reality is, he can’t handle it. He can’t handle seeing me with a boyfriend, and he can’t handle it when I share myself around like he does. It’s like he wants me but doesn’t want me all at the same time, and as the night wears on and my saliva grows thick, I realise I’m right back at the start. I haven’t grown as a person at all. I’m jealous of David.

And I’m also really thirsty.

“I need water,” I yell over the music, tapping my throat. Connor nods and takes my hand, leading me through the crowd and towards the bar.

“You want some air?” he asks once we’ve downed most of a cool bottle of Mt Franklin each. I nod yes, and he follows me out with his hand resting at the small of my back.

As soon as we are outside the noise isn’t so booming. But we still have to lean close to be heard, our ears humming from the deafening sound inside.

“I really want to kiss you. But I’m afraid you’ll run off again.”

I laugh and reply, “I think you should listen to your fears on that one. I thought you were happy being a decoy.”

He leans back and looks at me thoughtfully. “I think it would help sell it a little more, don’t you think?”

Smiling, I shake my head. “I don’t think my boyfriend would understand it that way.”

“And where is this boyfriend of yours tonight? Is he out with his own decoy?”

I laugh. “He’s with friends, I think.”

“Friends, you think.” He places his elbow on the table and studies my face. “How serious—exactly—do you think this boyfriend is?”

“Oh, god. I don’t know. It’s still very early. We’ll see what happens.”

He sits forward again, closing the small distance between us so he can speak softer in my ear. “Well, if it doesn’t work out, I’d like it if you considered upgrading me from decoy to actual boyfriend material.”

“Connor.” I laugh and place my hand over my face. “You’re making this very complicated.”

“I can wait until it’s uncomplicated. I’m very patient.”

I laugh through my nose. “That could take a while.”

He shrugs and smiles like it is no big deal. “There’re plenty of girls to keep me busy in the meantime,” he says with a lopsided grin.

“You sound like David.”

“What’s the deal with him, then? I noticed a few tense glares coming from him tonight.”

I sigh and play with the cap of my water bottle. “He’s a huge part of the complication.”

“Why? Because you’re secretly in love with him, or because he’s secretly in love with you?”

Wincing a little, I cover my face. “Is it obvious?”

“From where I was standing?” He thinks a little then nods dramatically.

“Ugh.” I sigh. “He not in love with me.”

“Ah. So you’re the one in love with him?”

“I’ve always, always wished for something more from him,” I admit for the first time out loud. I don’t know why I’m doing it now on this particular day to this particular person, but here it is in its pitiful honesty And it feels… good to say it. Cleansing.

“But he’s got you sitting all the way in the friend zone?”

I nod. “When we were in high school, I embarrassingly threw myself at him—no strings attached—and do you know what he said?”

“I have a feeling I do.”

“He said no. He said never.”

“Ouch.”

“I know. I was pretty devastated, because well, he always felt right to me, you know? But I can’t really do anything to change how he feels. I can only change how I react to it. I thought I’d come to terms with it, but I think I’m still struggling.”

“Did he tell you why he didn’t want to date you?”

I shrug. “He had a pretty messed up home life. His parents went through a horrible divorce and his dad’s a real jerk. It messed up his view on relationships. His favourite quote is, ‘better to have a friend for life than a lover for a moment’—or something like that. It’s the creed he lives by.”

“How long have you two been friends?”

“Since we were nine. I guess that’s why I never walk away. He’s always been there for me. Through thick and thin.”

Connor takes a drink from his water, nodding thoughtfully as I let out another sigh.

“I’ve never told anyone this, you know?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Well, don’t I feel honoured?”

“Decoy privileges, I guess.” I flash him a broad smile.

He returns my smile. “And what about this boyfriend of yours? Does he know you’re in love with your best friend?”

Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “You are literally the only person in the world who does.”

“I’ll take that as a promotion. From decoy to confidant in one night. Never think I don’t have skills with the ladies.”

I laugh through my nose as I lean on the table. “Do you think it’s wrong of me? Dating one guy when I have feelings for someone else?”

“That depends. Are you doing it to make David jealous?”

“No.”

“Do you genuinely like this new guy? Do you think he’ll help you move on from your unrequited affection for your friend?”

Smiling at his dramatic description, I turn towards him, my chin resting on my hand. “I do. I can see myself falling for Elliot. He’s kind, and he’s patient, understanding. And he gets me and my ambitions with work and sport. I think we could make a great team.”

“A team,” he repeats, not quite a question but an echo.

“Yes. He feels right too. And I know I have to put my feelings for David behind me. Accept him as a friend or let him go completely. It feels as though that’s the only real choice, and I think if I really give this a go with Elliot, I can do that.”

“I don’t envy you, Katrina. Although, if I was you, I’d choose the funny Irishman.”

“Oh, you would, would you?”

“Yes. For two reasons: I already know I’ll never have your heart, and since my time in this country is limited, it could be a perfect solution to your problem. Minus the workplace drama.”

“You’ve got it all figured out.”

“I do.” He offers me his hand. “You ready to go back in?”

I look at my watch. “No. I'd better find David so we can make up and catch the last train home.”

“And you know what else is great about me? I’m not even jealous when you mention that.”

Laughing a little, I nudge him in the chest as I scan the outside crowd. “He might have gone back inside.”

I head back inside, looking from the dance floor to the bar. I don't see him there either. Frowning, I unlock my phone and tap out a message. Where R U???

Pushing through the crowd with Connor following close by, we search in every corner for him. Connor even checks the men’s room, but we come back empty. I check my phone again and find no reply. Shit!

“I need to go outside and make a phone call,” I yell to Connor.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Don't, I’ll be fine.”

He indicates that he doesn’t care, and that he’s coming anyway. So I drag him back out with me again, farther onto the wharf to hear over the music.

With my phone to my ear, I try to call David. No answer. Instead, I get his voicemail. Crap.

After listening to his upbeat message, I leave an irate voicemail to tell him he’s going to make us miss the train. I then try calling Carmel to see if she’s still in town so I can at least ride the train back with her, but I get her voicemail as well.

“Fuck!” I stomp my foot like a petulant child.

“Listen, I’ve heard stories about what happens on that train line, and I don’t think it’s safe for you to catch it home on your own. How about we wait and see if David shows up before the next train? And if he doesn’t you can just come home and stay with me for tonight?” The look on his face is sincere enough, but I’m pretty sure I know why he wants me there.

I laugh at his boldness. “That’s nice of you, Connor, but I think I might have to decline.”

He holds up his hands. “I’d be a complete gentleman; I can assure you. You can even sleep with Kayley if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Maybe,” I say, biting my lip as I try David again.

Still no luck.

“How about we go back inside and ask around for your friend?” Connor suggests. “Surely someone would have seen him leave. He’s a tall guy.”

My stomach twists nervously as I agree. David and I have had our issues in the past, but he’s never left me on my own in the city before. Even if he was pissed over the way I was dancing with Connor, I don’t understand this. Did I push him too far?

But he was dancing with Beth…

We make our way through the crowds again, asking everyone we know if they saw David leaving. “I saw him,” Bianca says, her red lips curving in a vicious smile. “He left with Beth. They were all over each other.” I can’t even hide the disappointment in my expression. He promised.

“Thanks,” I say, turning towards the exit as my ears hum and my body goes numb.

“Katrina.” Connor grabs my arm to stop me. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” I yell over the music. “Home?”

“On your own? Come on, you’re a strong woman but don’t be crazy. Either stay with us, or…or call your boyfriend. Surely he can help you get home.”

Lifting my phone, I make one last attempt to call David, but when it goes straight to voicemail, I realise Connor is right. I should call my boyfriend.

Seventeen

Feeling sick, upset and angry, I take a deep breath as I listen to the connection ringing Elliot’s phone, hoping he isn’t somewhere too loud to hear it.

“Hey, I was hoping you’d call. What time is it?” he asks groggily. I can hear the smile in his voice, but he sounds sleepy.

“Did I wake you?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

“I’m kind of stranded. I can’t find David, and I don’t really want to catch the train all the way home on my own.”

Without missing a beat he says, “I’ll come and get you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Can you get to the casino?”

“Hang on.” I put my hand over the phone and ask Connor, “How far is it to walk to Star City?”

“Fifteen to twenty minutes?” he says with a shrug.

“Yeah, I can make it there.”

“Who are you with?”

“Kayley’s cousin.”

“Isn’t that guy you were dancing with last time?” My silence answers for me. “Are you serious?” he exclaims, sounding annoyed.

“Are you coming to get me or not?” I ask, not reacting to his change in tone as I’ve had enough of arrogant men tonight.

He sighs. “Yes. I'm coming. Meet me outside the sports bar.”

“All right. I’m on my way.” I press the end call button and look at Connor.

“You’re right about your love life being complicated.”

“And you’re volunteering to be part of it.” I smile reticently as I pat him fondly on the chest. I’ve only met him twice, but he’s already made himself one of my favourite people. And somehow, he already knows my secrets. “I have to get to the casino. Which way do I go?”

“You’re seriously planning on walking there by yourself?”

“It’s only fifteen minutes. I'll be fine. It’s safer than catching the train on my own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll walk you.”

“Connor, no. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking, Katrina. I'm insisting. Let me tell the others to wait until I get back.” He trots over to the table where some of his friends are still sitting and leans down to talk to them, inclining his head toward me as he speaks. One guy gives him a pat on the back, and he returns to me to the tune of catcalls from the table.

“What did you just tell them?” I ask him, an accusatory tone to my voice.

“Nothing really. I just said that I was taking you somewhere for a ride.”

My mouth drops open, and he starts laughing at me.

“I’m joking, I’m joking.” He laughs. “I would never lie about sex with you. I will wait my turn like a man.” I give him a very unimpressed look. “Seriously though, I just told them I would walk you to meet your friend. That's all.”

“That’s all?”

He nods earnestly. “Shall we?” he asks, gesturing for me to walk with him. Then, glancing back one last time to look for David. My heart sinks, and I leave. Everything is changing.

“Thanks for walking with me,” I tell him after a while, glad to have met such an impeccable guy.

“It’s no trouble. Can’t have your mugging on my conscience.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, this guy we’re meeting; is he the jealous type? I only really ask because I’m not keen on having my nose broken tonight.”

“He’s not going to punch you for walking me to the casino, Connor.”

“That’s good to hear. I worry about these things, you see.”

“I can understand your concern.” I smile as the casino draws nearer.

“I think we should part ways here,” he says, stopping in front of the doors. “For the safety of my nose, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And I want you to know I’ll not be telling anyone your business. Not even Kayley. But I do hope you work it all out. If not, well, you know where to find me.” He smiles and I give this funny, gentle man a hug.

“Thank you, Connor,” I whisper, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek before I let him go.

“It was my pleasure, Katrina. And I hope to see you again soon.” He tips his head then stands and watches until I’m safely through the doors before he leaves.

* * *

Elliot is already there when I reach the sports bar, leaning up against the wall outside it, looking at his phone. He’s wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, and a white v-neck t-shirt. His hair is sticking up and messy from sleeping. Basically, he looks delicious enough to make me forget about the shitty night I’ve had so far. Just the salve I need to mend my chaotic heart. Alcohol makes me poetic too.

The corridor we’re in is quiet, so the clack of my heels can be heard as I walk towards him, alerting him to my presence. He stands up properly and gives me the most brilliant smile I’ve seen on him. It makes my chest swell, and I impulsively run, jumping into his arms as he captures me in a passionate kiss that has me melting on the spot. David who?

He breaks away and smiles down at me, brushing my hair out of my face. “I was dreaming about you when you called,” he murmurs.

A little ripple skitters through my stomach and shoots down between my legs. “Good dreams, I hope.”

“Come home with me and I’ll show you.”

“I’d like that.”

The sexual tension is ubiquitous on the drive to his place. We keep catching each other’s eye and grinning, and it’s hard to stay in my seat and not jump in his lap to ride him while he drives. I’m not a door mouse in the bedroom. And I’ve really missed sex this past year. The promise of it throbs between my legs and dares me to take quite public risks.

But I abstain.

“Wait there,” Elliot says when he pulls over on a quiet street. I bite my lip in anticipation as he gets out of the car, walking around to my side to help me out. Holding my hand, he leads me to the entrance of a block of brown brick flats. It’s dark and fairly surrounded by trees, so I can’t see much, but I hear the whoosh of the ocean as I wait for him to unlock the main door.

“How far away from the ocean are you?” I can’t help but ask.

“One street,” he replies. “You can see the beach from the balcony.” We climb the beige-carpeted stairs quietly and stop in front of a brown wooden door at the top of the second flight.

“This is it,” he says, looking back over his shoulder at me. With a click the door is open, and we step inside a narrow hall.

The door swings shut, and he turns and pins me to it, his arms either side of me. I can’t stop the smile from spreading over my face as he looks hungrily into my eyes, clamping his mouth down on mine as he kisses me deeply. I slide my arms around his neck and press myself to him, curling my fingers through the back of his already messy hair. “Nice place you’ve got here,” I gasp with a raspy giggle. He hasn’t even turned the lights on.

He reaches his hands down to my backside and hoists me up, so I have to wrap my legs around his waist. “I’ll show it to you later.” He carries me down the hallway, past a formal dining room, kissing me all the way until he reaches the lounge room and sets me down, kneeling in front of me. Only then does he pause and look at me. “You drive me wild, Katrina.”

He smooths my hair away from my face and kisses a trail down my neck and chest, his hands moving to cup my small breasts and squeeze my already hard nipples. I let out a short moan as I lean my body into his hands, wanting more from him. He pulls my dress beneath my breasts and takes one little bud into his mouth, causing me to drop my head back and moan with pleasure.

Guiding me until I’m lying, he slides his hand down my body and between my thighs. I part them willingly as I feel his fingertips brush the edges of my thoroughly damp panties.

With his gaze connected to mine, I watch the pure bliss cross his features as he slips his fingers under the elastic waistband, over my mound and between my folds to the slick wetness of my arousal. I gasp, as I feel his fingers enter me, rocking my hips to the motion of his hand as it moves in and out.

Dropping his head, he takes my other nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue as he slides his finger around my already swollen clit. I think I’m going to explode then and there and moan my impending orgasm.

“Not yet,” he whispers, re-covering my breasts before getting up off the couch to scoop me up again and carry me to the bedroom.

I watch his handsome face as he carries me down the hall. I’ve never felt this light and girly before. It’s incredible for a girl my size to be carried like I weigh nothing, a complete turn on.

“You’re amazing,” I breathe, as he lays me down like precious cargo.

“Reserve your judgement for when we’re finished. I haven’t done this for a while.”

He doesn’t give me time to wonder how long it’s been before he leans down to kiss me deeply yet again, his tongue probing my mouth and dancing with mine. I catch his bottom lip in my teeth and gently suck as he pulls away.

“Do you know how hard it was not to react to you in that dress tonight?” he says, as he undoes my belt and tosses it aside. “I wanted to slide my hands up those impossibly long legs of yours and have my way with you on that table in front of everyone.” Oh, hello!

He grips the top of my dress and slides it down to expose my breasts fully. I lift my hips a little to aid him as he slips my dress down the length of my body and drops it on the floor.

He stands and removes his own shirt and jeans, revealing the well-toned body I knew was under there. Every bit of him is hard, and I mean every bit. My mouth waters just looking at him. I move to sit, desperately wanting to run my hands down his chest and over his rippling stomach and down to his…

“Lie back down,” he instructs. Obligingly, I do as he says. He runs his hands along my legs to hook his fingers into my panties and slides them off in one dramatic pull. He flicks them over his shoulder and grins devilishly at me.

Kneeling on the floor, he grabs my legs, dragging them either side of him so his face fits comfortably between them. I let out my breath, slowly anticipating his mouth on me.

“Tell me you want me, Katrina,” he breathes.

I don’t even hesitate. “I want you, Elliot.” I need this.

He lets out a moan of his own as he buries his face between my thighs, hungrily lapping at my juices and lightly flicking his tongue over my clit causing me to twitch my hips in response.

“Oh god, I’m too close. I can’t take much more of this.” I grab his head, holding him to me as he sucks at my clit and swirls his tongue, teasing my entrance with his fingers.

I call out his name, gripping his head tightly between my thighs as I explode, bucking against him as he drives his fingers inside me, curling them forward to rub that sensitive spot inside.

I can feel another orgasm mounting and call to the heavens this time, exploding once more. It has been too long since I’ve had this. Too, too long.

“Wow,” he says as he wipes at his mouth then climbs back on top of me. “I love how responsive you are.”

I bite my lip. “You’re good at the touching and the licking,” I say, feeling flushed.

He chuckles, kissing me so deeply I can taste my own sweetness in his mouth. “I’m going to fuck you now.” Reaching over to his bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom, sitting back as he applies it over his long thick shaft, while I watch unabashedly. He creeps over me and holds his weight, his arms either side of me as he nudges his tip at my entrance, locking my eyes with his, studying me.

“I’m waiting for the fucking part.” I smile, lifting my hips to nudge him closer. He drives himself inside me with one swift movement. We gasp together at the erotic intensity of being connected so deeply, and he moves himself in and out of me in time with my own hips rocking.

Each time he drives into me, I moan from the pleasure of it. “Do you think I can get you to come again?” he pants in my ear.

“Keep going like this and you will,” I gasp.

His steady rhythm is pushing and pulling at my insides, building my pleasure to the verge of exploding once more. I clench reflexively.

“I don’t think I can hold on if you keep doing that.”

“Just hold on. Hold on,” I cry, clenching tighter, my orgasm bursting through me for a third time, my starved body greedy for more. And more.

This is exactly what I needed.

He breathes out slowly as he shudders, his cock pulsing inside me as we collapse together, gasping for breath, our limbs all tangled up with each other.

“I was right,” I remark, trailing my fingers up his back. “You are amazing.”

He lifts his head and smiles brightly at me. “No, you are.” He kisses me again slowly this time, beginning to move inside me once more. I can feel his erection harden inside of me, and I gasp as he slowly grinds his hips into mine.

I wrap my legs around his middle and pull him tightly against me. He lifts me off the bed so I’m sitting on him, rocking with him as I look into his eyes and can see his passion for me, his wanting of me. This time I don’t climax, but it is beautiful, sweet and slow.

He gets up and removes his condom, wrapping it in a tissue and dropping it in the bin in the adjoining bathroom. I can’t keep my eyes off his body and watch him shamelessly as he moves back towards the bed. Putting his arm around my waist, he drags me against him, wrapping himself around me, nuzzling my neck.

“Sleep, beautiful,” he mutters against my skin. I wriggle to get comfortable, feeling safe in this cocoon his body has created around me. I close my eyes, and it doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out, and I know he’s sleeping.

As the moments pass, I can’t seem to drift off. I’m exhausted and sated, but this tiny voice in my head keeps asking, why? Why did David break his promise? Why did he go with Beth and leave me there? Where is he now? I’m tempted to sneak out of bed to check my phone, but even I know that would be a shitty thing to do. Instead, I close my eyes again and force my breathing to slow down. Why does he have to keep hurting me? I shift slightly and wipe a wayward tear as it escapes my eye. Why aren’t I ever enough?

Eighteen

I’m pulled from my sleep by the sound of my phone ringing. Grabbing my dress from the floor, I race for it, thinking it’s David finally calling me back. But, the caller ID reveals it to be my mother. “Shit,” I say to myself, realising I forgot to call her last night to tell her I wasn’t going home.

I clear the sleepiness from my throat and answer quietly, trying not to disturb Elliot.

“Are you out training already?” my mother asks immediately.

Wriggling into my dress, I’m relieved she hasn’t realised I didn’t come home, and I’m about to go along with it, but I’ve had enough of the tiny lies.

“Uh, hi Mum. No, I’m not training.” Getting my dress into place, I move into the lounge room to talk.

“Well, where are you? It’s six o’clock in the morning and your car’s not here.” She gasps as she realises what’s going on. “You didn’t even come home last night, did you?”

“No, Mum, I’m um… with Elliot,” I admit, as I sit down on the brown leather L shaped couch and tuck my feet under my body.

Suddenly, her whole demeanour changes. I can even hear the smile in her voice. “Oh, my goodness! Was it wonderful? Katey showed me his photo yesterday, and he is so attractive,” she gushes.

“Mum!”

“What?”

“I’m not telling you that stuff.” I speak quietly into the phone, not wanting Elliot to overhear.

“Sorry, it’s just a bit exciting isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

“I’ll talk to you when you get home then. You are coming home aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure yet. I'll call you later to let you know.”

“All right, just make sure you tell me this time OK? I got a shock this morning when I woke up and you weren’t here.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Mum.”

“That’s OK sweetheart, have a good time.”

We disconnect, and I smile at my phone thinking about my mum and her love of romance. Then I open my contacts list and try David again. He still hasn’t called back and now it’s morning, I’m worried about him.

No answer.

Sighing, I get up and walk into the small kitchen to grab a glass of water, feeling surprised at how tidy it is considering Elliot lives on his own. There isn’t even a cup in the sink.

Elliot’s hands snake around my waist as I stand facing the sink, drinking my water. He kisses my neck and asks, “Everything OK?”

Setting down my glass, I turn towards him, kissing him back softly. He's put on a pair of cotton pyjama pants and has left his glorious chest bare. I run my hand over the firmness of his pecs.

“Mmmm, yeah, everything’s fine. I just forgot to tell my parents I wouldn’t be home last night. My mum was worried.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s probably still asleep at this time.”

Elliot reaches up to my face and smooths my hair back behind my ears, gently caressing my skin with his thumbs. I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of him, enjoying that I’m finally alone with him, not having to worry if anyone can see us.

He reaches down and opens the cupboard under the sink and takes a new Chux dishcloth out of the packet. I watch him curiously as he wets it and rubs some hand soap into it from the dispenser he has on the windowsill.

He then comes back over to me and ever so gently wipes it over my face. My eyes widen as I realise what I must look like having slept in my makeup from last night.

“Oh god, I must look a fright,” I exclaim, trying to take the cloth from him.

He moves it out of my reach. “No, you look beautiful,” he says, kissing me quickly on the mouth. “You just don’t need to wear this stuff.”

Ever so gently, he continues to clean off my makeup in slow deliberate strokes. Obligingly, I close my eyes as he glides the cloth gently over my skin.

“Keep them closed.” His voice is just above a whisper. I hear him rinse the cloth to wash the soap out before he uses it to wipe over my eyes again. “Open.” I lift my lids, blinking rapidly until they feel normal. I watch his face as he studies mine and gently wipes the mascara from under my eyes. There’s something sensual about what he’s doing to me.

I know in this moment that the slow part of our relationship is over. I need this man to take me forward. I’m willing to let go of the fear from my past relationships, and my hope for the one relationship I’ve yearned for over the years that will never happen. I’m ready to move forward and focus my affection on this man who is so strong, yet so gentle at the same time. I’m willing to put my hope in him.

“There,” he says when he’s done. “Perfect.” He brushes his knuckles along my cheek, and I catch his hand with mine, pressing a kiss to his palm.

He pulls me to him and kisses me, our tongues moving together as we moan into each other’s mouths, pressing our bodies into each other.

His hands roam down my back and towards my buttocks where he grabs me and hoists me up onto the kitchen bench. Smiling into our kiss, he slides my dress up above my still naked hips. I part my legs further as he releases his erection, circling himself at my entrance and moaning, because I’m already tremendously wet.

When he pushes inside me, I think fleetingly of a condom, although in this moment, I don’t care. I want to feel him inside me; just him and nothing else between us. I want to feel connected to him in the most intense way. I want him to make me forget…

I gasp as his silken shaft slides deep inside of me, thrusting back and forth, igniting my body with a fire that feels ready to consume my senses.

I wrap my legs around him tightly, pulling him into me as he climaxes first, pulsing his juices deep inside of me. He continues to move until he’s sure I’ve climaxed too. It’s obvious when I do, because my legs grip his waist like a vice, and I lift myself off the benchtop, calling out his name.

He sets me back down and leaves us connected, looking at me suddenly stricken. “I…I’m sorry. That's the first time I have ever done that without protection before… I don’t know what came over me. I should have checked it was OK first.”

I’m surprised by his reaction. “You’ve never had sex without a condom?”

“Never,” he answers seriously.

“Well, I guess that means you’ve got the all clear then? Health wise, I mean,” I ask carefully, not really wanting to ask the difficult question but knowing how important it was for both of us to be STD free.

“Yes, I’m clear. What about you?”

“I, uh, got tested in the hospital. Just to be sure, so yeah, I’m all clear. And um…I get Depo injections every six months. So I can’t get pregnant,” I assure him, feeling awkward but glad the air is clear.

“Oh, good.” He breathes out his relief, kissing me again. “I don’t know what it is about you. I just keep doing things that aren’t normal for me.”

He withdraws, and I feel the warm gush of his semen run out of me. He looks at it then looks at me like he doesn’t know what to do.

This really is the first time he’s had sex without a condom.

I tell him to rinse the cloth again to clean us up. He insists on doing it for both of us, and when he finishes, he lifts me from the bench and sets me on the floor, before he drops the Chux into the garbage bin.

“Breakfast?” he asks me.

I nod my agreement, and he pulls out a chair for me at the small wooden table in the kitchen's corner that only seats two. I sit down, watching him move around, preparing toast and eggs with orange juice and coffee.

When my phone beeps with a message, I jump up and retrieve it from the coffee table where I left it after speaking to my mother.

The message is from David. Went by ur house but ur mum said u were out. Sorry about last night. I’m an idiot. forgot to charge my phone and couldn’t find u. Have been worried. Connor said u went home.

I’m angry and grateful to David because if he hadn’t disappeared, I wouldn’t have just had a night full of mind-blowing sex.

I take a breath and type back. Don’t worry about it, just glad ur safe. Was worried about u too

He messages straight back. Where r u? Can we talk?

Typing again, I answer: With Elliot. Talk tomorrow?

I sit there looking at my phone waiting for the dots to dance again. I’m disappointed when it shifts to read and nothing else happens. Elliot moves into my periphery as he places our breakfast dishes on the table.

“Everything OK?” he asks for the second time this morning.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just David this time. Saying sorry for ditching me last night.” I move back over to the table and sit down with Elliot. “This looks great,” I tell him, starting to dig in.

“I think I’ll have to thank David for ditching you last night. I would’ve had to settle for dreaming about you instead of getting to spend time with the real thing.”

I blush a little. “You wouldn’t have had to wait long. I was supposed to come to dinner tonight remember.”

“I remember,” he says. “Do you still want to do that? Or do you have to get home?”

“I think I would still like to do that, if that’s all right with you. Not sick of me yet?”

He leans over and kisses me. “Um, let me think: a beautiful woman who rocks my world and can talk sports with me? Hmmm, no. I can’t see myself getting sick of you anytime soon.” He finishes his eggs and takes his plate to the sink, leaning against it as he speaks to me. “I need to shop for dinner tonight, though. You want to come along?”

“Sure. You wouldn’t happen to have some women’s clothes lying around would you? I don’t really want to go out looking like I just stepped out of a club.”

“I’ll give you a shirt to wear over your dress if you like. Will that do?”

“That’ll be fine, thanks.” I smile, downing the last of my coffee. I stand up with my dishes, and he moves towards me to take them, placing them in the sink.

He’s a good ten centimetres taller than me in bare feet, and he leans down to kiss me again. “But first, will you shower with me?”

I raise my eyebrows at him, and my eyes drift to his chest. “You mean, I get to rub soap all over your body?” I ask, tracing my fingers along the grooves between his muscles.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he growls, before he swoops me up and carries me laughing to the shower.

Nineteen

We don’t end up making it out of the house to buy supplies for dinner. Instead, we spend the day exploring each other’s bodies and minds. Touching, tasting, whispering and moaning together.

By the time our stomachs growl it’s six o’clock, so we rummage through his kitchen, deciding on fish finger sandwiches, topped off with a can of coke.

“I’m sorry this isn’t a nicer dinner,” he says as we eat quietly.

“Don’t be,” I nudge into him. “It’s perfect.” We lock eyes for a moment, engrossed by the pull our bodies seem to emit around each other. He edges his chair closer to mine, lifting my leg so it’s resting across his lap. With light fingertips, he runs his hand up and down it, giving me goose bumps all over.

“I heard Ken offering to open doors for you last night,” he says.

Finishing my mouthful, I take a sip of Coke before I reply. “Do you think I should take him up on it? I saw your reaction when he mentioned you’ll stay in the same position for at least another year.”

“I am not happy about that. The work I’m doing now could be done by anyone. I mean, why bother going to all the trouble getting a degree if you’re just going to be treated as no better than a filing clerk?”

“I happen to like the filing clerks in our office.”

He frowns. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I do. And I have to wonder—especially after that rant he had about your father and morals—if maybe he’s keeping you down on purpose. As a way of getting to your dad or something? I don’t know.” I shrug. “Just a vibe I got.”

“Admittedly, I considered that too. Or he’s just not as interested in nurturing new blood as he says he is. Which is also why I’d advise you against sending Ken your results. After experiencing a big firm, I’d recommend starting small.”

“Is that what you wish you did?”

“Yeah. A buddy of mine went to a small firm—one name partner and two senior solicitors—he does way more hands on work than me.”

“Maybe you should transfer?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to read through my contract again to find a loophole. But I’m pretty sure I’m stuck in a job I hate for at least another three years.”

“What is it you hate? The fact your skills aren’t utilised?”

He blows out his breath and runs his hand up and down my leg. “To be honest. Everything. I hate everything about it. I hated uni too. I hate law.”

I snap my head back in shock. “Then why do it? I couldn’t think of anything worse than spending all that time studying to be something I don’t enjoy.”

Running his hand through his hair, he shakes his head. “You already know the answer to that.”

“Because it’s what all the men in your family do,” I state, remembering our previous conversations. He holds up a hand, his gesture saying, ‘there you go.’ But I don’t believe it. Why would someone be miserable just because their parents expected them to be something?

“I was never meant to be anything else.”

“What would you be if you could choose for yourself?” I ask, sensing that pushing him to talk about his father is a bad idea.

He lifts his brow, sitting against the back of his seat as he looks out the window. “I’d be a personal trainer,” he says, shifting his gaze to me. “Is that lame?”

I reach out and place my hand over his. “No, Elliot. It’s brave. Following your passion, going against the grain… it’s a very courageous thing to do.”

He gives me a half smile. “Pity I’m too chicken shit to try, huh?”

“No. You’re not chicken shit at all. I have a feeling you’re just biding your time. And when that moment arrives, you’ll stand up and say enough. I see that kind of bravery in you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss against my knuckles. “Will you stay again tonight?” he asks.

“I would love to. You don’t know how much I want to. But I should be getting home,” I say, registering the disappointment in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I skipped training this morning so I have to make up for it tomorrow. There’s a race next weekend, so now isn’t the time to ditch.”

“A race? Can I watch?”

“If you’d like.”

“I would. Very much.”

“Then I’ll send you the details.”

He nods as he stands to clear away our dishes. “I’ll drive you home after this then?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, it’s too far. Just drop me off at the train station. I have to get my car, anyway.”

“Well then, I’ll drive you to your car,” he insists.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’m not dropping my girlfriend at the train station to find her own way home. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“I was thinking you were a beast between the sheets, to be honest,” I tease, standing to help him with the dishes.

“A beast, huh?” I nod. He grins. Then he growls and chases me into the bedroom while I squeal with laughter before giving me one last taste of his beastly charms.

* * *

On the drive home, something changes between us. The bubble we’ve been in has burst, the real world seeping in with its glaring reality, making our conversation stall. How do we make this work?

I realise that for the next—I don’t know how many days or weeks—we have to hide what we are. I’m not allowed to be openly affectionate with him. I’m not allowed to touch him; to flirt with him; to give him meaningful looks. In the weeks leading up to this moment, hiding how we felt was a part of the process, part of the courtship. But now we’ve been intimate, well, it feels so much harder. Like I’m losing something with the passing scenery, the car catapulting us closer to the end of our perfect time together. Back to the hiding. The lying.

Why can’t my relationships ever be simple?

“You’re quiet,” Elliot observes.

“Maybe I should quit,” I blurt out.

He glances at me before setting his eyes back on the road, giving me a humourless smile. “Quit what? Work? I would never expect you to do that. Besides, it wouldn’t even matter if you did.”

“What do you mean it wouldn’t matter? If I’m not working there, the no-dating policy can’t affect us.”

“I read over the policy after Priya pulled us in her office; it says you can’t date a recent employee either.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It’s so those in positions of power can’t pressure someone to quit just so they can fuck.”

“It makes sense they’d have that in there. But still…” I let out a sigh.

“I know. It really doesn’t matter if you leave or if you stay. We’ll still have to hide it.” He glances at me again and takes my hand, resting it on his leg as he drives. “We’ll be OK. We just have to keep staying away from each other at the office so no one notices any change in our interactions.”

“I know. It’s just gonna be harder now. You always made me thirsty. But now I’ve had a taste, I’m going to starve.”

With his mouth twitching in amusement, his eyes flick from the road to me. “Did you seriously just say I make you thirsty?”

I laugh and run my hand through my hair as I lean on the windowsill. “Yeah. You make me real thirsty.”

A low level growl rumbles in this throat, and I contemplate sliding my hand over to that tempting bulge in his jeans. But at a hundred and ten on the freeway, it might not be the best idea.

“How about, we skip drinks on Friday and go to my place instead?”

“What about your schmoozing time with the partners?”

“I think I can take one night off from that,” he reasons, giving the hand that wants to do naughty things a light squeeze.

“We could do that. But I’ll have to pass. I’m racing next weekend.”

“Ah, shit. I knew that. Now I feel like a dick.”

“Don’t worry about it. I haven’t even given you the details for you to know specifics. But, I wouldn’t mind spending Saturday night with you.”

“You won’t be too exhausted after your race?”

“I will find energy to quench my Elliot thirst.”

“My god,” he groans as I press my fingers into his thigh. “Do you think we’ll get arrested if I pull over here and fuck you in the backseat?”

“I’m game if you are.”

He checks his mirrors and bites his lip, and I notice the bulge in his pants growing by the second. When he flicks his indicator on and changes lanes, I suck in my breath. But when a red highway patrol car takes that opportunity to zoom past us, Elliot clicks the blinker off and we both let out a breath. “Holy shit.”

We both laugh. “I guess we’ll have to wait until after my race,” I say.

“Finish first and I’ll let you sit on my lap on the way home.”

I giggle and wonder if he’d really let me do that before I point out the exit, squirming in my seat as I direct him towards Penrith Station so I can get my car. This will be a long and thirsty week.

After making a plan to spend the night with him again, I’m feeling less despondent about the end of this car ride. Although, I still can’t help that nagging doubt in my mind—the reason we held back for so long—because we may never move beyond this point. We may never be anything more than a well kept secret. It’s something I really don’t want to face right now. We have to figure something out.

Pulling into the back parking lot of Penrith Station, I point out my old shit-box car and he parks in the spot next to it.

“That’s your car?” he asks, pointing at it like he doesn’t believe me.

“Yep. Why do you think I wasn’t worried about leaving it here overnight? We don’t all drive pretty Audis.” I own a white 1979 Mazda 323. It cost me three hundred dollars, and that included any parts I wanted to scavenge from a second 323 the owner had in his yard. What I loved about my car was that it looked like crap, but the guy I’d bought it off had installed central locking, a sick stereo system and these dancing LED lights that bounce back and forth when I drive at night. As a finishing touch, he added cow print seat covers. I fell in love instantly. I’m also lucky that both David and my dad are good with cars so they keep it on the road for me.

He grips the steering wheel of his Audi A4 and runs his hand along the leather. “This was a graduation gift from my father. He said that any up-and-coming solicitor needed a set of wheels to reflect their status.”

“He must have been proud of you,” I say, seeming to interrupt some thought or memory he was playing in his mind.

“I don’t know if he’ll ever be proud.”

“Then why do you keep trying to please him?”

He runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “You know, I wasn’t mocking your car. I think it’s cute.”

“Whatever. You were totally being a car snob,” I tease. “But you’re forgiven. Not everyone understands my love for Carrie.”

“Carrie?”

I place my hand on the door and push it open. “What else would you name a car?”

Even though I don’t think anyone would bother with my hunk of junk, I do a quick lap around her, making sure she’s all in one piece and the wheels are still inflated. Can’t be too careful.

“You sure I can’t throw you back in the Audi and take you back home with me? I don’t know if I’m ready to let you go.” His arms cage me in as I lean against my car.

“When the season is over, I can spend every weekend with you,” I say, silently wondering if talking about the future so far in advance is a terrible faux pas. But since he’s the one who proclaimed himself my boyfriend, I’m thinking it might be OK. “Until then”—I run my fingers over the curve of his chest—“I have to keep to my training schedule. The Olympic trials wait for no girl.”

“I understand,” he whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. “I’m just going to miss this mouth of yours.”

“I was thinking exactly the same thing.” Parting my lips, I capture his mouth in mine, kissing him tenderly in farewell, bittersweet knowing this will be our last chance for a whole week.

“I’ll text you,” I sigh, reluctantly getting into my car.

“Send nudes,” he says, making me laugh as I start up my engine and drive away, putting an end to our all too brief encounter.

Twenty

Instead of going straight home, I drive past David’s house to see if his car is there. He still hasn’t messaged me back, and I want to make sure he’s OK after our separation on Friday night. If he was half as panicked as I was, he’ll need to see me with his own eyes.

Knocking twice, I step inside, finding his mother curled up on the couch, reading a book.

“Hi Trina, dear.” She’s probably the only other person in the world I let call me that. It’s the only name she’s ever known me by since David gave me the nickname almost as soon as he met me. I like David’s mum. She struggles. But she always does her best by him.

She closes her book over her finger to mark her place as I lean down, giving her a cheek kiss. “You look lovely. Are you and David going out tonight?”

I look down at my two-day-old dress and wonder if maybe I should’ve gone home and changed first. “No, not tonight. I’m just here to chat with David. Is he in? I saw his car outside.”

“Yes, he’s in his room. Go right on through.”

“Thanks, Mrs Taylor.”

She returns to her book when I walk down their narrow hallway, stopping outside David’s room. When my chest gets an anticipatory ripple, I laugh at myself for being a fool. I’ve done this thousands of times, spent hours upon hours in his company. Why do I still get a nervous flutter every time I see him? Crazy.

I tap on it twice and open it, finding David lying on his bed, studying and listening to music with headphones on.

He smiles his beautiful, heart-stopping smile when he first sees me and sets his work aside, sitting up as he removes the buds from his ears then switches his music off. When his eyes skitter across my dress, his smile disappears and his face darkens.

“I see you haven’t been home yet,” he comments, keeping his eyes away from mine.

“No, I haven’t. I was worried when you didn’t message me back. I thought you might need to talk more than I need to change my clothes.”

“Everything’s fine, Trina. You’ve worried yourself unnecessarily.”

“I don’t think everything is fine, David. We seem to have locked ourselves in a pattern where we clash every time we’re around other people. Why is that?”

“I don’t know, Trina. Maybe we should stop trying to get other people involved?”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, I drop down, sitting beside him as I shake my head. “You left me there. We were supposed to travel home together, and you left me.”

“I didn’t leave you. I lost track of you. There’s a difference.”

“Lost track? You went off with Beth and then I never found you again. Where did you even go? I looked everywhere.”

His eyes flash and it’s like I can see his defences jump in place as his shoulders stiffen. “Where did I go? Where did you go? Last I saw, you were dancing like you were about to fuck that Connor guy. Which doesn’t make sense to me when you’ve been talking non stop about your wonderful new boyfriend.”

“Connor was acting as my decoy.”

He releases a hollow laugh. “Well, that makes it all better. Doesn’t it?”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Is that what Elliot thought when you told him?”

I drop my eyes to the ground. “I…”

He shakes his head, a burst of air passing his lips. “You’re playing games. You’re keeping secrets, telling lies. I can’t standby and watch it all happen again.”

“So, you just left?”

“No,” he booms. “I was there. I went outside to get some fucking air because I couldn’t do it anymore. You just didn’t look hard enough.”

My mouth falls open. “I looked for you for over an hour. We missed two trains!”

“You’re missing the point here,” he yells, scrunching his brow. “Fuck. I missed all the trains looking for you, Katrina. You ditched me the moment you got up to use the bathroom. I was worried sick about you when the club closed and you weren’t there. Then I find out from the guy you were rubbing up against on the dance floor you went home, but this morning I find out you ran to Elliot instead. How do you think that made me feel?”

“About as shitty as I felt knowing you’d taken off with Beth when you promised you wouldn’t,” I spat back, glaring at him.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” He jabs a finger at his chest. “I would never leave you on your own. Never.”

“Then where were you? I couldn’t find you David. You weren’t answering your phone. You obviously weren’t checking your messages, and I didn’t want to catch the train on my own. Did you expect me to just hang around by myself in the hopes you’d come find me when you were done fucking Beth?”

His expression turns cold as he pulls his head back and studies me like I’m a stranger in his room. “Fuck. You.”

I gasp. “We’re insulting each other now?”

“You know what, Trina. If you think you know so much, let me enlighten you a little on what I think. This all sounds like you got exactly what you wanted: me out of the way so you could run into the arms of yet another meathead, guilt free.”

“That’s not true. Why are you angry with me?” I ask incredulously.

“I’m not angry, Trina. I’m disappointed that our friendship doesn’t mean more to you. I’m annoyed that you didn’t trust I’d never leave you. I’m frustrated that you’ve started throwing yourself at men whenever we go out with your workmates. And I’m hurt that you can’t understand why it bothers me.”

“Why do you even care what I do? You were so busy hitting on Beth, I’m surprised you had time to notice me.”

“I was with you. You left me. And I care, Trina—so. damn. Much—stop saying I don’t.” He lets out a deep breath as he looks in the other direction. “It’s you who doesn’t seem to care about me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I could hardly sleep all night because I was worried about you.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “If the sex wasn’t good enough to make you to quit thinking about me, it’s a little telling don’t you think?”

“That’s a low blow, David. Don’t do that. Elliot has done nothing to you.”

“You’re right. I’m projecting onto him when it’s your decisions I have a problem with. But you’re a big girl now, right? You don’t need my protection? I shouldn’t try to clip your wings when you take off on me at a bar, leaving me to watch you use some guy on the dance floor. And, it shouldn’t bother me when you go running off to fuck some guy who’s going to cost you your job, leaving me to make my way home on my own. It shouldn’t bother me. Because it doesn’t seem to bother you.” He frowns as he meets my eyes. “What happened? What happened to not hooking up when we’re out together? What happened to us?”

“I don’t know, David. You tell me. You’ve always come home with a bevy of phone numbers. I’ve watched you hit on girls in front of me countless times before. Why is it so wrong for me to do the same?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks me, looking at me disbelievingly. “You have absolutely no idea…”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Just answer the question, David. Why is it OK for you, and not for me?”

He leans close to me, his face almost touching mine as his breath washes over my face. It sends a ripple through my body I don’t want to recognise, but my body knows it well and quivers in anticipation at his nearness.

He searches my eyes, before his gaze drops to my mouth then moves back to my eyes.

“It’s because when you do it, people get hurt. You get hurt. You have no idea what affect you have on men. No idea how crazy you make them feel. How you make me feel…”

A tightness pulls at my throat and makes it hard for me to breathe. What is he saying? That I make him crazy? But crazy how? I don’t understand. He needs to say it.

He moves closer and my breath catches as I feel how close his mouth is to mine. My body shakes uncontrollably. It’s like everything I’ve ever wanted is actually about to happen, but at the same time, it’s petrifying. Why now? Why, when I’m finally starting to get over him?

I close my eyes and pull back, swallowing hard as I remember the last time we kissed…the last time he rejected me…I won’t go through that again.

“Did you fuck her?” I ask in a whisper, opening my eyes when I feel him pull back.

When I meet his gaze, he’s frowning at me, a hurt look in his eyes. “Did you fuck him?”

My breath hitches, and I open my mouth to say something back, but I can’t speak. We’re just saying things to hurt each other, and I want to go home.

Closing my eyes, I let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, David,” I force out, my voice small as I stand and back away, leaving his room.

I don’t really know which part I said sorry for: the near kiss, that he may have slept with Beth, that I actually did sleep with Elliot… or the situation as a whole. I just know that when I leave his room, I’ve lost any joy I was feeling over my time with Elliot. The feelings I thought I was developing have been replaced by my confusion over David. Lately, every time we’re around each other we fight. What the hell is going on with us?

Twenty-One

Back at work on Monday, I feel unlike myself. I still haven’t spoken to David after our argument on Saturday afternoon, and my time with Elliot is feeling more like a dream than a reality. When I do see him in the office, he doesn’t even look at me which is adding to my sense of unease.

Normally spending Monday lunch with David, I’m at a loss on my own. I could meet up with Kayley, but I don’t feel like talking today. I don’t feel like smiling. Instead, I grab a chicken wrap at the kiosk across the street and sit in Martin Place plaza, watching groups of people chatting around the water fountain. They talk and laugh, and it feels like everyone is happier than me. Not a care among them.

Deep in thought, I think about David’s behaviour and how it’s affecting our friendship. It’s like he’s a jealous boyfriend. But that doesn’t make any sense. I thought he didn’t want to cross that line. Had he seriously been about to kiss me? I try to convince myself I imagined it as I throw pieces of flat bread to the pigeons milling about on the pavement. Because I must have. David would never…

When the space between my eyes hurts, I need a distraction, turning my thoughts to Elliot—kind, sweet, and obviously interested in me Elliot. When we’re together, things are nice and simple. I know he wants me, but what I can’t understand is how he can so easily switch his feelings off when we’re in the office. It’s like the weekend didn’t even happen…

And now I’m more confused than ever.

With a shake of my head, I try to clear my thoughts as my angst ridden stomach twists and sours. I watch the pigeons fight over the last of my wrap until I spot Kayley waving and moving toward me.

“Well, this isn’t something I get to see every day: Katrina Mahoney, sitting around on her lunch hour. Shouldn’t you be off with David or running around a park somewhere?”

A hollow sound replaces my laugh. “Not today, Kayley. I'm just doing my own thing this time.”

Lowering herself to sit next to me, she gives me a look of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Turning my head to meet her friendly face, I feel a sudden rush of emotion as my eyes threaten to spill my confusion out in the open. I blink rapidly, concentrating on the pigeons to keep my control.

“I’m just all over the place. I’m supposed to be preparing for the selection races coming up and getting ready for exams in a couple of weeks. But instead of focusing on those, I’m fighting with my best friend and attempting to have inappropriate relationships. It’s all too much for me to deal with. I feel way out of my depth.”

My phone chooses that moment to beep, telling me I have a message. Hope swirls in my chest that it’s David. Then I sigh in frustration upon seeing the screen.

Good luck this weekend. Thinking of you. Love Christopher.

“Noooo.” I bounce the word in my chest as a frustrated cry.

“What? What is it?” Kayley grabs for my phone and reads the text. “Who’s Christopher? My God. How many men do you have after you?”

“That’s my ex. And this is not a good thing.”

“Doesn’t want to accept it’s over?” She hands back my phone.

“Not really. I get a call or a text from him every now and then—from a private number so I can’t block it. Normally, I just ignore them. But right now, it’s the last thing I need. I have two men in my life that I desperately want to call or text me, and the only one that does is the guy I don’t want anything to do with.”

“Sounds like you have a lot going on,” she says kindly.

“When did my life become a soap opera? What happened to having fun, going out with friends and going to Uni?”

“I don’t know. But if you ever want to talk about things, I’m happy to listen. No judgements, no repeating, just an ear to hear your troubles.”

“I appreciate that. I think I’m mainly upset not talking to David. It’s not normal for us not to hang out or at least talk every day. I feel…” I struggle to find the right words. “I feel empty without him.”

“Perhaps you should stop throwing your lunch at the birds and call him?” she suggests, lightly touching my arm in sympathy.

“Maybe…I just don’t know if he wants to hear from me at the moment.“

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. And what’s the worst that can happen? He doesn’t take your call?“

“You’re right,” I sigh. “I know you’re right. I can’t sit here waiting for everyone to come to me.” I stand up, deciding that I’d rather call him from my desk instead of on a noisy city street. “I’ll head back. You coming, or staying out here a while longer?”

“I thought I’d go and grab a coffee across the street before I head back. Hope you sort things out with David.”

Nodding, I give her an appreciative smile as I leave to walk back to my office’s building. I’m going to skip training tonight and ask David if he wants to go and have dinner so we can talk on our own, discuss exactly why we’re upset with each other and actually listen to what the other has to say. Cards on the table type stuff. It’s time to be honest or this fight will just keep happening until it eventually tears us apart. And I don’t want that. I’m sure he doesn’t want that either.

Just as I round the corner to enter the building, I freeze. Because standing just inside the entrance is Beth, Bianca and…David. Placing my hand on my stomach, I take a step to the side to watch the exchange unseen. Vile betrayer! How could he?

David says something then laughs as Beth touches his arm flirtatiously. My breathing grows difficult, and my heart leaps into my throat. Painfully strangling me as I witness him lean in and kiss Beth goodbye before he starts toward the door.

Oh god. I feel sick.

Not wanting to be spotted, I quickly turn and cross the street to the coffee vendor where Kayley is lining up. He’s supposed to be my best friend. Why? Why would he be in my building kissing my colleague like they’re friends now? All while hanging around the one girl who makes my working life more difficult. Betrayer. Betrayer. Betrayer.

I want to scream. What’s going on?

My eyes burn, and I have to take a few deep breaths on my way over to Kayley so I can calm down before I can speak to her.

“Everything OK?” she asks.

“I thought the coffee sounded like a great idea,” I say with faked brightness, shooting a glance over her shoulder as David meanders down the street back to his work. My chest hurts. Why?

Smiling, she offers to buy my coffee, which I gratefully accept, promising to get the next one. By the time we get our coffees upstairs, I feel a little calmer. Although, my turmoil returns when we hit reception and Beth is in deep conversation with Bianca.

I take a deep breath and try to walk through without reacting, but Bianca doesn’t seem to have the same level of restraint.

“Ever get the feeling you’re being replaced?” she asks.

I stop and close my eyes, taking a calming breath as Kayley urges me to keep walking. Then I catch Beth stifling a giggle behind her hand, and I just can’t help myself.

“Last I saw, it was you hanging off David, Bianca. I think you’re the one he passed over.”

She scoffs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And neither do you.”

“You know, Katrina,” Beth starts, moving like a cat towards me. I’m thinking about replacing my earlier assessment of her. She doesn’t seem nice at all, she seems predatory. Now her friendship with Bianca makes sense. “David doesn’t need you. You can run off with your little Irish boyfriends and aloof solicitors all you like. I got the better end of this deal. David will be fine with me.”

I almost snort. “David doesn’t do relationships,” I tell her flatly.

“Oh, that was before he quit you. So, we’ll see about that,” Beth says boldly.

I actually laugh. But before I can say anything more, Kayley pulls on my arm. “Come inside, Katrina. This isn’t getting you anywhere.”

As much as I want to put these bitches in their place, I listen to her voice of reason, heading back to the library, trying to immerse myself in work. I curse that my job isn’t more complicated, because my mind keeps going back to David. Why would he want to pursue either of those girls? Is it to hurt me? Could he be that cruel?

Pulling out my phone, I type out about a hundred different messages to him, none of which I send. Because I don’t understand. Am I losing my best friend? After eleven years, has he actually quit me? My heart squeezes in my chest, and I drop my phone back inside my bag. All I want to do is go home and fall asleep until this is all over. Maybe it’ll just be a bad dream.

Twenty-Two

I don’t go to work on Wednesday. Why? Because I’m a big ole chicken. I can’t face Bianca. I can’t face Beth. I can’t even face the thought of seeing Elliot because I’m too emotional to keep my cool. Too upset to sit in that office and pretend I’m fine when inside, I’m dying. I’m losing my friend.

When Elliot calls to ask if I’m OK, I tell him I have a special swim coach booked for some pointers before my race on Saturday. I’m lying again. But when I don’t understand the truth, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to talk about it. So I lie in bed. I stare at the ceiling. I even go for a long bike ride with a few of the guys at my triathlon club. But I can’t get rid of the confusion in my mind and heart. Especially when each thump in my vein feels like it’s saying one word: why.

I know. I should be proactive, try to talk to David. Our friendship is too important to just let it go. We’ve been through too much and mean too much to each other. I guess that’s why this tension hurts so much. It seems cruel and unusual and I’m struggling to make any sense of it.

But what if he really is dating Beth now?

That question alone keeps me from picking up the phone or texting. I think I’d die inside if that turned out to be true. I’ve spent years dealing with the fact he would never want a relationship with anyone. If it turned out he was just waiting for the right person, and that person was Beth? God. I don’t think I could handle that. Was the idea of being with me that hideous to him?

Deciding to get a jumpstart on my exam preparation, I pull out my iPad and my uni books, picking out important points to make up study cards. It keeps my brain occupied until my brother sticks his head inside my room. “Oi, suckface. Wanna take a study break and walk up the shops with me?”

Shaking my head, I laugh a little. “Gee, Tom. When you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

I pull on a pair of shoes and meet him at the front door. “Why aren’t you at work today?” he asks.

“I could say the same to you.” I shoot him a smile, nudging him with my elbow as we walk along the footpath.

“Yeah. But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”

“Why are we talking about me?”

“Uh. Let’s see… You never take a day off for anything. Even when you were in the hospital after that douche beat you up, you were trying to walk laps around the hospital. Pulling a sickie for work isn’t normal for you.”

“I needed a mental health day,” I say with a shrug. “I didn’t realise how much stress filling my life to the brim would cause.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” he says, calling me out. Which I do my best to ignore.

“So, how’s your girlfriend? I never see you anymore,” I enquire, trying to get him to switch topics.

It works. His face goes all soft at the thought of her. “She’s great, actually. I let her meet Mum and Dad on Saturday.”

“Wow, that’s pretty epic for you. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“That’s OK. You were off getting plundered.”

“Plundered?” I roll my eyes. “Is this how you talk to your girlfriend?”

“Her name is Daniella. And yes, she loves a good plundering.”

“Oh my god. Please don’t talk to me about you and Daniella doing—” a disgusted shudder runs down my spine, and I have to shake it off. “Just. Don’t.”

He laughs, always loving it whenever he gets the chance to gross me out. “On a serious note, I’m glad you’re moving on from that last guy. It’s about time. You're young. You shouldn’t worry about dickheads like Christopher.”

“Yeah,” I say, flashing him a small smile. It’s hard to feel enthusiastic about a new relationship when another one is crumbling to bits.

“What’s up? Isn’t this one treating you nicely? Do I have to beat him up?” He thumps his fist against his hand.

“Violence won’t be necessary. This guy—Elliot—he’s fine, nice.”

“Ugh. He sounds like a yawn.”

“He’s not. We get along great. It’s just… things are complicated because we work together. That’s all.”

“Complicated, huh?”

I nod, not wanting to elaborate.

“You seem pretty mopey for a girl in a new relationship. Aren’t you supposed to be running through fields of wildflowers right now, sighing all the time?”

“It’s not the relationship that has me down. David and I are going through a bit of weirdness right now.”

“Ah. I knew there had to be something going on. What kind of weirdness?”

“We got into a fight.”

“About?”

Letting out a sigh, I glance his way. “Every time we go somewhere there’s a set of rules for him, and a set of rules for me. He can flirt and carry on with anyone he likes, but when I do it, he makes it this huge problem.”

“Do you think he’s jealous?”

“Of me? No. I don’t know. Sometimes I think he’s being a chauvinistic arsehole. Other times, I think he wants to pin me down like a butterfly and put me on a shelf so people can look but not touch. Does that make sense?”

“Oddly.” He nods.

“I actually thought he would kiss me the other day,” I confide, twisting my fingers together.

“Whoa. How did that happen?”

“It was when we were fighting. Things got really intense and then there was this moment, and…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I probably imagined it. Maybe he wanted to headbutt me.” I flash Tom a smile.

“That’s not funny,” he says, even though he laughs.

I let out a sigh. “The point is, I don’t really know what’s going on with him. I feel like he’s holding something huge back.”

“Like a declaration of undying love and devotion?”

“Or the desire to blow us up. I feel anger and resentment coming off him. What if he’s just sick of me? What if he thinks I’m holding him back?”

“Then he’s a cunt and I’ll go and beat him up.”

“I thought you liked David.”

“I do. But you mess with my sister, I’ll mess with you.”

“You can’t beat up the world for me, Tom.”

“Eh. It’s what big brothers are for.” He shrugs, and we walk in silence for a few beats before he turns to me again. “All jokes aside—and this is all I’m gonna say about it: one of these days, you and David are gonna have to admit your feelings for each other. Everyone can see it besides you two. You aren’t fooling anyone but yourselves.”

Furrowing my brow, I drop my eyes to the ground, having nothing to say. I’ve been over this so many times before. I’m not trying to fool myself—I know how I feel about David. It’s David who made it clear he doesn’t want me. And he’s never told me any different. Simple as that.

* * *

The next day, I stand outside the lecture hall waiting to go inside, my eyes scanning arriving students, hoping to find David. After spending another night tossing and turning, I need to talk to him. It’s only been a few days, but I’m not coping without him in my life. I want to see if he’ll meet me after class so we can talk and finally clear the air between us like I wanted to on Monday before I let Beth and Bianca get in my head. But I can’t see him anywhere.

My phone beeps with a message from Elliot. Counting down the hours. Please tell me you’ll be at work tomorrow.

Distracting me at the perfect time, I smile as I send a reply that lets him know he’ll see me. My thumbs move quickly as I add: But no training for me the day before a race. Maybe lunch??? I watch the screen as I wait for his reply.

Would love to. But too risky. See you Saturday instead? Don’t forget to send me the details for your race.

Crap. I totally forgot. Tapping out the information he needs, I push the disappointed feeling over his refusal of lunch as deep down as I can. It’s too risky. He’s right.

Once the message is sent through, I check the time before putting my phone away. The lecture is almost due to start and David still isn’t here. I head inside and find a seat.

It isn’t until about ten minutes into the lecture that I spot David arriving. He sneaks in through the far door and sits in the very back row. His head down the entire time, not even looking for me.

My eyes burn with the pain of unshed tears. Why is he doing this to us?

When the lecture is over, I scramble out of my seat. He makes a beeline for the door, but I’m not letting him run away from me. We need to talk. It needs to be face-to-face.

Jogging, I catch him just outside the building as he heads in the direction of the parking lot.

“David!”

He stops and looks up to the sky as if he can’t believe I’m coming after him. He doesn’t even turn to look at me, just stands there until I’m by his side.

“What do you want, Katrina?” he asks flatly.

“To talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” He moves to the side to move around me, but I place my hand against his chest and block him.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because I’m pissed at you. I thought that was clear on Saturday.”

“I thought you would have calmed down by now.”

“Well, I haven’t.” He moves to the side again. “If you don’t mind.”

I push against his chest again. “Yes, David. I do mind. We need to talk.”

He narrows his eyes. “Talk? That’s rich, because I’m pretty sure all you want is for me to fall back in line, worship at your feet, bolster your ego while you fawn over your latest muscle-bound guy who treats you like shit. No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not going to be that guy for you anymore. I won’t be the guy who consoles you and tells you you’re pretty while he messes with your head, whispering sweet nothings in private while pretending you don’t exist in public.”

“That’s not what he does, David. You don’t understand.”

“Did you know he’s been with Beth too? Kept it all a secret so nobody knew anything. Just like what he is doing with you.”

“That’s not true. I'm the only…”

“How do you know that? Is it what he told you?”

“I…”

“Maybe that’s what he does? Maybe he has a whole string of secret girlfriends. Have you considered that?” He stands there glaring at me, and I open and close my mouth, not knowing how to respond.

“You know what? You can do whatever you want: make it secret, shout it from the rooftops. I don’t care, anymore. I won’t stand in your way because I’m removing myself from the equation completely.”

“You…You’re dumping me?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep watching you self-destruct the way you do.”

“Then stop me. Do something and stop me,” I yell, shoving him against his chest, daring him to act the way I thought he would on Saturday. Do it.

His eyes go wide. “Why would I?” he roars. “You don’t fucking listen to me. You don’t hear me. You don’t see me.” He places his hands on my upper arms, fingers biting into my skin as he fills up my vision. “I have made you my world. But you only want me to be your moon, circling you constantly while you slowly creep closer towards your doom.” He shakes his head, eyes wide and locked on mine. “I can’t do it anymore.”

I exhale, feeling punched in the gut as I wipe away a stray tear. “Don’t you dare pull that ‘I’m your world’ shit. You friend-zoned me years ago when I told you how I felt. I wanted you to be my world, and you said no. Don’t you dare throw a tantrum because I’ve found someone new. This is what you chose.”

“I chose you at every turn. Every single time. It was you. It was you. It was you.”

“Except for when it mattered. Except for when it truly counted,” I say, biting back. “Do you think this has all been fun for me? Do you think I like knowing you fuck all those girls? Do you think I like knowing you treat me like the girlfriend, but you get off with someone else at night? I need more than that, David. I deserve more. I need to be loved.”

“I do love you! You don’t understand how much,” he yells back, his eyes wide with hurt.

“Not the way I need you to. Otherwise you wouldn’t behave the way you do. You wouldn’t make me feel like the least desirable girl in the room. It seems to me you’re trying to hook up with every girl on this planet, pushing me and pushing me until I finally hate you because you can’t stand the idea of being something more with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Because it worked. You win. Now that you’re sniffing around Beth, I don’t want you anymore. I can’t even look at you.” My tears fall as I watch his face screw up with hurt and anger from my words. I regret them almost immediately. But it’s too late, it’s all been said.

He takes a step back, his eyes shining, jaw tight as he shakes his head from side to side. “You…you hate me now?” He runs his hands through his hair and blows out a breath that’s so charged with his emotions it hits me hard in the chest. “What are we doing? I wanted you to move on from Christopher. But…I wanted…I wanted you to move on with…” He stops talking and presses his lips together, shaking his head as he either tries to make himself continue, or force himself to stop. “He’s not the right guy for you. Hate me all you want, but he’s not.” He offers me a shrug then shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away. This time I don’t stand in his way. I just stand there, watching as my only real friend walks away, silent tears rolling down my cheeks as my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. I don’t hate you.

Twenty-Three

With my entire body on fire, I focus my vision in the distance, the finish line looming. I lock my mind on my breath, on the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the path, needing one last push. The crowd cheers. I’m almost there.

“Go you good thing!”

I stumble over the finish line and drop to my knees, every muscle in my body burning. Why do I do this to myself?

My coach hands me water as club members congratulate me. I guess that means I did OK.

“Look at your time,” he says, pointing to the board.

“Third,” I gasp, grinning. “I came third.”

“She’s back,” he says, clapping a congratulatory hand on my back. “Watch out world.”

Mum and Dad bustle about me, brimming with pride, closely followed by Tom and his girlfriend, and a few other people I train with. But it all feels a little bittersweet without David there too. He never misses a race.

Looking towards the stands, my hungry eyes search then fall upon a familiar handsome face. The one who mends my heart—when no one’s looking of course.

“That was amazing,” Elliot says, clapping as he moves towards me. “Congratulations.”

Thanking him, I fall into his open arms, apologising for being so sweaty against his nice white T-shirt.

“As if I care.” He beams and plants a kiss on my lips, not even reacting to the fact I’m a bright red mess right now. “I’m so proud of you.”

I smile up at him, my heart relaxing with a happy sigh.

Moving with him to the side, I take a moment to introduce Elliot to my parents, Tom and Daniella, watching the way both Dad and Tom size him up as they shake his hand.

“And what are your intentions for my daughter?” Dad immediately asks.

“Stop.” I laugh, playfully tapping Dad on his chest. “He doesn’t mean that, Elliot. Do you, Dad?”

“Well, I suppose not,” he mutters, looking slightly put out.

“It’s really lovely to meet you, Elliot,” Mum says, her eyes gleaming as she sizes him up for a different reason. “I’ve heard so much about you—from your mother, not Katrina. You’re even more handsome than your photo.”

Elliot frowns for a second before it clicks. “You met at tennis, right? I remember her mentioning it.”

“She was surprised to hear you were coming today. You don’t talk much?”

Elliot grins and places a kind hand on Mum’s shoulder. “We do. But she obviously has lots of ways to keep tabs on me.”

“All mothers do,” she says.

Excusing myself, I leave Elliot to the inquisition from my family as I head back to our club tent to cool down and debrief with my coach and congratulate those who finished before and after me. Most of my squad is done now, but we all get together to cheer the final athletes across the finish line.

By the time I head back to my family to save Elliot, I’ve had a quick shower and put on my street clothes. Searching the stands, I stop and squint against the sunlight, trying to focus on a familiar figure retreating up the stairs towards the carpark.

“David?” I call out, and I’m sure he turns, but with his face in the shadows, I can’t be sure. It felt like him though. He came.

I honestly have no idea what it means, but god it makes me happy.

“Katrina.” Tom waves me over to where my parents are chatting with some other parents, discussing their children’s performances as though it’s an offshoot of their own efforts.

“Ready to hit the road?” I ask Elliot as he slips an arm around my waist.

“I’m not sure. I’m kind of enjoying listening to your mum brag about you.”

My cheeks flame. “God. Has she mentioned the part about me walking at nine months old yet?”

His eyes widen as he chuckles. “Sure has.”

“Then we’re not missing anything. Let’s go. I’m starved.”

Saying a quick goodbye to family and friends, we make our way to Elliot’s car, huddled together like any normal couple. The closeness makes up for the week spent avoiding him. It goes a long way to making up for my shitty week full stop.

“Katrina!” A male voice calls after me once we hit the car park. A familiarity taps at the back of my mind and I turn around, curious and…concerned.

Christopher.

“Great race today.”

I push my hair from my face, my finger brushing along the smooth line of my scar. “Thanks,” I say, heart in my throat. Please don’t come over here. I forgave him for what he did to me. But I can never let him in my life again.

“Do you know that guy?” Elliot asks as Christopher waves then gets into his Ford ute.

Feeling relieved, I turn around and shake my head. “Not really.”

“Must be a fan.” He flashes me a smile. “So where am I taking you to eat?”

“Your place?” I suggest as he unlocks his car and pulls the door open for me.

“You don’t want to eat first? I thought you were starving.”

Rising up on my toes, I press my lips to his, needing the burst of Elliot to quiet the discomfort seeing Christopher brought up in me. It works, and I hum with pleasure as I lick my lips and grin. “When I said starving, I meant thirsty.”

He lets out a low growl and pulls me against him. “My place it is.”

* * *

Stretching my leg out so my foot rests on Elliot’s shoulder, he runs a soapy loofah over my skin in long luxurious strokes. “I was surprised David wasn’t there today,” he says from the opposite end of the bath.

“You’ve got me naked with my leg in the air and you want to talk about David?” I grin, lying back and enjoying the heat of the water on my exhausted muscles. Not too exhausted that I can’t go a few more rounds with Elliot between my legs. The man is good at what he does.

“I want to talk about you. And since you’ve made it clear you two come as a pair, I expected to see him.”

I press my lips together and sigh. “He’s not speaking to me.”

“Any particular reason?”

“He thinks I shouldn’t be dating secretly, especially after what happened with Christopher.” I go with the most basic explanation I can think of. The rest is too…deeply personal.

“Does he worry I’m like Christopher?” He dips the loofah in the water, washing out the soap.

“No, I don’t think so. He was kind of all over the place when we were arguing. He thinks I’m a little reckless with my heart. Doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

He squeezes water down my leg, rinsing the soap away. “I’m not planning on hurting you.”

I smile. “No one ever is in the beginning.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“He did mention something about you, though. Something Beth told him.”

He raises his eyebrows, his eyes confused. “What did Beth tell him about me?”

I bite my lip, not really wanting to meet his eyes, afraid it might be true. “That you slept with her too. In secret. Just like you’re doing with me.”

When I look up, his eyes are wide in astonishment, the loofah frozen in place. “And you believe that?”

“No… Well, not at first. And I guess it doesn’t really matter. But… I do feel like I need to know.” I take my leg from his shoulder, sitting up a little. “Especially if it’s true. I don’t want to get my heart involved if office flings are a pattern for you.”

“Office flings?” He sits up too. “A pattern?”

“Is there an echo in here?” I say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

He wipes a hand over his face then leans forward and takes my hands, locking eyes with me as he speaks. “I’ve never slept with her, Katrina. I thought I made that clear. I have at no time even been interested in her either. I give you my word.”

I nod. “I believe you. And I’m sorry. I just had to ask.”

Sitting back, he rests his muscular arms on either side of the tub. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with Beth.”

“What are you going to do to her?”

“Let her know I don’t appreciate rumours being spread about me. Especially ones designed to get back to my girlfriend.”

I tap him on the chest with my foot. “You cannot say that. You may as well get a billboard in Martin Place and get us fired that way.”

With a chuckle, he catches my foot between his hands then works his thumbs into my aching arch. “I’ll be tactful,” he says as I moan contentedly. “And maybe just give David a little time to get used to us. I’m sure he’ll come around when he sees how serious I am.”

“You’re serious?” I ask, breathless from the glorious things he’s doing to my foot.

“As a heart attack. I don’t date unless I mean it.”

“Hmm. That’s good to know. I’m the same.”

He switches feet. “Also good to know.”

I rest my head on the bath’s edge, closing my eyes as his fingers massage up my calf, producing that glorious achy relaxation that only a good set of hands can create.

“Keep doing this and I’ll fall asleep in the tub. Then I’ll be no good to you at all.”

“I don’t just want you for your body, Katrina.”

Sitting up, I lean forward, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Now I feel really bad,” I say as I position myself over him.

His hand cups around my thigh and slides up to my hip. “For?”

“I totally want you for your body,” I whisper against his lips, reaching between us to guide his already hard shaft into my depths.

Twenty-Four

“I have to go home this morning,” I murmur, my fingers gliding through Elliot’s hair as he lies on my naked chest, listening to my heartbeat after a night filled with exploring each other’s bodies and very little sleep.

He lifts his head to look at me. “Can’t you stay tonight as well?”

“No. We have work tomorrow and I have a bunch of study I need to catch up on. There’s only one week left until exams start. Then I’m off work for three weeks.”

“For exams?”

I nod. “And my Ironman triathlon.” I lower my eyes, remembering the holiday David and I planned. That’s obviously not happening now. “It’s interstate.”

“Interstate? Where?”

“Hamilton Island.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Hamilton Island? In a month?”

“Three weeks. I put in for the extra week off work so I can have a break.”

“On Hamilton Island?” That was the plan.

“I’m not sure yet,” I lie. It’s booked, but I can feel where this conversation is going, and I can’t in good conscience take Elliot with me. I should just cancel it.

“I could always put in for a week off too? Meet you up there?”

I run my fingers back through his hair, running my index finger beneath his jaw. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Too coincidental.”

He groans and rolls onto his back. “You’re right. But does this mean I won’t get to see you for a month?”

“You can still see me. I need study breaks, you know. Let’s say, next Friday night?”

“One night a week,” he says, glancing up at the ceiling. “That’s all we get?”

I roll on my side and bounce a shoulder. “Did you expect we’d find more? You know our circumstances.”

“The moment you get a free weekend, I want you here with me the whole time.”

“Let me check my schedule.” I grin. “I’ll see if I can slot you in somewhere.”

“You better. After this race of yours, I want you Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. Maybe even Monday. I need some time with you. Like, a lot of time with you.”

“You’re making me want to complete the race and run straight to the airport to get back to you.”

He slides his arm around my waist. “How about the weekend after your competition? I’ll take you out on the town, show you off to my friends. We can celebrate the end of the uni year, and you can relax before getting back into training mode for your next event.”

“I’d like that,” I say, running my nails up and down his arm, causing his skin to bump. He hums his contentment, griping when I stop and tap him on the shoulder, asking him to hop up.

With an unhappy groan, he rolls off me. “We don’t get enough time,” he complains.

“We’ll get more time in a few weeks,” I say, as I stand up and gather my things. “Be patient.”

“Patience sucks when you can only look without touching all week.”

I lean in and kiss him tenderly. “Then savour the moments we have.”

“I do. It’s why it’s so hard to let you go.”

Smiling, I move towards the bathroom. “I need to shower. Will you drive me to the station after breakfast?”

“I’ll drive you home,” he states.

“It’s too much petrol for one weekend. I’m fine on the train.”

“No, I’m not just fucking you and dumping you at the train station. This is supposed to be a relationship. I want to drive you. I want to spend a bit more time with my girlfriend.”

“All right, you can drive me,” I soothe, loving the sound of him calling me his girlfriend. I love how sure of himself he is. I turn and walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower to wait for it to warm up.

“Do you want me to wash your back?” he calls from the bedroom.

“No, thank you. I'll never get home if we start that again,” I call back teasingly.

“That’s the point,” he says, appearing at the door, reaching out and pulling me towards him.

* * *

Two hours later we’re on the road back to Penrith. I don’t feel as though our bubble is bursting this time. We talk comfortably with each other, touching each other when we can, and making plans to continue training together at lunch times so we can still see each other during the week. Now that David isn’t having lunch with me, Mondays can be used for training as well. As much as it sucks that we can’t behave like a couple during the work week, those snatched hours of friendship are the next best thing.

“Aren’t you worried someone will see us training together and figure something is up?” I ask after a while.

“Nope.”

“Why not? Someone could see us outside the office—and not just training. They could see us, like, in the car together.”

“There’s no rule that says we can’t be seen together. We just can’t be seen dating.”

“But you want to take me out to meet your friends.”

“Yes, I do. And I don’t think that’s out of the question. If Andrew and Carmel can wander around holding hands the moment they step out of the office, I think we can do the same.”

“Yes, but Andrew isn’t you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“Jesus, Elliot, look in the mirror. The women at the office salivate over you.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“You’re not the one who copped the evil eyes when we were busted on the wharf. Believe me, you could snap your fingers at any woman in that office and they’d undress for you.”

He shudders like his skin is crawling. “Uh, don’t say that. There’s some pretty scary ladies in that office.”

I take that as a challenge and start filling his mind with images of some of the less desirable women waiting for him around corners and throwing themselves at him.

“Great, now I’m going to have nightmares,” he says, pulling to a stop at the freeway exit.

“Well, I can’t leave you like that,” I say seductively, reaching over the centre console, my hand sliding over his lap.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a slight nervous edge to his voice.

“Altering your dream,” I murmur, massaging his hardening cock and taking delight in the way his breathing changes.

“I’m going to pull over,” he says, turning the first chance he can and pulling to a stop. “Holy fuck.”

“Hmm. Is that what this is?” I ask, climbing over to his lap. “A holy fuck?” He groans as I capture his mouth in mine, kissing him intensely. My fingers entwine in his hair as I pull him closer.

Rocking my hips so we’re rubbing up against each other, I can feel his arousal pressing solidly against my own. He moans and reaches down to slide the seat back, giving us more room.

He brushes soft kisses down my neck and across my chest, massaging my breasts with his hands through my clothes. I grind against his erection. “Oh god, do you see what you do to me? I don’t think I can ever let you out of this car,” he growls.

I reach down to release him from the confines of his pants, pulling my panties to the side to take his length inside me. We both let out a long steady breath as I lower myself over him, locking eyes while I slowly move in his lap.

We move carefully together, luxuriating in our continued closeness and watching our own desire mirrored in the other’s face. When he comes, I clench my muscles against his spasms and keep on moving, knowing my own orgasm is ready to explode at any moment. As I erupt, I pull his head to my chest and hold him tightly while he holds my hips and pushes us together as deeply as we can manage.

He releases a whoosh of breath as we come down. “Guess you’re not worried about anyone from work seeing us here?”

I laugh through my nose and suck lightly on his bottom lip. “Not at all.”

Reaching into my handbag, I find some tissues to put between my legs so we can separate and I move back to the passenger seat.

“That was crazy.” With a chuckle, he looks around for a moment, resting his head back in his chair before a bewildered expression takes over his face.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just you.” He shakes his head slightly. “You get me doing things I wouldn’t normally do.”

I shrug, remembering some of David’s scathing words. “I’m told I’m a risk-taker.”

He reaches over and takes my hand in his, lifting my fingers to his lips. “I like it.”

Twenty-Five

My busy life is a blessing over the following weeks. Between study, training and exams, I barely have a moment to think. And when I do, I fill that time with Elliot, spending a snatched moment with him here and there either over the phone or in person. He’s exactly what I need to fill the quiet. My heart aches a lot less when he’s around.

Sightings of David are few and far between. I spotted him once during exams, but he left after the first hour when there were still three to go. I didn’t see him after that. But I did get an email from the resort we booked on Hamilton Island. A reminder that our cancellation window was closing. I cancelled. I don’t want to stay in some idyllic location on my own. It’d be too hard.

On the morning I’m due to fly out, I hug Mum and Dad tight before fist bumping Tom.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?” Dad asks.

“I’m going with the team on the minibus. They’re right outside,” I say, grabbing my bag as an insistent horn hurries me along. “I’ve gotta go.”

Mum gives me one last hug. “Call us as soon as you land. We’ll watch the race online. But call us when you’re through.”

“OK.” I laugh and pull away. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Good luck,” they chorus as I leave through the front door, their well wishes joining texts from Elliot, Kayley and… Christopher. That guy seems to be keeping tabs on my racing schedule. I need to tell him to back off.

No text from David. That’s three weeks with no contact. The longest we’ve ever been without each other. This sucks.

“About time,” a girl in my squad, Vanessa says as I climb inside the minibus. “Thought we were gonna miss the plane.”

“We’ve got four hours,” I say, rolling my eyes good-naturedly.

“That’s if this storm holds out,” my coach says, looking at the dark sky. “They’re forecasting big winds later today.”

“Guess we’re in for a bumpy plane ride.”

* * *

There’s no plane ride at all. When the storm hits, we’re an hour away from boarding. The winds cause them to delay our flight then finally close the whole airport down. I spend a solid two hours on public transport getting back home, close to tears because I’m missing an important event. Fuck my life.

When I walk through the door at home, I’m greeted by silence. Dad and Tom would be at work, and Mum is probably shopping or something. I’m completely alone.

I drop my bag on the floor in my room and flop down on my bed, exhausted after a day of stress. Exhausted after my exams. Exhausted after pushing my training so hard for nothing. Exhausted after…after loosing my best friend.

This is the first time since my blow up with David that I’ve stopped and felt the weight of the ball of tension I’ve been holding in my chest. It hurts. And as I take a breath, I struggle to get enough air. David. I sob into my pillow, my shoulders shaking as I let myself feel the loss. It feels like a death, but worse because he’s right around the corner but I can’t go to him. I miss him. My life doesn’t seem complete without him.

After succumbing to my exhaustion, I’m startled awake by the sound of the doorbell. For a second I just lie in bed, hoping someone else is home to get it. But when there’s a tap on my window, I practically jump to stand up.

“Come on, Trina. I know you’re there. You’re still sharing your location with me. I can track your phone.”

“What if I just left my phone behind?”

He laughs a little. “Then it’s suddenly developed its own voice and can talk to me. Listen, I know you hate me right now. But, can I come in?”

“I don’t hate you, David. I’m just…I’m sad.”

“Then open the window so I can come in out of the rain and talk to you.”

I’m both excited and nervous as I move near the window. “Are you going to yell at me again?”

“No. I just want to clear the air,” he says, his voice soft.

When I lift the blind, my heart and stomach seem to switch locations for a moment. He looks like home. He’s drenched from the pouring rain. But he looks like home.

Letting him through the window like I have a hundred times before, I get him a towel to dry off then lead him into the family room where we sit on the couch facing each other while he rubs the towel over his wet hair. I have so much I want to say to him, so much I want to ask. I want to throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly, while also wanting to slap his face and yell at him for leaving me alone for so long. With all these options swimming around in my head, I struggle to fix myself on just one. Instead, I sit there and chew on my lip, lost for conversation for the first time in my life.

“I heard the airport shut down,” he starts, clearing his throat.

I nod. “Storm’s pretty brutal.” The wind howls outside as if proving my point.

“Are you OK?”

I shrug. “Disappointed. But yeah. I’m OK.” I’m not OK. I’m alone when you’re not here and no one can take your place.

“Elliot came to visit me.”

Guilt lodges beneath my ribs. Elliot. My balm. My distraction. My calmer of storms. I can’t deny him. He treats me like I want to be treated. He’s there for me. He understands.

“He did?”

“He got my number from Carmel. Called and asked if he could come over and have a chat.”

“When did he do that?”

“Sunday.” After he drove me home.

“What did you talk about?”

I sit watching his handsome face struggle before he can speak again. “He's not as bad as I thought he was. I should apologise to you for calling him a meathead.”

“I see. What led you to that conclusion?”

“We talked about you. How important you and your happiness are to both of us. He opened my eyes to a few things, and I guess we kind of have… an understanding now.”

“An understanding? What does that mean?” Where does it leave us?

“Well,” he says, frowning before he swallows. “We want you to be happy.” He pauses and locks eyes with me for a moment. “With him.”

“What are you saying?” I shake my head, confused.

“I’m saying… he’s a good guy. I think he’s perfect for you, actually. I was wrong about him and Beth. He’s…” He groans a little as he rubs a hand through his damp hair. “I’d date him if I was a chick.” He laughs and flashes me a half smile. “I think he’s the one guy you’ve dated who’s actually good enough for you.”

My heart practically stops beating, caught in my throat because none of this feels like making up. It feels…it feels like closure.

“Where does this leave us?” I ask in a whisper.

“I don’t know, Trina.” He turns his head away slightly, a look of sorrow in his eyes. It makes me nervous.

“But…I need you, David. You’re my best friend.” It comes out hoarse, laced with tears that threaten to spill from my eyes.

He sighs and takes my hand in his, stroking his thumb over it lightly as he speaks to it instead of me. “When Christopher hurt you, it made me realise how…important, you were—are—to me. I should have said something sooner, but I was waiting…and I waited too long. God, it’s so hard watching you move on. I thought I’d know when it was time, but whenever I opened my mouth, the fear—the fucking fear—crawled up my throat and stopped the words.” He stops and blows out his breath.

“What are saying?”

He looks at me with panicked eyes, a fine layer of sweat coating his skin. “I don’t think I can handle you dating anymore, baby girl. I feel horrible whenever I see or think about you with him, with anyone. And… I know it’s too late. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying we can’t go back to being friends again? I miss you, David. I'm lonely without you.” I can feel myself shaking, so scared that whatever is happening between us can’t be fixed.

“I’m glad you’re with someone like Elliot. He’s a decent guy. But I’m struggling here, Trina. It’s hard for me to be around you.” He bites his lip. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“No, David. I don’t understand any of this.” Tears fill my eyes, and it takes all of my self-control not to let them spill out.

He reaches up and cups my cheek in his hand, gently caressing my skin. “Can’t you hear me, Trina? I keep telling you. But you’re not getting it.” He leans in close and presses his forehead against mine while letting out a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you.” He presses his lips softly against mine, holding for just a moment before he pulls away and stands as if he’s about to leave.

My heart explodes in my chest at the shock of his confession. No. No. This isn’t possible. He said he only loves me as a friend. That we could could never… because he didn’t… oh God.

My tears fall. “You love me?” I force out, shaking and confused. “Now? After all this time?” I press my hand to my chest. “All this pain?” I can barely see through my tears. “Now you love me? Now?” No. I just got over you.

“I know. It’s shitty timing. I should have made it clear earlier. But I didn’t want to risk ruining what we have—”

“Don’t, David.” I hold up my hand. “Don’t use that excuse when you ruined us, anyway.”

“I was scared, Trina. I didn’t trust myself with you. I thought I’d fuck it up, freak out with you like I do with every girl who gets too close. But I’ve already lost you. I’ve fucked us up without even giving us a chance.”

I shake my head. “How long have you felt this way?”

He runs his hands through his hair and lets out his breath. “Always, I think. But I’ve been sure since the attack, when I thought I’d lost you...”

“And you’ve waited a year? Waited until I’ve finally moved on to tell me this? What are you doing, David? Why are you confusing things? I thought you just wanted to be friends. You’re the one who always said that friends are better than lovers. We’re in this mess because of you!” My voice becomes shrill as I spring to my feet, my body shaking, ears ringing. I can’t face this. I’ve worked so hard on accepting a life without having him, and now that I’m finally in a relationship with a guy who makes me happy, he’s put a bomb under us. What am I supposed to do here? Dump Elliot for David when I swore to him there was nothing between us? Am I supposed to ruin something good on the off-chance David finally has his shit together and can give me what I want? Am I supposed to jump at the click of his fingers and forgive him for years of pain and feelings of worthlessness?

What do I do with this information?

My head feels set to explode.

It feels too late.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I know what I said, and I know I’ve led you to believe everything was still the same between us, but it isn’t. It hasn’t been the same for a long time.”

I shake my head, struggling to believe his words. This is what he does. He wants me when he can’t have me, but when I’m available his interest wanes. I can’t keep playing these games. “So, let me get this straight—you’ve been in love with me forever? You’ve been sure for a whole year? But you’ve been fucking other women the entire time?” I demand, remembering all the comments, the nights he left me to meet someone else.

He shakes his head and meets my eyes. “I haven’t slept with anyone since your accident. I couldn’t. I only wanted you. I…” His gaze waivers. “I didn’t touch anyone else until Beth.”

My hand flies to my stomach as a sickness rises in my throat. “Until Beth? You actually slept with her?” I can hardly breathe, I’d been hoping I was wrong. “When?”

“That night at Pontoon. When I found out you left without me, I’d missed the last train and…” He doesn’t finish, just lets the rest of it hang in the air so I can figure it out for myself. He lied.

I nod, my jaw set in frustration. “You went back to her place, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And one thing led to another, and now… you’re dating her? Is that why she’s been so smug with me in the office?”

He doesn’t answer. But I know it’s the truth, I can read it in his eyes.

“Then why are you here?” I yell. “Why did you walk through the rain and climb through my window? Why did you kiss me and tell me you love me when it’s all too fucking late?” Each word gets louder until my voice is vibrating in my ears, scratching at my throat.

“Because I needed to know,” he shoots back.

“Know what?” I screech. Then he grabs me.

He grabs me either side of my face and kisses the ever-loving crap out of me, his tongue pushing past my lips and taking control of mine. And fucked if I don’t respond, grabbing his neck and taking my anger out on his mouth, my whole body buzzing and out of control. It’s a violent clash of teeth and emotion that ends when I place my hands on his shoulders and push him away.

“You can’t do this, David!” I wipe at my angry tears. “You can’t come in here and do that when I’m dating someone else. When you’re dating someone else. You had months to make this happen. Years. And you’re choosing the one time we’re both in relationships? How can I believe this is real? How can I trust you not to break my heart again?”

Agonised in his movement, he digs both of his hands into his hair then lets them fall to his sides as his eyes shine. “You can’t,” he forces out. “You can’t trust this because I don’t even trust my fucking self.”

“Then why are you here?” I screech through my tears, chest shaking with my sobs.

“To say goodbye. To put an end to what we are once and for all. I can’t be the man you need, Trina. I never could. But I can’t be your friend anymore either. It hurts us both too damn much.”

“Fuck you,” I cry, stepping back and shaking my head. “Fuck you, David. Fuck you for every day, for every moment. I wish I never met you. I wish you never sat next to me on that bus.” He’s exploding my world, shaking my foundation. This is a life we built together, brick by brick at his instruction. Now he’s tearing it down and I wish we’d never started. I’ll never find my heart beneath the rubble. He’s ruined me.

“I’m sorry.” He wipes a tear that streaks down his face.

“Fuck your sorry.”

“This is the right thing to do,” he murmurs, lifting an arm like he’s about to touch me but doesn’t. “You’ll understand someday. When you’re happily married and have a couple of kids who are beautiful just like you, you’ll look back and think, ‘Thank fuck he left. He was only holding me back.’”

A noisy sob bursts painfully from my chest as I cover my face with my hands. I can’t imagine ever feeling happy again.

He leans in and brushes his lips against my hair and inhales. “Good bye, Trina,” he whispers.

When I hear the front door click shut, my legs can’t hold me up anymore. I drop on the couch, crying through this pain, a pain so deep, so intense, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. A year ago, Christopher broke my body. But David just destroyed my heart. Not even time can heal that.

Twenty-Six

“Here,” Mum says, offering me a folded up wash cloth. “Put this over your eyes. It’ll help with the swelling.”

Taking the cold compress from her hands, I lie back on my bed and place it over my eyes, sending the room black. “Thanks, Mum.”

She gives my forearm a squeeze then quietly leaves my room. When she got home late yesterday afternoon, she found me a snivelling mess in my pit of despair that seemed too enormous for me to climb out of. But she pulled me back up. Sat with me and listened to my broken sentences, my confused words while she made me tea and stroked my hair. What I appreciated most was that she didn’t offer me solutions. She just heard me out and told me I was the strongest person she’s ever known. “I expect you to keep fighting,” she said. Which is exactly what I plan to do.

As soon as my face looks normal again. Why can’t I be a pretty crier?

Blindly reaching over to my bedside table, I grab my phone with a plan to put on some calming music so I can meditate and get my mind thinking straight again.

David and I are through. It hurts like a bitch, but we’ve been fighting on and off for the last couple of months. With our emotions clashing so much, there isn’t a hell of a lot for us to do besides call it quits. I always wanted him to give me the world, and he always called me that. I suppose in a way this is him delivering. His version of giving me the world is giving me my life back. But it’s a life that doesn’t have him in it.

Just the thought brings a prickle to my eyes.

I wish he could see himself for the man I’ve always known. He’s so much more than his father taught him he was, so much more than his own self-deprecating mind gives him credit for. I’m really going to miss him.

But maybe this is for the best. If he can admit he loves me, but still can’t bring himself to fight for me then what is there left for us? Nothing.

Before I get the chance to select my music, my phone lights up in my hand, vibrating along with Elliot’s ringtone.

“Hello there, Evan,” I say, my voice sounding a little croaky as I put the handset near my ear.

He chuckles. “I’m still in your phone as Evan?”

I’m surprised when my lips manage to form a smile. “Sure are.”

“I was calling to see how your race went. I looked up the results but couldn’t find your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t get to race.”

“Shit. What happened?”

“Airport closure. The winds were too strong, and they grounded the planes.”

“Are you serious? So, you didn’t even leave Sydney?”

“Nope. Came right home and spent a depressive evening watching Netflix with Mum and Dad.” It’s not a complete lie. I simply leave out the part where David came to visit and ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it in his bare hand.

“I’m really sorry you missed your race, beautiful. I know how much you were looking forward to it. Although, I wish you’d called me. I could’ve made your night a lot less depressing.”

I place my hand across my eyes, pressing the cool of the washcloth against my cry-sore eyelids. “I’ve no doubt. I think spending the night with you would have been a million times better. But I was exhausted yesterday. We waited at the airport for ages then I was so disappointed that all I wanted to do was zone out.”

“What about tonight? Are you too tired to come and see me?”

My heart starts beating faster, and I hesitate, unsure what to say to him. How do I explain my swollen eyes? How do I explain the fact that David kissed me yesterday, and I kissed him back? Do I even tell him that? I mean, if David and I are truly over, does Elliot need to know?

I don’t know.

“Don’t rush to answer,” he jokes with a slight laugh.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ve just got myself in a bit of a funk.” Another truth. Is avoiding the details still lying?

“All the more reason to come out with me. I’m meeting up with some friends at a nightclub tonight. You should come. We can drink too much and fuck each other’s brains out. You can’t be in a funk during a good fuck, Katrina.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “You should make inspirational posters with doozeys like that.”

“What I’m hearing is that I’ve inspired you. Does that mean you’re coming?”

I sit up and pull the cloth from my face, looking in the mirror at my red eyes and puffy face. I suppose a good layer of makeup can cover that up. “Why not,” I concede with a smile. “Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll text you the details,” he said, happiness in his words. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too,” I say as we disconnect, and I press my phone to my chest on a sigh. I think he’s the one guy you’ve dated who’s actually good enough for you.

David’s words echo inside my head as I suck in a deep breath.

He expects me to fall in love and be happy without him.

Mum expects me to keep fighting.

And I…I don’t know what I want. But I know I don’t want to keep being sad. I want to feel something.

I want to be wanted.

Elliot wants me.

Pulling my desk chair out so I’m sitting directly in front of my mirror, I dig through my makeup bag and line up everything I think I’ll need. Then I pull up YouTube and search for tutorials on how to create the perfect smoky eye.

You can’t be in a funk during a good fuck.

“Be in the moment, Katrina. Elliot will make you happy,” I whisper to my reflection, forcing myself to believe it. No more crying over things I can’t have.

* * *

“Wow,” Elliot says, a massive grin on his face as he walks towards me when I exit the station. “You look gorgeous.”

After spending all afternoon working on my makeup. I straightened my hair and put on my black dress covered with small red printed flowers. It has a fitted bodice and a loose flowing skirt that ends just above mid-thigh. I think it’s very feminine and great for showing off my legs. I’ve topped it off with a pair of red strappy heels and do a little twirl and curtsy in front of him.

“You smell good too,” he says, taking me in his arms and kissing my neck. I like the soft brush of his stubble as it grazes my skin. When you’re happily married and have a couple of kids who are beautiful just like you, you’ll look back and think, ‘Thank fuck he left. He was only holding me back.’

“You’re looking pretty gorgeous yourself,” I say, trying to force my mind quiet as I smooth my hands over his rock-hard chest. I inhale, filling my nose with his manly scent. I need this. He wants me.

“This old thing,” he jokes. “I threw it on in the dark.” He’s wearing dark denim jeans that hug his arse and his package perfectly and an emerald green shirt, sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms. I can’t help but run my hands down his arms to feel the rise and fall of each muscle with my fingertips.

“I think we had better get going before I take you in a dark corner and fuck you publicly,” he growls into my ear, causing excitement to bubble in my belly.

“I wouldn’t stop you,” I whisper, nipping lightly on the soft part of his ear and I focus on the way his hands wander over my skin.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep watching you self-destruct the way you do.

“You’re bad.” He chuckles, his fingers pressing into the curve of my arse. “Where’s your purse?”

“I don’t need one. My ID’s in my bra along with my emergency money and ATM card.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll have to remember that later.”

Taking my hand, Elliot leads me through the city streets, talking a little about work since I haven’t been there for a couple of weeks as well as telling me about his friends. “You’ll meet Gary and his girl, Stephanie. I’ve known them both since uni. They’re going to love you.”

“I like that you’re so sure.”

He squeezes my hand and flashes me his perfect smile. “What’s not to love?” He’s a good guy. I think he’s perfect for you.

By the time we make it to the nightclub, I’ve lost track of where we are. We’ve wound our way between some buildings and now we’re heading past a crowded line waiting to get in a door with no sign.

“Is this one of those cool clubs you only hear about?”

He flashes me another grin. “That’s exactly what this is.”

We walk to the front of the line, and Elliot speaks to the bouncer, shaking hands and sharing a joke before the bouncer unclips the barrier rope and allows us through.

“Is there a special codeword you need to know to get through?” I ask.

With a laugh, Elliot shakes his head. “I used to work security during my uni days. The bouncer and I know each other.”

“Ah, you’re connected.”

The music washes over us as we step through the doors after Elliot pays our cover charge, vibrating my body from my feet to my throat. I haven’t been to a nightclub since…

I’ve already lost you. I’ve fucked us up without even giving us a chance.

I blink twice, forcing myself back to the present where Elliot is looking at me like he’s expecting an answer.

“Huh?”

“I asked what you wanted to drink.”

“Oh.” I don’t want my usual. Tonight is about change. It’s about leaving the past behind. I look up and meet his eyes. “Vodka and Red Bull.”

He grins. “Someone doesn’t plan on sleeping tonight?”

I hook a finger in the waist of his jeans and tug. “Want to keep me company?”

“You know I do,” he says, cupping the back of my head and kissing me deeply, truly, thoroughly. He wants me. “How about you find us a table and I’ll get you that drink?” He nods over my shoulder to where there’s a lounge area with tables and plush-looking chairs.

Despite the line outside, the inside isn’t crazy busy, so I settle into the soft orange bench and watch him from afar. I like the way he moves. He’s a man who’s comfortable in his own skin, but not cocky enough to let his looks go to his head.

You can’t trust this because I don’t even trust my fucking self.

I close my eyes, each remembered line a stabbing in the chest. That drink can’t get here fast enough.

“Thank you,” I say, grabbing for my drink as Elliot slides onto the bench next to me, sucking it down without taking a breath.

“Thirsty?” He laughs, and I place my hand against my face.

“I’m sorry. Yes. I was really thirsty. I’ll get the next one.” I move to stand, but he holds onto my arm, gesturing to a couple who’ve joined our table without me realising. How embarrassing.

“These are the friends I was telling you about,” Elliot says near my ear to be heard over the music. “Gary and Stephanie.”

“We went to Uni together,” Gary yells across the table as we shake hands. He’s a decent-looking guy with close-cropped brown hair, around Elliot’s shoulder in height.

“Nice to meet you,” Stephanie yells, leaning over to give me an overly familiar hug. She’s a small red-head who seems even younger than me. But if she was at uni with Elliot and Gary, I figure she’s the same age. “We’ve never met one of Elliot’s girlfriends before. You must be special.”

I feel myself blush a little as I look between Stephanie and Elliot. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Elliot slides his arm around me, kissing my shoulder. “She’s very special,” he confirms, and I have to fight the unwanted tears from springing to my eyes. I can’t be the man you need, Trina. I never could.

I run a light finger along Elliot’s stubbled jaw. He wants me.

“How did you two meet?” Stephanie asks, cutting into our moment.

“We work together,” I supply as Elliot tells me he’ll grab me another drink and heads back to the bar with Gary.

“Really?” Stephanie places her chin on her hand as she leans on the table. “I thought dating was a big no-no at work?”

“Has he wanted to date a colleague before me?” My jealous instinct rears up.

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, I just remember him mentioning it when he started. Gary thought it was a crappy policy. He and I met through work.”

“I thought you met through uni?”

“That’s how I met Elliot. Gary and I worked in the same restaurant. Turned out we went to the same uni too. We met up a few times between class, and he’d drive me home after work.” She remembers their beginning with a sweet smile. “Anyway, that’s when I met Elliot too. They were in their final year. I was first year. I felt pretty cool hanging around with a couple of would-be lawyers.”

“How’s Gary liking his first year in the field?”

“Oh, Gary’s happy and settled with his firm. It’s a little boutique place in North Sydney focusing on corporate. Nowhere near as big as Turner, Barlow, Smith. But Elliot always had big goals. He’s got big footprints to follow.”

“I heard his dad expects him to become a barrister.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “He wants him to become a judge. That’s why he’s working where he is. One of the partners has the ear of the Attorney General. If Elliot plays ball, he’ll be on the fast track once he’s transferred to Chambers.”

I frown. “Sounds like a lot of back scratching is going on.”

She shrugs. “When you’re the only son and there’s a family legacy to uphold, you do what you gotta do.”

“Too bad if you hated law,” I say, testing to see what she knows.

She seems unfazed. “Elliot’s a natural. Valedictorian. He’ll blow everyone away.” If Ken ever lets him out of the office. I keep that thought to myself, not sure if Elliot has discussed his unhappiness over work with his friends.

I glance up, spotting Elliot and Gary approaching with more drinks. They have that easy camaraderie that comes from being long-time friends, talking close and laughing together. They stop and chat with a group of three guys and two girls. It’s a flurry of hand clapping, shoulder slapping and cheek kissing. One girl lingers with her hand on Elliot’s chest, and I feel the beginnings of a pang of jealousy developing in the pit of my stomach. But when Elliot steps back and points over to us, an intimate grin curving his mouth when he meets my eyes, my worries die and my heart swells. Elliot wants me.

“There are going to be a lot of girls around here who are pissed you snagged him,” Stephanie says, watching the same thing I am.

I roll my eyes and laugh. “Is there anywhere that doesn’t have girls crushing on Elliot?”

She laughs along with me and shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

With a shrug, I give her a look that says, ‘well there you go’.

Elliot and Gary return with the drinks and their friends, and Elliot brings me to his side, introducing me to the group. I only catch the name of a blond guy called Michael, and a dark-haired guy with a tattooed arm called Brad. The rest gets lost in the club's noise. Regardless, I nod hello and shake hands, smiling politely to each of them. The girl who was clinging to Elliot gives me a fake-bright smile and shakes my hand weakly. Sorry, sweetheart. He’s mine now, my eyes smile and say in return.

“These are your friends, huh?” I ask Elliot, sipping on my new drink as one of the guys announces he’s buying shots and takes off for the bar.

Elliot smiles after him before returning his attention to me. “Are they too much?”

“Not at all. I like it.”

“They’re a cool bunch. I’ve known most since school—Brad, I know from the kayaking club—and a couple are from my security days.”

“So popular. They must know Evan more than Elliot.”

He chuckles. “Well, he is the fun one.” Pulling my chin towards him, he kisses me softly.

“Yeah. But Elliot is the sexy one,” I say, smiling up at him, feeling decidedly smitten.

Goodbye, Trina.

Elliot kisses me harder, more intensely. It goes a long way towards pushing the hurt from losing David away and showing me the path forward. David was right, we were only hurting each other.

“Tequila!” A cheer erupts at our tables as Michael places a tray in the centre of the table, laden with shot glasses, a bowl full of lemon wedges and sachets of salt.

“All right, everyone. Lick your hands and hold them out,” he bellows over the music, shaking salt on the back of our hands between our thumb and index fingers. One of the girls hands out the lemon wedges, and Brad hands out the tequila shots.

We hold them aloft as Michael calls out, “Ready? Go!”

In synchronised movement, we lick the salt, knock back the tequila and suck on the lemon, dropping the rind back on the tray as we all make noises about how much the alcohol burns on its way down our throats.

“I swear that stuff removes your nose hairs!” Stephanie yells.

I nod in agreement. I feel as though my own sinuses are much clearer after that shot.

“Round two!” Some other guy calls as he comes over with a new loaded tray. He’s new to me, but the group seems pleased with his arrival.

“Holy shit!” I laugh as I hold out my hand for the salt, the process beginning again. I’m already feeling the alcohol all the way down to my feet.

“You don’t have to do them if you don’t want to,” Elliot assures me.

“It’s OK. I'll be fine.”

Famous. last. words.

I think we do six shots in total before moving back to vodka and Red Bull. We’re all laughing and dancing and just being generally stupid, which is just what I needed. I’m too smashed to think about my missed competition or my absent friend. I’m just feeling the music and the magical hum in my veins that numbs the bad and heightens the good. I’m a happy drunk.

On the packed dance floor, hot bodies press together, gyrating away to the music under the constant flashing lights.

Elliot and I break away from the rest of the group, my arms wrapped around his neck, our hips grinding. Grabbing a hold of my head to still my movement, he places his mouth on mine and devours me. Long deep satisfying kisses that travel down my neck and back up to my mouth. I need more. I need to feel how much he wants me, test how far he’s willing to go. I want him so turned on he loses control, willing to take risks, just to have me. Call me crazy, call me conceited, but when I writhe against him, feeling his public arousal press against my pelvis, I place my hand on his crotch and rub him through his jeans.

I feel a vibration as he moans into my mouth and pulls my body closer to his, gripping my behind and letting his hand travel under my dress to rub between my legs. A sense of triumph sets my body on fire as I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist, pressing myself against his erection, wondering how far we can take this. He grips my buttocks tightly and presses himself harder against me, groaning as we dry fuck to the music in the middle of a crush of bodies.

Needing more than mere friction, the alcohol removing any concern for what I’m about to do, I reach between us and undo his zipper, sliding his erection out and taking it inside me via the side of my panties. We both gasp as we make contact, never breaking the connection between our mouths. I keep my leg up and wrapped tightly around his waist as we move our hips together. My head is filled with a rush of desire, the risk of being caught, and the dizzying effects of the alcohol in the thump of the music. It all makes this so much more intense and pleasurable, and the act chases all of my thoughts away. I can only focus on what’s happening right in this moment. Bliss.

He groans into my mouth as he comes, and I experience a sheer rush of adrenaline, enjoying what I do to him. What we do to each other. I can’t help but delight in the fact this gorgeous hunk of a man, the man so many other women wanted, has chosen me. Me. The girl who always gets left behind. He chose me…

“Holy fuck, Katrina,” he moans in my ear. “See what you do to me?”

I grin as I put my leg back down and he slides out of me, straightening himself up as discreetly as possible. He holds my face in his hands and grins wildly at me, laughing and shaking his head before he kisses me again. The joy in his eyes, the sense of being the centre of his world gives me a great sense of belonging as we continue to dance and kiss and touch each other, ignoring everyone else around us. There’s only us. I can be happy with this man.

By the time my mouth has gone dry, I feel a little less drunk. I tell Elliot I need some water, and he immediately volunteers to get me some.

“I’ll meet you at the bar,” I say. “I should visit the ladies’ room to clean up a little.”

He nods. “Still in a funk?”

I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

He kisses me briefly, then we head in opposite directions, holding on to each other until we can’t reach anymore. We can’t wipe the smiles from our faces.

When I reach the ladies' room, the line is snaking towards the door as it typically does in nightclubs. While I wait, I spot Stephanie talking to another girl while she touches up her makeup. Noticing me too, she smiles at me via the mirror then joins me in line.

“You look like you’ve been having a good time.” She gives me a knowing grin and I wonder if she noticed anything on the dance floor.

“I am drunk off my head. But I’m having a blast.”

“I love how much Elliot adores you.” She sighs and touches her chest lightly. “You’re literally the only person he can see. It’s beautiful.”

“Surely I’m not the only girl he’s ever been with.”

She shrugs. “Not like this.”

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

“I hear you’re Elliot’s girlfriend?” The girl Stephanie was chatting to holds out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Jasmine.”

“Katrina.”

“You have to tell us; how did you land Elliot? He never goes out with any of us—not through a lack of trying on our part.” Jasmine laughs, and Stephanie lifts her eyebrows in a ‘told you so’ expression.

“I didn’t do anything special. We just get along.”

“Yes. But I get along with Elliot too. What makes us so different?” She doesn’t seem to be saying this to be snide. There is more of a genuine curiosity behind her words. I have to admit that I can see where she’s coming from. She really is a gorgeous girl, with dark chocolate eyes, honey-kissed hair and full lips. She is probably a head shorter than me and has the classic hour-glass figure that men drool over. I can understand that when you look like her, you’re used to having men all over you. So, when a guy doesn’t give you the attention you’re after, it could be a little confronting.

Compared to her, I feel enormous and awkward. I get my fair share of attention from men, but it’s rare that I get that attention from someone who’s taller than me. Normally, I find that the tall fit men I’m interested in, are attracted to girls who look exactly like the one standing in front of me. David was a prime example of that…David. David who loves me. David who would rather run away than fight for me. David. Fuck.

“Jasmine!” Stephanie chides, snapping me back to the present. “You can’t say that.”

“What? I’m not being mean, I’m just wondering is all,” Jasmine says, wide-eyed.

“I’m not offended, it’s fine. I understand. But I guess I can put it down to mutual interests: we train together at lunchtimes, and everything just kind of progressed from there.”

“Ah, see? I knew there had to be something special about you—you’re a fitness nut too,” she says, waggling her finger at me and smiling like she broke the code.

I laugh, and then it’s my turn to use the toilets, so I tell them I’ll see them out there. When I finish and leave the cubicle, I almost laugh aloud when I see my reflection in the mirror. My mouth is all red from all the kissing earlier, and my hair is slightly messed up with my smoky eye looking more like a panda eye. I pat some water over my face and wipe a damp paper towel under my eyes. The girl next to me offers me her lip-gloss and I happily accept, applying it before I smooth down my hair and teeter back out to the dance floor feeling slow and light-headed.

Holy shit. I’m more drunk than I thought.

Making my way over to the bar, I can’t see Elliot. I look towards the tables we were sitting at earlier and find him there talking to Brad and Gary. When he sees me, he smiles, holding up the bottle of water he’s gotten for me. I walk over to him and take it, gratefully drinking half of it. Waiting for me to screw the lid back on, he pulls me down to sit on his lap, absent-mindedly caressing my thigh as he continues to talk to his friends.

A few others come over to join us, and some of the girls ask me if I want to go and dance again while the men all talk and drink. I’m about to go, but Elliot tightens his grip around my waist and implores me to ‘stay’ before kissing me behind my ear. My heart flips with emotion and the intimacy of that one word.

He wants me to stay. He won’t let me dance alone.

Emotion pricks my eyes, and I press against him just that little firmer, feeling that the closer I am, the less heavy my heart is.

When the club calls last drinks, we all head outside together. Some want to continue to party elsewhere, while others say their goodbyes and make their way to the taxi rank. Elliot’s friends are so kind and complimentary towards me and say they hope to see me again soon. “Same here,” I say.

Elliot puts his arm around me, and we walk over to join the queue so we can catch a taxi back to his place. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks. “No more funk?”

“No more funk,” I repeat, smiling up at him. “Your friends are really nice. Thanks for introducing me.”

“I’m glad you like them. They seemed to like you.”

“Well, I think I’m a bit of an enigma to them. They said you don’t bring girls out very often.”

“I don’t.”

“Good,” I tell him seriously. I don't think I could have taken it if I was perceived as just another girl hanging off Elliot’s arm. I’ve spent too much of my life feeling that way, copping shitty stares from other girls as a result. But, if I’m copping shitty stares because I’m the only one and they’re jealous, well, I can handle that.

We stop when we reach the end of the line, and he turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I’m not hiding my feelings for you anymore. I don’t even give a fuck about work. I just want to be with you.” He slurs a little, and when I look up at him, the world is swimming, but I’m happy to hear that.

In my drunken mind, it’s one of the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

I kiss him, emotion mixed with alcohol swirling within me, filling my cracked heart with hope.

I want to fall for this guy. I want him to become my world and make me whole again.

We aren’t as urgent with each other when we get back to his place this time. Instead, he leads me to his room, and we take our time, slowly undressing and touching each other, stumbling a little with drunken fingers. I love to run my hands over his chest and down over his abs, feeling the hard strength rippling just beneath his smooth skin.

When he lowers me on the bed, he takes his weight on his hands and holds himself over me looking down, searching my face with his eyes. I smile, languishing under his gaze as I reach up to run my hands through his thick hair.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says seriously.

“I’m glad, because I think I could fall for you too,” I whisper back, my voice wavering as I speak words I believe in this moment to be true. But deep inside, I feel a pang that whispers another name, one my heart can never seem to let go of. What is wrong with me?

When Elliot leans down and kisses me, I empty my mind, focusing on his motion as he makes love to me with tender movements. I almost cry from the beauty of it, keeping my eyes open the whole time, filling my mind with the man above me, forcing another face out of my mind, trying to surrender to what I’m feeling and let it consume me.

Twenty-Seven

“Stay with me.” Elliot slides his arm around me, naked bodies pressing close beneath grey sheets.

I look at him through lazy slits. “I am so hungover right now. I’m not leaving this bed until I’m forced to.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“What is?”

“You’re spending the next few days with me.”

I grin. “You just decided that for me, did you?”

“Yep.” His hand moves against my skin, over the curve of my behind, down to the back of my thigh which he pulls so my leg wraps around his waist. “You said you had a week off when your exams and your race was done. I couldn’t go to Hamilton Island with you. But I can definitely hide you away in my apartment so I can come home and fuck you into relaxation every night. You can spend the days on the beach, soaking up the sun, taking in the beachside vibe. It’s a perfect solution.”

“Perfect, huh?”

He nods. “One where we both get what we want.”

“Hmm.” I place my hand on his ribs, moving my fingers lightly. “If you’re hiding me here, does that mean the job remains?”

His eyes lose focus for a moment before clearing up as his drunken ramblings seem to dawn on him. “For now, unfortunately. Drunk me seems to forget I’m a Roberts. There’s a path I need to follow.”

“See, that really bothers me. If you’re truly unhappy making your career in law, you should be free to pursue something else. Regardless of who your family is. Life’s too short to be miserable. Believe me. I almost died.”

He lets out a sigh as he shifts to run his fingers over the scar on my face. “I hear you. I do. But it isn’t that easy. I’ve spent my whole life working towards something.”

“Becoming a judge?” He frowns. “Stephanie told me,” I supply, and he nods. “But what’s the point in achieving something when you don’t want it?”

He sighs again and rolls onto his back. “You’re right. I know you are. I just…I don’t know how to say no to this. The pieces are all in place. If I pull out now, I’ll embarrass my father. I don’t want to do that.”

“So, to save him some embarrassment, you’d rather a lifetime in a career you hate?”

With an empty laugh, he sits up and hangs his legs over the side of the bed, the muscles in his back flexing. “It is what it is, Katrina. No sense fighting over it.” He pulls on a pair of trackpants, walking out of the room.

“Elliot,” I call out to his retreating form. “Shit.” I need to learn when to leave things alone.

Getting up, I grab one of his T-shirts from the back of a chair and drop it over my head, taking a moment to hold the shirt to my nose as I breathe in his scent, which is everything I currently find erotic.

Following him out, I find him in the kitchen pulling coffee cups from the cupboard while the kettle boils on the corner of the bench.

“I’m sorry,” I say, moving so I’m standing behind him, sliding my arms around his naked torso. “I shouldn’t be prying into your family business. I guess I just liked the idea of us quitting that place and getting new jobs that let us be together like a normal couple.”

Setting the mugs on the bench, he turns in my arms with an exhale. “From what I understand, most normal couples keep their relationships out of the office too. Granted, they don’t work together, but when you break this down, we’re no different. Work is work. Home is home. The only thing different here is that there’s an added risk if we get caught. But we can handle that, right?” He gives my waist a gentle squeeze. “From what I remember of last night, you’re pretty good at taking risks.”

I bite my lip and smile, remembering our very dirty dance. “What can I say? I’m a bad girl.”

He claps a hand against my arse. “Exactly how I like you,” he says, bringing his lips to mine. “That’s my favourite shirt, by the way.”

“Oh? You want me to take it off?” I ask, pulling back slightly.

He hooks his finger in the neckline and pulls it towards him, looking at my nakedness on the inside. “No. Having you inside it is what makes it my favourite.” Snaking his other hand down from my waist to slide under the shirt, he caresses my bare behind. “My absolute favourite shirt.” I melt into his hard chest once more as we kiss again, his hands roaming over my body, underneath the shirt.

In a show of great restraint, he steps away and says, “A hangover cure. Eggs, bacon, English muffins, headache pills and a bunch of coffee.”

“I was hoping you’d serve me Elliot, with a side of more Elliot,” I purr, reaching for the waist of his pants and sliding my hand inside, cupping his length.

“God, I love your touch,” he moans, closing his eyes as he leans against the benchtop.

“I love your cock,” I say, dropping to my knees to take him into my mouth.

His fingers go into my hair as I work him with my tongue and my hand, imagining myself doing something like this in the office, hiding out under his desk, driving him to climax while trying to maintain a degree of professionalism while on a call or holding a meeting. It makes my insides clench with excitement as I wonder if we’d get away with it.

“Fuck, Katrina.” He blows, his cock pulsing in my mouth, spilling his seed into my throat as I swallow it down.

“Yummy,” I say, licking my lips as he pulls me to my feet and hoists me onto the table, taking a seat in front of me.

“My turn,” he says as he pushes my thighs open and leans forwards, sliding his tongue between my folds, flicking against my throbbing clit until I’m writhing in ecstasy and calling out his name.

“I’m not full yet,” I say as he wipes a hand over his mouth and stands before me, his cock in his hand. “I think I need something more.”

He grins, positioning his cock at my entrance before ramming inside me, causing me to gasp from the suddenness of it. “Better?”

I clutch myself against him and breathe into his ear. “Yes. That's what I needed. You inside me.”

He pushes deeply and lifts me from the table, walking with us still connected until he’s sitting on the couch, me on top of him, grinding my hips, so I can take in every millimetre of his length.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, lifting myself up until he’s just about to slide out before I slam back down again, gripping him tightly as I repeat the process. He throws his head back and moans, his hands resting on my hips as he guides my rhythm. Over and over.

His body shudders, and he holds his breath as he comes, burying his face in my neck and kissing me. I curl my fingers through his hair and tilt his head up so I can return his kiss, wriggling in his lap to enjoy our continued connection.

“Best hangover cure ever,” he says as our breathing settles down.

“Hmm. I still want the bacon and eggs though.”

“And you’ll get them. Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t give me an answer earlier.”

“About spending my week off with you?”

He nods.

“Hmm.” I rake my hands though his hair like a brush as I squeeze my internal muscles against his softening cock. “Will I get a lot of sex? Like, heaps of it?”

He grins. “I will fuck you from the moment I walk through that door at night until the moment I leave the next morning.”

“OK then. I’ll stay. I’ll need to go home and grab some things, but yeah. I’ll spend this week with you.”

“Fuck. Yes,” he says, flipping me back on the couch as he moves inside me again. Seems he’s definitely a man of his word.

Twenty-Eight

“Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” Elliot asks on Wednesday morning. “I could finally introduce you to the wonderful world of Indiana Jones.” He’s drinking his coffee while I sit on the bench in one of his T-shirts, pulling his tie loose and undoing his buttons. I’m not very good at helping him get ready for work.

“Do you think you can keep your hands off me for that long?” I ask him in a sultry voice.

“Probably not. I literally just fucked you and I’m already hard again.”

“I know.” I smile up at him. “It’s why I’m taking your clothes off again. Can’t let a good boner go to waste.”

He laughs, placing his mug on the bench. “You’re gonna make me late. Again.”

Pulling his belt open, I slide my hand inside his pants. “I’m trying to care about that. But I can’t.”

“My god. I need some self-control around you.”

“No, you don’t.” I lean in and run my tongue along the pulse point in his neck. “You need to fuck me until you leave for work and fuck me again when you get home. Then during our movie, before we sleep. Over and over again.”

He groans and frees himself from his pants. “You’re going to be my downfall,” he says, just before his cock and his mouth collide with me at the same time, tongue down my throat, cock in my pussy, I can barely contain myself. I feel so incredibly good being the object of this man’s desire. It was just the holiday I needed.

“OK. Now you can go to work,” I say when he’s done, helping him straighten his shirt and tie while he fixes his pants. “Think of me naked in the shower touching myself while you’re gone.”

A rumble comes out of his chest as he grabs his bag. “That is not helping me leave.”

“Isn’t it?” I give him my most innocent expression as he laughs and shakes his head.

“See you tonight.” He kisses me one last time then tears himself away. “I really love having you here, by the way.”

I grin. “Don’t forget to imagine me naked,” I call out as I watch him leave for work.

He shakes his head and laughs and then he’s gone. And I wish I didn’t have to be alone.

* * *

“Have you talked about David?” Mum asks as we sit together having coffee across from Bondi Beach. She’s worried about me since I was so upset after David left on Friday. She likes to do daily check-ins and today’s is in person.

“Not yet.” I watch the packet of sugar sink through the foam on my cappuccino until it disappears into a little brown pool.

“Don’t you think you should?”

Pressing my lips together, I bounce a shoulder as I stir the sugar through. “What’s the point? Nothing has changed since the last time we addressed David, and it’s not like anything will change either. I kind of think it’s best to just move on. Focus on the good things in life. Like Elliot.”

“He is rather lovely. Katey and I were thinking that maybe we could all get together for a BBQ at her place soon. Her husband is so lovely, and I know you haven’t met them yet so it would be a good opportunity for us all to get together. Katey is dying to meet you. She’s jealous I got to see Elliot, and she hasn’t seen you yet.”

Holding my cup between two hands, I lift it and take a bittersweet sip. “Maybe we should let Elliot decide when he wants me to meet his mum and stepdad. I don’t want to push things too fast this time. We’re still in that can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other phase. I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with him yet.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to go looking for something flawed in a person to know how you feel about them. And he talks about you to his mother, so he’s obviously serious about you.”

“That’s what he says, but please, Mum, I know you mean well. I just need this to move at its own pace. No external pushing, OK?”

She reaches across the table and pats my arm. “OK. I’ll curb my enthusiasm. I’m just so happy to see you smiling. You had me worried the other day. I thought you’d go into a depression again. And you get so reckless when you do.”

“I know. And I’m OK, mum. I promise.”

* * *

When Mum heads back home, I take a walk along the beach, watching surfers turn tricks to keep my mind distracted. It’s hard to stop my mind from turning to David. We’ve shared so much together that almost everything reminds me of him. The person coming out of the surf getting dunked by a wave reminds me of his philosophy regarding the ocean: if the waves keep pushing you back to shore, you should probably take the hint and stay out. The young kids running along the hard part of sand, splashing water at each other remind me of our water fights in summer… Pretty much every scene of laughter, every quiet slice of contemplation, every gentle look I see between two people leads me to think of him. You really did fuck us up, David. I hope you’re happy.

Maybe I should tell Elliot about the kiss? Maybe I should sit down and be as honest with him as I was with Connor? But it’s hard in this situation because I have something to lose. Why would Elliot want to be with me once he knows I’m mourning the loss of another love?

It puts me in quite a tricky situation.

As I walk back to Elliot’s flat, I ready the keys and flip them around my fingers, listening to the click of their metal with each step I take. I should be somewhat honest, I decide. I should at least tell him that David came to see me and say goodbye. I should tell him about the kiss and make it clear that I was the one who stopped it. It’s a happy-medium that will assuage my guilt and inform Elliot of the basic facts. I think I owe him that much.

When I make my way up the stairs and insert the key inside the lock, I’m surprised when the deadbolt is already open. I’m sure I locked it when I left. Positive. Is there someone here?

“Elliot?” I say as I push on the door, listening to the apartment with a hope he’s just come home early from work. But his car wasn’t parked in the street, so I’m a little on guard here. “Hello?”

“Who are you?” A tall man, striking in his manicured appearance enters the hall from the kitchen area, a stack of mail held between his fingers.

“Oh, um…who…who are you?” I close my fist, holding the keys between my fingers as weapons in case this man in a fancy suit is here with plans to harm me. I touch my scar with a shaky hand. It seems to throb along with my fear. Never again.

“Rupert Roberts,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he drags a critical gaze from my head to my toes. “Are you something my son found?”

I snap my head back slightly, my fingers pulling on the fabric of my summer skirt, my fitted tank top feeling too casual under the circumstances. I’m meeting Elliot’s father for the first time, a bigshot barrister, and I have flip-flops on my feet and I’m not even wearing a bra. Oh god. “I’m Katrina. His, um, his girlfriend.”

His thick brows shoot up and he laughs. “Is that what he told you?” He walks into the living room, flicking through the mail he was holding and opening one that seems to interest him.

“He’s at work,” I say, following him down the hallway. It seems strange that his father would come here during the day. Does Elliot know he does this? I’d think not, or he’d mention it so I wasn’t blindsided.

“I’m aware.” He glances up for a moment, his blue eyes, identical to Elliot’s, meeting mine. “You can go.”

“He’s expecting me to be here when he gets home.”

He laughs. “Isn’t he going to be surprised when he finds me?”

I take a step back, almost ready to leave before I come to my senses and shake my head. I’m not letting this guy kick me out. “I think I’ll just wait with you.”

He gestures to the couch. “Suit yourself.”

Watching him go through Elliot’s mail then move into the kitchen and rummage through drawers, I feel as though I’m witnessing a prison guard tossing an inmate’s cell. “What are you even looking for?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Do you?”

“Elliot is my business. So, yeah, I take exception with you going through his things.”

He moves into the doorway, filling it with his imposing frame. “What did you say your name was?”

“Katrina.”

“Your parents only gave you one name?”

“Katrina Mahoney.”

“Mahoney. Mahoney.” He looks up as he thinks for a moment. “Never heard of you. That means you’re irrelevant.”

“What is your deal?”

“My deal? Dear girl, I have no deal. I simply don’t have time to engage in meaningless conversation with…well, with whatever you are. I have more important things to attend to.”

“I’m your son’s girlfriend. I’m not a thing, or an incumbrance. I’m someone your son cares about, otherwise he wouldn’t have given me a key and I wouldn’t be staying here right now.” I hold the key up as evidence, exaggerating a little to drive my point home to this arrogant man. I am not second best. “You can’t just come into his place and go through his things whenever you feel like it. It’s bad enough you control his career, you shouldn’t be here trying to control his personal life too.”

“Incumbrance,” he says, picking a single word to repeat instead of responding to what I had to say. “How old would you say are, Miss Mahoney?”

“I’m twenty.” I fold my arms across my chest.

“And do you go to school?”

“I study law.”

“Law? Where?”

“Western Sydney University.”

“Western Sydney University,” he repeats, his tone tight, unimpressed. “Do you live out there?”

“I do. I live in Cranebrook.”

“I don’t even know where that is.”

“It’s near the regatta centre.”

“I see. And how long have you been dating my son? How did you meet?”

“A couple of months. We met through work.”

He narrows his eyes. Shit. “Through work?”

“I don’t work there,” I lie, trying to cover my slip. “I work in the same building. We met in the lobby.”

“How romantic.” He slips the mail he was reading back into the envelope then places the pile in the centre of the coffee table. “Do you know who pays for this apartment, Katrina Mahoney of Cranebrook, Western Sydney? Do you know who pays for Elliot’s comfortable lifestyle, manages his investments, provides his…” He pauses and gestures around. “Everything?”

I don’t even respond. I already know and that isn’t the point. It’s a power play, letting me know I don’t belong in this world.

“I do. I provide. I guide. I consent. And I did not consent to you. Nor have I heard a whisper of your name. That tells me you don’t matter.” He pulls his phone from his pocket then sits on the couch. “You can leave the keys with me. I’ll see that he gets them back.”

My mouth falls open, and I desperately want to throw the keys in his face and call him a fucker. But I know that’s not going to help anything. If I want this thing between Elliot and I to work out, I need to play nice here. So I suck it up, place the keys next to the mail and hold my chin high as I go into Elliot’s room to gather my things. Shockingly, my bag is already sitting on Elliot’s bed packed.

“What the hell?” Double-checking inside it, I find everything I brought with me stuffed in there. “You’re messed up, by the way,” I say, on the way out, brandishing my bag.

“Get home safe, Miss Mahoney,” he says, lifting a hand to shoo me out the door.

The moment it closes, I hear the deadbolt tumble shut. So I hold both my middle fingers up to the door and mouth a few expletives to make me feel better. Arsehole.

Rushing down the stairs, I pull my phone out to hail an Uber to take me to the train station. While I wait, I put a call into Elliot, wanting to warn him his dad was lying in wait and that I was heading home.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say when I get his voicemail. “I don’t want to call work in case it goes through to Beth. But I just met your dad. Real nice guy.” I scoff a little as I look back at the building. “Anyway, I’m going to spend tonight at home. I think you have some family shit to deal with when you get back here tonight. Sorry we’re going to miss movie sex like we planned.” I smile into the receiver, calming down a little as I think about our last few sex filled days. “Call me when you can, OK? And keep thinking about me naked. I’ll touch myself thinking about you.” I bite my lip a little, smiling. “Talk soon.” When I disconnect, the Uber turns up almost immediately, and I’m glad to get as far away as I can from Rupert Roberts and his stupid name.

Twenty-Nine

I’d like to say I woke up the next morning to a text from Elliot telling me the coast was clear and I could come back. Or even a cute voicemail saying he missed me in his bed last night, or that he was touching himself thinking about me too. But there was none of that. Not even a missed call.

Zilch. Zip. Zero.

The moment I walked out of that apartment, Elliot went incommunicado. I called. I texted. I even risked calling the office to see if he was in, but he was gone. Vanished off the face of the earth.

At first, I was worried, leaving messages like: “Listen, Elliot, I don’t know what happened, or what your dad might have said about me. But I didn’t do anything wrong OK. Just call me and we can sort this out.”

Then my worry dissolved into paranoia: “This is about David, isn’t it? You found out he visited me? Nothing happened. I mean, it did. He said he loved me, and he kissed me. But I pushed him away. I stopped it from going further because…shit. How do you erase voice messages?”

But after that, I was just plain angry: “Fuck you, you fucking coward. You don’t get to tell me you’re falling for me then cut me out of your life. I deserve better.” And that’s the state I’ve stayed in since then.

Five whole days. Nothing.

With my time off over, I arrive at work on Monday a ball of nerves. I had no idea if I’d see him, or if I could even trust myself to see him. But when I get there and find out he’s not coming in today either, I get Anne to find his personnel file and get me his landline number. Short of asking my mum to contact his mum, I’m not sure what else to do. I need to speak to him and find out what this is about before I crack up completely. David said that Elliot is the only guy I’ve ever dated who’s good enough for me. If this is how a guy who’s good enough treats me, then what the hell does that say about me? It says I’m garbage. It says that men will always throw me away. Fuck. I don’t wan’t to be garbage.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell Anne when she hands me the Post-It with his number.

“You didn’t get it from me, OK?”

“Promise.” I run my finger over my heart in an X. “Cross my heart.”

The moment she leaves the library, I pick up the phone, my stomach an uneasy storm as I listen to the ring. Just as I’m about to give up, the line clicks and the wrong voice fills my ear. “Rupert Roberts.”

I frown and look at the receiver in my hand. Every time I hear his name it irks me. “Is Elliot available?” I ask politely, keeping my voice professional.

“Who’s speaking?” Rupert demands.

My heart skitters across my chest nervously. I could lie. But I think I’ve proven lying doesn’t work for me. I take a deep breath. “It’s Katrina. Is he there?”

“Katrina. The Westie girl who seems set upon ruining his career? I don’t think he’s available for you.”

Closing my eyes, I feel my face burning. “Can you just tell him I called, please?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grunts and hangs up in my ear.

Fuck.

‘Westie girl’? Is that man serious? I understand that Western Sydney comes with its fair share of stereotypes. But, being from there doesn’t automatically make me classless and uncouth.

Fuming and agitated, I need to talk to someone. I pick up my phone and automatically go to call David. The ingrained habit causes a double blow to my chest when I remember he’s not talking to me either. Fuck. Fuck!

Who do I talk to?

I can’t call Mum because I’ve been pretending everything’s fine so she wouldn’t panic. My brother will be at work and unable to talk, and I don’t really have many close girlfriends to talk to. Connor is a good listener, but I don’t have his number. But I do have Kayley. And I also have Carmel who’s in a similar situation to me.

Weighing my options, I decide on Carmel and go to her office.

She looks up and smiles when I tap on her door. “Are you busy right now?” I ask.

“No, not really. Come on in. Is something wrong?” she asks, reacting to the anxious look on my face.

I keep my voice low so any passers-by won’t overhear what we’re talking about. “It’s kind of relationship stuff. Is that OK? I know it’s the office, and I shouldn’t bring this here, but you’re the only one I know with experience in this stuff. And you’re dating Andrew who knows Elliot, so I’m hoping to find some clarity.”

“It’s fine, Katrina. Why don’t you shut the door and take a seat?” She gestures to the black leather chair in front of her desk. “What can I help you with?”

I tell her briefly how my relationship with Elliot has been progressing, followed by the run in I had with his father, finishing with this morning when he called me a ‘westie girl’ and the fact I can’t contact Elliot at all. “I’m more than a little confused right now. I know we were drinking last weekend, so it probably doesn’t count, but how does he go from saying he’s falling in love with me to not answering his phone? Does his father think I’m some uneducated low-life who’s set upon dragging his son down with me? What the hell difference does it make where I’m from?”

She balances her chin on her hand. “From what I know, Elliot’s family is pretty powerful. Lots of money, lots of connections. With the exception of his mother, they're all born and bred along the northern beaches and have that upper-class mentality going on. I copped it once from one of Andrew’s friends. I can’t remember what I did, but he said to me, ‘You can take the girl out of Penrith, but you can’t take the Penrith out of the girl’. I was livid, and I wanted to scratch his eyes out for being such a dickhead. But, that just would have proven him right, so I smiled and laughed like it was nothing instead.”

“What did Andrew do?”

“Nothing, we had our first major fight and almost broke up over it.”

“Do you think Elliot would break up with me over this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t think this is as simple as that, Katrina. Drunk or not, if he was willing to risk everything for you a few days ago, I’m sure his feelings haven’t changed that much. But I’ll talk to Andrew, see if I can find out where Elliot is and what’s going on with him. Maybe just be patient? I’m sure he’ll come around. I’ve never seen a guy look so smitten over a girl before.”

I run my hand through my hair, releasing a loaded breath. “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

A week later, I still haven’t heard from Elliot. He’s returned to the office, but he’s avoiding me. I think it’s time to officially call it: I’ve been ghosted. We’re over.

I’ve been ghosted and I’m so angry I want to set something on fire and throw it through his office window. Because this feels like shit. Most breakups involve harsh words or at the very least, a lame explanation. There was no crying, no yelling, no nothing. It sucks.

Time drags at a snail’s pace, and my insides churn, rolling into one big ball of pent-up anger. I’m angry at Elliot for ignoring me. I’m angry at David for leaving me, and I’m angry at myself for getting caught up in another guy when I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do that again.

I need a new job.

I can’t keep working here when I feel like this. But at the same time, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of disappearing like he wants me to. I want him to know I’m here, know that I’m better than whatever game he’s playing. I want him to know he can’t break me.

Still, I don’t exactly have the courage to walk right up to him in the office and hand him the law journals and microfiche like I’m supposed to—I’ll probably need a bit of time to work up that level of boldness—so I purposefully leave them in his office at lunchtime on Friday.

I’m trying to be as quick as possible; in and out like a ninja. But when I pass Beth’s desk, I’m rooted to the spot, catching sight of a photo pinned to her corkboard. It’s David. She’s in it too, smiling and looking at the camera while he kisses her on the cheek. I’m going to be sick. My head throbs and my stomach twists. The world tilts and I’m not sure if I can keep standing. That photo is everything I ever wanted. David’s love. David’s attention. David’s time. But he chose to give those things to her. He chose to give everything I ever wanted to another woman, and as fate would have it, it happens to be the one woman who thinks I stole her man. And now I have no one. Is that irony? Or is it simple Karma biting me in the arse? I’m not sure, but I desperately want to rip that photo down, tear it into little pieces and stomp it into the floor—maybe even spit on it.

“We took that at my friend’s birthday party last weekend,” Beth says from behind me. I didn’t even hear her walk up.

Taking a calming breath, I plaster a fake smile on my face, before I turn around. “It’s a great picture,” I say, briefly meeting her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says, walking over to it and touching it. “I think we look great together, don’t you?” Is she goading me?

I don’t have the energy for this.

“You make a cute couple,” I reply, trying not to bring vomit up with the words. Then I point in the direction of the library and walk away.

“I’ll tell David you said hi. I’m about to meet him for lunch.”

I turn and offer a small smile. “Tell him he was wrong.”

“About?” She shrugs, not understanding.

“Everything.”

Picking up my step, I desperately need to get out of the office to clear my head. I can’t think in here. The air is too cramped and I just need to see the sky and watch the birds, walk along the harbour until my mind can function again.

Grabbing my bag, I catch the lift downstairs, gratefully alone as I ride it to the ground floor. When I step out, that’s no longer the case. David is waiting on the circular lounge in the foyer. Couldn’t they meet somewhere else? Tears surge in my eyes, so I smile tightly and start directly for the door.

He jumps up. “Katrina, wait a second.” Just the fact he calls me by my full name now hurts.

“I’m late,” I say, speeding towards the door, trying to keep it together. God, why does the sight of him always make me want to cry?

He catches me by the arm, stopping me in my tracks. I stop moving but keep my face turned away from him. I’m barely holding myself together and David knows me well enough to read my emotions. “Is everything OK?”

“What the fuck do you care?” I say, snatching my arm from his grip.

“Just because I need space, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing my emotions back down inside of me, doing a terrible job as a tear drops, anyway. “You love me but need your space. You love me but you’d rather date Beth. You love me but I’m too good for you, so you have to walk away.” I shake my head as I wipe at my face. “It’s all bullshit. You ended our friendship and left me because that’s what you wanted to do. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.” Turning away, I storm out the door, squeezing my eyes shut to keep any more tears at bay.

For the next hour, I walk at top speed through the streets of the city, trying to work away my anger and disappointment. When I think about Elliot or David, I want to cry or scream out my rage. They both deserted me. I wasn’t good enough for either of them. Neither fought. Neither took a real risk in order to have me. They just took my offered heart and decided it was too heavy to hold.

Fuck them.

Fuck them. The only person who seems willing to commit to his feelings for me is Christopher. He hurt me physically, but he never stopped fighting for me. He never took away his love. For a brief moment, I can almost imagine myself giving him another chance. We were good together before drugs got involved, and I do believe he’d never hurt me again. But it’s hard to think about him and not be re-visited with flashbacks of the attack.

But at least he cares enough to keep trying. I have to give him that.

I get back to work late, my mind still in a fog as I walk through reception just as Bianca finishes with a call. “Long lunch?” she says, her expression cold as she taps on her keyboard.

“Something like that.”

“You know, you seem depressed lately. I hope we’re not going to see any new scars because you can’t handle losing.”

Pressing my lips together, I let out a slow breath then approach the reception desk, resting my forearms on the cool surface as I lean towards her. “Didn’t your mother teach you never to assume, Bianca?”

“I don’t have a mother. But thank you for reminding me.”

A jolt of empathy hits me, a sliver of understanding blooms. Maybe that’s why she’s so angry all the time.

“Well, I suppose that was a prime example wasn’t it? I assumed you had a mother to teach you manners, and you assumed I got these scars because I’m mentally unstable.”

She looks at me and tilts her head.

“How did you lose your mother?”

Her catlike eyes narrow. “I didn’t lose her. She left when I was young. My dad raised me.”

“See? Now I have a little understanding of you.”

“You don’t know jack shit.”

“Would you like to know how I got these scars?”

“Why not?”

“My boyfriend picked me up and threw me through a glass sliding door.”

Her mouth drops open and her eyes go wide. “Holy shit. Was he trying to kill you?”

I bounce a shoulder. “He doesn’t know. Drugs were involved, and he didn’t know what he was doing until he came out of it.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. So maybe, the next time you meet someone with unsightly scars, don’t use those scars to torment them. We already feel shitty about them, and unless you know exactly how they got there, you probably shouldn’t assume.”

“I…I’m sorry,” she says, her expression softening.

I nod then leave for my desk. At least that’s one less pile of bullshit I need to deal with.

Throwing myself into work, I motor through everything in my tray, searching the office for missing books then asking Priya if there’s any more for me to do since I was at a loss.

“Why don’t you just go home?” she says, glancing at the time. “There’s less than an hour and you’ve done more than enough today.”

“Thank you.” Relief fills my chest because it also means I won’t have to risk spotting David in the station crowd heading home. Feeling a tiny bit lighter than I was this morning, I grab my things, taking the door that leads to the copy machines so I get out of here unnoticed.

Just as I reach for the door, it opens and I almost walk smack into Elliot. Shit. My blood fills my ears as my chest stops taking in air. We stop and stare at each other, both clearly frazzled to be face-to-face.

Say something. I dare him with my eyes even though I know he wouldn’t consider making a scene at work. He looks at his feet and clears his throat.

“Excuse me,” he says quietly, acting as though we haven’t fucked each other into exhaustion while promising the world for the chance of another taste.

He steps to the side to let me through, and I click. Something inside my brain snaps, and I just can’t be pleasant anymore. I can’t control this need to blow up the world and take him down with me.

“Go and fist yourself,” I snarl. If I’m going to get dumped for being a Westie, I might as well act like one. “You are a coward. A monumental fucked-up-douchebag daddy’s boy. You think I don’t know why this happened? You think I can’t figure out your daddy didn’t like me so I’m out? Fuck you. Fuck you and your promises and every single thing we ever said or did. You were a waste of my time, and I regret meeting you.”

“Katrina,” he says, holding out a hand. I’m waiting for some sort of reason. Some sort of excuse. But when he looks around and tightens his jaw, I know I’m not getting it. “Keep your voice down.”

My eyes go wide and I get louder. “Keep my voice down? Who the fuck do you think you are? I don’t know what your game is, Elliot Roberts. I don’t know what sick and twisted pleasure you took in tricking me into caring about you. But you don’t get to end this. I do. It’s over. It’s so fucking over!” I yell, preparing to push past him in a dramatic exit before I realise we’ve managed to attract observers.

“You two. My office. Now,” Priya demands, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she waits for us to move and follows behind us.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

The moment we get inside her office, she closes the door and commands us both to sit.

“What the hell was that?” She stands behind her desk with her hands on her hips, looking between the both of us, her face set in aggravation.

Elliot goes to open his mouth, but she holds up her hand to silence him.

“It was a rhetorical question. I know what that was. The whole office knows what that was. What part of a ‘no-dating policy’ don’t you understand? I had you both in here, assuring me that there was nothing going on, but there so obviously is right now.”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” I tell her, coldly. “Not now.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t you see? This is exactly why we say no dating. Couples fight, and they bring those fights to the office. Elliot, I expected more from you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he speaks.

Placing her hands on her hips, Priya glares at the both of us as she takes a moment to think, her hand touching her forehead. “I don’t want to fire you. I don’t want to fire either of you. You’re both excellent employees.” She places both of her hands on her desk and leans forwards. “If you can guarantee me this is over, I’ll issue you both with written warnings and we’ll be done. But mark my words, if anyone even thinks you two are back together you’ll both be out, no matter who your family is.” She directs that last part to Elliot.

I stand up. “I guarantee you, Priya, there will never be anything between us. You couldn’t pay me to date him.” I glance at Elliot as he sits stoically and meets my eyes. I don’t even want to cry. I’m too damn mad. “And if you don’t mind, I was on my way home.”

Priya nods as she takes a seat, gesturing to her door with one hand. I get out of there as fast as I can, making a beeline to the train station, desperate to get home.

I am so done with him. I’m done with men.

* * *

The moment I walk in the front door, I see my mother and burst into tears. I stayed strong and held my emotions inside on the way home. But I can’t any longer. I need my mum.

“Mummy,” I cry, falling into her arms.

“What is it, sweetheart? Did you lose your job?”

“No. It’s Elliot. He’s an arsehole and we’re over.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. He seemed so nice.”

“Well, he isn’t. He doesn’t want me anymore.”

She sits with her arm around me and listens as I sob out my story, telling her how stupid I feel to get my hopes up when Elliot told me he was falling for me. I feel even more stupid for believing the hype when I met his friends too. I thought he was different. I thought he cared. But he’s just like the others, unwilling to fight, too fast to turn away. He’s just as bad as David. What is it about me that’s so forgettable?

“You were so happy when we had coffee. But I have to admit I was worried something happened when you came back that afternoon. I wish you’d told me how his father treated you.”

“What difference would it make? Elliot does what he’s told. And I don’t fit the life his dad wants for him.”

“Maybe I could have Katey talk to him?”

“Oh, no. Please, no. I’m done with him, Mum. After this, I can’t take him back. He made his choice, and it isn’t me.”

Thirty

I spend the next week in mourning; moving through my life like a zombie, performing all of my necessary tasks while my mind focuses on nothing but my troubles.

In a few short months, I’ve managed to drive away my best friend—my heart—because I chose a relationship with a man who dumped me at the first sign of trouble. I want to turn back time, get a different job and erase every nasty thing David and I said to each other. It may not have changed much, but at least we’d still be friends. I miss him the most. But there’s no turning back. We really fucked that one up.

Each time my phone beeps I jump and grab at it, fiercely—naively— hoping for a lifeline. Each time I’m saddened when instead, it’s a text from my mother with information about dinner or her whereabouts, or my brother sending me a joke to try to cheer me up, and of course, there're the texts from Christopher.

That cover band you like is playing the Irish on Wednesday. Thought you might like to know.

At least I can manage to keep one guy interested in me, I think despondently as I look down at his carefully typed words. He never uses emojis.

While I don’t expect a call or text from Elliot, I would like to find one. Just something small to say he’s sorry for fucking with my head and my heart. But I’m not holding out for that.

I’d also like something from David. I feel bad for treating him ruthlessly when I saw him in the foyer at work. I feel even worse for reacting with shock when he told me he loved me. I should have been over-joyed. I should have been willing to take that risk with him. But I was scared. I was scared of it being true, and I was scared of finally being with him, and just like David, I was scared of getting too close and losing our precious connection. Now, everything is ruined with him, and it didn’t work out with Elliot either. I made the wrong choice, and I should probably tell David that. I should be brave and tell him how I feel. Especially since now, I have nothing left to lose. But my pride, and the fear he’ll choose Beth again stops me from trying. Turns out I’m a coward too.

When I wake on Wednesday morning, I feel empty. And very swollen from another night spent crying and feeling sorry for myself. I go to the freezer and pull out an ice pack, wrapping it in a tea towel before laying back down to press it over my eyes. My mother makes me a cup of sweet milky tea—as she has been every day for the last week, saying it’s great for heartache—and leaves me alone again.

“Why don’t you just quit that job?” she asks when I drag myself to the door to leave. “Get something closer to home with no boy drama.”

“Because I won’t let them chase me away, Mum. Keep fighting, right?”

She nods. And I force myself through my day, each movement like I’m pushing through wet cement.

“Are you busy?” Carmel says as she approaches my desk.

I close the update I’m working on and shake my head. “What’s up.”

She looks around and talks in a whisper. “Andrew spoke to Elliot. It took a while because we couldn’t even say your name without him clamming up. But he admitted that his dad threatened to cut him off entirely if he continued to see you.”

“Because I’m from Western Sydney?”

She pulls her mouth to the side and nods. “Looks that way. He thinks you hitched your star to his wagon and were only after the family money.”

“Ouch.” I can’t deny the burning sensation behind my eyes right now.

Carmel squeezes my arm. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

“Thanks. It was over anyway,” I say, watching as she turns to go.

The thing that hurts me most is that Elliot didn’t even have the decency to break up with me via a text message. He just left it all in the air, unresolved and hanging. I thought we had enough of a friendship that, at the very least, I deserved an ‘I’m sorry, but it’s over.’ I would have been upset. But I would have understood.

Instead, he’s treating me like he doesn’t even know me. Like I’m no one. And that really sucks.

Even training doesn’t help anymore. With my life in shambles, I don’t have the energy to put into it. I’m seriously considering giving up the sport altogether to focus more on uni and work. I need to change my life, do something drastic. It’s not working the way it is.

My phone vibrates in my desk and I pull it out, my heart catching when I see David’s name on the screen. We should talk.

We should talk? We should talk? What could there possibly be left to say? Is there a piece of my heart he hasn’t broken yet? Oh wait, maybe he’s getting married and wants to make sure I hear it from him first? That’d be fucking fantastic and just my luck. Elliot freezes me out because I’m from the wrong side of town, and David goes and marries a girl from the right side of town. It’d be the perfect ending to my stupid fucking life.

I drop my phone into my bag, shaking my head at my bad luck.

I should be happy he’s contacted me. I’ve been pining away, mourning the loss of our friendship for weeks now, and I wanted him to make contact. But now that it’s happened, I don’t want to go backwards. I don’t want to be the girl at home while he fucks someone else anymore. I don’t want to be his emotional catch-all held at an arm’s length.

No more men, Katrina. They just mess you up.

I’ve cried enough. I’m done with this constant rejection. I just want to… I want to forget them all.

It’s time to reclaim my life.

When I get home, I shower, do my hair and makeup and put on a nice dress before heading into the living area.

“Where are you off to?” Mum asks, giving me a concerned look. “Please tell me you aren’t going on a date with someone new. My heart can’t take it.”

I laugh and shake my head. My how her tune has changed. “I’m going to watch a band on my own. I’m taking back my life.”

“By yourself? Why don’t you wait and see if Tom and Daniella can go with you?”

“That’s the whole point, Mum. I need to start doing things on my own. I’ve always relied on someone. This is about becoming as strong as I’ve always thought I was.”

“But you are strong, sweetheart. Just look at you. Look at all you’ve done.”

“I need to feel strong. I won’t be late, OK?”

“Be careful,” she calls after me as I leave.

* * *

The band is already playing Nirvana hits as I push my way through the crowd at the Irish pub in Emu Plains. Heading to the bar, I order myself a different flavour for my brand-new path; a Midori, Bacardi and lemonade. The bartender shakes his head and tells me they aren’t allowed to serve doubles.

“Oh. Then just give me a Midori and lemonade with a Bacardi shot on the side. Can you do that?”

He nods and starts mixing my drink while I think it’s a bit of a dumb rule. Alcohol restrictions are getting tighter and tighter.

“I’ll pay,” a familiar male voice says when my drinks are set in front of me. He hands a twenty-dollar note to the bartender and tells him to keep the change.

“I know you told me about tonight, but I wasn’t expecting you’d be here,” I say as I turn around. “When did you start liking 90s music?”

“I’ve mellowed out now I’m clean.” Christopher smiles, looking the picture of health. Dark eyes gleaming, skin tan and clear, his brown hair styled neatly. He looks good. Like I remember him in the beginning.

“Why were you at the triathlon last month? Are you stalking me now?”

He laughs. “No. I was supporting a friend and stuck around to see you race too. You looked good out there.”

I shrug. “I don’t know if I’m feeling it anymore.”

“What happened to the Olympic dream?”

“I was never going to make it. I just wanted to qualify to try out. That was my goal. But I don’t know. It feels like a waste of time.”

“Does this have something to do with the guy I saw you with?”

I shake my head. “We aren’t dating anymore. But no, it’s not about him. It’s me. I just think maybe my time is up. There’s more to life than sport.”

“Why don’t you come and watch the band with us? Brent and Abby are here. Remember how much fun we used to have before everything got so messed up? Maybe catching up with old friends will help change your perspective a little. Help you find that drive you had back when I knew you. And I bet they’d love to see you.”

“I don’t think anyone can change my mind but thank you for trying. I’m going to pass, however. I think you can understand why I don’t want to hang around you.”

His eyes soften. “I wish you could forgive me.”

“I do. But it’s hard. Looking at you as you are now, I could almost forget. But every time I blink, my mind superimposes that look—the crazed animal you became—over the top of your face and I’m struggling.”

“You know I’d never hurt you again though? You know it was the drugs?”

“Yes. And logically, I can reason all of that out. But it’s like a PTSD that triggers when I look at you. I’m trying to keep my cool here, but I need you to walk away.” I can only stay calm for so long. The images from that day flit through my mind, faster and clearer the longer he stands in front of me.

“Please,” he says, reaching for my arm. “Don’t let your issues with me stop you from coming to see Abby and Brent.”

I snatch my arm back like it’s been singed with fire. “I need you to leave.”

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Christopher stumbles back as David slams his hands into his chest, jumping in between us and shocking the life out of me.

“David!”

“I wasn’t touching her,” Christopher shoots back. “Fucking relax.”

“I’ll relax when you fuck off. If it was up to me, you’d be in prison right now. So how about you take the win and get the hell away from her.”

“What did you say to me?” Christopher demands, through clenched teeth, leaning threateningly toward David. Oh no.

“I said, fuck. the hell. off you pussy-hating-woman-basher,” David growls, speaking close to Christopher’s face.

“Stop,” I say, trying to get them to back down before this goes too far. But we’ve been through this before. People don’t change much, and Christopher never backs down from a fist-fight. Neither does David.

“Fuck you,” Christopher spits, his fist connecting with David’s jaw with a sharp jerk.

David’s head flicks to the side, blood and spit spraying through the air. But that doesn’t stop him, he returns the blow, a fist in Christopher’s gut, followed by a sock to the eye.

Christopher roars. He lunges forwards, throwing his weight at David as they both go toppling to the floor, punching, kneeing and choke holding each other. The entire bar erupts into a cacophony of cheers, egging them on and placing verbal bets on who they think will win. I can’t even hear the band anymore.

I scream for someone to call the police as I rush over and try to pull Christopher off David as he pins him to the ground, holding him by the face and smashing his head into the ground. All I succeed in doing is getting clipped in the cheek by Christopher’s elbow. I yelp as I stumble backwards.

Brent streaks past me, jumping in along with some random guy I don’t know to hauls Christopher off David. “The cops are coming,” he yells in Christopher’s ear. “We need to get out of here.”

I rush to David, dropping on the floor next to him as he lies there, covered in blood and laughing, of all things.

Christopher grunts as Brent continues dragging him back. “Jesus, Christopher,” I yell. “I let you back in my life for five minutes and you beat the crap out of someone? I believed you when you said it was the drugs. But now I just think you’re a thug. Don’t ever speak to me, David, or anyone I care about again. The police are on their way and we will be pressing charges this time, mark my words. I let it go once, I won’t let it go again.”

He looks at me, his expression falling, as he aggressively shrugs out of Brent’s grip. “Fuck,” he yells, before he books it, trying to get out of there before the police haul him off. I spot Abby in the crowd. She stops next to us on her way out and says, “I am so, so sorry that just happened.”

“What’s a night out in Penrith without a fistfight or two?” I shrug, before I turn my attention back to David when he tries to sit up.

“God, he hits hard,” he grunts, spitting blood on the ground beside him.

“What the hell was that?” I ask softly. I’m not even angry. All of my anger evaporated the moment he hit the ground. He was literally fighting for me. Accepting a paper napkin from a girl at a nearby table, I hold it under his bleeding nose. “He could have killed you, then what would I do?”

David sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just saw him near you and pretty much stopped thinking from that point.”

I reach up and move his hair away from his forehead. “Do you think you have a concussion?”

He tries to stand up, so I jump up first to help him. “I don’t know,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure he broke my nose.” The bleeding isn’t slowing down, so I grab more napkins to help stem the flow.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital and get you checked out.”

We walk out to the parking lot together and get into my car, driving in silence to the emergency room at Nepean Hospital. There’s so much that needs to be said between us that the air feels thick all around.

“What were you doing there?” he asked once we pass the plaza.

“I wanted to watch the band. Why were you there?”

“Your mum called me. She’s worried about you.”

“I see,” I say, gripping my hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“I’m worried too.”

Stopping at the lights before the highway, I glance in his direction. “I’m just trying to live my life without you. It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t supposed to hurt. Letting go was supposed to be a relief. You were supposed to be happy.”

“Well, like I told Beth to tell you: you were wrong.”

He nods then we stay quiet until we arrive at the hospital. We’re sent through to triage fairly quickly where they assess the urgency of David’s wounds and decide to take him straight through since he’s bleeding quite profusely.

I go through with him and sit in silence, while one of the nurses cleans him up then the police arrive to take our report. They speak to both of us, and assure us they’ll be bringing Christopher in. Then they leave and a doctor comes by to look at David’s face. It all takes so long, and we don’t get a chance to speak to each other until the doctor tells us he’s ordering some scans and we’ll have to wait to be taken to imaging.

The moment we’re alone, David reaches over and takes my hand. I close my eyes when he does. It feels like home. Don’t cry.

“Why were you even with Christopher?”

“I wasn’t. He found me at the bar. And we were talking.”

“Did he know to find you? Is he watching you?”

“No. I mean, he told me about the band, but since he always said he hated Nirvana, I wasn’t expecting him to be there.”

“Wait. What? He told you about the band? When? How?”

“Via text. He sends them sometimes. We don't talk though. I don’t respond. And I saw him at that last club triathlon at the Lakes. The one you were at too. He said good race, but I was with Elliot so I didn’t approach.”

“You saw me there, huh?”

I nod and run my thumb over his scratched-up hand. “I was really happy to see you. It meant a lot.”

“Like I said, I still care.”

“And now you’ve got a broken nose to prove it.” I offer a small smile and he laughs, wincing a little when the pain in his face gets the better of him.

“I guess you needed a grand gesture, huh?”

“To prove what exactly?”

“Come here.” He tugs on my hand, pulling me towards the bed he’s on. I sit down facing him, and he keeps his eyes focused on my hands as he speaks. “I lost my mind today, baby girl.” He looks up at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes. “I can’t handle seeing you with any other guys anymore—especially him.” He reaches up and touches my cheek gently. “Does this hurt?”

I close my eyes against his touch, feeling the warm familiarity of his fingers against my skin. My hope returns, a rose blooming in my chest as I hold his hand against my cheek and let a tear escape, my heart aching from missing him so much. I shake my head no, not trusting my voice to speak.

He moves his thumb to wipe my tear away and sits up so his poor swollen face is closer to mine. “Trina…I will never be able to handle seeing you with anyone else because… because I want to be with you,” he whispers. “I want us to be together.”

My eyes lock solid with his; eyes that are blue like mine and filled with equal measures of the pain and suffering I’ve also endured during our time apart. The world doesn’t make sense without him.

“What about Beth?”

“It’s over. The moment I saw you come out of that lift—the anguish you felt, how hurt you were. I knew that what we were doing was wrong. I should never have left you.”

I cover my eyes with my free hand as my tears burst from my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have realised sooner.”

He gathers me in his arms and shushes me, holding me tight even though I’m sure his body is in pain. “I’m the one who didn’t make it clear. I kept backing out, letting my fear get the better of me.” Shifting back, he holds my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes. “All we have left is a chance, Trina. Will you take it with me?”

Closing my eyes as tears splash down my cheeks, I nod. “I would love to take a chance on you, David. I love you so much. I always have.”

“I love you, Trina,” he whispers, pressing his lips to mine, kissing me for the first time without the fear of messing this up. This time when our mouths connect there’s no anger behind our action, just pure honesty and emotion. He loves me. He wants me. I’m his. He’s mine.

“I know I’ve already told you, Trina. But you need to hear this again: You need to understand that I love you so much it hurts. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, ever. I’ve loved you for years—even before I stole your first kiss through that window. I was just too shit-scared to admit it. I was scared I’d fuck things up between us and I’d lose you because of it. I kept telling myself it was better to be friends forever than to be—”

“Lovers for a moment,” I finish for him, having heard him tell me this drunkenly many times before.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching up and gently touching the side of my face with the back of his fingers. “Now, I feel that denying what was between us was enough to ruin us, anyway. And I don’t want that, Trina. I love you too much to lose you. I love you. And I’d rather risk loving you honestly than live for another moment without you.”

“You won’t fuck it up, David. I won’t let you,” I whisper, kissing him again, soft lips and gentle sighs. I love him so much.

When we pull away, he looks into my eyes, his own filled with affection as he wipes at the tears on my cheeks. It’s only now, being with David again that I can truly understand how much I’ve been missing him. It was like a part of my soul was gone when he wasn’t in my life. I used Elliot to fill that gaping hole, and it was wrong of me to do that. No matter how things ended between Elliot and I, he didn’t deserve the fallout from my reckless heart. I probably owe him an apology for how I behaved in the office—even if he never apologises for dumping me without explanation, I think I should be the bigger person and prove that Westies aren’t the basal creatures his father thinks we are. We have honour and integrity, and we admit it when we’re wrong. And I was wrong. I threw myself at Elliot, told him I could fall in love with him, and that was never true, because the person I love—the person I’ve always loved—is David.

It will always be David.

“I love you, David,” I say again, burying my face in his neck as he holds me close. “I was so miserable without you. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“You never lost me, baby girl. I just needed to grow up a little.” He smooths my hair and kisses my head, whispering that everything will be all right, and he won’t leave me again. He tells me how sorry he is, and that he loves me so much it hurts to be away from me. I tell him the same, whispering all the things my heart has been holding in for so long.

I love you, David. I love you. I love you. I love you.

A nurse comes around and takes David to get his scans done. I don’t want to let go of him. But I’m told to sit in the waiting room as it’s likely he’ll go home afterwards. It hurts my heart to leave his side when we’ve only just become us again.

A good two hours later David comes through the doors with a prescription for painkillers and an information sheet about concussions. The scans don’t show anything except for a fractured nose—which is less than we were expecting—and a slight concussion. He needs to be monitored overnight and isn’t allowed to drive for twenty-four hours.

“Let’s get out of here, baby girl,” he says, holding his hand out to pull me to my feet.

I look at his face, all swollen and bruising already. “Aren’t they going to put anything on your nose?”

He drapes his arm over my shoulder, the familiar gesture filling my heart with happiness. “Nah. They said ice it, take some painkillers and some decongestant. It’s just a fracture and should heal fine on its own. But,” he pauses, grinning that half-dimpled grin of his. “You’re going to have to keep me up all night to make sure I don’t have any bad effects from the concussion.”

“Well, we have weeks’ worth of catching up to do. I think I can manage that.”

“We have years’ worth of catching up to do. I can’t begin to tell you the number of things I’ve imagined doing to you over the years.”

“Really?” We make it to my car and I look at him over the roof.

He bites his bottom lip and nods. “So many fantasies.” I unlock the car and we get inside. “You have been the star of every wet dream I’ve ever had.”

I touch a hand to my chest as my cheeks and body heats. “I’m honoured.”

He grins. “And I’m hard.”

I glance to his lap and gasp at the bulge I see there. “Looks like the rumours were all true, big boy. I should get you home.”

He laughs then gives me an address when I start up the car. When I look at him with a frown, he says, “I moved out. It was time. I love my mum, but I needed some space.”

“OK. Well, let’s check out this new place.” I flash him a smile, feeling funny that he did something this huge without me knowing.

Reaching across the console, he takes my hand. “She hasn’t been there,” he says, and I know he’s talking about Beth.

“Why?” I glance at him then back to the road. “I mean, I’m glad, but you were dating.”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but she’s a bit of a snob. Wouldn’t travel past Strathfield. But I also didn’t offer. It was my place. I didn’t want to share it.”

I flash him a smile. “But you’ll share it with me?”

“I’d share anything with you.”

David’s flat is in Lemongrove, and I park my car in his designated spot before we make our way up the stairs to his third-floor apartment. It’s tiny. A small living area with a three-seater sofa and a TV unit, a kitchen that has a little window into the living area with two stools sitting beneath the ledge, and a short hall that leads to the only bedroom and bathroom.

“It’s nothing spectacular, but it’s cheap,” he says, dropping his keys and wallet on the bench before he inspects the medication they gave him at the hospital.

“I really like it, David. It suits you perfectly—what you see is what you get.” I open his old-style latch fridge and take out some water, pouring him a glass.

When he takes his meds, he thanks me for the water and falls onto the couch with a sigh. “If you want anything to eat or drink, feel free to help yourself. I think I’m gonna be a shitty host tonight. I’m dizzy as fuck.”

I find a tray of ice in his freezer and bag it up with a tea towel for his nose. “It’s your concussion. You just need to rest,” I say, holding the icepack up for him.

“I was supposed to live out my wild fantasies with you,” he says, looking pale as he relaxes with the ice against his face. “I think I need a bucket of this. Everywhere hurts.”

“The painkillers should kick in soon,” I say, sitting next to him and tucking my leg underneath myself, running my fingers through his hair. “And we’ve got the rest of our lives, David. We don’t have to rush.”

He grins a dopey, almost drunk-looking grin. “The rest of our lives,” he repeats. “I fucking love that.”

“And I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, putting his icepack on the couch next to him. I lean in, his hand snaking around to the back of my neck.

“I’m scared of hurting your face,” I whisper against his mouth.

“It’ll be worth it,” he tells me, closing the distance between us and kissing me. His kiss is gentle at first but becomes more insistent, as I relax into him and allow his tongue to explore my mouth. He winces when we press a little too firmly, but mostly it’s one of the most soul-warming kisses I’ve ever experienced.

Staying on his couch, we spend hours, kissing and touching like we should have been when we were teenagers. So many times, I’ve dreamed of being with David like this, and now finally, I have him. He wants me. All along, he wanted me.

Every emotion-fuelled desire my body has been harbouring surges through me, setting my skin abuzz as every part of me longs for his touch.

His hands roam over my body, touching me in places I’d only imagined him touching before. It feels so right to have his hands on me, and I wonder how I ever lived before this moment. He’s everything to me.

“Come to the bedroom,” he whispers in my ear.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Your head.”

“I’m OK” he whispers, his lips brushing along my jawline as his hand slides over the curve of my buttocks. “I want you. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

My breathing grows thick and heavy as I meet his desire-filled eyes, and the air between us grows very serious. “I want this too. I want you.”

He grins, pulling me up with him, pressing his need against me. “Then get. to the. bedroom.”

Excitement skitters through me as I bite my lip and head towards the bedroom door, letting out a yelp when he slaps my behind. I shoot him a cheeky grin over my shoulder and move a little faster, suddenly feeling like hunted prey. I love it.

David’s room is small like the rest of his house with a queen-sized bed dominating the space.

“Take off your clothes.”

I’m definitely the prey. His voice is husky as he speaks, and his boldness sends a bolt of lust straight between my legs.

I’ve never been commanded to take my clothes off before. I have to admit it’s hot. He watches me with darkening eyes, as I reach behind my back and undo the zipper of my dress, letting it fall off my shoulders, exposing my breasts.

I can hear his breathing change as he watches me shimmy out of it, taking my panties off with it to stand before him, naked, exposed and loving his eyes on my body.

“You’re exquisite, Trina,” he breathes as he holds out his hands, beckoning for me to come closer.

I move to him, and he takes hold of my hips, his eyes slowly travelling over every inch of my body.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted his,” he whispers, running his fingertips lightly over my skin, causing goose bumps to prickle over my flesh. My breathing deepens as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the space between my breasts. It makes my body quiver. His hands travel down my sides and then back up my thighs. Then he presses his forehead against my chest and lets out a ragged breath.

I slide my fingers into his thick hair. “Are you all right?” I whisper, worried that maybe this has become too much for him in his current state.

He shakes his head and wraps his arms tightly around my waist, hugging me to him. “It’s just…” He stops all of a sudden.

“Just what?” I ask.

“I haven’t done this before.” He pulls back, his eyes set with worry as he looks up at me. I shake my head, not understanding.

“I thought—”

“I’ve never made love before. I don’t want to mess this up by being too rough, or too quick, or slow, or…” He presses his lips together then I run my fingers through his hair and press my lips to his.

“Just be with me how you want to. Use your body to show me how you feel,” I whisper. “I like it all. Rough. Fast. Slow. Fuck me. Make love to me. Do it however you want. Just do it.”

A noise rumbles in his throat before he pulls me against him, kissing me passionately while he runs his hands up and down my naked back.

“Lie down,” he instructs. “I want to look at you. I want to touch you.”

I recline on the bed in front of him, and he reaches up to smooth his hands over my skin, starting from my collarbone and running his fingers down, in between my breasts and over my stomach. It takes a gloriously long time and makes me feel completely wanted and worshipped by him. He makes me feel perfect.

He brushes his fingers through the trimmed hair on my mound then guides my legs open, so I’m baring myself to him.

“I’ve had so many dreams about this. Please tell me I’m awake, and this is really happening,” he murmurs, his eyes travelling over my flesh.

“It’s really happening,” I whisper, my breathing hot and heavy as I watch him trace his fingers along my thighs toward my core. He slips a finger in between my folds, and I gasp when he pushes it into me.

“Oh, Trina,” he whispers. “That feels like everything heaven is supposed to be.” He adds another finger and moves them in and out of me, sliding them over my clit and back inside me again. Small whimpers keep escaping my lips as feelings of ecstasy flood through my already alert nerve endings.

My orgasm builds quickly, but I want more. I want…“I want you inside me, David,” I gasp out, trying to hold out, but only managing a few seconds before I explode around his hand, bucking my hips as I instinctively close my legs, squeezing myself around him and riding his hand with the waves of my orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he whispers, his hand moving slowly within me as he brings me back down, peering into my face lovingly. “You’re always beautiful, but right now, well, that was something else.” He smiles and presses his lips to mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him tight against me, kissing him harder and momentarily forgetting about his injuries. He winces slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp, pulling back.

“Don’t be. You’re worth it.” He smiles, kissing me once again.

I sit up and reach to unbutton his pants. “I want you inside me, David.” I press my hand to his shoulder, urging him to lie down as I sit over him and open his jeans.

Complying, he grins that gorgeous grin of his and lifts his hips to assist me in taking his pants off. I raise my eyebrows as I realise it’s just pants.

“You don’t wear underwear?” I ask him, my mouth quirking up at the side as I take in the size of his manhood. I’ve felt it before, but I’ve never seen it in the flesh.

He shakes his head slowly from side to side, watching me with a half grin.

Being careful to make sure I don’t hurt his face any more than it already is, I lift his shirt. He raises his arms above his head to aid me and I drop it on the floor as my eyes and my fingers wander over his naked body.

I’ve seen his chest plenty of times. It’s lean and fairly well toned with only a light smattering of brown hair over it. He has broad shoulders and long sinewy limbs. But this is the first time I’m seeing him like this, as mine. And his manhood—my eyes keep drifting back to it—let’s just say it’s sizeable.

Looking at it, I bite my lip nervously then I look up at his eyes. They’re dancing with amusement.

“It’s fine,” he assures me. “You’ll stretch.”

“I hope so,” I say, eyeing him off as he applies a condom.

“Come,” he says guiding me to straddle him. “You control it.”

I poise myself above him and take him in my hand, sliding his tip back and forward between my folds to gauge the fit a little. I settle him at my entrance and press down, gasping as I feel myself expand around him, a slight pain and a warmth reminds me of losing my virginity, but it’s so much better than that, and once I’m fully seated, I feel gloriously full.

I let out a shaky breath as I slowly move above him, feeling him press deep inside me. My core quivers at his touch, and I’m stretched to the brink. The sensation is amazing. And I let out small whimpers of pleasure as I ride him, grinding our hips together to accept him into my depths.

He places his hands on my hips and stills me. “Stop, st-st-stop,” he breathes out carefully and closes his eyes for a moment, frowning slightly.

“What’s wrong?” I pant out, worried I’m hurting him.

“Nothing, I just don’t want this to end yet.”

He winces as I clench around him, taunting him. “Oh my god, you’re gonna get it,” he threatens, grabbing my legs and flipping me back so he is on top of me, still connected.

I laugh. “That was a suave move,” I tell him.

He grins. “I was trying to impress you,” he murmurs, before he tilts his head down to run his tongue around my nipple, blowing lightly on it so it stands up from the cool air then flicks his tongue over it again, sending shivers rippling all over my body. I inhale sharply as he moves inside me again, looking down, his movement slow and sensual. I don’t want this to end either.

My eyes roll back in my head as he fills me so thoroughly. I’m experiencing that fine line between pleasure and pain as I protract around him and he steadies his rhythm. With each thrust, I let out my breath, moaning and whimpering, unable to keep quiet if I tried.

We move as one, my hips rising to meet his thrust. We kiss, and touch, staring into each other’s eyes, then closing them when the emotion becomes too much.

When he comes, I watch the pure bliss and love that radiates from his eyes and his expression. I feel his pulsating inside me and shudder in response, clenching myself around him once more, shocking us both when it causes me to orgasm for the second time tonight.

“Holy fuck, David,” I gasp when we collapse in a heap, breathing heavily and touching each other, not wanting the closeness to end. We waited so long to be together that now we’re connected, we don’t ever want to be apart.

Eventually though, we do. As he withdraws from inside me, I feel as though I have this gaping hole between my legs. I squeeze my internal muscles to try to make it feel normal again, but it just feels big and swollen.

I look up at him in concern. “It’s not going to stay stretched is it?” I ask.

He laughs and kisses me on the forehead. “No, not at all.”

He sits back on the bed and holds his arms out to me. I slide in beside him and curl up against him as he squeezes his arms around me and says, “I love you more than anything in this world. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”

I sigh. “Me either. I felt like a piece of me had gone missing without you in my life. It was like you died, and I couldn’t stand it. I tried being angry at you, but that only really made me reckless and horribly sad.”

“Reckless, hey? Did you go around stealing cars in my absence?” he jokes, even though he knows exactly how reckless I am.

“No, I tried to offer my heart to the wrong person.” I feel him stiffen a little as he reaches up and smooths his hand over my hair.

“Did he hurt you at all?” he asks flatly, a slight chill to his words.

“Only my pride. I was mostly upset about not being able to talk to you.” I sit up and look him in the eye, so he can see my face as I say this. “I love you, David. You are more a part of me than I am.”

“I’m the same,” he whispers emotionally, as he pulls me to him and kisses me again.

When I feel a dampness on my cheeks, I sick back and wipe my eyes, noticing David doing the same.

“Are those your tears or mine?” I ask.

“Both. I’m a fucking mess of emotion right now,” he says with a slight laugh. I reach up and smooth my fingers gently over his cheeks.

“Aren’t we a pair?” I exclaim. “Getting all emotional after making love.” I smile at him weakly, my lip trembling as fear grips my heart. “You know, I’m scared this is actually my dream. I'm petrified I’m about to wake up at home, and you still won’t be talking to me.” Please let this be real.

“It’s no dream, baby girl,” he whispers, holding my face so he’s looking straight into my eyes.

“That’s exactly what you’d say if it was,” I whisper.

He laughs, pressing his lips to my forehead before looking me in the eye again. “How about we try to get some sleep? That way, you’ll wake up in my arms and know that this”—he uses his hands to emphasise our connection—“is real.”

I nod. “OK.” I get up and go over to his alarm clock. “How often do I have to wake you up?”

“You don’t have to. It's been hours, and I’m fine. Check my pupils.”

I look between his eyes and they seem normal, but I’m no doctor.

“I’m fine.” He laughs. “Come to bed, Trina. Sleep with me.”

I pad back to his bed and climb in, resting my head on his chest as we hold each other tightly. “I’m sorry your nose is broken,” I say as I snuggle into him.

“It’s not, it’s fractured,” he replies. “I’m sorry your cheek is bruised.”

“You know something? I actually forgot about that.”

He chuckles as he runs his fingertips up and down my side, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Get some sleep, Trina. I promise I’ll still love you in the morning and every morning after that.”

Thirty-One

One month later…

“I’ve got something for you,” David says, opening a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out a small box.

“It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks,” I say. Although, I suck my breath in a little, excited by this impromptu gift.

It’s Friday morning and I’m still in my pyjamas, sitting on one of the dining stools for breakfast before work. There’s no space for a dining table, so this ledge is where we eat all of our meals. David leans through the kitchen window, presenting me with a thin navy blue rectangular box, tied with a white ribbon.

“I bought this when you were recovering in hospital. I’ve been holding onto it since then, waiting for the right moment to give it to you.”

“What is it?” I take it and hold it in my hand for a moment, trying to guess by the weight.

“Open it and find out.” He laughs.

Pulling at the ribbon, I let it fall either side of my hand. David is watching me eagerly as I slide off the lid and place it on the bench in front of me. White tissue paper is covering the gift, and when I move it aside there sits a silver necklace with a spinning disc attached to it. On one side are the letters ‘L  V  Y  U’ and on the other, ‘I  O  E  O’.

I look at David curiously, not understanding what the letters are. “Spin it,” he says, his eyes twinkling, the corner of his mouth turning up with enjoyment as he watches me.

I do as I’m told and hold the necklace up so I can see the disc more closely. As it spins, the letters come together and spell ‘I LOVE YOU'.

My chest swells, and tears prick my eyes as I’m touched by the thoughtfulness of his gift. I look from the necklace to David, who is biting his lip, waiting for my response.

“Oh, David,” I breathe. “This is the most beautifully corny gift anyone has ever given me. I love it. I love you.” I run around the bench to the kitchen and throw my arms around his neck, kissing him thoroughly to show my gratitude for such a beautiful gift. “Thank you so much, I’ll wear it always.”

“You’re more than welcome,” he whispers as he takes it from me and undoes the clasp. “I wanted to give you something to commemorate our first month as a couple.”

I hold my hair up as he reaches behind me, re-joining the clasp and adjusting the necklace so it sits neatly on my breastbone.

I finger the disc, twirling it as I smile happily at him. “A whole month, hey?”

“Well, a month and one day. I thought I should keep to tradition by celebrating a little late since we came into this relationship late too.”

“I love it,” I say with a smile, reaching up to touch his now healed face. “I love you, and I love my gift.”

He nibbles at my ear and whispers, “I love you too,” he says, kissing my neck where the necklace lies. I lean against the bench as he pulls my singlet above my breasts.

“Do we have time for this?” I ask, knowing we both have a train to catch if we want to get to work on time.

“We do if we’re quick,” he says grinning wickedly as he whips my pyjama shorts down my legs in a move any magician would be proud of. “I’ll bet I can rock your world in twenty minutes.”

I laugh, accepting his challenge, as he grips my thighs and hoists me onto the bench before dropping to his knees in front of me. The moment his tongue darts out and laps tenderly at my clit, the smile falls from my face, replaced with a look of pure bliss.

* * *

Half an hour later we’re satisfied, showered, dressed and heading out the door on our way to work. “Don’t forget I have my Christmas party tonight,” I tell David while he deadbolts the door.

He tears the slice of toast he’s still eating from between his teeth and nods. “You were planning on going home afterwards.”

“I’m going to be drunk, and work is giving us taxi vouchers. So you won’t have to deal with me.”

“Your work loves to liquor up their employees.”

“They sure do. Helps us forget how soul crushing the work is,” I joke.

“Well, I won’t complain if you want to catch that cab here. I like drunk Trina. She’s freaky.”

“Don’t temp me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

“Well, as much as my mum loves you, she still expects me home occasionally. She wants to go shopping with me tomorrow or something.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just move in with me. You spend most nights here, anyway.”

“Because we’re trying to do this right for a change. Date until uni ends then move in together.”

“Baby girl, you and I are a sure thing. The rules don’t apply to us.”

“Ask me again when we’ve been dating six months and six days. I’ll have your answer then.”

He chuckles. “I’ll hold you to that. But you have to do one thing for me tonight.”

“What’s that?”

“Meet me in the foyer of the Hyatt. Your mum already knows you aren’t coming home.”

“You got us a hotel room for the night?” My eyes go wide with excitement.

“The weekend actually. I’m going to pamper my girl with luxury.”

I wrap my arms around his neck for the second time that morning, peppering lipstick kisses on his face. “You are awesome at this relationship thing.”

He laughs. “Well, you’ve always brought out the best in me.”

Thirty-Two

“I love half days,” Kayley sighs as she approaches my desk. “Are you looking forward to your first work Christmas party?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know. I'm a bit nervous actually.”

“Don’t be, they’re great. They’re pretty swanky and everybody gets drunk and starts dancing and letting loose. Then we all go out afterwards. So, it’s a day and night full of fun, fun, fun!”

“Let me guess. You're going out to Pontoon afterwards?”

“Hell yeah. We all love it there. There’s dancing, food, billiards and best of all—couches. I just love the couches. Are you coming this time? You’ve been notably absent these past couple of months.”

“Well, it’s a bit uncomfortable being around Beth these days. I’ve snatched two guys from under her nose, so I thought it best to stay away.”

Kayley laughs. “You know she and Bianca only come out with us when you’re there? They normally have nothing to do with us.”

“Really?” I ask, taken aback slightly. Bianca and I have a kind of understanding these days; she stays out of my way and I stay out of hers. It works well.

“Yep.” She drums her hands on the top of my partition. “Well, I’m off. Do you want me to go downstairs with you and show you where the bus picks us up?”

“That would be great, Kayley. Thanks.”

* * *

When the time comes to leave, the entire office stands on the side of the road and waits for the two buses the company has hired to safely ferry us all to the Park Hyatt. The function room is beautifully appointed with round tables covered in white linens and festive silver and blue centrepieces, all surrounding a buffet and a small dance floor.

Christmas music croons from the speakers and waiters are circulating with trays of wine and beer. There’s a bar at the back of the room that serves spirits for you to buy and free soft drinks, like coke or lemonade.

I take a glass of wine from a tray and walk towards the nearest table to inspect the settings. I notice there are name cards at each table telling us where to sit.

“Oh god, I hope I’m not seated next to my boss,” Kayley says from beside me. “I’m going to find out where I am and move my name if I’m not happy.” She gives me a mischievous look before dashing off.

I’m really not fussed about where I’m sitting and spend time chatting to a few people I know while admiring the Christmas decorations around the room. They’re all white faux pine with silver and royal blue decorations. The light in the room has a blue hue to it as well, and they’re pumping that smoke they use in nightclubs at floor level. It creates a misty swirl as everyone moves around, making it appear as though we’re in a winter wonderland in the middle of Sydney’s summer.

“So, what do you think of it all?” Carmel asks, as she approaches, smiling warmly.

“It’s lovely, almost magical,” I breathe, looking around. “I think this is the fanciest place I’ve ever been to.”

“Me too. They go all out don’t they?”

I nod, still looking around the room, feeling like I’ve entered the set of a Christmas movie.

“Have you found your name card yet?” she asks.

“No, I’ve been too busy circulating and admiring the room.”

“Well, you’d better claim your seat fast. People are rearranging the cards. You’ll get stuck next to someone awful if you’re not quick enough,” she warns.

I laugh. “Well, in that case. I'd better get moving.”

I wish Carmel well and make my way around the tables trying to find my name. A lot of people have already taken their seats and are chatting happily. I spot Kayley, already seated, and she signals to me that she doesn’t know where my name is.

My heart falls when I finally find my name. I haven’t even considered the possibility of being placed there. I’m seated on the right-hand side of the last person I want to sit next to, Elliot. To his left is Beth and to her left is Bianca. There are eight people to a table and four others I don’t know are sitting across from me. I stand back from the table a little, not really wanting to sit down just yet.

Ken, the partner I’d spoken with at drinks, stands up at the front of the room, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention.

“If everyone could please find their seats. The buffet will soon start. Then we’ll have some speeches, a few fun awards and a bit of dancing when the eating is all done.”

I lower my eyes as I move forward and roughly drag my chair out to sit down. I don’t bother looking at the three I already know. I just smile and nod at the four I don’t, introducing myself to the person who sits at my right. He’s softly spoken, and I struggle to hear him over the noise of the room, but I think he introduces himself as Eric.

“Hello, stranger,” Elliot murmurs in my ear.

Turning slowly, I level my gaze on him, and I can see his eyes darken. He’s still so beautiful to look at. But I don’t have that same need or want around him I did before. I just feel…sad. For him, not me. He’s the one with no control over his destiny.

“Stranger indeed. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To pretend we were never a thing?” I fix a saccharine smile on my face for the sake of anyone watching.

“It’s not what I wanted. My father—”

“I don’t want to hear it. You are your own man, and no one—not even your father can make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“But…” he starts, and I shake my head.

“This isn’t the time, or the place to be having this conversation, Elliot. Neither of us needs another written warning.” I flick my eyes to Beth and Bianca, noting their tilted heads as they strain their ears in an effort to hear what we are saying.

“Who cares about those two!” he bursts out, louder than he should.  “What are they going to do? Dob on us for talking?”

That’s when it dawns on me. “Did you move my name card here on purpose?”

His gaze flicks to the place card in front of me. “I needed to talk to you,” he admits.

“Here? You couldn’t just pick up the phone?”

“Would you have answered if I did?”

I open my mouth to say yes, but shut it abruptly when I realise that no, I probably would have let it ring out. “That first week, yes. But now? No. I wouldn’t have.”

“See?”

“Fine, Elliot. Talk. But understand it will change nothing.”

He nods his head towards Beth. “I heard you’re with David now. I guess there was something to worry about after all?”

“I’ll be honest with you, Elliot. I’ve always been in love with David. I just didn’t think he could love me too. So, when I told you there was nothing to worry about, at the time, I was being honest.”

“You were fighting because of us?”

I nod. “Yes, we were. He told me how he felt after you went to see him.”

“Yeah, I remember your message. You said you chose me…” He drops his eyes on a sigh then looks back up at me, his eyes looking pained as his brow creases. “But were you ever really mine?”

“Yes,” I say immediately. “The time we were together, I believed in what we were. But you let me go. Without a word, you let me go. And my world shifted and opened the door for David and me.”

His eyes close. “I made a mistake letting you go,” he whispers.

“Maybe it’s the best for both of us. You promised me you’d never hurt me, and you did. I promised I’d never date David, and I am.”

He shakes his head. “I knew it would happen. I could tell by the way you talked about him.”

“Don’t put this on me, Elliot. You made your choice when you shut me out.”

“You were always going to leave me for him,” he states.

I shrug my shoulders. It’s something I can’t deny. “I’m not going to fight about this. What’s done is done.”

His eyes skim over me, and he grunts slightly. Talk about an uncomfortable dinner. I turn my head away from him when it is announced that the buffet is being served. Tables are being called up one at a time to choose their meals.

“I'm sorry, Katrina,” he says, causing me to turn back to him. “I know I’m the one who ruined things between us. I shouldn’t blame you, or David. I just… I wanted to talk to you and explain myself. I want you to understand how sorry I am for the way I acted. I really was a coward like you said.”

“Elliot, you’re not a coward,” I say, feeling bad for planting that word in his head. “You’re just stuck. I already know your father threatened to cut you off for dating a western suburbs girl. I obviously wasn’t worth standing up to him, and that’s fine—I accept that. But I think I’ll be forever pissed at you for giving me the silent treatment instead of having the decency to break it off with me properly. I think I at least deserved a phone call.”

He looks down at his hands. “I know. I went about it all wrong, and I’m so sorry for that. I guess I just knew that if I spoke to you, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it, then I’d be out on my own with no one to help me.”

I think about how David has moved out on his own with a job that pays less than Elliot’s. But because he’s realistic with what he can afford, because he’s always saved his money, he’s comfortable in his accommodations and lifestyle. When I used to look at Elliot, I saw a man who had his life together and everything going for him. Now I see him as a boy who’s petrified of going against his father, still clinging to his purse strings. I’d rather be poor than controlled. That’s no way to live.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Elliot. I’m sorry your father’s money holds such importance you let it rule your decisions. I’ve never had lots of money, so to me the choice to follow my heart would have been easy.” I shake my head, searching for the words to convey how I feel about everything that happened between us. “You hurt me, Elliot. You made me feel special, you made me feel loved. You let me feel something for you then, poof.” I use my hands to mime the word. “It was all gone, and all I got was an insult about being a Westie from your father, and not so much as a text message from you. That hurt me greatly, Elliot. It made me feel worthless. But it’s you, I feel most sorry for.” He knits his brows together as he listens to me. “You’re the one that lost out here. You gave up what you thought was love. For money—money, Elliot. I can’t understand that.”

“I’m so sorry, Katrina,” he barely whispers. His hand twitches toward mine, but he seems to realise what he’s doing and curls his fingers underneath instead. “I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. You don’t know how many times I started to call you, how many times I wrote an email, a text… I know things have changed for you, but my feelings are still the same. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. And I can’t change that now, I wish I could, but, I can’t.” His handsome face etches with pain as he speaks to me.

Our table gets called to go up to the buffet, and the others around us stand to make their way over, leaving Elliot and me on our own for a moment. I watch Beth and Bianca hesitate as they stand, desperately wanting to stay to try to find out what Elliot and I are talking about. I stand as well, turning to Elliot, who is still sitting.

“I’m really sorry too,” I say. “Just be thankful this all happened early on while we were only getting started. At least we weren’t too invested in each other yet. Things would have been a lot harder the longer we were together.” I touch him lightly on the shoulder and make my way to the buffet, but he catches my hand and holds me there.

“I’m still invested in you,” he says, looking at me sincerely.

I pull my hand from his. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m not. You need to let this go.” Walking away from him, I ignore the watchful eyes of others, chancing a glance back toward him when I reach the buffet.

He is sitting sideways in his chair slouched over with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped together as he stares at the floor. He takes a deep breath and sits up, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

I decide to resign from this job, now fully understanding the reason for the 'no-dating' policy. It’s hard to be around a person you once loved, and even harder to work with them every day.

As I watch him walk over to the buffet, he gives me a small smile and shrugs his shoulders in capitulation. It’s then that I make my next decision: to forgive him. He’s clearly torturing himself over what happened. Whether I continue to be angry with him or not is of no consequence anymore. It’s time I look on our relationship for what it was—a beautiful struggle; one that we ultimately lost, but it was wonderful while it lasted. I can’t hate him for that.

I get through the necessary parts of the Christmas party, trying to talk pleasantly to everyone at my table, even attempting some nice conversation with Beth and Bianca. I don't receive much of a response but, at least I try to make the best of things.

When everyone starts dancing, I slip outside to call David and tell him what happened.

“Are you OK?” he asks when I finish, concern edging his voice.

“I’m fine. I actually feel a lot better about everything now. I guess I needed some closure, you know?”

“I’m glad you got the chance to talk to him, Trina,” he says sincerely.

“Thank you, David, I’m glad too.”

“Although, I do feel sorry for the guy.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re a hard woman to get over, Trina. I tried. And I failed miserably.”

A light chuckle escapes my throat. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs down the line, setting the butterflies in my stomach aflutter.

“I’d better get back in there. I’ll see you tonight?”

“You will. I’ll call you when I’m finished. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I smile as I hang up the phone and head back inside to re-join the party, feeling much lighter now that I’ve spoken to my most beautiful struggle of all—my best friend, my love, my heart. Thank god we won that one.

Epilogue

Two years later…

After leaving Turner Barlow & Smith, I went to work at a much smaller law firm as an office all-rounder. I love it there, getting to do some paralegal work and have a lot more hands-on experience.

They offered a full-time position when I graduated, and now I’m a junior solicitor specialising in family law. Although working in a small law firm means I’m called upon to help out in other areas as well.

David was taken on full time at his office too He did so well in his final year of uni that they offered him the top junior position they had. I’m very proud of my man.

Together, we’re moving forward in our career and our relationship, pooling our funds so we could get a very small and crappy flat—even smaller than the one David rented in Lemongrove—as close to the city as we could afford. It’s cramped and a constant mess, but we love it as much as we love each other. It’s only a problem when David can’t find his tie in the morning, but most of the time they’re attached to the bedpost, so the complaints are minimal.

Triathlons are now a thing of the past. I gave it a good try but ultimately, I wasn’t good enough to make it at a senior level, and I just didn’t have the drive I needed to push harder, preferring to put my efforts into my studies, then my career, and of course my relationship. And it’s better this way. I still train to maintain my fitness. But that intense pressure I kept putting on myself is now gone. I’m happier now I’m running for the enjoyment of it. And it’s whilst out running during my lunch break that I see Elliot again after almost two years of no contact.

Well, I never…

Waving when he sees me, he excuses himself from the slightly overweight man he’s with and trots towards me.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, flashing a smile.

He looks exactly as I remember him. His hair is perhaps a little longer but everything else is still the same. As he gets closer, I notice that his shirt advertises a personal training company.

“What’s this?” I ask immediately, forgetting to start with ‘hi, it’s been ages. How have you been?’

He looks down and laughs. “I’m a personal trainer now.”

I do a double take. “What? What happened to becoming a judge?”

He continues to smile and shakes his head. “That was my father’s dream for me. After you left the office, I did a lot of soul-searching and decided to make my own path.”

“Wow, that’s amazing, Elliot.” I never thought he’d have it in him. But here he is, living his dream. I have to say I’m proud, and if I had any influence on this decision, then our time together was well worth the struggle. “I'm thrilled for you.”

“Looks like congratulations are owed to you as well,” he says, nodding toward the engagement ring on my left hand. “Is that from David?”

I nod briefly. David proposed the night we graduated, and I gladly accepted.

“Oh, thank you. The wedding is a while off. But everything else is great.” He smiles forlornly and meets my eyes. “How about you? How are things with you?

A sadness seems to linger just behind his eyes as he searches my face in the moments before he answers. “Well, I don’t really speak to my dad anymore. Which, really, is a good thing. And I’m seeing someone now. It took a while, and she’s not you...but things are OK. I’m not ready for a commitment like that yet.” He laughs uneasily, nodding at my ring again.

“Well, I’d better let you get back to it.” The man Elliot was training is standing away from us with his hands on his hips, puffing and looking over while checking his watch. “It was nice to see you again, Evan.”

He laughs. It’s been a long time since I’ve called him that. But there’s little humour in the sound and it pains me a little. I never wanted to hurt Elliot. Just like he never wanted to hurt me.

“You too, Katrina. I'll see you around. If not, have a great life.” He gives me a despondent half smile and runs off, returning to his client. I watch him gracefully run away, feeling a friendly affection and a slight sadness for him before I continue on my way.

Seeing me again seemed hard on Elliot. Although, I’m so glad he finally stood up to his father. He did it too late to make any difference to his and my relationship, but at least the next time he finds love, it won’t matter what her address is.

As I run along the path, I glance at the ring David gave me and remember how he proposed. The jewellery box was underneath his graduation cap, and when I came over to him with my degree in hand, he complained that his hat was hurting and asked me to check it for him. When he removed his hat and handed it to me, I noticed the box and looked at his face, wondering if it really was what I thought it was.

“One year and one month since we started,” he said, getting down on one knee.

With quivering hands, I opened it, gasping as he asked me to marry him. I burst into happy tears. “Yes,” I cried, holding my still shaking hand out for him to slide the ring onto my finger.

Our families were around us to witness the moment, along with a few others from the graduation ceremony. “I always knew they’d end up together,” Mum said. And they applauded when we kissed.

It was corny and beautiful, and so very perfectly David.

As I continue to run, I think about all the events that led me to where I am now—my relationship with Christopher, spending time with Elliot and giving into my love for David. It was a difficult and emotional time, but it all got me to where I am, happy, and in love with the only man I’ve ever truly cared for. David makes me feel right. He makes me feel complete. Despite the pain we had to go through to get to this point, I wouldn’t change a thing. Not for all the money in the world.

Keep reading for more of David and Trina in their backstory novella, Too Close. David takes you through their school years, giving you insight into his mind and actions until that fateful day when Christopher shook their world.

The Backstory

DAVID: TOO CLOSE

Prologue

“Oh god, Trina. Open your eyes. Please be OK.” I burst through the doors of the emergency room, carrying her in my arms. She isn’t moving.

Frantically, I look around, ignoring the shocked gasps as waiting patients take in the sight of us, covered in blood.

“Somebody, help me!”

No one moves as the sound around me disappears. All I can hear is my ragged breath and the sound of my own heart thudding in my ears.

Thump, Thump.

“Help!” I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life.

After what feels like an age but is probably only moments, Katrina is pulled from my arms. The sound returns to the room in a noisy wave as she’s placed on a gurney, swarmed by people.

“What happened?”

I try to hold her hand, but I’m pushed back. “Her boyfriend.”

“You’re her boyfriend?” the nurse asks.

“No. Her boyfriend did this.”

“Was she unconscious when you found her?”

I nod. “I brought her straight here.”

“Does she have any medical conditions? Allergies?”

“No.”

“Are you family?”

“No. I’m her friend.”

A gloved hand goes up in front of me. “Then you need to wait here.”

“I need to stay with her.” I try to follow as they wheel her away from me, but there’s a man holding me back. “Trina!” My hands go to my hair and I grab chunks of it, trying to somehow stop the thudding of my heart in my ears. It’s painful, and I desperately want to be with her. “Please tell me she’s going to be OK.” I grab the blue scrubs of the man holding me back.

“She’s in good hands, mate. I promise you that.” Slowly, I uncurl my fists, releasing my grip. “That’s the way. You look like you’ve been through a bit too. Why don’t you come and let me have a look at you?”

I nod once and follow him into triage. There, he gives me an ice pack for my swollen face, and cleans up the cuts and scrape marks on my hands and arms.

Tears burn at the backs of my eyes, and all I can think about is the sight of all that blood over Katrina’s beautiful face. “I can’t lose her. I…I can’t. She has to be OK.”

“They’re doing everything they can,” he assures me, but I keep rambling away, my body shaking as shock settles in.

“She’s my world. I can’t lose her. I love her.”

“Does she know that?”

I shake my head.

“Then you’ll have to tell her when she’s well again.”

“What if she…what if she doesn’t make it?”

“Then tell God. He’ll let her know.”

“What if I don’t believe in God?”

“Tell him, anyway.” The nurse gives me a sympathetic smile, and we let the quiet fall while he wraps a bandage around my arm before getting me to fill out a bunch of forms that feel more complicated than they should. I can barely focus. But once I’m through, I’m taken back to the waiting room where I wait, and wait, and wait.

Hours pass. I don’t think my leg has stopped bouncing once. I rest my elbows on my knees, and that’s uncomfortable. So, I sit back and lean my head against the wall, but that feels horrible too. My guts won’t stop swirling.

I need to see her. But, no one will let me through those damn doors because I’m not counted as family even though I’ve known her virtually all my life.

“David!”

Katrina’s family rush through the automatic doors, frantic expressions as they find my eyes in the crowded room.

“Oh god, is that your blood?” Mrs Mahoney gasps upon seeing my swollen face and blood-stained shirt. “What happened?”

I drop my head, feeling responsible because I’m the selfish fuck who couldn’t let Trina live her own life without me in it. “The blood isn’t mine,” I force out, pulling at my shirt before I shake my head, slowly from side to side. “I’m so sorry.”

“Where is she?” Mr Mahoney asks urgently.

“I don’t know, they won’t tell me anything.”

Mrs Mahoney spins on her heels and heads straight for the reception desk, asking after her daughter, with Mr Mahoney hot on her trail. Her brother Tom stays with me.

“What happened?”

Closing my eyes, the images of that day’s events flash through my mind. I shake my head in an attempt to clear the horror away, but I can’t. I can see it even with my eyes open. “Christopher happened.”

“I knew I didn’t like that guy,” Tom growls through gritted teeth.

“He came home early and caught me there with Trina. We were just watching a movie, and I know he fucking hates me, but Tom, I never expected him to lose it like he did. You should have seen his face. It was all twisted up and vicious. He decked me”—I gesture towards the damage to my face—“and threw me out of the flat. He locked the door and…I heard her screaming…then—” The rest of the words seem to lodge themselves in my throat as a wave of nausea overcomes me.

“What happened?” he repeats, his words desperate.

I swallow hard, not wanting to say the words out loud. “He put her through the glass sliding door, and…and...” My stomach twists and I can’t recount the rest. I grip my head and lean forwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop him fast enough,” I whisper, as tears slide down my face. I don’t want to lose her.

One

I remember the first time I saw Katrina. I was probably ten years old at the time and girls weren’t really on my radar. But she was the new kid in school, and I noticed her because she was so much taller than all the other girls.

Each day, she wore her honey-blonde hair in two long braids that sat over her shoulders and were tied with blue ribbons to match our school uniform. Something inside me made me want to either pull on her braids, or undo those ribbons. But, I restrained myself because experience had already taught me that girls didn’t like anyone messing with their hair. Once, I swiped the headband of a girl called Tracy Beneventi and she was so pissed that she kicked me in the shin so hard that I still have a dent from her school shoes. No way was I messing with a girl’s hairstyle after that—until, of course, I got older and girls started wanting their hair pulled in certain situations. But, I digress, at the time, I was ten, and pulling hair was a no-no, so I let Katrina’s tempting braids remain untouched.

The temptation was very real, though. We caught the same bus home each day, and I’d watch those braids swing back and forth hypnotically as the bus ambled along potholed roads on its way to Cranebrook, the farthest stop on its journey. Maybe four kids lived that far away from the school, and it took me a couple of weeks of watching her as the bus emptied out to finally decide I was going to sit next to her.

It wasn’t so I could pull her hair. It was because she looked lonely and never talked to anyone. I figured we may as well be friends since the bus was completely boring once everyone else got off.

“Can I sit next to you?” I asked her as soon as we got on the bus. She had her bag clutched to her chest like a shield, and I dropped straight into the vacant spot beside her, not waiting for an answer as noisy kids barrelled past us.

“I guess,” she said, bouncing her shoulders and pulling her bag closer. I could barely hear her over the noise from everyone else.

“I think you get off at the same stop as me,” I said, even though I knew this for sure.

“Do I?” She actually seemed surprised by this news.

“Yeah, you get off the bus right in front of me every day.”

“Oh. Where to you live?”

“Etchell Place, what about you?”

“Tornado Crescent.”

“I know that street. It’s near the reserve. We’re only a couple of streets away from each other.” I gave her a smile. “Hey, how come you don’t catch the bus in the morning?”

“My dad drives me.”

“Lucky you,” I said, thinking for a moment before I came up with what I thought was a brilliant plan. “Hey, if we become friends, do you think he could drive me too?”

She shrugged and settled her inquisitive blue eyes on me. “I don’t know…maybe.”

“That settles it then. We’re friends.”

“We are?”

“Yep. You look like you could do with one.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen you around school. You don’t really talk to anyone much.”

Her eyes shifted downward. “I don’t have much to say.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got plenty to say. You just haven’t found the right people to talk to.”

“Those girls don’t want to listen to me, anyway.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. You’re talking to girls,” I said knowingly, attempting to peer into her face. She shrugged and turned her head away, watching the world fly past us through the bus window.

“Hey, David,” Cameron called out from the back seat. He was in my class and we were kind of friends, but he annoyed me more often that not.

“What’s up?” I asked, turning in my seat.

“Who’s your girlfriend?” He said it like it was a bad thing, but I wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction of riling me up.

“Hey.” I nudged her with my elbow. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned pink. “Katrina.”

“Katrina.” I tested it out on my tongue, deciding it was too long before I repeated a shorter version to Cameron. “Her name’s Trina,” I said. “And we’re ten. She’s not my girlfriend, but she is my friend. You give her a hard time and you’ll have my fist to answer to.” I held it up as a warning. Cameron laughed, but he sat down and stayed quiet too because there was a chipped tooth in his mouth courtesy of the time he said shit about my mum. We Western Sydney kids were rough, but we learned fast and knew our boundaries.

“Thanks,” Trina said when I turned back around.

“For what?” I pulled a slightly bruised apple from my bag and took a bite.

“For saying I wasn’t your girlfriend. I don’t want to get teased.”

“You won’t get teased. If you do. Tell me and I’ll sort them out.”

“OK,” she said, going quiet again.

“So, how do you like catching the bus?” I asked, taking another bite of my apple. I always thought it would be cool to know someone from my school who lived near me. Not many kid’s parents were happy to make them travel so far for school, especially when there was a local one within walking distance of our houses.

“I hate it,” she said, turning to look at me. “I hate that my parents moved so far away that I had to change schools. I hate that I have to catch the bus. It stinks. It smells like armpits and buttholes and rotten fruit. The fabric on the seats prickles the backs of my legs and it itches. It sucks!”

I was a bit shocked when this tirade of words spilled from her mouth, but when she finished, I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?!” she demanded, her face set in a scowl.

“You’re right.” I laughed even harder at the indignant look on her face. “It does smell like armpits, buttholes and rotten fruit!”

She looked at me for a moment, her blue eyes assessing mine. I guess she was trying to decide if she was angry with me for laughing, or whether she thought it was funny too.

Thankfully, she chose to laugh along with me, because that was the moment our lifelong friendship began.

Two

It was easier in primary school. Trina and I could hang out and no one really cared. Sure, we got the odd question about our relationship. But since we were both blond with blue eyes, it was often assumed we were related, and puberty hadn’t hit yet, so we were largely left to our own devices. And we preferred it that way. We’d hang out at each other’s places and ride our bikes on weekends. We’d run free, and we’d swim in the summer, and every year we grew closer, more entwined in each other’s lives until we couldn’t tell where I stopped and she began. Joined at the hip, our mothers said.

When primary school was over, our comfortable world altered. The moment Trina and I stepped foot through the high school gates on our first day, we felt the change. Tight cliques of girls and macho groups of guys looked on us with inquisitive eyes. They wanted to know our business, wanted us to fit inside their boxes, pick a group. But Trina and I weren’t group material. We were an ‘us’ and we fell somewhere on the outside of the social hierarchy. And outsiders made insiders uncomfortable. In high school, we weren’t left alone.

For a while, we managed to stay together, hanging out on our own since we didn’t really know that many people in our classes. But slowly, the status quo got to us and we started making other friends and bending so we fit in.

Katrina was encouraged to sit with a group of girls at lunchtime. I liked to call them the ‘celebs’ because everyone seemed to know their names. They flattered her, made her feel important, and since high school is difficult enough without being an outcast, I didn’t try to stand in her way. I spent most of my time out on the oval kicking a ball around with the guys, anyway. So it was no big deal. Trina and I still saw each other—we weren’t growing apart in the slightest—we were just becoming what we always were: a girl and a guy with separate interests.

But as soon as the day finished, it was our time. We shed our social norms and slotted right back into being us. Trina and David. Best buddies till we die. Once we were off the bus, I would either go to her house, or she would come to mine. We’d do homework, we’d watch TV, or we’d just talk. We never got tired of being together and were happy in the ease of each other’s company. We survived entering the big world of high school and it seemed like nothing could change us.

And we were right in a way. We didn’t change. I did. When my mum and dad started fighting all the time, I became angry and withdrawn.

My dad seemed to hate the sight of me for some reason. I don’t know if he resented having to take care of mum and me, or whether he just hated everyone in general. He’d always been a big drinker. But by the time I was fourteen, it had gotten out of hand. He was gambling too. Both parents tried to act normal when I was around, but they would fight like crazy at night. Each time they fought, I woke up, and each time, I’d lie awake, listening to the argument.

One night I was woken by the sound of a slamming door, followed shortly by the car starting before a crashing then a thud came from the kitchen. I raced out of my room, thinking something had happened to Mum. Instead, I found my father lying on the floor, a bottle of scotch glugging itself empty beside him. In his hand, he clutched the base of a broken glass while he snored loudly.

“Shit,” I said to myself, leaning over him to pick up the bottle and remove the glass from his hand. I placed them both on the bench and stood over him, wondering what I was going to do. I wasn’t strong enough to pick him up and move him, and I couldn’t just leave him lying there.

Before I even considered trying to rouse him, I threw down a bunch of paper towel to soak up as much scotch as I could and cleaned up the broken glass.

“Dad,” I whispered when I was finished, shaking him gently.

Realising he wasn’t going to wake easily, I rolled my eyes and yelled instead. “Dad! Wake up!” I shook him more firmly.

“What? What are you doing, boy?!” he growled, sliding his knee up and nearly clocking me in the face with it. I quickly jerked my head back to avoid it. But in doing so, I managed to earn the wrath of my father. “What are you flinching for? You think I’m gonna hurt you? You think you’re better than me?” His face scrunched up in a scowl as he glared right at me, the stench of alcohol coming off him in waves. “Don’t deny it. I can see the way you’re lookin’ at me. Let me tell you somethin’, boy. You are me, so get a good look. This’ll be you in a few years. You’ll fuck up everything you touch. Just like I do.”

My stomach bottomed out hearing those words. My mother always said alcohol brought out the truth in people and it hurt to hear the resentment bleeding from his tongue. Still, when he tried to stand, grunting and puffing before he stumbled back to the floor, I reached forward, offering my hand. “Dad, let me help.”

Snatching his arm away from me, he pushed me backwards, causing me to fall on my arse and adding insult to injury. “Fuck off,” he spat. “I don’t need the help of a good-for-nothing kid like you. Get the fuck back to your room.”

A good-for-nothing kid like me.

My hand burned from the rejection while my heart ached and a seed of hatred took root in my chest. I looked down on him, the man who was half of my makeup, the man I was supposed to look up to, and all I could see was a mean drunk who cared for no one but himself.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, eyes wild, throat gurgling.

I shuffled back, out of his reach, my eyes burning as I scrambled to my feet and rushed for my room while he continued to yell obscenities in my wake. I didn’t want to, but I cried that night. Sat on the floor beside my bed, listening to him shout and yell and mutter, my head in my hands as my tears fell while his words sliced my heart. Sticks and stones.

Over the next month, I did my best to avoid my dad whenever possible. If I got home and saw my dad’s car in the driveway, I’d go back to Trina’s house and tell them Mum was working late. If I did that, they’d let me stay for dinner. And I got to feel wanted for a couple of hours.

Trina was my rock during this time. She listened to me go on and on about how pissed I was with my father, never once rolled her eyes because I was repeating myself. And she never tried to tell me what to do. She was just there for me, being exactly the person I needed, when I needed her. Because that’s what best friends do. They stay. They listen.

On the nights Dad wasn’t home, I took the opportunity to spend a little time with my mother. We got along really well, and she did her best to make the most of what we had at the time. We were constantly broke because my father was burning through the family funds faster than the money could be made, but we made do. Chicken noodles weren’t the most nutritious, but they kept the hunger at bay.

Since neither of us wanted to talk about what was really happening, most of our time together was spent reading. We were sharing George R.R Martin’s A Song of Fire and Ice series. She read the first book years ago, but had never read the others. So, while I read the first, she read the second and so on. I looked forward to these nights with my mum. I could almost pretend like we were one of those happy families they depict on TV shows, and I’d go to bed with the hope that Dad wouldn’t bother coming home and I’d actually get to sleep through the night….

“I’m so sick of your fucking bullshit!”

It was the first sentence I heard after being pulled from my sleep by my parents’ fighting. It was my mother. She was yelling at my father for spending all our money. Again.

“You have a wife and a fourteen-year-old son. But all you give a shit about is fucking gambling and drinking. I’ve had it with you!”

My ears reverberated from the shrill pitch of her voice. I could hear my dad say something in return, but it only came through the wall as a muffled yell.

Sighing, I decided I’d had it too. I couldn’t stand another night listening to them argue. I got up and pulled on a pair of tracksuit pants and my runners. Then I climbed out the window and headed to Katrina’s place, jumped her side fence and tapped on her window.

“Trina,” I whispered as loud as I could without talking. “Trina.”

After a few moments, her blind went up and a bleary-eyed Trina was looking confused on the other side of the glass. It was probably the first time I really saw her—as a girl, I mean. She was wearing a sports crop top and a pair of satin Mickey Mouse boxer shorts, and with me still going through puberty at the time, I felt a bit of a stirring down below.

Immediately, I dropped my gaze, pushing any thoughts that were at odds with our friendship as deep down as I could.

She pushed the window open. “David?”

“Jesus Trina. Put some clothes on.”

“What?” she said, looking down at herself. “This is what I sleep in.”

I keep my eyes averted, not trusting myself not to stare at her chest. “Just put on a shirt or something.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, grabbing a shirt from the back of her desk chair. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Can I crash here? Mum and dad are screaming at each other again.”

“Sure,” she said immediately, popping out the fly screen so I could climb through. “You’ll have to bunk in with me though. If I go wandering about the house to get you blankets and a pillow, someone might hear and go off their nut.”

Pulling myself through the window, I picked up the screen and repositioned it. “You don’t think it’ll be a bit weird having me sleep in your bed with you?”

“How is it going to be weird?” she asked me, hands on hips. “You’re like my brother.”

For reasons I didn’t understand at the time, a heavy feeling landed with a thud in the pit of my stomach. “Your brother?”

“Well, yeah. We practically grew up together.”

I glanced between the bed and her then rubbed my hand across the back of my neck. “I guess.”

“Get in,” she said with a sweeping gesture. “You get to sleep against the wall.”

“Fine,” I conceded, taking off my shoes. “You know we could sleep either end. Head to toe type thing.”

“I can guarantee I will kick you back out that window if you put your stinky foot anywhere near my face.”

“My feet don’t stink.”

“All feet stink, David. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just never slept next to someone before.” I shrugged, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“Well, there’s a first for everything. Now, quit your belly aching and get in.”

“All right, all right,” I conceded, climbing into her single bed and sliding until I was up against the wall. “This was a terrible idea. There’s barely enough room for one.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s kinda nice,” she said, smiling as she slotted in beside me and propped herself up on her elbow. “We’ve never had a sleep over before.”

“Not from a lack of asking.” I laughed, trying to ignore the warmth that was going through my body at being so close to her in the dark. I could feel the heat of her thigh pressed against mine, even though I was wearing track pants. I didn’t know what to do with my hands so I clasped them across my chest. This really was a terrible idea.

She giggled. “They never really went for the boy-girl sleepover, did they?”

When I didn’t respond, she nudged me gently.

“So, how bad is it this time?”

“Same as always. I didn’t really hang around long to listen.”

“Do you think they’ll check your room for you?”

I shook my head. “I doubt it. They’re pretty focused on screaming right now.”

Pressing her lips together, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, causing my saliva to thicken as that long-gone urge to pull on her pig tails made its way to the surface again. Shit.

“Cassie told me she likes you,” she said after a while.

“Is she the tiny one with the curly hair?”

“Yeah… she asked me to… I don’t know. This is stupid,” she huffed out, rolling onto her back.

I got up on my elbow, so I could see her face properly. “What? What’s stupid?”

Sighing she said, “She asked me to find out if you like her too.” She brought her forearm up to cover her eyes and groaned. “God, I feel like I’m in primary school doing this.” I didn’t like that she was doing it either. Relationships out there weren’t supposed to touch our friendship in here.

“Then why are you?”

She bounces a shoulder. “I don’t know. She keeps asking me to.”

“Well, my answer is: I don’t know. I hardly know her.”

“God, I can’t tell her that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“Because, she’ll get all upset.” She got back up on her elbow and faced me.

“Then she shouldn’t keep asking.”

Trina pressed her lips together as she thought for a moment. “Everyone seems to be so interested in pairing up lately.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. What about you?”

“Not really.”

“Why? Don’t you want to kiss a girl to see what it’s like?”

“Who’s to say I haven’t.”

“Me. I know you, David. You’ve never kissed a girl before.”

“So? You’ve never kissed a boy.”

“That’s not because I don’t want to. They’re just not interested in me.”

“Listen, I’m going to let you in on a secret. The guys are more interested in sports and farting than girls. I mean, they talk about them and stuff, but I don’t think we’re as into this boyfriend-girlfriend stuff as you girls are… Well, at least I know I’m not anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever want a relationship to be honest with you. Look at the mess my mum and dad are in. Why would I want that?”

“No one expects you to get married, David.”

“I know that. I just don’t want the drama, and I don’t want to hang out with them instead of you. But, if you really want a boyfriend, then fine, I can tell you who thinks you’re hot. But once we hook up with other people, then that’s our friendship time over. We only get to hang out after school as it is, and if we start pretending to be all serious about relationships and stuff, then we’ll lose that time too. I don’t want that. I don’t want to stop hanging out with you just so I can start messing around with some girl who’s gonna take up all my time.” I shrugged and looked over at her.

Letting a short laugh come out her nose, she said, “I never thought about it like that. Maybe we can just hook up with people at parties for fun like some of the others do, avoid the whole relationship issue.”

I closed my eyes, feeling sick at the image of seeing her hanging off some guy. “Trina, you’re too good for that kind of thing.”

“Am I?” She let out her breath and turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at me. “I’m glad, you know?”

“What about?”

“You not wanting to date Cassie. I was worried you’d go out with her and wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”

With a deep sigh that I felt throughout my body, I slid my arm underneath her and pulled her close. “Never Trina. I’ll always have time for you.”

* * *

I hadn’t had a decent night sleep for ages, so it took a bit for Trina to rouse me. She was shaking my shoulder and whispering urgently while looking between me and her bedroom door.

“Wha?” I sat up, bleary-eyed.

“You have to go,” she whispered, holding a finger to her lips as the doorknob began to jiggle from side to side, followed by a thumping knock and her mum’s voice.

“Katrina! Why is your door locked? You know I hate it when you do that. What if there was a fire? We couldn’t get you out.”

Trina’s eyes widened. “Get out of here!”

“Now? She’ll hear me,” I whispered back.

Pressing her lips together, she rolled her eyes then turned her face towards the door. “Mum. Let me sleep,” she muttered in a sleep-drunk voice.

I almost laughed at her acting skills and she clapped her hand over my mouth. Shut up, she mouthed, biting her lip to control her own laughter.

“You have school, young lady. Get your butt out of bed now.”

“Fine, just give me a minute to get dressed. I’m allowed privacy for that, you know.”

We could hear her mum’s feet shift away from the door. “Just be out for breakfast in ten minutes, or…or I’ll take the sim card from your phone.”

“Harsh,” I whispered, half smiling over the exchange as I pulled her hand away from my mouth. Katrina’s mum was pretty strict, but she meant well. I actually thought she was pretty cool.

Reaching over to her bedside table, Katrina turned on some music so HIM’s version of ‘Wicked Game’ filled her room.

Taking the noise as my cue, I slid my feet into my shoes and headed for the window. Once again removing the screen, so I could climb through.

Standing on the ground outside, I leaned in. “Thanks for last night, Trina. You could have gotten into a lot of trouble.”

“Just go, or I will be in a lot of trouble… and you’re welcome,” she smiled, leaning on her windowsill so we were eye level.

Something about the way she leaned toward me caused my stomach to skitter. And I don’t know why I did it, but I grabbed her face and pressed my lips against hers, holding her there as I slowly inhaled and my mind spun. It was a first for both of us—a soft kiss, involving only our lips, but still, it took my breath a moment to return to me.

When I pulled back, Katrina’s cheeks were bright pink and her eyes were wide with surprise. “What did you do that for?” she asked in a shocked whisper.

“Now you don’t have to wonder what it’s like,” I told her with a wink, trying to act as though it was just a bit of fun.

All of a sudden, her expression changed before she hit me in the shoulder. “You just stole my first kiss, you dick.” She laughed, only half meaning what she was saying. “Go home before I think you meant it.” Rolling her eyes at me, she lifted the screen back into the frame.

“Hey, at least you’ll always remember me now,” I told her, curling one side of my mouth into a grin.

She simply shook her head at me, smiling the whole time I helped her fix the fly screen back in place. I was glad she could see the kiss as something fun between us, because I didn’t want anything to change. I needed things between us to stay just as they were. She was the only stability I had.

“See you at school,” she said as I took off for home.

Once there, I climbed back through my window and listened to the house. The TV was on in the living room, but I couldn’t hear any voices so I figured I got away with my impromptu sleepover and walked out of my room as if I’d been there all along.

When I reached the end of the hallway, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands as she sat in her dressing gown, hunched over a cup of coffee. The moment she looked up at me, I could tell that she’d been crying all night.

Instant guilt stabbed like a knife in my gut. She must have gone into my room and found me gone. She probably thought I ran away…

“Mum…” I started, attempting to apologise as I stepped towards her.

“He’s gone,” she told me hoarsely, a tear rolling out of her already swollen eyes. She swiped at it, quickly removing it from her face. “Your dad. He left us.”

“Bullshit,” I blurted. It was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. I had known this was possible, actually, I thought I wanted my dad gone. But to be faced with the reality of it… well, I felt sick. Angry. Abandoned…worthless.

My own father chose poker machines and alcohol over his family. Over me. I was never going to be enough for him.

Three

By the time year ten rolled around, Trina’s group and mine had merged into one. At first, I thought it was great. Trina and I could sit together and talk without setting ourselves apart from the others. But it quickly became evident we were closer than two friends were meant to be. Everyone wanted to know what was really going on between us, despite the fact we’d told them a thousand times we were simply best friends.

Further suspicion arose when I wouldn’t let any of the guys talk about her as if she were a hole to be plundered. They could say anything about anyone else, but the moment Trina’s name came up accompanied by any comments pertaining to how hot her arse was, my protective instincts kicked in, leaving me frothing at the mouth and ready for a fight.

“What’s your deal, Taylor?” Brett asked after PE one day. “You keepin’ her for yourself?”

“She’s like my sister,” I said, borrowing from Trina’s own words even though I didn’t see her that way. “I don’t want any of you talkin’ shit about her.”

“What about Cassie? Can we talk shit about her?”

“Cassie?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Say whatever you want.”

He pulled a can of deodorant from his bag and sprayed his pits as he spoke. “Well, I hear she’s gonna hit you up at the dance next week.”

“Hit me up?” I laughed it off. “You make me sound like a drug dealer.”

“Well then, let me be blunt. She wants your cock, mate. And she hasn’t been quiet about it.”

I cleared my throat and focused on packing my gear back into my bag. “Right.”

He clapped me on the back and laughed. “You should be smiling, mate. You’re in. And I hear she gives great head.”

Sweat coated my upper lip, and I swiped a hand across my mouth as I laughed to hide my nerves. “How would you even know what great head is Daniels?” I shot back. “All you have to compare it to is Pornhub and your lubed up hand.” That garnered us a few snickers around the change room, giving me a chance to calm down. I’d heard the rumours about Cassie like every guy in here had. I also knew she’d had a thing for me since Katrina asked me about her a couple of years ago. But I’d always avoided her, still uninterested in doing the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I preferred my male-female interactions to happen with girls I didn’t know personally, girls Trina wasn’t friends with. Cassie could make my life really awkward.

“Fuck you, Taylor.” Brett scowled as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I give you good news and you dis me? Uncool, bro.”

“Whatever, man. I’m not interested in Cassie.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The idea of a dance was pretty lame, but our entire group went since there isn’t a hell of a lot for sixteen-year-olds to do on weekends that didn’t involve vandalising shit. We were supposed to get all dressed up in retro clothes like we were from the sixties or something. And the girls got really into it, so did a few of the guys. But most of us just turned up in our regular jeans and a T-shirt deal.

Being a school event, it was alcohol free. But Brett smuggled in some bourbon and we all got a little tipsy from mixing it in our cans of coke. Not a lot of dancing was getting done, we were mostly just sitting around as a group shooting the shit. As Brett had reported a few days before, Cassie was making her interest painfully obvious. I wasn’t interested. My mind was focused more on the fact that Trina and this guy Ben we’re having their own private conversation that didn’t involve the rest of us. Then they decided to go inside and dance, and I couldn’t sit still anymore. It didn’t take long before I was making excuses to go and find her.

“She wants you to meet her on the oval,” Brett said when I returned to the group empty handed. I thanked him with a nod and headed straight through the gates, my heart thumping because I hated that she’d come out here on her own. What is she thinking? I hoped she was OK.

It was pitch black when I stepped out around the building, so I wasn’t really prepared when she jumped on me and practically shoved her tongue down my throat. Holy fuck. A surge of confusion and desire rush through my veins as I stumbled forward, bracing myself against the brick wall to regain my balance, which was when I realised it wasn’t Trina attaching herself to me. It was Cassie. I quit responding, but she kept trying. She was like a leech on my face.

“Stop,” I said, lifting my knee to balance her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What I’ve always wanted to do,” she whispered, grinding herself against me as she tried to pull my mouth back to hers.

I pulled away and tried to put her down, but she was clinging to me like a fucking monkey. “I thought I was meeting Katrina out here.”

That made her pause. “Are you serious? I thought you two were like brother and sister. That’s what Brett told me.”

“We are. Which is why I need to look out for her.” I swung my head side to side, trying to see if she was out here.

“She’s fine,” Cassie cooed. “Ben is taking good care of her. I saw them walking towards the bus bay. You don’t have to worry about her.” She hooked her leg around my waist and ground herself against me. My body responded involuntarily, and she grinned. “Focus on me, big boy. I know a quiet little spot where no one will see us. I want to taste you. I want to let you inside me.” She ran her tongue along my jaw and I moaned because I’m a guy and a pretty girl was offering to suck my cock and let me fuck her. But I didn’t want this to go any further. I didn’t not like Cassie. I just hardly knew the girl. She was more Katrina’s friend than she was mine which made her off limits in my book.

“Cassie. That’s um, a great offer. But, not here OK,” I told her, prying myself free and setting her onto the ground.

“We’re both sixteen, David. It's not like we’re doing anything illegal.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to whip my dick out on school grounds.”

“Not if nobody sees.”

“Maybe some other time, OK?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, blowing a kiss over her shoulder as she walked away, disappearing round the corner, leaving me confused and on my own.

Fucking hell. Despite being warned, I was not ready for what just happened here.

Needing a few moments until I was able to present myself in public again, I gathered my thoughts. I wanted to find Trina. Knowing she was alone with some other guy didn’t sit easy with me. Did Trina have a thing for Ben? She’d never mentioned it if she did, and come to think of it, neither had he. But no one would around me. I wasn’t afraid to knock teeth out if anyone dared to do wrong by her. Would Ben risk my wrath? He was decent in a group; quiet without talking too much smack. But I had no idea how he treated girls when they were alone. Were they just talking out at the bus bay? Or were they doing something…more? My skin crawled at the idea seconds before my feet propelled me forward so I could cut through the school to get to them.

The moment I stepped through the gate, Brett slapped me on the back and congratulated me, handing me his bottle of spiked coke.

“What for?” I asked in bewilderment. Forgetting for a moment that he’d sent me out there on purpose.

“For popping Cassie’s cherry,” he informed me.

“What? No way. That didn’t happen.” Suddenly I felt sick. Is that what everyone thinks?

“Don’t act all coy, dude. The girls are all over there talking about it. She told them all you have this giant cock and you rocked her world. And dude, I’m inclined to believe her. I’ve seen that thing of yours at the urinal—it’s unnatural.” He laughed just as a few of the other guys joined in the congratulatory party.

“My man,” Terry said as each of them slapped my back in congratulations. It was like I’d won something and no matter how much I objected, not one of them believed me.

“Man, those girls are just giving up their virginity lately. We’re all gonna get lucky,” Brian said, but since a lot of people called him ‘pizza face’ behind his back, I didn’t like his chances.

“Yeah. Ever since Mara and Aaron started screwing, they all seem to want in on it.” Terry nodded sagely.

“What the hell?” I mumbled, my eyebrows furrowed so deeply that they were hooding my eyes. Then I shook my head and excused myself. “I need to find Trina.”

“Check the bus bay,” Brian said. “Saw her head that way with Ben.”

“Fucking Ben,” I grumbled under my breath as I headed that way, keeping my head down as I avoided eye contact with everyone and anyone. What the fuck was up with Cassie telling everyone that shit? We barely fucking kissed and now everyone thinks I had sex with her? It was bullshit. I hate liars. I hate rumours. I hate fucking school and small-minded gossip mongers. My skin felt too tight, the back of my neck hot. I just wanted to find Trina and get the hell out of there.

Exiting the other side of the school, I found her sitting on a silver bench with Ben. My stomach twisted in knots when I saw how close they were, heads bowed, his fingers touching her face. Then the bottom of my stomach fell out completely as he leaned forward and kissed her. I opened my mouth, wanting to tell him to get his fucking hands off her, but I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed my protest down. Because she wasn’t my girl. She was my friend. Only my friend. And while I knew these feelings of protectiveness meant more than simple friendship, I also knew that I would never cross those lines. She was the most important person in my life. I wasn’t going to fuck it up with the drama a relationship would bring. I’d witnessed enough in my life to know that relationships end, family leaves, but the kind of friendship Trina and I have can get us through anything. As long as I don’t fuck it up.

“Shit,” I muttered as they leaned in and kissed again. For all my internal pep-talk, I had to stop, so I didn’t do anything stupid like stalking over there and punching Ben in the face. Or worse, grabbing Trina by the hair and dragging her away caveman style. No. That might put a strain on the friendship.

I had to be smart. I needed to leave. I needed a moment with Trina to myself so I’d feel grounded again. And I desperately wanted to get us both out of here before Trina heard the rumour about Cassie and me, and before that kissing between her and Ben turned into a full-blown make-out session. I didn’t think my resolve could make it through that.

“Trina,” I called out from a distance. She jerked away from Ben, hugging an arm around her middle like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “We need to go.”

“Did something happen?” she asked, rising from the seat.

“We just need to go.”

“Can’t you get home on your own, Taylor?” Ben asked as I reached them.

“We came together,” Trina answered for me.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Of course, you did.”

“What’s that about?” I snapped, standing a little taller as he shook his head and looked away before he met my eyes.

“For a guy who reckons he has no interest, you’re sure as hell all over her.”

“It’s not like that,” I growled, tired of having to defend my attachment to Trina, and sick of people assuming shit without facts.

“Let’s just go,” Trina said, slipping her hand in mine and tugging me away. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Ben.”

Ben glanced from me to her then nodded. “She’s not your property, Dave,” he called after us.

“Fuck you, Ben,” I shot back. “You have no fucking clue. None.”

God, I wanted to go after him and punch that straight-toothed grin of his crooked. But when Trina placed her hand on my chest and whispered, “Let’s go,” I let the fight drain away, allowing her to lead me back to the front of the school.

“You shouldn’t go off with guys on your own,” I said after several quiet steps.

She released a scoff as she shook her head. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a hypocrite because you go off with girls you don’t even know at parties. Why is it so different when I do it with a guy we’ve known since year seven?”

“You don’t know how those guys talk, Trina. I don’t want you involved with any of them.”

“Of course, I know how guys talk. Girls talk too. I’ve heard plenty of things about you. A lot of stuff I wish I didn’t know.”

I shot her a frown. Did she hear already? “Like what?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, everyone talks, and it was shitty of you to ruin my first real kiss because you’re worried the guys will talk. I don’t care if they do. I can handle myself just fine.”

Hearing her say that made me stop dead in my tracks. “What did you say?”

“I said I can handle myself just fine.”

“No. Not that part. The part about the kiss. That wasn’t your first.”

She put her hands on her hips as she tilted her head to the side, brows shooting skyward. “Are you talking about that kiss at my window when we were fourteen? That doesn’t count.”

“Our lips met. It counts.”

“It wasn’t real, David.” Rolling her eyes, she laughed then turned to walk again. But I wasn’t letting this go.

Grabbing her arm, I spun her around to face me. She yelped then went wide eyed and quiet when I caught her face in my hands, staring down at her as I fought the twisting inside my gut. “I was your first kiss Trina. Me. Not some guy you hooked up with at a dance.”

“OK,” she whispered, which was when I realised she was trembling, and there were tears in her eyes. I’m fucking this up.

“Shit,” I hissed as I released her, letting out a ragged breath as I started walking again, silence descending like a prickly blanket. I just need to go home.

“He…he’s not just some guy, David,” Trina ventured when we reached the front gate. “I’ve liked him for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked flatly, leaning against the cool metal of the fence, my arms folded across my chest.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. The same reason we don’t talk about the girls you hook up with. We keep our friendship separate from all that. At least I thought that’s what we did anyway…” she said, trailing off as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed the button to light up the screen. “I should call dad to come get us.”

“Before you do, there’s something I want to talk to you about. There’s a rumour that’s—”

“What the fuck?” She looked up from her phone, her mouth wide open and her brows furrowed deeply. “What is wrong with you?” She shoved against my chest to punctuate her words then held her phone in front of my face so I could see the message telling her I slept with Cassie.

I feel sick. “That didn’t happen.” I clenched my jaw as I took her phone from her hand and deleted the offensive message.

“You’re telling me she lied? Why would she lie about something like that? Everyone would call her a slut.”

“Everyone is already calling her a slut.”

Knitting her brow, she shook her head. “You can be a huge arse.”

“And you can be completely blind. You think these people are our friends. But not one of them saw an issue with Ben taking you somewhere secluded at night.”

“We weren’t doing anything.”

“Yeah. Because I interrupted. You should be thanking me. That text message could have been about you.”

“But it’s not about me. It’s about you. You’re the one taking girls to secluded places. You’re the one they’re gossiping about.”

“Nothing. Happened. I’d expect you out of everyone to believe me. I promise you, on every moment we’ve ever spent together that it's not true. We kissed. She wanted more. I said no.”

Her lips pressed together as tension radiated off her body. I’ve said something wrong. “Why can you go off kissing girls, but I can’t have one kiss with a boy I actually like?”

Ah shit. I could either back off, or double down, and being the overly proud, or possibly stupid teenager I was, I chose to double down. “Because it’s different for girls.”

Her mouth curved into a smile but her eyes told me to fuck off. Now I’ve gone and done it. “You chauvinistic pig. Stay here and wait for Dad on your own. I’m going back inside. Maybe Ben hasn’t been completely scared off by your caveman act.”

“Trina, please. I’m sorry, OK? I’m just pissed about what Cassie said. Don’t go back in.”

But she was already walking. “I’m allowed to have a boyfriend, David. Ben’s right—you don’t own me.”

“Trina.”

She didn’t turn around. She just kept walking towards the music while I shifted on my feet, struggling not to chase after her and demonstrate how caveman I could really be.

“Fuck.” I kicked the fence, breathing deep as I watched until she was safely back inside. Then I crossed the street to McDonalds to wait out the rest of the dance on my own. A few other kids had the same idea and were over there eating and laughing, not a care in the world. When I’d ordered a meal, they asked me to sit down with them.

“Is it true what Cassie’s saying?” A girl named Loren yelled that a little too enthusiastically from across the table.

I shook my head. “No. She's full of shit.”

“Told you she was lying!” Loren’s best friend, Erin yelled back, laughing as she pointed in Loren’s face. “You owe me five bucks. No girl’s first time is that awesome.”

Despite my shitty night, I laughed, suddenly feeling that bit lighter. Finally, someone believed me.

* * *

The dance was officially over by ten, which was when Trina’s dad picked us up and drove us home. Since we didn’t end up calling him earlier, he had no idea we’d argued. But he didn’t need the inside scoop to know something was going on. We barely said a word to each other the entire ride home.

“Bad time?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“David can just be a real jerk sometimes,” Katrina said, folding her arms tightly over her chest and staring out the window.

Mr Mahoney met my eyes in the rear-view mirror and raised his eyebrows in question. I shrugged then looked out the window on my side, wanting this night to be over. I was buzzing with aggravation. At Cassie for starting the rumour, at Brett and everyone else for spreading it. But mostly at Katrina for even questioning me after I told her it was a lie. She was supposed to have my back. It’s what best friends did. They didn’t get all crazy and accusatory the moment some unfounded gossip surfaced. They were supposed to defend each other to the death. At least that’s how I saw things, anyway. I’d never believe anything about Katrina unless she admitted it to me herself. It was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr Mahoney,” I said once he pulled up outside my house. “Trina.” I nodded in her direction as I opened the car door. She briefly met my eyes before looking straight ahead, effectively giving me the cold shoulder. Suppressing the desire to slam the car door, I pushed it closed with gentle fingers then went straight inside to where my mother was waiting up for me.

“How was it?” she asked the moment the door clicked shut.

Joining her on the couch, I stared at the TV and released an exaggerated sigh. “Shit.”

“David. Language.”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t sorry. It was the truth.

“Want to talk about it?”

Pressing my lips together, I contemplated how my mum would react hearing what went down that night. I was risking her never letting me out of the house again if she even suspected the rumours were true.

But I needed to get it off my chest, to have someone close to me believe my version of events. So, I took a deep breath and started. “Everyone thinks I had sex with Cassie Green.”

“They think?”

I then told her the PG version of what happened between us, and how the rumour went crazy. Then I told her how I reacted when I saw Katrina with Ben.

“You practically dragged her out of there?” she asked incredulously. “Oh David, that was way out of line. I know you love Katrina—”

“I don’t love her,” I interrupted, angry she was jumping to conclusions just like everyone else.

“David. Let me finish. I was meaning you love her like family. That you feel protective of her. But you can’t protect her from everyone and everything. She needs to make her own mistakes. Everyone does.”

“I just don’t want to hear them talking about her the way they talk about the other girls.”

“Then maybe it’s time you and Katrina got some better friends.”

* * *

Later that night, I laid in bed, tossing and turning because I couldn’t sleep. Eventually, I gave up, put my clothes and shoes on and climbed out my window. Ever since I first went to her window the night my dad left, I’d gone back whenever I was troubled about something. Even if we didn’t talk, she always made me feel better.

Even though at least half of my annoyance was directed at her, I still needed to see her. My world didn’t feel right knowing she was also pissed at me.

“What are you doing here, David?” she asked through the screen. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“Trina, I don’t want to fight. Just let me in. I want to talk.”

With a disgruntled sigh, she twisted the hinges that locked the screen in place and popped it out for me to catch. I placed it on the ground beside me and climbed through, tumbling when my foot got caught. I landed on the floor with a thud and Trina standing over me with her arms crossed.

“I hope you’re not planning on sleeping here.”

“I plan on talking until we’re us again.”

She pursed her lips and adjusted her stance as I sat back up. “Why don’t you want me to have a boyfriend?”

“It’s not about that. It’s just… I let everyone else’s opinion get to me.” Letting out my breath, I sat on her bed and recounted the whole evening for her. Telling her exactly what happened with Cassie, and then how Brian told me all the guys were trying to get lucky because it seemed like the girls were giving away their virginity. “In the same breath he told me Ben was with you, and I guess I just freaked out. You don’t hear how those guys talk, Trina. They don’t care about the girls they’re with.”

“And you do?”

I shrugged. “I don’t pretend with them.”

“How is that any different?”

“Because I’m not feeding them lies to get in their pants.”

“And how many pants have you gotten into? The rumours suggest you’re a regular Don Juan.”

“I’m not. And I don’t share information, so they like making shit up.” My sexual experience was mostly heavy petting and a bit of oral. Once things went all the way, so technically, I wasn’t a virgin. But it was over so fast, I doubt it counted. It was pretty fucking embarrassing, actually.

Sighing, she sat down on her bed, sliding back until she was pressed against the wall. “I believed you about Cassie, you know. She’s been bragging about letting you punch her V-card for a while now.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to know. It’s weird enough listening to them all. It's like a few of the girls have decided that just because they’re sixteen and legally allowed to have sex now they need to give up their virginity as soon as possible. And since they all think that to be with you means they have to have sex, you’re a bit of a hot topic. Cassie claimed you though, so the others have to pick someone else.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. “That’s insane.” I shook my head. “How does she get to claim me?” Trina gave me another shrug. “Well, it’s not going to happen. I don’t date, and besides that, they’ve got it all wrong. I don’t expect girls to…” I ran a hand over my face and exhaled a heavy breath. This conversation was getting awkward.

“It doesn’t matter, David. It’s none of my business, anyway. I’m just glad I’m still fifteen so I can use that as my excuse to stay out of it all. I hate how focused on sex everyone has become. I’ve barely kissed a guy. I’m not ready to go all the way just yet.” Hearing those words made me feel a little calmer. She wasn’t ready. Thank god.

“I count you as my first kiss,” I said, needing her to understand it was important to me. While I was never going to be relationship material, I was always going to hold on to that moment. A flash of innocence and beauty before my world fell apart and became more difficult than it already was. I’d wanted my dad to go, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality of it—my mum’s depression, my own feelings of inadequacy when I found her crying over our finances. It all sucked. And Trina was the only constant in there. She didn’t change. Until now. Now, we’re growing up. Everything is changing. She’s interested in other guys.

You can’t protect her from everything.

“I shouldn’t have said it didn’t count,” she said, sliding forward on the bed. “I’m sorry.” Then she slipped her arms around my neck, sighing as she gripped me tightly. “I’m glad my first kiss was with you.”

Hugging her back, I inhaled deeply, taking great comfort in the smell of her hair, her skin. I didn’t know if it was her soap or her shampoo, but it smelled like home to me.

Pulling away, she looked into my eyes. “Can we make a deal here and now?”

“Sure,” I replied, drawing the word out.

“We stay completely out of each other’s relationships. I don’t ever question you about your hookups or the rumours I hear. And you don’t get to go all big brother on me every time you see me with a guy. I already have a big brother, and he’s protective enough all on his own. You’re my best friend, and I want it to be that way forever. If we start letting our friendship get mixed up in this relationship stuff, then it’s going to ruin us.”

“I don’t get to look out for you anymore?” I asked, clenching my jaw in the knowledge that it would be a hard task to accomplish.

“Look out for me, sure. Just no more dragging me out of places.”

“OK. I suppose I can do that.”

“I’m serious. I need your word on this one.”

“I said I’d do it. It’s fine, Trina. I give you my word.” I added a smile to reassure her, even though I hated the idea of letting any guy touch her. But my mum was right, I had to let her make her own choices and mistakes or she’d end up hating me.

“Thank you, David.” She grabbed my face and kissed my cheek happily. “Now go home so we can both get some sleep.”

“Ugh. Can’t I just crash here?” I relaxed back on the bed, lacing my fingers across my chest the way I had many times before.”

Sighing, she curled up beside me, her head on my shoulder as I unlaced my fingers and hugged her to me. “I don’t think this is what regular best friends do,” she said as I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and kicked my shoes to the floor.

“I don’t care about anyone else,” I said, closing my eyes, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I only care about us.”

“Best friends forever,” she whispered, her breath tickling against my neck.

“Best friends forever.”

Four

Over the next few months, the pact Trina and I made was seriously put to the test. Ben started hanging around like a bad smell, and I was getting a lot more attention from the other girls thanks to Cassie’s claims.

Sometimes when we were alone, these heavy silences would fall on us, filled with the questions we promised not to ask. It was difficult in some ways and better in others. I kind of liked having a version of Katrina that was all my own, a person no one in our friend group got the chance to see. It was like we existed in a world of our own. Everything and everyone else was separate.

Cassie’s over the top pursuit of me continued, and it was only after we had an argument after school where she apologised and promised never to spread rumours about me again that I relaxed around her. I never hated her. But I did hate the lies. So as long as she could keep her story straight, she and I could be cool.

Besides, Cassie’s parents worked a lot and were seriously lax in their parental supervision when they were home. So our group spent a lot of weekends at Cassie’s house, having parties in her Granny flat. Every teenager would love their family to have one for them to hang out in. It had one bedroom, a bathroom, a small living area with a simple kitchen, and it was right by the pool. That year, the heat of summer stretched on and on. It was close to winter and it was still warm enough to swim some days, and on the days it wasn’t, we could use the heated spa. Cassie’s place had everything.

It was about two weeks in to the second term of school when we were all there, hanging out again. Katrina had gone to sit by Cassie’s pool and ‘talk’ to Ben. Code for ‘they where going to make out’. I did my best to keep my attention on what was happening inside. Most of us were drinking. Brian was balancing an empty beer bottle on his forehead. Terry had his stopwatch going to measure how long he could keep it up. Riveting stuff.

“Can I talk to you?” Cassie asked, coming up to stand beside me, her eyes bright.

“Sure.” I shrugged, turning towards her while covertly glancing outside where Trina and Ben were sitting together with their feet in the water. Her head was on his shoulder. This really shouldn’t bother me.

“In private,” she said, inclining her head toward the bedroom door.

I followed her eyes and then looked back at her. “I don’t know if I want to do that, Cassie. You kind of made shit up about me last time we were alone.”

“Well, that’s kind of what I want to talk to you about,” she whispered, giving me one of those big round eyed pouty looks that girls are so good at. “Please. It’s important.”

“Fine,” I said, earning a broad triumphant grin from her before she led me into the room under the watchful eyes of everyone else in the flat.

Now, Cassie was hot. She’d grown her hair, and it fell into these long glossy blonde waves that touched just below her shoulder blades. She had big blue eyes, full lips, and curves in all the right places. I was attracted to her looks, but I was wary of her personality. I wasn’t sure what I was about to get myself into by entering the room with her.

“Firstly, I want to let you know that I’ve been trying to set the record straight. I should never have let them think that we had sex when we didn’t.”

“You admitted to lying?” I leaned against the wall while she stood in front of me. This seemed a little too good to be true.

“I told them we dry humped. Which is the truth.”

If you counted the way she rubbed herself against me, it was a very loose version of the truth.

“Well, I guess that’s better than them thinking we fucked.” I pushed my weight off the wall and thumbed to the door. “Is that all?”

“No. I… I like you, Dave. I wanted to know if you’d consider going out with me officially?”

I wasn’t expecting that.

“Like, be your boyfriend?”

“Well yeah, that’s what ‘going out’ means doesn’t it?”

Awkward. I lifted a hand and rubbed the back of my head. “Um, listen, Cassie. You’re pretty and all, but I’m not interested in having a girlfriend.”

“So you’ll dry hump me, but you won’t actually date me?”

Wow. “If I recall correctly, it was you doing the dry humping.”

“It’s because of Katrina isn’t it?”

“What? Why would it be about Katrina?”

“Because you’re like, always together.”

“She’s my best friend,” I sighed. I felt that by this point, it was all the explanation that was required.

Cassie sat down on the bed and folded her arms across her chest, her eyes watering.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t want a girlfriend. I never have. It has nothing to do with you, or Katrina, or anyone else for that matter. It’s a decision I made a long time ago. I’m not boyfriend material.”

“Don’t you want me at all?”

Feeling sorry for her, I sat next to her and lifted her chin so she was looking at me. “Cassie, you’ve got a mirror. You know you’re gorgeous. Plenty of guys want you, including me. But there are guys out there who want you and want to call you their girlfriend. It’s just…after seeing what a relationship did to my parents, I’m never going down that path.”

And that’s when she kissed me. At first, I didn’t respond, but then a selfish little voice inside me said, ‘What the hell? She knows the stakes, and they all think you’re in here screwing her, anyway.’ So I went with it, and this time when she reached for my belt… I let her.

* * *

I wish I could say that was the one and only time Cassie and I had sex. But it wasn’t. I guess for me, I knew that despite Cassie trying to set the record straight about that night of the dance, everyone thought we were fucking, anyway. At least this way, they were spreading the truth for a change. And since Cassie understood that sucking my dick on a regular basis didn’t give her girlfriend status, I was fine with returning the favour. We learned a lot about each other’s anatomy over the following weeks. I wasn’t complaining.

“Is it true that you’re messing around with Cassie?” Trina asked on the bus home from school a few weeks later. Her relationship with Ben had become more serious, and while we still spent most of our free time together, she had a lot less of it these days.

“I thought we were going to stay out of each other’s relationships? I haven’t asked you about Ben,” I responded, uncomfortable in the conversation. I needed Cassie and Trina to stay separate in my mind. Neither could have information about the other.

“Yeah but… you’re not in a relationship with her are you? I mean, you just have sex with her then pretend she doesn’t exist.”

Honestly, I couldn’t meet her eyes. My own reasoning over the situation made me OK with it, but hearing Katrina’s take on it made me feel like I was doing something wrong. I’m not doing anything wrong.

Instead of admitting that maybe using Cassie was a bad idea, I reiterated to myself that Cassie knew what we were. She had no illusions that we were more than fuck buddies. I wasn’t hurting anyone.

I scrunched my brows together and flashed a dark glare in Trina’s direction. “Leave it alone, Trina. If I wanted to talk to you about it, I would have brought it up myself.”

Her mouth fell open but I didn’t give her the chance to respond, heading to the back of the bus in a huff instead. I slid up against the window, staring out as I chewed on my thumbnail and bounced my leg in agitation.

Who the hell is she to question my sex life? We made a deal to ignore rumours, to remain oblivious to the other’s attachments, to never let those emotions affect us. We were important.

I know she glanced at me a couple of times. I’d hurt her feelings, but I was hurt too, possibly embarrassed. There was nothing quite like having a mirror held up to make you feel shit about yourself.

As we got off the bus, Katrina was waiting for me so we could walk together. “Do you still want to come over and do our homework? I promise not to ask you anymore questions about… well, you know.”

Clenching my jaw, I nodded as I met her eyes. “I’m never gonna have a normal relationship, Trina. I need you to understand that. And I need you not to judge me over it too.”

Her face clouded, but she nodded. “It won’t happen again.”

I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder then started walking with her falling into step beside me. “So, um, are you and Ben serious now?”

She laughed. “As serious as we can be. We not getting married if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I only worry that you’ll settle. I want you to be happy.”

She bumped her elbow against mine. “I am happy.”

Glancing her way, the curve of her lips told me she was telling the truth. “OK. Now, no more relationship questions.”

“Deal,” she said, flashing me a smile. “You still coming to my place? Mum made lemon cake.”

“In that case, I’m definitely coming.”

“I thought so.” She laughed, and suddenly everything was right between us again. As much as all this relationship stuff felt like a big elephant in the room at times, there was no way I was going to let any of it get between Katrina and me. We’d been too close for too long. I would never let her go.

Five

Before long, Ben and Trina became the year ten it couple. With Katrina’s long honey hair and clear blue eyes, and Ben’s dark hair and dark features, they looked like movie stars together. And I wasn’t even jealous.

Not a single bit.

Not even when my time with Trina cut in half…

OK. That was a lie. I’d always been possessive of her, so it was hard to watch her makes goo-goo eyes at some dude.

To help my lonely heart feel more whole, I spent more time exploring the effect I had on the opposite sex. I wasn’t sure why, but most of the girls I encountered seemed very interested in getting me alone. Girls my age, even girls a couple of years older, were keen to get down and dirty. And I wasn’t complaining. Not one little bit.

Of course, I didn’t fuck all of them. There was a lot of heavy petting. A decent amount of oral. And some very satisfied smiles. While it felt good for all parties involved, it was meaningless. I missed my friend's constant company. I missed her laugh. Her conversation. Even her unwanted questions. I was simply filling the void.

Eventually I found out why girls were so willing to get naked with me. It got back to me that they were fascinated over the size of my cock. There were even comments written about how huge they thought it was in the girl’s toilet block. Suddenly, I wasn’t having fun anymore. I felt like a circus act instead and backed away from all of them. I went into the girls' toilets after school one day with a sheet of sandpaper and scrubbed the comments away. Seeing them there made me feel really cheap. I’d never once bragged about anything I did with girls. I couldn’t understand why they’d write things about me for the whole school to see.

Since Ben and Katrina were practically joined at the hip, I didn’t feel that I’d be missed within the ‘celeb’ group. It really wasn’t that fun watching her and Ben cosy up every recess and lunch. So, I started choosing other things to do instead. Slowly, I shifted into the group Loren and Erin were in. They’d always been down to earth and straight with me, and I preferred their company over the false smiles and veiled snickers from my previous ‘friends’.

As much as I felt that Trina was too caught up in her own little world, she did notice me pulling away. I explained my absence away by telling her I was getting sick of the sex obsession the group had. It was all they could talk about—sex and parties—and I was over it.

“I get it,” she said. “It’s getting pretty old. If I wasn’t dating Ben, I’d probably break away with you.”

“Why stay in an uncomfortable situation just because a guy wants you there?” I shot back.

She didn’t have an answer to that.

“This all reminds me of how things were when we first started high school—you hanging out with one group, me with another. It’s kind of sad,” she said, instead.

“I suppose. But, we don’t really spend that much one-on-one time together at school, anyway. We’ll just catch up on the bus going home.” On the days you actually go home instead of hanging with Ben

I wasn’t jealous. I was just being real.

“Yeah,” she said, flashing me a smile that didn’t replace the concern in her eyes. “That could work. We’ll be OK, right?”

Drawing her into a hug, I released my breath. “Trina, you and I will always be OK.”

Cassie wasn’t quite as understanding as Trina was. Despite knowing I was sleeping with other girls besides her, she seemed to think she had some kind of claim on me. I was always clear about what she meant to me. And she said she understood, but her reaction when I told her I was through said she saw us as more than we were.

“What about prom?” she screeched.

My expression locked between disbelief and confusion. “Prom? We’re not in America, Cassie. It’s a formal.”

“But I wanted you to take me.”

“I was never going. I’ve told you that several times.”

“I thought I could get you to change your mind.” What? I will never understand women.

My reason for sitting out the formal wasn’t because I thought I was too cool for it, it was because money was tight at home. Mum was struggling to make ends meet and paying for my ticket and tux hire was money she’d need to work extra shifts at the hospital to find. I didn’t want to put that pressure on her, so I decided to sit it out. Besides, everyone was cooking up for it, and we already knew couples made me uncomfortable.

Speaking of couples. As expected, Trina was going with Ben. She was so excited that she had her dress and hairstyle planned months ago. She even managed to con me into going shoe shopping with her, which was boring, but also welcome because it took hours and we were together. A small price to pay.

Ben was looking forward to the formal for a different reason, the details of which I overheard in the change rooms after our basketball game the week before.

To set the scene, a bunch of guys from year ten to twelve were on the school team. It wasn’t much of a commitment. We just had to train on a Monday at lunchtime and play a game on a Thursday afternoon against one of the other schools in our district.

There were maybe twenty of us in the change rooms. I was in taking a shower and when I came out, I could hear Ben telling Terry all about the things Katrina would let him do to her. I did my best not to listen in, because it seriously made my chest hurt to hear him talk about her like that, but my ears wouldn’t tune him out.

By the time I was dressed and had my shoes on, I knew, in explicit detail, exactly how far she’d let him go. I swear that steam was coming out of my ears as I tried to breathe through my anger. Don’t get involved. You promised.

“I reckon if I play my cards right, she’ll let me go all the way at the after party,” he bragged, earning himself a high five from Terry.

“She’d better put out. All the other girls are giving it up, and you’ve waited over six months for her,” Terry said.

“For sure man. I so deserve this.”

I’m not sure how I got from the other side of the locker room so fast, but suddenly I was standing behind Ben, breathing hard and growling like an animal.

“Know what you deserve?” I ground out, fists coiled at my sides. He turned around, grinning like a fuckwit before his eyes flashed with fear and his smile dropped. Forgot I was here. Didn’t you, Benny?

“Shit. I-I—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish.

Stepping forward, I rammed my fist into his gut, doubling him over as he stumbled back into the wall behind him.

“Wanna fuck, Benny-boy? How about I fuck you up?” I spat as he braced a hand against the wall and righted himself.

“What’s your fucking problem, Taylor.”

“You are.” I grabbed him by the shirt and rammed him back into the wall. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

The dickhead actually grinned. “I knew it,” he said. “You want her for yourself.”

“Shut your filthy face or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Go ahead,” he sneered. “It’ll just make it easier for me.” Fuck.

Slowly uncurling my hand, I took a steadying breath and stepped back. “Wait till I tell her what I overheard. I’ll make it fucking impossible.”

Looking around at our audience, he scoffed. “She doesn’t want you, mate. She wants me.”

With a malicious smile curving my mouth, I leaned in close so no one could hear me. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you mean something to her, mate. You are with her because I allow it. Piss me off and watch what happens. I fucking dare you.”

I met his eyes with a dark glare, spotting a spark of fear inside his. Unfortunately , fear didn’t make him any smarter. “You’re delusional. I’m the one who’s touched her in those special places. I’m the one who makes her wet.”

“Yeah? Well, she’s thinking about me while it’s happening,” I shot back. Not my finest moment, but if this fucker was going to taunt me, then I was going to put him in his place.

“It’s my name she’s sayin’, mate. And it’ll be my name she’s screaming after the formal when I fuck her all. night. long. She’s mine, Taylor. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Our audience released a collective, Whoa! Ben looked around, nodding like he thought he’d won. I tried playing nice.

A rumbling growl built in my chest and exploded out of me, echoing through the change rooms as angry red colours coated my eyes. My fist shot out and slammed into his jaw, sending him reeling.

I didn’t give him a chance to get back up. I physically launched myself at him, ramming him into the brick wall pummelling him with my fists. He got a few good hits in before I was hauled off him, kicking and spitting, swearing I was going to take his life if he touched her again.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he yelled, swiping at his mouth and finding blood.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg, motherfucker.”

Next stop, the principal’s office. Neither of us talked. So our parents were called, and we were suspended for three days.

I didn’t give a fuck about the suspension. Ben deserved every cut and bruise I gave him. But my mother didn’t see the justice behind my actions, grounding me for an entire month. I was to go to school and come straight home—no fun, no friends, no... Trina.

* * *

Late that night, a gentle tapping on my window told me Trina had already heard about Ben’s and my fight. Knowing this could turn into a shit fight, I sighed before I got off my bed and opened the curtains.

“What are you doing here? You can’t go walking around at night on your own,” I hissed through the darkened window.

“Want to explain to me why Ben broke up with me over the phone this afternoon?”

“He broke up with you? Good.”

Her hands went to her hips. “Good?”

“Yeah. Good. The guy’s a jerk.” I pulled on a pair of shoes and jumped out the window onto the ground next to her. “I’ll walk you home. It’s not safe around here.”

“Why is it safe for you to come to my window, but it’s not safe for me to go to yours?”

“Because you’re a girl. Girls shouldn’t walk around at night on their own. Simple as that.”

“You’re such a chauvinist sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the only guy around who’s looking out for you.” I started walking, knowing she’d come too.

“Beating Ben to a pulp is looking out for me, is it?”

“Yep,” I said, letting the ‘p’ pop as we walked side by side.

“Did you tell him to break up with me too?” When I glanced at her, I could see that her eyes were red and swollen from crying. I hated that she was hurting. But I still didn’t regret what I did. If she knew what Ben had been saying about her, what he was planning, she’d be humiliated.

“I told him to stay away from you.”

“Why? What did he do to warrant that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“My boyfriend dumped me, David.” Shoving me in the shoulder, she got in my way so I needed to sidestep her to avoid stopping. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation.”

“From him? Absolutely. But from me…” I glanced in her direction, my jaw tight. “I need you to trust that I acted for you. Not against you.”

As she seemed to consider that we walked in silence for a bit. “Are you badly hurt?” she asked, trying a different tack.

“I’m OK. I'll heal.”

She pulled me to a stop under a streetlight and grabbed me by the chin, turning my face from side to side as she took in my battle wounds. She then picked up my hands and ran her fingertips lightly over my grazed knuckles.

It wasn’t cold, but a chill ran through me as she gently stroked my hands. I wanted so many things from Trina, all of which I denied because I knew without a doubt I’d only cause her pain and leave her wanting. She smelled like strawberries, and I inhaled her greedily. She’s too good for you, David.

Lifting her gaze, she looked into my eyes. “Tell me what the fight was about.”

Pulling my hand from hers, I moved toward her house. “Let’s keep walking.”

“David,” she called, jogging to catch up. “Answer the question.”

“We got into a fight because the guy’s a fuckwit, all right?”

“That isn’t an answer.”

The only reply I had was a shake of my head. Sure, I could’ve told her he was talking shit about her. But then she’d want details, and I wasn’t going to be the one to give them to her. She’d feel dirty, used, violated. I wasn’t about to do that to her. This way, she’s angry, and she’s frustrated, but both those emotions are preferable.

“This is bullshit,” she said, walking a step ahead of me in stormy silence until we were back at her house.

“Here. I’ll give you a boost,” I said, interlacing my fingers and holding my hands open for her.

“What did he say about me?” she demanded in a harsh whisper.

“Trina.” I pressed my lips together and looked away.

“I know you, David. The only reason you’d beat him up and tell him to stay away from me was if he said something about me you didn’t like. What was it?”

“Are you going to let me give you a boost or not?”

“You seriously won’t tell me?” She dropped her hands so they slapped on her thighs. I met her eyes with silent determination. “Fine,” she said, planting her foot in my hands and letting me heft her over the fence while she mumbled about squeezing blood out of stones.

“Good night, Trina,” I told her as I turned to leave.

“Whatever David,” she said from the other side of the fence before her head popped up again. “You know something? I would have thought out of everyone in that locker room, you would have been the guy to tell me the truth. What is this? Some stupid bro code? I thought I meant more to you than that.”

I moved closer to her, taking her head in my hands as I planted a soft kiss upon her forehead. “You mean the world to me, Trina, and I don’t want to upset you over guy talk. I took care of it OK? You don’t have to worry about it. Now go inside before your parents hear us and ground you too.”

She rolled her eyes. But I still saw the tears escape as she turned away.

* * *

During my suspension, my mother left me a huge list of jobs I needed to have completed by the time she got home each day. She also swore that she was going to drop by randomly to check on me and alluded to having some sort of surveillance set up to make sure I stayed home.

I didn’t believe that, but I wasn’t in the mood for socialising, anyway. I spent my days trimming trees and weeding garden beds as well as cleaning out all of our storage areas. I wished the list of jobs took my mind of things, but they didn’t. I hated—hated—hearing Ben talk about Katrina like she was any other girl out there. It made me sick. And before I left the popular group I’d always been part of, he never would’ve spoken about her like that because she was under my protection, and I was one of them. But, I guess that’s what happened when you changed friendship groups; your alliances and respect changed too. I was never going to stand by and take it. I wasn’t to be trifled with.

On the third day of my suspension, Katrina detoured past my house on her way home from school. I was busy raking leaves in the front yard, so I didn’t realise she was there until she called to me.

“Are you back to school tomorrow?” she asked, standing on the council strip and talking to me over the garden bed.

I paused what I was doing and leaned on the rake, happy she was here speaking to me after she seemed so angry the other night. “Yeah. How’s it been in my absence?”

“Boring, enlightening, and a little lonely.”

“Enlightening?”

She bounced a shoulder and chewed on her lip a little. “Do you know Ethan? He’s in year twelve and gets off a stop before us on the bus.”

“Yeah. I know Ethan.”

“Of course you do. He’s on the basketball team isn’t he?”

I nodded, feeling pretty sure what was coming next.

“Well, Ethan sat next to me on the bus today. He told me what Ben was saying about me and what he said would happen after the formal. He told me how he was provoking you.”

I tapped the rake on the ground a couple of times, before I gave her a shrug. “Like I said, guy’s a fuckwit.”

“Yeah, but the stuff he said. It’s not true. Half of it hasn’t even happened, and I’m certainly not ready to…you know. Anyway, I’m glad we broke up. I really liked him at first, but then he started pressuring me to do more and well, it’s a relief to have that over. And I don’t like being locker room fodder. It’s supposed to be private, you know?”

I met her eyes, working my jaw as my memory reminded me of Ben’s bragging. “Yeah, Trina. I do know.”

“Do you ever do that? Talk about girls like they’re things to conquer?”

“No,” I assured her. “The guys who talk that way do it because they think they have something to prove.”

“And you don’t?”

I shook my head. “Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Reaching out, she nudged me on the shoulder and smiled. “Not even to me?”

Catching her hand, I pulled her into a one-armed hug. “There’s nothing to prove. If you don’t know me through and through by now, we’re doomed.”

Hugging me back tight, she took a deep inhale. “Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. I just wish you wouldn’t clam up the way you do.”

Releasing her, I offered a half smile. “Gotta have some sort of mystery going on.”

“Not really. I always know what’s wrong with you. I know why you do what you do.”

“You just want the gory details, huh?”

“I want to hear the truth from your mouth, actually.”

“And what truth is that?”

Repositioning her backpack, she smiled the way the Mona Lisa does. “I should go.”

I held my hand out to the side. “Aw, come on, Trina. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

“Annoying, isn’t it?” She giggled as she turned away, the squeaking of my mum’s brakes stopping her in her tracks.

“Ah shit,” I muttered, immediately returning to my rake. I am so dead. “You need to leave.”

“Relax,” she whispered before turning her attention to my mum as she parked the car in the driveway. “Hi Mrs Taylor!” Katrina bounced on her toes and waved. Mum did nothing to hide her dissatisfaction.

“David’s grounded, Trina. That means no friends, not even you,” Mum said as she got out of the car.

“Oh, I actually came to talk to you, Mrs Taylor. If you have time, of course.” Trina smiled, pulling her bag from her shoulder and leaving it on the ground near me. Mum narrowed her eyes suspiciously before she nodded toward the house to tell Katrina it was fine to follow her.

“Back to work, young man,” my mother said to me. “Your suspension isn’t over yet.”

While I wondered what the hell Trina and Mum were inside talking about, I finished up in the front yard. I scooped up the leaves and cut up the palm fronds that never seemed to stop falling from the tree next to our letter box. By the time Trina walked out my front door, the green waste bin was full of clippings, and I was in desperate need of a shower.

“See you tomorrow morning,” she said, smiling as she skipped down the front steps then started off for her place.

“Hang on. Aren’t you gonna tell me what that was about?”

She threw her head back and laughed while she just kept walking. I couldn’t help but smile. She was playing me at my own game.

When I turned back to my house, Mum was standing in the doorway.

“You’re not grounded anymore. And you can go to the formal too.”

“I can?” This probably isn’t the best time to tell her I was never planning to go...

She nodded. “Trina just told me what the fight was about. Frankly, I think that kid deserved a good hit for talking about our girl like that. You should have told me, David. I wouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

I bounced one shoulder. “I’m not exactly proud of it.”

“You should always be proud of fighting for the people you care about.”

Six

With only a couple of weeks until the formal, things had gone back to the way they’d always been between Trina and me; easy and comfortable. She’d migrated from the celeb group to mid-level group I was a part of. We were the people who were friendly with everyone within the high school hierarchy. It was way less stressful hanging out with people who weren’t constantly trying to be better than everyone else, I can assure you.

Unfortunately, Trina’s and my perceived downgrade didn’t come without its fair share of drama. Cassie became an absolute bitch. I know I shouldn’t talk about people like that, but it’s what she was. I don’t know if she was pissed at me or Trina, but when she found out I’d changed my mind about going to the formal, she lost it and started up a rumour saying she was pregnant. Of course she claimed it was mine, making matters even worse by adding that I ordered her to get an abortion or else I’d punch her in the gut to get rid of the kid myself.

How seriously fucked up is that? I felt like such an idiot for ever getting involved with her in the first place. I mean, a girl who throws herself at you repeatedly, despite you constantly telling her that you don’t want a relationship is, in my books, either totally self-aware, or a couple sandwiches short of a picnic. I wish I'd been smart enough to stay away from the psycho. Never listen to your dick, fellas.

On the upside, I felt incredibly lucky to have found a group of friends who didn’t believe the shit Cassie spouted for a second. They stood up for me and called bullshit whenever they could. Still, there were a lot of people in our grade who ate bullshit with a shovel and loved it.

It sucked. I hated that my character and personal life were being discussed in vivid detail yet again. People felt they had the right to ask me questions, and if they didn’t confront me directly, they were happy to make unfounded comments behind my back. The writing returned to the bathroom walls.

“That’s the last of it in the girls’ bathroom,” Trina said, pink cheeks and messy hair from her hard work. We stayed back after school with Loren and Jeremy to scrub the graffiti about me off the toilet stalls. It wasn’t gonna do much, but it felt like we were being proactive.

Loren placed her cleaning bucket on the ground. “I wanted to write something creative about Cassie—give her a taste of her own medicine—but miss take-the-high-road here wouldn’t let me.” She pointed her thumb in Trina’s direction.

I met Trina’s eyes and grinned. She knew I’d hate stooping to Cassie’s level. “Thank you,” I said to everyone. “Thick shakes and fries are on me. I mowed my neighbour’s lawn last weekend, so I’m cashed up.”

“What’d they pay you, ten bucks?” Jeremy asked.

“Fifteen,” I replied with a laugh. “It’s why we’re eating off the two dollar menu.”

While the four of us sat around a table at Maccas, laughing and talking shit, I realised how fucking grateful I was for these new friends of mine. They’d already proven themselves more true than any of my old friends ever were. And despite the shit I had to go through to get here, I was happy for it. This felt right.

“Watch out, Trina.” The last voice any of us wanted to hear sounded from behind me. “He’ll get you pregnant then threaten to beat you up.”

Cassie moved into my line of sight, her arms folded across her middle, lips pursed, eyes dead.

“Why don’t you go sprinkle your hate glitter somewhere else?” Loren said, popping a fry in her mouth.

I fought a grin while Cassie popped a hip, unimpressed. “Can we talk?” she asked when her gaze swung my way, one hand twisting her hair.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I responded, keeping my voice even as I leaned back in my chair.

“You don’t have to talk. Just listen.”

“Aren’t you listening?” Trina added. “No one wants you here.”

Pride swelled in my chest. Trina never stood up to anyone. And here she was, standing up to the queen of year ten. It was glorious.

Cassie didn’t share the same opinion. Her expression darkened, her lips tightened, and she turned her hateful eyes on my favourite person in this world. She opened her mouth, ready to splash her venom in Trina’s direction. But before she could get a word out, I stood, blocking her view and towering over her.

“Walk away, Cassie,” I said.

“Or what? You’ll punch me in the stomach?”

Narrowing my eyes slightly, leaned in real close so she was the only person who could hear me. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last woman on this earth. You and your bullshit lies disgust me.”

“You won’t even consider that the baby is yours?” she asked, surprise registering in her eyes.

“I won’t even consider the possibility of you being pregnant.”

“Birth control is only 99 percent.”

“But maths is absolute. And if you were pregnant by me, you’d be showing. We haven’t been together for months. Now get out of my face and never speak to me or my friends again.”

We locked eyes in silent challenge. I could see the hesitation flit through hers, like she wasn’t sure if she should keep going or stand down. But Cassie has never been too smart. “I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

“No, Cassie. It was hell dealing with your neediness. This is a cakewalk.”

Her mouth dropped open then she spun on her heel and stomped off. I knew I’d poked the beast, but for the life of me, I didn’t care.

“What did you say to her?” Jeremy asked when I sat back down and reached for my shake.

“I told her to leave.”

“Looked like you said more than that,” Loren added, lifting a brow.

“David doesn’t elaborate,” Trina said with a knowing smile. “You have to read between the lines. I’m guessing he told her she wasn’t worth his time and that he didn’t even believe she was pregnant.”

I laughed and stretched my arm across the back of her chair. “It’s like you were reading my mind.”

* * *

The whole year seemed to be getting pretty jazzed about this formal thing. In the days leading up to it, it was all anyone could talk about. Who are you going with? How are you getting there? What are you wearing? Even the guys were asking. It’s was crazy considering it was a school event and would undoubtedly be pretty boring. If my mum and Trina hadn’t colluded over getting me to go, I’d happily skip the event all together. But I had to admit, I was kind of happy about riding in the limo since I’d never been in one before. The idea was made better with the knowledge that Trina would be coming to the formal as a part of our group instead of as Ben’s date. Thank fuck. Every time I thought about that guy, I clenched my fists.

“Hey, what’s got you frowning like that?” Trina asked, reaching out to touch the knit between my brows. It was lunch and some of my ex-friends were playing footy not far from where we sat on the grass.

“Nothing that matters.” I flashed her a smile then laid back, looking up at the sky with my arms folded behind my head.

Katrina leaned on my chest, her long hair falling over her shoulder and brushing against my face as she moved it over to one side. “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what? Playing footy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Being popular, dummy.”

I smiled, reaching up and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “I’d only miss it if you were over there instead of right here with me.”

She laughed lightly as she rolled off my chest and onto her back next to me. “Do you think you can get over yourself enough to dance with me at the formal?”

With a laugh, I turned my head to face her. “You’re not worried about dancing with a monster like me? It might ruin your reputation.”

“Oh David, my reputation was ruined the moment I let you sit next to me on the bus all those years ago.”

I laced my fingers through hers. “Good. I want you ruined for everyone else.”

* * *

The day of the formal rolled around. Dressed to the nines, we met at Erin’s house to wait for the limousine. Erin's family owned an indoor sports centre and their home was a flat attached at the back of it. Between the eight people in our group and their families, the parking lot was chockas. Parents crowded around, taking photos like they were paparazzi and were about to score their next big pay cheque.

We did look good though.

I just wished it wasn’t so damn hot. While all the guys were sweltering in suits, the girls were in dresses that showed off all their lovely curves and kept them cool. Katrina wore a short, pale blue spaghetti strap dress that looked amazing on her. And even though we weren’t officially going to this thing together, she gave me a pale blue tie, so we matched.

Her hair was cut and styled so it fell in soft curls at her shoulders, and she wore a pair of low-heeled shoes that made her around the same height as me. She was truly stunning, and I honestly had trouble keeping my eyes—and my hands—off her.

On a regular day, we tended to touch whenever we were near out of habit, or perhaps comfort. But that night was different. My hand kept wandering over to rest on her back, to hold her hand, to wrap around her waist. I felt an overwhelming need to keep her by my side, hold her close.

“You’re good at this dancing thing,” she said with a huge smile as we swayed together on the dance floor. Her fingers were laced behind my neck and my hands gripped her hips a little tighter than they should.

“I never said I couldn’t dance,” I replied, my voice husky because…shit. I think I’m about to kiss her. Look away. I cleared my throat. “I said I don’t dance.”

“Well, don’t I feel special?”

I grinned. “You should.”

She laughed before resting her head on my shoulder. I held her even tighter.

* * *

I still couldn’t let go of her when we arrived at the after party. For a guy who never did anything that could be considered ‘relationshippy’ I was certainly acting like the possessive boyfriend. And there was nothing I could do to stop myself.

Somewhere in my brain there was a tiny voice that kept yelling, ‘This is a terrible idea. You’re messing everything up.’ But the rest of me kept going along like it had decided Trina and I were together now and my logical self had no say in the matter.

A fact made worse by the introduction of alcohol.

As with most parties, there was always someone with an older sibling or parent’s with loose morals who supplied the grog. There was a keg of beer as well as tubs filled with those vodka mixes the girls seem to like.

And since we were teenagers at a party, we got drunk—everyone did. A band had been set up to one side of the property, and everyone was dancing, drinking, and having a great time.

“The after party is way better than the actual formal,” Trina yelled over the music while she jumped up and down to the beat, flinging her arms this way and that. She was smashed.

“I think we should get you some water,” I said, catching her by the elbows as she stumbled a little.

She looked into my eyes and frowned. “I think I need some water.”

With a laugh, I nodded like it was always her idea. “Sounds good.” Taking her hand, we went hunting for said water and found a tub filled with bottles of it.

“Who the hell’s party is this, anyway?” I asked, pulling one out and handing it to her.

“I have no idea. But it’s so well catered for.”

“Right?”

“Let’s go sit down for a bit.”

“Sure,” I said, following her over to a tree with a trunk so thick, that I think it would take two of me to wrap my arms around it.

“Here, sit on this,” I said, laying my jacket on the ground so she didn’t ruin her dress with the dirt.

“Such a gentleman.” She laughed, taking a seat.

“Don’t tell anyone.” I knocked my shoulder against hers.

“I don’t have to. Everyone can see it. You have a soft spot for me, David Taylor.”

Scrubbing a hand across my jaw, I let out a laugh. “Is that what’s going on?”

She took a breath and nodded. “Yeah. You do things for me that you won’t do for any other girl.”

“That’s because you’re my best friend.”

“Yeah. Well, that’s what we tell ourselves isn’t it?”

My heart kicked up a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said, frowning. “I think I’ve had too much to drink. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No. I want to hear this.”

“It’s just…” She pressed her lips together like she wasn’t going to say anymore, then surprised me by saying, “I don’t see any other best friends who hug the way we do; touch the way we do; share a bed in secret…”

“That was only a couple of times.”

“We’re too close to be only best friends.”

Too close. Every tiny molecule in my body wanted me to grab her and show her how close I wanted to be. I couldn’t even hear that little voice telling me no anymore.

“Then what are we?” I asked, moving closer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her eyes flicking between my mouth and my eyes. “You treat me like I’m yours, like I mean the world to you.”

“You do.”

“But then you don’t want anything more than that. You’ll mess around with any other girl. But you won’t do anything meaningful with me.”

My forehead landed against hers. “Everything we do is meaningful.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she whispered, her breath soft and sweet against my skin. I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her.

Letting out a tiny moan, she parted her lips, inviting my demanding tongue in.

“Trina.” Her name came out as a sigh as I laced my fingers through her hair and brought her closer so our mouths had nowhere else to go.

Every inch of my body buzzed as I moved my tongue against hers. She tasted like the alcohol she’d been drinking and the delicate flavour I remembered as being uniquely her, the flavour I craved and fought against, fought for, lived for. Shit. What was I doing?

“Trina.” I placed my hands on her hips, pulling away slightly as I realised what a terrible mistake we were making. We were best friends. I couldn’t lose that because my dick decided to take control of my thoughts for the night.

“Do the things to me that you do to other girls, David,” Trina whispered against my lips, obviously not understanding I was trying to stop. “It won’t mean anything, I promise.” She placed a hand on the side of my face and peppered tiny kisses along my jaw, her other hand at my waist, pulling at my shirt. The moment her fingers touched the bare skin of my stomach, I shuddered.

“Trina.”

“Please, David. This won’t change anything. I just want it to be you.” Her hands moved to my belt. “I trust you. You’re the only one I trust to do it.”

It? I clapped my hands over hers to stop her. “Trina, stop. What are you asking?” I was pretty sure I knew, but I had to be positive.

Her blue eyes met mine, concerned and hopeful. “I want you to be my first, David. You were my first kiss. I trust you more than I trust anyone, and since I know you would never tell—”

“No.” I recoiled away from her. Not because I didn’t want her—the throbbing in my dick said otherwise—but because my sense had returned enough to realise what a colossal error that would be. Eight years of friendship for one night of sex? And not even great sex because first times hurt girls. No. I couldn’t do that to us. I couldn’t be the guy to hurt her. No. We needed to stop.

The distance I created between us felt like a cavernous void when I watched her eyes shift from hopeful to hurt to sorrowful.

“I’m sorry, Trina,” I started, reaching for her, needing to comfort her because I felt like a colossal arse. What is wrong with me?

She swiped her hands in the air, pushing me away as she jumped to her feet. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice cold, gaze averted as she sniffled.

“Trina, I’m—”

“Don’t.” She held up her hand. “I’m embarrassed enough.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry. I did this to us. I should never have kissed you like that. I crossed the line and I’m so sorry. I really am.”

Her eyes flashed as she turned my way. “Crossed the line? Crossed the fucking line? What line? The line where our friendship ends and this weird emotional connection begins? Or the line where every girl out there is worthy of that dick they’re always whispering about except me?”

My mouth opened and closed but I had no fucking clue what to say to that. In a way, she was right; we did have a messed up connection. One I knew that I was responsible for muddying because I didn’t want her and I wanted her all at the same time. But she was wrong about not being worthy—I was ignoring the part about my dick because she was drunk and angry, and my dick wasn’t the real issue here—because she was more worthy than anyone I knew. I was the one who wasn’t worthy of her. She deserved more than I could give her.

“I think we should walk to the shops and call your dad from there, sober you up a little.”

She released her breath, a tear falling as she looked at me in disbelief. Then she turned away, walking around the outside of the party to avoid seeing anyone on our way to the road. Each step brought on quiet sniffles as she cried, and I wanted to punch myself in the dick. I had just ruined the most perfect night in history by kissing my best friend. Fuck.

“I know we shouldn’t leave the party, Dad,” Trina said into her phone when we made it to the illuminated bus stop outside the row of shops. She kept her back to me, but I could still see her wiping at her tears intermittently. “It was getting out of hand… No, no one’s fighting… yes… Dad, don’t do that, just come and pick us up, please…Thank you.” She sounded relieved as she pressed the screen to end the call.

“Everything OK?”

She looked at me and shrugged. “He wanted to know if he should call the police to break the party up.”

“He’s not really going to is he?”

“No, he’s not happy about it. But he won’t make the call.”

A tiny beat of heavy silence passed as we both stared at the road. I couldn’t take it.

“Listen, about before—”

Closing her eyes, she knitted her brow. “Please, David, I’m begging you. Forget I even asked. Blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the dancing. I don’t care. Just don’t talk about it again.” She swiped at a fat tear as it slid from her eye. “Please.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded once. We remained silent until we got home. God, what have I done to us?

* * *

“How was the formal?” Mum asked eagerly when I came through the door. “I didn’t expect you home this early.”

Not wanting her to see how upset I was, I went straight to my room to change. “It was fine, Ma. I’m just tired.”

“Hey. Come and talk to me.” She followed me to the hall. “Did something happen?”

“Everything is fine. I just want to go to bed.”

“David.” She caught me just as I entered my room, blocking me from shutting the door. Folding her arms across her chest, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “Spill.”

Dropping onto the edge of my bed with a sigh, I pulled the pale blue tie from my neck and ran it between my fingers. “I messed up with Trina,” I started, once again, spilling my guts. My mum has never once judged me for my choices and frankly, she gave great advice.

“So, you kissed Katrina” she said, giving her shoulders a bounce like it was no big deal. “Anyone could see that was going to happen.”

“Yeah, but she wanted more, and I knocked her back. And now I think she hates me.”

“I don’t think Trina could ever hate you. But I think you do need to decide whether you want a relationship with her or a friendship. Toeing the line is just confusing things and hurting both of you.” Entering my room, she sat beside me on the bed, and placed a soothing hand on my back.

“I don’t even know how to be in a relationship. I’ve never wanted one because they all turn to shit.”

“Well, it’s a lot like being friends, but there’s a lot more kissing involved. And they don’t have to turn to shit,” she said, repeating my words even though she hated me using foul language. “Some couples are just meant to be, and it doesn’t matter how old you are when you get together. It lasts.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if we do this and end up hating each other? I’ll have lost my girlfriend and my best friend.”

“That’s a very defeatist way of looking at things.”

I shook my head. “Honestly mum, I’m scared.”

“Of?”

“Of being a failure. Of turning out like Dad with the gambling and the drinking, and…” I scrunched up my face and raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t want that future for me and Trina.”

“Oh David. You are nothing like your father. You look like him, and that’s where the resemblance stops. Is that why you’ve never had a girlfriend? Because of him?”

I bounced my shoulders, shaking my head slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The memory of that night I found him drunk on the floor revisited me. He told me I was good for nothing, that I was worthless, and I couldn’t help thinking that if a man like him thought I was worthless, then what good could I possibly be to anyone? I needed to be more, to make something of myself before I could even think about being deserving of another person. As I was, I was nothing, I had nothing. I wasn’t worthy. “I’m just not ready, Mum.”

“OK,” she said, touching me lightly on the head. “Then you explain that to Trina and you wait. If it’s meant to be between you two, the opportunity will present itself when the time is right. For both of you.”

“I’m really scared she’s gonna hate me.” I sighed.

“Be honest with her, David. She won’t hate you. She loves you.”

* * *

It took me a really long time to fall asleep because I wanted to go to Trina and explain myself. I wanted to apologise and beg her not to let that night ruin our friendship. My thoughts must have called her to me because I heard a tap on my window and found her standing outside, still wearing her formal dress.

“What are you doing? You must be freezing,” I whispered harshly, opening my screen and helping her to climb in.

“I needed to see you,” she replied breathlessly.

“Well, I’m glad you came.” Closing the window, I turned to her and rubbed my hands up and down her arms to generate some warmth. “We need to talk.”

“I didn’t come here to talk, David.”

“What do you—” Before I knew it, her lips were on mine, arms going around my neck, tongue pushing past my lips.

I could have stopped it, but fuck, I didn’t want to. I’d knocked her back once tonight, and if I did it again, it would surely be the end of us. And besides, I wanted this just as much as she did. I was just too chickenshit to go after it. Trina was far braver with her heart than I was.

Responding in kind, I kissed her back, holding her hips as we fell onto my bed all tangled up in each other.

“I want it to be you,” she whispered in my ear as she positioned herself on top of me and reached between my legs with her hand.

“Are you sure?” I whispered as I kissed her jaw and reached up, kneading her breasts with my hands, getting completely lost in what was happening.

She brought her mouth to mine and slid her tongue slowly over my own, drinking me in, devouring me as she used her hand to slide the tip of my cock around her opening.

“Be careful,” I warned, knowing the other girls I’d been with had a bit of trouble adjusting to my size. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll be a perfect fit,” she assured me, lowering herself down. I closed my eyes and moaned as she took me inside her body. It really was as if she was my perfect fit.

Sitting back, she rolled her hips, taking me in deeper as she rode my shaft. Opening my eyes, I gazed up at her, rocking above me, a look of pure ecstasy on her face as I watched her slide herself up and down my length. She’s beautiful.

My hands roamed all over her body, loving the touch of her bare skin under my fingertips. I grabbed her hips and sat up underneath her so we were face to face. I needed to be closer to her.

Grinning at me, she continued to rock her hips. I brushed my lips against hers, kissing her gently at first as we slowed things down. I deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with my tongue, I brought my hand up to cup her breast, tweaking her nipple between my fingers.

She gasped into my mouth and started to whimper, close to orgasm. Feeling overcome, but not wanting to blow yet, I held myself back as best I could, trying to wait until I was sure she was ready.

“Oh God, you feel so good,” I whispered between kisses. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

She rested her hands either side of my face and pulled back, looking at me intently before she spoke. “It’s not.”

Snapping my eyes open, the room was filled with daylight, and I was on the verge of bursting. “Fuck.” I reached down and frantically grabbed my cock, squeezing to stop myself from blowing my load all over my sheets. Snatching up the towel I’d left lying on the floor from my shower the night before, I released my grip, letting go with a shudder. The images from the dream still clear in my mind as I blew. Hard.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I let out a charged breath. “What the fuck was that?” I dropped back on the bed. I should have known it was a dream the moment our clothes went missing without either of us actually removing them. “Fuck.”

Once I’d calmed down, I got up and took a shower then skipped breakfast so I could go straight to Trina’s place. I needed to sort this out. I was beyond confused.

“Hey, Tom,” I said as Katrina’s brother answered the door. “Is Trina in?”

“Yeah man, she’s in her room,” he said, stepping away from the door and heading back toward the kitchen.

“Is she awake?” I asked as I followed.

He answered with a simple shrug as he took a seat at the breakfast bar to continue eating his cereal.

“Where’s your mum and dad?”

“Mum’s hanging washing and Dad’s gone to Bunnings. The lawn mower shat itself so he’s gone to get a new one.”

Katrina’s bedroom was just off the kitchen, so I turned where I was standing and knocked gently before trying to open it, glad she hadn’t locked it when the knob turned in my hands.

She was sitting up in bed reading and put her book aside when she saw me come in.

“Hey,” I said, offering a small smile as I shut the door behind me.

“Hey yourself,” she replied moving her legs so I could sit down.

I looked around the room briefly, taking in the dress she wore last night—the dress she wore in my dream—as it hung over the back of her chair with her shoes lying on the ground beside it.

Clearing my throat, I pushed the dream out of my mind. “Listen, Trina, about last night…” I started.

“Oh god, please don’t go there,” she groaned, raking her hand through her now shoulder-length hair.

“We need to talk about it.”

She brought her knees up to her chest. “It’s fine David. Let’s just forget about it OK. I feel stupid for what I said, what I did—let’s just put it down to me being a little drunk and on the rebound, OK?”

“No Trina, I need to explain.” I told her, taking a deep breath before launching into my practised speech, the one where I’d draw a solid line in the sand that wasn’t to be crossed. My dream had been great, but the regret I felt even though it wasn’t real told me what I needed to say today. “Out of everyone in this world, you are the most important person to me. You’ve been my best friend through every moment of the past eight years: great or shitty. And I love you”—she took a sharp breath—“but I love you as a friend.” When her gaze fluttered down, my chest stuttered and ached. I hated that I was hurting her, but this was what needed to be done. “I don’t think I can be anything more than that to you, and I don’t know if I ever could. To be honest, I don’t know if I ever want to be anyone’s boyfriend, and as much as I liked kissing you last night, it can’t happen again. If we were together, I really think I’d just mess it up. It’s better to be friends for a lifetime than lovers for a moment. And, I don’t think I’m built for relationships—my dad wasn’t and perhaps I’m not either.” The disappointment set into her face and turned her eyes glassy. “I’m not explaining myself very well, am I? I guess, I’m just sorry, because I messed up—I’m messed up—please don’t let this ruin us as friends. I need you in my life. You have been the only constant for me in the fucked up mess of my life, and I’m begging you to stay.”

Letting out her breath, she placed her hand over mine. “It’s OK, David, you’re making perfect sense. We’re friends, end of story. You really didn’t need to give me the whole ‘love you like a friend’ speech. I get it, I asked too much of you, and it’s fine,” she told me with a slight edge to her voice that made me feel as though I’d fucked things up between us, anyway.

“Are you sure you’re OK? You don’t look fine?”

She laughed and took her hand back. I missed it immediately. “Good work, David, you friend-zone me then you tell me I look crap. That’s really awesome.”

“No, you’re beautiful. You're always beautiful. That’s not what I meant.”

Shaking her head, she said, “It’s fine. I’m just embarrassed. But I’ll get over it. It’s not every day you offer your best friend your virginity and get knocked back, so I might need a moment. Let’s just drop this whole thing, OK? I promised you it wouldn’t change things, and I meant that. We’re OK.”

“All right, well… I should probably head home then. Maybe I’ll see you later?” I said, rising from the bed and leaning forward to kiss her on the top of her head. “You sure we’re good?”

“Positive David. Now go home,” she sighed.

I pressed my lips into a wan smile and left, closing her door behind me and saying goodbye to Tom as I headed for the front door. There was a knock just before I reached it, so I called out, “Do you want me to get that?”

“Yeah, it should be Ethan, let him in,” Tom called.

Opening the door, I shook Ethan’s hand. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were friends with Tom?”

“Yeah, we work together at the cinema.”

“Hey, we’re playing Xbox if you wanna stick around,” Tom said, coming up behind me.

“Nah, I’ve got stuff to do. But thanks. I’ll see you around.”

As I walked back home, I had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was glad I told Katrina how I felt, but I was worried it was going to affect our friendship regardless. Loving your best friend was hard.

Seven

After the night of the formal, things were a little strained between Trina and me. It’s not that we weren’t talking, because we were. There was just a slight discomfort between us, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard I tried to be friendly, or how much time we spent together. When I questioned her, she claimed she was tired and sick of school, which I guess was understandable. But it felt too coincidental.

There were only a couple of weeks left before the Christmas holidays kicked in, which meant at least six weeks away from school life as well as all the bullshit Cassie had continued to cause for us.

Along with the rest of our grade, she’d seen how close Trina and I were at the formal. And because no one could mind their damn business, more rumours spread and I became public enemy number one. There wasn’t a day that went by when someone didn’t call me a horrible name for ‘forcing Cassie to have an abortion’. It didn’t matter how many times I told them I never got her pregnant in the first place. They were more willing to run with the scandal than they were to hear the truth. I was done with them.

Trina also copped a bit of backlash for supposedly dumping Cassie as a friend because she wanted me all to herself. So stupid. There were a few different versions to the story, but all had some element of Katrina being insanely jealous of my non-existent relationship with Cassie and doing everything she could to make sure we couldn’t be together.

It was so incredibly lame.

Besides the handful of people I sat with at lunch, I didn’t bother talking to anyone anymore. I had effectively gone from the guy who called the shots, to the guy who everyone kicked mud on. It sucked, that’s for sure. But at least I knew who my friends were.

On top of things being a little weird between Trina and me, I was still dreaming about her. Almost every night when I closed my eyes, she came to me. Rationally, I knew that was where my attraction needed to stay—in my dreams. I wanted Trina to be in my life forever, and as far as I could see high school relationships didn’t last that long. Better to be friends forever, than to be lovers for a moment. But it wasn’t easy, and I questioned my decision to draw a line in the sand daily. What if I lose her, anyway?

On the last week of school, Mum surprised me with an envelope that held tickets for us to go on a trip to Bali. She said she’d been saving up her overtime and wanted to do something fun to celebrate me doing so well in my exams. I had never been on a plane before, and holidays had been non existent for us since my dad had left. So I was pretty stoked.

“I’m not sure how you managed to do so well because you never seem to study. But I’m proud of you. I’m proud of your grades, and I’m proud of the way you’ve handled everything that’s been put on you at school,” she told me.

We went the two weeks before Christmas, so we missed the really busy time. It was fantastic. I could forget about all the shit back home and just be me. We stayed at the Dynasty Resort, and they had this teen's club called The Den where you could go to hang out away from your parents. My mum got pretty involved with some of the tours, so I spent a fair bit of time there, getting to know some people. It was normal. It was fun and despite missing Katrina; I was sad when the trip was over.

The first thing I did when I landed was go and visit her. Christmas was in a couple of days, and I wanted to give her the present I’d bought for her while I was away.

“You’re back!” She smiled, embracing me warmly when she opened her front door.

All the tension that had been between us seemed to have evaporated in my absence, and I thought that a little time apart must have been all we needed. She looked even more beautiful in person than she did in my memory, and it suddenly felt as though I had been away from her for longer than two weeks. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me inside, leading me towards the kitchen. Admittedly, my thumb strayed a little and caressed the back of the soft skin on her hand. “Tell me all about it. I’m so jealous. Did you learn how to surf?”

“Nah, surfing’s never going to be my thing. I reckon if the waves keep pushing you back to shore, you should take it as a sign that the ocean doesn’t want you there.”

Dropping my hand, she laughed. “I never thought about it like that before.”

“Here, I got you a souvenir slash Christmas present while I was there. It’s not wrapped sorry, I came straight over,” I said, handing her the white paper bag.

“David. Thank you. Do you want a drink? You must be tired. Did you seriously come straight here?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” I shrugged.

“No reason. I’m just happy you’re home.” She pulled two cans of Coke from the fridge, handing me one before placing hers on the breakfast bar where we both sat. I watched as she opened up the bag and slid out the bundle of tissue paper inside that contained her gift, while I reached across the bench to pull the tab on her drink for her.

Removing her gift from the wrapping, she turned it around in her fingers and studied the patterns painted around the edge of it.

“It’s a bangle,” I said, feeling stupid the moment the words popped out of my mouth.

“I can see.” She laughed. “Is this all handmade?”

“Yeah, that’s what they reckon, anyway. They carve the wood themselves and then paint all the little flowers on. Do you like it? I thought it was pretty and well, girls like jewellery, right?”

Katrina grinned and nodded as she slid the bangle onto her wrist. “Thank you, David. It’s beautiful,” she said, leaning across the table and kissing me on the cheek.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled, taking a swig of my drink as her phone beeped with a message.

Pulling it out of her pocket, she swiped at the screen and grinned broadly the moment she saw it.

“What’s making you grin like that?” I asked, wondering what had been happening in the two weeks I’d been gone.

“Oh, it’s nothing… it’s just… Ethan. You remember him, right?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve kind of been hanging out a bit lately. He’s really nice.”

A slight pang shot through my chest and landed heavily in my stomach as I planted what I hoped was an unfazed smile on my face. I had no right to expect her not to move on from Ben, and I guess, in a way… me. I chose this.

“He seems like a good guy.” I cleared my throat and took another drink to cover my less than pleased reaction. “Is Tom weird about you hanging out with him?”

“No… oh, maybe a little. But there’s not much he can do about it.” She flicked the ring pull on her can with a twang as a quiet fell over us. “You’re not weird are you?”

“Why would I be?” I laughed in this odd way I hoped never to hear come out of my mouth again.

“I don’t know… Anyway, he’s coming over soon. He’s going to take me to a movie.”

“Oh really? Well, I should get going then. What time’s your bus?”

“He drives.”

“Of course he does. He’s actually finished school now hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he has. He’s just waiting to see if he’s going to Uni or not.”

“What’s he going to study?” I asked, making a great effort to sound interested.

This weird dreamy look came over her face, and I realised in that moment that I’d lost her. That line was deep in the sand, a cavern I might never be able to cross. Suddenly, I really regretted not having the guts to say yes to her. I didn’t want her to be Ethan’s. I wanted her to be mine.

“I’m sorry; what did you say?” I asked, realising that her lips were moving, but I hadn’t heard a word that came out of them.

“I said, he’s thinking of becoming an optometrist,” she repeated.

“Really? That’s like an eye specialist right?”

“Yeah and don’t laugh. I’m sure it would be very interesting.”

I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not saying anything.”

“Good. Just be nice to him OK?”

“Why would I be anything else?”

“Um, you beat up my last boyfriend.”

“Well, he was talking smack about you. I’m sure Ethan won’t do that. He seems like a good guy, Trina. I’m happy for you.” And I was happy for her. I wanted us to go back to being friends, and with Ethan in the picture, it seemed we were just that. Friends.

Why does that word twist my stomach now?

* * *

Christmas came and went. We were on school holidays until the beginning of February, so I divided my time between taking the driving lessons my mother had gotten me for Christmas and visiting Trina…and Ethan.

They were becoming inseparable, and I could tell by the way Trina looked at him that she was getting ready to call what they had the ‘L’ word. He’d even gotten her interested in triathlons, and together they’d joined the local club and started training.

It fucking hurt seeing her like that with someone else, especially since the bangle I bought her suddenly vanished from her wrist and was replaced with the silver chain bracelet Ethan got her for Christmas. I wanted so much to be an arsehole to him because of it, but he was a decent guy. I just had to accept that Trina was his now, just as I had to respect that it was probably hard for him to have me around his girlfriend. God, I hate that word.

Being as decent as he was, he actually asked me to hang out with them himself a few times. And he did his best to be cool about me and Trina being so close. He even tried not to seem annoyed when he showed up to Trina’s house and I was already there. I could tell he didn’t like that his girlfriend had a guy for a best friend, but he still made an effort. I couldn’t dislike him even if I tried.

As per usual, I spilled my guts to my mum. Admitting to her that I had started to see Trina as more than just a friend, despite insisting I wasn’t ready for us to be more.

“Well David, you could always tell her how you feel.”

“Mum, that’s so not an option right now. She’s with Ethan, and she’s happy. Plus, I don’t know. I want to be with her, but I’m still scared I’ll stuff it up.”

“Then I guess you have to decide whether you can be the guy on the outside of her relationship, waiting for it to end. Or whether you just move on yourself and keep waiting until you’re absolutely sure about her. You’re young, David. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I’m pretty sure Katrina is going to be a part of it no matter what.”

The more my mum and I talked, the more I realised that now wasn’t the right time for me and Trina, and it was unfair for me to keep being the third wheel in her and Ethan’s relationship.

We even spoke about all the events of the past year. I realised that half the shit that happened could have been avoided if I wasn’t behaving like a little kid and acting out because I was jealous while she was dating Ben.

My mother helped me see that I only seemed to want Katrina when she was dating someone else because it was safer to desire her when in reality, she wasn’t mine. When she was available, I got scared and threw up walls. I was lucky Ethan played it cool when I was around, because most guys would have hated it and showed it. If I didn’t learn to back off a little then eventually, my behaviour would drive Katrina away for good. Which was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

She told me that if I wanted to keep Katrina in my life, then I was going to have to become the friend she deserved. I was going to have to spend time with other people and stop putting myself around Trina’s relationship so much.

“I’m not saying that you have to stop seeing her. I’m just saying that maybe you should give her the chance to come to you occasionally.”

“What if she doesn’t?” I asked, suddenly really worried.

“She will, David. I guarantee it.”

Eight

February came quickly, and with it, the start of the school year. It also brought on my birthday. I’m one of the rare people who was born on the 29th, so for a long time we just celebrated my birthday on the last day of the month, and we’d have a party every leap year for my actual birth date.

We had just entered a leap year, but after all the drama I’d been through at school, the last thing I wanted was to throw a party. All I wanted was the day off school so I could go and get my license.

A few people remembered there should have been a party and asked me about it, but most of them didn’t give a shit. I’d given up my friends the day I beat up Ben, and I didn’t even really care about the new group I’d started to hang out with anymore. We were in our final two years of school. All I wanted was to be left alone to study and get the hell out of dodge.

Some of the top-ranked students of year ten were invited to the Sydney University campus in Redfern to have a look around and see if it was somewhere we’d like to attend.

Along with UTS, it was the best university in Sydney. I was in awe being there. Katrina had been invited along as well, but she wasn’t as excited about it as I was. Since things had become more serious with Ethan, she was concerned about her proximity to him. He didn’t make it into university and was doing a TAFE course instead. TAFE was a place you went to when you didn’t qualify for university, kind of like community college in the states. Some people used it as a stepping stone to get into University, while others went there to learn a trade or skill.

Ethan was still interested in optometry, but now he was studying to be the technician who makes the glasses instead of the actual optometrist. So Trina being Trina, she thought long-term and was thinking of going to UWS to be closer to home and closer to him.

“You can always catch the train here and still live at home, you know,” I told her.

“No thanks, there is no way I’m sitting in a train for over an hour each way every day,” she said, looking around at the heritage building that towered above us. Being there was like stepping back in time. I loved it.

“Just keep an open mind,” I said, grabbing her hand to drag her around the campus one more time. “Just look at this place.”

“I’m not denying it’s beautiful. I just know that uni is a lot of work. I’ll have limited time as it is. Adding travel will only take away from that.”

“Have you considered that your priorities might be different in two years’ time?” I asked, trying to point out that she and Ethan may not even be together that far into the future without actually saying it.

“I still don’t want to travel this far every day,” she said. “It’s insane when there is a perfectly good university twenty minutes away.”

“Twenty minutes. When high school is finally over, I want to be as far away from Penrith High as possible.” I took a cleansing breath. Even the air felt different here.

“You really want high school over that much?” she asked, gripping my elbow to pull me to a stop.

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Why? High school is the pits.”

“Yeah, but we won’t be around each other as much at uni. I won’t get to see you every day if you come to a place like this. I mean, would you commute, or would you live in uni housing?”

“Uni housing, I guess. I don’t want to be stuck out west all my life.”

“Do you really think moving away from Penrith is going to change who you are?”

Her question caused a jolt in my chest. Even though she didn’t mean it that way, it was like she was telling me that no matter how hard I worked or how successful I became, I would still be the boy I was now. I’d still be my father’s son. Nothing.

“I don’t know, Trina. I just know I want something different.”

“What about me?”

Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, we walked slowly toward the café, the smell of coffee luring us over. “I’ll call you daily and see you every weekend.”

“You better.”

“Ah, you probably won’t even notice if I skip a day. You and Ethan will probably be married by then at the rate you’re going. You'll be fine without me.” I grinned and nudged into her with my hip.

“Marriage? Hell no. We’re both far too young for that. Building a career needs to happen first. I don’t want to be pregnant at eighteen with no degree to fall back on.” We joined the end of the line at the café and she fished around in her backpack for her purse while she continued to talk. “And you’re wrong. I would notice if you didn’t call one day. I mean, I love Ethan, but he’s my boyfriend. He’s not my best friend. He’s not you. Just because I have another guy in my life doesn’t mean I don’t want you around too. I still need you; you know. I’ll always need you.”

“Come here.” I pulled her into a big hug. Hearing her say that was music to my ears. I needed her as well. I just couldn’t figure out how I needed her. “We’ll always be friends, Trina. I promise.”

She nodded as I released her and pressed her lips together in a sad smile, wiping at her eyes while trying not to meet mine.

“Hey, why are you getting upset?” I asked, furrowing my brow as I peered into her face.

Shaking her head, she dropped her gaze. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just worried. You hardly come over anymore. I’m worried that once high school is finished and you aren’t forced to spend time with me, then our friendship could be over.”

“Forced? Are you serious? Trina, I’ve been trying to do the right thing and stay out of yours and Ethan’s way. I’ve been trying to give you space for your relationship. I get to see you all the time at school, and Ethan only gets you when you’re training together and on the weekends. I’m trying to be fair.”

“Fair? Going from visiting me all the time to only seeing me because of school feels like you don’t want to be around me at all anymore. I miss you. I miss spending time with you.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Well you weren’t. You were pushing me away.”

“I’ll start coming around more often then.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I’ve been missing you too.”

With a relieved sigh, she threw her arms around my neck and held me tight. When a guy cleared his throat behind us, we released each other and progressed in the queue, ordering our coffees and something to eat before finding a spot in the shade to eat and talk. Trina seemed so happy now that I’d agreed to hang out with her more often, and I was stuck wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. I hated seeing Trina with other guys. I couldn’t expect her to stay single while I got my shit together, but still, I liked not being the third wheel to her and Ethan for the past couple of months.

But I was a sucker for the girl. I would pretty much do anything for her happiness—besides be in a relationship, of course—so for the next year, I became that continual third wheel in Katrina and Ethan’s relationship. It helped that he was someone I got along with anyway, but I could tell he didn’t really want me there. And I couldn’t blame him. I was competition for his girlfriend’s attention.

Nine

Everything was going fine until the next Christmas. I’d accepted that Trina and Ethan were playing for keeps, and I started seeing other girls again. Nothing serious, same as before. But this time, I made sure I only hooked up at parties with girls from other schools. I didn’t need the Cassie drama to repeat itself.

Besides the odd party, I spent most of my free time studying. Trina called it ‘studying for my freedom’ since the end goal was moving closer to the city for university, but she was a great study partner, so I didn’t mind a little teasing.

“Exams are almost over,” she said as she stretched her arms above her head and rolled her neck from side to side, cracking it. “What are you going to do over the holidays?”

Dropping my pencil on the maths book in front of me, I picked up my no-name can of lemonade and took a mouthful. We were at my place, the kitchen table covered in our study notes with only two major exams left to sit before the term was over. We were almost done with Maths, but we still had science to study for after this. My brain was starting to feel a little ragged to be honest.

“I figured I’d get a job, save some money towards getting a car. I think mum’s getting sick of me taking hers.”

“How much do you think you can earn in only a couple of months?” she asked with a smile. “You’ll have to buy a total shitbox.”

“I’ll learn how to fix it up. It can be my pet project. I’ll make it all schmick and take you to the year twelve formal in it.”

Her gaze fell as she closed her books and stacked them in front of her. “Ethan’s already said he’ll take me.”

Of course he has.

“A year ahead of time?”

“Well, you’re talking about it too. And you’re not even asking, you just assumed.”

“It’s cool,” I said, crunching my empty can in my fist. “I kinda thought we’d just go as a group. I wasn’t thinking.” I got up and threw the can in the recycling bin, rolling my eyes at myself because I hadn’t even thought about Ethan at all. I just assumed I’d take Trina the same way I did last time. Maybe I had some stupid thought that things would be over between her and Ethan by then and I’d get another shot at saying yes to her. Pipe dreams.

“We can go as a group,” she said with a shrug. Although something about the pitch in her voice told me that would be a terrible idea. “It’ll be fun.”

“It’s ages away, Trina. How about we worry about it when it’s time to buy the tickets?”

“You might even have a girlfriend yourself by then?”

Scoffing, I pulled the fridge open and pulled the chicken out that Mum had put in there for tonight’s dinner. “That is never going to happen. I don’t do girlfriends.”

“I keep hoping you’ll change your mind on that.” Sliding her books into her bag, she stood from the table. “Relationships are better than you think. Even when they’ve ended.”

Pulling out the cutting board, I placed my hands on the bench and met her eyes. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

She slid her bag over her shoulder. “You could always try it out for yourself.”

“And you could put your bag back down and stay for dinner so we can study for science as well.”

With a slight giggle, she shook her head. “I’m going to a movie with Ethan.”

Of course she was.

“OK. I’ll study for us both then,” I said, pulling the knife from the block to cut the chicken into slices.

She smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said as she came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

As she walked out, seeming so carefree and happy with her life, I couldn’t help but look around the house and think about the vast difference between hers and my situations. I had responsibilities at home—cleaning, cooking and yard work—while Mum worked long hours to provide for the both of us. Trina’s mum stayed home, her dad worked, and all she had to do was make her bed each morning and set the table for dinner at night. Everything seemed easier for her. And I was jealous. I was tired. And I didn’t know what to do about that.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mum said with a sigh as she came through the front door later that night. She passed me at the table, still studying, and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “What’s this?”

“Science. Well, chemistry. How was work?”

“Long.” She dropped her bag on the chair beside me, and her keys on the clearest part f the table.

“Your dinner is in the microwave.” I’d eaten hours before after she’d called to say she was pulling a double shift.

“Thank you.” She hit the quick cook button twice then folded her arms while she waited. “I thought Trina would still be here.”

I looked at my watch. “It’s almost eleven.”

“And?”

“She went to a movie with Ethan.”

“You weren’t invited this time?”

I gathered my study notes into a pile, deciding I was done for the night. “Thankfully, no.”

“Everything OK? I thought you liked Ethan.”

“I do. I’m just tired of being the guy on the outside. It’s crowded.”

“Jealous?” She grinned as the microwave beeped.

“A little.” I got up and grabbed us both a can of drink, sitting across from her as she sat to eat. “But I’m not jealous of him. I think I’m jealous of her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. She’s just so sure about everything. She’s happy, content, moving forward in this straight line while I’m here feeling restless and anxious, like I’m a tiger stalking a cage.”

“A tiger?” She paused with a fork filled with curry and rice before her mouth.

“Yeah. Like I want out.”

Her eyes widened a little as she placed her fork back on her plate. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Ah shit. “It’s not about getting away from you, Mum. I love you, and I think you’re awesome. But I want to get out of this town, this school. I want to go places, do more, be more. I feel like if I stay here, I’ll be stuck being something I don’t wanna be, but if I leave, I’ll branch out and figure my shit out.”

“Are you saying you think you’ve outgrown your friendship with Trina?”

Frowning, I shook my head. “No. I’d take her with me if she wanted to leave. But she doesn’t. I think she’s outgrown me. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Have you spoken to her about this?”

“I’ve told her I want to go to uni in the city, stay on campus.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said she wants to stay close to Ethan, but she doesn’t want to lose our friendship.”

“So you feel that she’s choosing Ethan over you?”

“No. Yes… I don’t know. I’m just tired, Mum. I don’t want to watch her live her happy life anymore.”

“Then why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

“Because we want different things. It’s too late now. She’s happy. She’s in love. And I’m….”

“Tired.”

I let out a sigh and nodded.

“And you feel trapped?”

I nodded again. “And confused, lost, overwhelmed. Everything is different, but it’s still the same, and…I don’t know anymore.”

She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of mine. “I know your life hasn’t been the easiest, especially since your dad left. But I want you to know I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming. I can’t do much to change the way you’re feeling right now. I think time will give you clarity there. But I can offer my understanding and let you know I’m always here to talk when you need to. If your friendship with Katrina is truly hurting you, then it’s OK to let it go. But before you do, I want you to try something. Imagine a world in which she’s gone and you can’t pick up the phone and call her, or run to her when you’re stressed or upset. If you can do that and feel OK about it then let her go. If you can’t, hold tighter. You’ll get through this, OK?”

Holy fuck. “OK,” I said, heart in my throat because a world without Katrina? No. That would be hell.

Hold tighter. I can get through this.

* * *

I took a few days over the next week spending time alone to think while I finished up exams. Trina didn’t press for me to socialise since she knew how important my grades were to me, so when I wasn’t preparing for an exam, I ran different scenarios through my mind, trying to figure out what the hell I wanted in life. I did as my mother suggested and created imaginary timelines where Trina and I didn’t know each other anymore. They honestly felt like the worst-case scenarios, bleak and lonely, the ones I didn’t want. Then I plotted out scenarios with various degrees of involvement. My favourites were when we were close but not too close. I preferred it when there was no boyfriend I’m in the picture of course, but being the boyfriend myself made me uneasy because it changed things between us. I didn’t know why I couldn’t cross that line with Trina—even mentally it was a struggle—because logically, we were perfect for each other, and maybe we would beat the odds and work out like my mother said. But statistically, I knew that was practically impossible. The risks felt far too great.

At the end of the day, I wanted Trina more as a friend than a lover. Sex was easy to come by, but true friendship—the kind that could withstand anything—was a rare find indeed. I wasn’t going to let that go.

Which just brought me back to the conundrum I’d been having ever since the night of the year ten formal. How do I stop feeling attracted to her? How do I remain her friend and watch her fall in love with some other guy? How do you love somebody without ever having them? I was caught in a pattern of wanting to push her away to protect myself and pull her in close because I couldn’t let go. It was ridiculous. Even I could see that. In my perfect world, she would stay single and we would be the kind of best friends we always were—close, affectionate, available…

But that kind of scenario was selfish and unreasonable. I had told Trina on more than one occasion that I didn’t want a relationship, and I needed to hold true to that. I needed to live by it, accept it, and quit wanting to weigh her down, put her on the shelf and keep her there so only I could look at her. That wasn’t fair. I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too. So I needed to make peace with my decision and learn to be truly happy for her. Not just fake happy.

And I was pretty sure I knew how to do it.

“I was wondering if we could meet up later today.” I called Ethan set up some time for us to talk alone and clear the air. He needed to know I wasn’t after his girl. Anymore.

“Uh, sure.” By the sound of his voice I could tell he was frowning. And probably a little confused. “Does Katrina know about this? She said something about shopping with her mum this afternoon.”

“Nah. This is just you and me. I realised we’ve never had a chance to hang out on our own. Thought it would do us good.”

“Ah. OK? I was gonna go for a run but where do you want to meet?”

“How about I join you?”

Ethan was definitely fitter than me but I held my own as we ran around the river track, making light conversation for the first fifteen minutes or so.

“Are you gonna tell me what this is really about?” Ethan asked. “Never really pegged you for the running type.”

“I run,” I said with a smile.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “Away from fathers with shotguns.”

“Funny.” That had never happened. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to hang out one on one. I feel like sometimes you and I aren’t really gelling. And since Trina is my best friend and your girlfriend, then it would really help her if we got along.”

“You don’t think we get along?”

“We do okay. I’m just trying to make an effort. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. We have to do what’s best for her.“

“OK. Then I suppose I need to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Is there anything between you two?” Straight to the point.

“No.” I responded immediately. “And there never will be.”

“OK.” He said the word slowly. “Has there ever been anything between you?”

I hesitated. Does he know? “No,” I said finally, assuming Trina would never kiss and tell. “We’re just friends. I promise you that.”

“That’s what Katrina said to.”

“And you didn’t believe her?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You two just seem so… close. It felt like there was more there.”

“Nah man.” I clapped him on the back. “We’re like brother and sister. Nothing to it.” It felt like a lie. But in reality, I knew it was closer to the truth. It needed to be.

“That’s a relief.” He let out a small but nervous laugh.

“Worried I was gonna cut your grass, huh?”

“Well, yeah. How was I supposed to compete with that level of history? But if you’re telling me you’re like family, then I get it.”

“So we’re cool?”

He grinned. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Race you to the bridge?”

With a laugh he nodded, and we took off at a sprint, puffed and laughing by the time we made it. He won. I let him. Because it wasn’t about me proving I was better at something. It was about Trina.

* * *

“Surprise!” Mum said when I walked in the door a little after seven. She was standing in the living area with her arms out to the side.

“Surprise?” A quick scan of the room showed me that nothing was different at all. Did she change her hair?

“Outside,” she said, her eyes widening. “The car?”

I frowned. “The what?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t see it,” she said with a laugh.

“The only cars I saw out there were yours and the Subaru Impreza on the street.”

She grinned. “Yes!”

“Yes?”

Now she was laughing again. “Yes, David. The Impreza is yours.”

It was my turn to bug out. “What?”

“Consider it a taste of freedom. It might help you feel a little less trapped.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys.

“Are you serious?”

“I sure am.”

“Holy crap.” I rushed to the window and looked out at the shiny blue car parked on the street. I’d seen it when I came home but thought it belonged to someone visiting a neighbour or something. People were always parking in front of our house. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Mum. But how did you get the money for a car like that? I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but if you’re in debt for it, I’d rather you took it back and I can work until I can afford an old bomb.”

She smiled gently at me. “You’re very sweet to worry about the cost. But I assure you, I’m not in debt one bit. It’s all yours, and it’s all paid for.”

“But mum? It’s too much.”

“No. It’s exactly what you deserve,” she said, touching me lightly on my cheek. “Now go and take it for a spin.”

I stood there for a moment, not sure if this was really happening. Is that car seriously mine?

“Go.” She pressed the keys into my hand.

With a massive grin on my face, I kissed her on the cheek then sprang into action, practically bounding out the door.

Running my hands over the dark-blue paint job, I walked around the car to check it out properly while my mum stood in the doorway, watching me happily. As I slid inside, it still looked and smelled new. I practically sunk into the leather seats as I sat back, taking in my surroundings.

“Start her up,” my mother yelled, beaming at me.

Placing the key in the ignition, I turned it, my chest vibrating when the 275 horsepower engine grunted to life.

“No speeding!”

“I promise.” I couldn’t stop the smile from taking over my face. This was the most amazing thing I had ever been given. Immediately, I headed to Katrina’s house. She was the first person I wanted to take for a drive, the only person I wanted to share this with.

I pulled up to the front of the house and tooted the horn to get her attention. I saw the curtain in the lounge room pull to the side and Tom’s face poke through. Straight after that, the front door opened and out filed Tom, Katrina and Ethan.

“Nice ride, mate,” Ethan said as they all looked over the car.

“You going to take us for a spin?” Tom asked, not waiting for my answer as he slid into the front passenger seat.

“Sure, hop in.” I laughed, reminding myself of my earlier decision to quit being so possessive. The more the merrier, I guess.

“It really is a nice car, David,” Trina said as she slid into the backseat with Ethan. “Is this a Christmas gift from your mum?”

“I guess so. It was waiting for me when I got home this afternoon.”

“It’s gorgeous. I’m jealous.”

“Can I drive?” Tom asked.

“Not on your life.”

We went driving for maybe an hour, talking and listening to music. After the months of agonising over my feelings and coming to a point where I had a clear vision of my future, having the freedom of my own car was a sweet reward.

When I got home, Mum took some pictures of me posing with it. It seemed so strange to be enamoured over a tonne of metal, but I smiled proudly. Best afternoon of my life.

And it wasn’t just that car that made it that. It was the combination of deciding my path, taking action, and being given some coveted freedom. I just wish it could have lasted…

At maybe one o’clock in the morning, I was woken up by a loud banging on the front door. Jumping up in case there was someone trying to get into the house, I heard Mum’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

“You gave the kid that car?” the early-morning visitor yelled. It had been a few years since I’d seen him, but I’d know that drunken slur anywhere. Dad. I stood at my door and pressed my head against the cool wood.

“You gave it to me, and I gave it to him. It was my choice to make.”

“He’s a seventeen-year old kid. Give him your old car.”

“God, I should have known you’d react like this. I never should have sent you that picture. But I thought you might actually be glad to see him so happy. Can’t you be happy for your son?”

“That piece of shit? No. He can’t have the car. He gets nothing.”

That piece of shit. My fists balled up at my sides as I took a few calming breaths. Fuck. I hate him.

“You lost the right to tell me what to do when you walked out of here. Go home. You’re drunk.”

“You’re an ungrateful bitch, and you’ve raised an ungrateful bastard of a son. I never should have given it to you. I only did so you’d get off me fucking back about support payments.”

“Leave.”

“Fuck this shit. I’ll go home, and I’ll take the fucking car with me. I’m the one who won it. I’m the one who gets to say who drives it,” he slurred.

“You're not touching the car. It’s the first bit of ‘assistance’ you’ve given us in three years. Stop trying to cause trouble.”

“Car’s still in my name. I can take it if I want.”

“What happened, Dan? Is your winning streak over and you’re not feeling so generous anymore?”

When their voices became too low for me to hear, I ventured out of my room, needing to make sure everything was all right. I didn’t trust that man as far as I could throw him. And that wasn't far at all.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded, finding them wrestling in a tug-o-war over the keys.

“Ha. Bitch,” my father grunted, winning the keys and making for the door.

“Don’t you dare take that car, Dan!” she yelled, chasing after him.

“Fuck.” I followed, hot on her heels as I grabbed the metal baseball bat we had sitting next to the door in case the wrong kind of person came knocking. Why didn’t she use this against him?

“Dan!” Mum screeched into the night as Dad started up the engine.

“No.”

All at once, the excitement I’d felt over the car was replaced with the anger and hatred I felt towards the man currently taking it from me. The man who deserted us all those years ago, who left us struggling and didn’t even look back.

“Mother fucker,” I grunted, rushing for the car with the bat poised over my shoulder. Before he could get the car in gear, I swung, bringing it down on the windshield with all the strength I could muster. I heard a loud crack as the glass splintered in a jagged pattern.

“David. Stop,” Mum yelled. But I wasn’t listening. The rage had taken hold as I swung the bat again, this time taking off the side mirror with a clean swipe, causing the mirror to shatter, spraying glass up the concrete driveway.

“It’s not insured,” Dad yelled, horrified while reversing as fast as he could, screeching the tires as he straightened himself on the road. All with me chasing him, beating on the car and denting the panels until he picked up speed and got out of my reach.

“I hate you,” I screamed, hurling the bat at the back window, causing it to pop through the glass and lodge itself there. “Fuck you!” My voice grated until it felt hoarse as I hurled insults into the night, standing in the middle of the road with no shoes on and glass around my feet. “Fuck you.” The last past came out in a sob and I press my hands to my face.

“Oh David,” Mum said, voice thick. “I am so, so sorry.”

Meeting her eyes, I held them for a beat then I ran. Tears poured from my eyes, my chest burning, my head throbbing. I was so keyed up that I didn’t even notice the pain of the asphalt road on the bottom of my bare feet.

I ran straight to the one person I always thought of when something was happening in my life.

I ran to Katrina.

“Oh my god, David. What happened to you?” she asked as soon as she opened her window.

When I looked down, I realised that not only was I shoeless, but I was shirtless as well, standing outside her bedroom window in nothing but my boxers.

“My dad,” was all I could say. Her face fell as she quickly undid the fly screen and helped me climb inside.

“What did he do?”

Wiping my hand over my tear-streaked face, I shook my head. I hate him.

“Holy shit. Your feet.”

“I forgot shoes.” My voice came out numb, and a little dumb.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

I dropped onto her desk chair with a thud and finally looked at my feet. They were filthy and bleeding from the glass and jagged road I ran along.

Katrina’s phone started singing and dancing from the vibration behind me on the desk. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID, noting that it was my house calling. “Mum?” I said into the handset.

“Oh, thank god you’re there. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. I’ll come home in the morning,” I told her and ended the call. I wasn’t angry at her at all. I just didn’t want to go back there and talk about what happened with her yet. Right now, I needed Trina. Just Trina.

Trina returned to the room with an old towel, a bowl of water and a first-aid kit. She knelt down in front of me and laid the towel on the floor under my feet and started to gently clean them for me, inspecting my cuts for pieces of glass and debris before applying antiseptic and bandages. I sat quietly and watched her work, fighting my tears the entire time.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked when she was finished.

“He didn’t even want to see me, Trina. He just came and took the car. Said I was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve it and left,” I whispered as a couple of tears fell from my eyes. I wiped at them, embarrassed I was crying when he didn’t deserve my tears. “I hate him. So much.”

“I’m so sorry, David,” she whispered, rising up on her knees and wrapping her arms around me. “He’s an arsehole. He doesn’t deserve to know you. Because if he did, he’d know how amazing and brilliant you are. You’re not a piece of shit at all.”

“Then why do I feel like one?”

“Because your arsehole father treated you like one. But it isn’t true. You’re wonderful.”

I leaned into her and let go, crying like a fucking baby. If anyone else had been there, I never would have broken down. But it was just Trina and me, and this was the first time I ever let the fact that my father took off on me and my mum get to me. I wasn’t upset over the car. I really didn’t give a shit about it once I found out it came from him. I cared that he had been to my house. He had spoken to my mum, but he hadn’t even tried to see me. I cared that after years of no contact, he still spoke about me like I was the bane of his existence.

“It’s going to be OK, David,” she whispered, rubbing my back. “I promise.”

Eventually, we laid down on her bed together while I told her everything about the visit, how I chased him down and took a bat to the car. I spoke about how upset mum was, and how much I hated the man who was half of my makeup because he never really liked me. I was always in his way.

She listened quietly and held me, gently stroking my hair as I talked my way through it all. I don’t remember at what point we fell asleep, but when I woke up, my head was on her chest, and her arms were still wrapped around me. And I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

When I opened my eyes, sore and swollen from a night of being upset, it took a while for me to focus and realise that the door to Katrina’s room was open. In the doorway stood Ethan, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a very unimpressed look on his face.

I sat up and held up my hand. “This is not what you think, Ethan,” I told him quietly, trying not to disturb Trina.

She stirred anyway. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep as she rubbed her eyes to get her focus. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright with a gasp. “Ethan.”

“I should have known you were full of shit, Taylor. Just friends, my arse,” he seethed, pushing himself off the door frame.

“I wasn’t lying,” I said as Trina tried to scramble out of bed to get to him.

“David is just a friend. I promise you. This is innocent,” she rambled, placing her hands on his chest pleadingly.

“It doesn’t look innocent.”

“Mate. We weren’t doing anything.” I swung my legs out of the bed and went to stand, pain shooting through my feet as I took my weight. “Shit,” I hissed.

“What the hell happened to you?” Ethan asked, taking in the bandages around my feet.

“You don’t want to know,” I told him, pushing up and successfully standing this time. “I’ll leave you two alone.” They moved out of the way, so I could walk out the door. But Katrina grabbed my arm at the last second.

“What about my parents? I don’t want you in trouble.”

Pausing, I laughed. “After all these years, do you really think they don’t know I climb through your window?” Spotting the look on Ethan’s face the moment the words left my mouth had me feeling instantly guilty. “Shit. I’m sorry. It's not like that… it’s….”

“Just go, David. I can handle this,” Trina said, her face begging for me to shut up. With a nod, I limped my way into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools around the breakfast bar, listening to the murmuring as Katrina tried to calm Ethan down behind the now closed door to her room.

Trina’s dad walked through dressed in his work uniform. For a second, my heart stopped beating. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to finding me in his kitchen so early wearing only my boxer shorts.

“Morning, David. What ungodly hour did you arrive at?” he asked, heading straight to the coffeepot and pouring himself a mug. “Want one?”

“Ahh,” I said, not sure what to say.

He placed a cup of coffee in front of me anyway and took the seat opposite. “Your mum called us last night and told us what happened. We all figured you needed a friend to talk to.” He took a mouthful of his coffee. I did the same. “What’s going on in there?” he asked, inclining his head toward Katrina’s door.

“Ethan came over, saw us asleep together,” I explained, pulling my mouth to the side.

“Hmm, that’s a hard one to explain.” He took another mouthful and then narrowed one eye at me suspiciously. “Nothing happened though?”

“No, Mr Mahoney. I promise you it was only sleeping.”

“And crying by the looks of it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

“I call it like I see it,” he said, drinking the last of his coffee as he got up from his stool and took his mug to the sink. “You’re a good kid, mate. Nothin’ like your old man at all. Don’t let him get to you.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

He cleared his throat, awkward because this wasn’t the kind of thing we did. I appreciated it though. “Well, I’ve got work. Do you have clothes? Or did you come here like that?”

“Like this,” I told him sheepishly.

“All right, I’ll talk to Carol. She’ll get you something of Tom’s to wear home.”

“Thank you, Mr Mahoney.”

“No sweat, son. Just don’t make a habit of sneaking in my daughter’s window and staying the night.”

Giving him a nod, I sat in the kitchen on my own for a while and finished the cup of coffee. It wasn’t long before Mrs Mahoney came into the kitchen with a pile of folded clothes and a pair of flip-flops and placed them on the table in front of me.

“I was told you might need these,” she said with a half-smile, before ruffling my hair and tilting my head up by the chin. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m OK. Thanks for these.” I said, indicating the clothes.

“It’s no problem,” she said, getting her own cup of coffee and leaning against the bench top to take her first sip. “Is that your competition in there with Katrina?”

“I think me being here has caused a bit of a problem.”

“It’s hard being best friends with the opposite sex. He wouldn’t have cared if you were a girl.”

“True,” I said, standing up and taking my cup to the sink. “He probably would have liked walking into that.”

Mrs Mahoney giggled. “I think you’re right about that.”

“I might go put this stuff on and get out of here. They obviously need some time to talk, and I’m probably making it worse by just being out here.”

“Look after yourself OK? We’re always here if you need us.”

“Thanks, Mrs Mahoney.”

* * *

When I went back home, Mum was still crying. She kept promising to get me another car, but I told her not to. It wasn’t important. I knew she felt really bad, but I assured her it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have known that he’d be such a jerk about it. “I just want to forget the guy exists. Can we do that?”

She nodded. “Only if you let me check your feet. I’m sure Trina did a great job, but the nurse in me needs to be sure.”

With my feet re-bandaged, Mum and I spend the next hour staring numbly at the television. Some football match we didn’t care about was on, so I was relieved to hear a knock on the front door. Without waiting for us to answer it, Trina stepped in. “Hi, Mrs Taylor. David, do you think we could talk?”

Nodding, I stood up, ignoring the pain in my feet to walk with her toward my room, waiting for her to go inside before following.

“What’s wrong?”

“He dumped me,” she told me before bursting into tears and flinging herself at me. I caught her in my arms and held her, rubbing her back and shushing her until she calmed down enough to speak.

“I’m sorry, Trina. I never wanted that to happen.”

“I know. He just wouldn’t believe me that there’s nothing going on between us. He said I couldn’t have it both ways, and when I refused to choose between you both. He chose for me.” Her mouth tugged up on one side.

“Oh, shit. Do you want me to talk to him?”

She shook her head. “He’s been jealous of you for a long time. Thinks we spend too much time together. Says it’s not normal for a girl and a guy to be as close as we are without, you know…”

“I’m sorry, Trina. I really am,” I said, truly meaning it. I knew how much she cared for him, and I hated that I’d come between them when I was specifically trying not to.

“I think I’m going to swear off guys from now on. What’s the saying ‘Boyfriends come and go, but friends are forever’?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it.”

“Well, that’s the way it has to be, I think. If a guy can’t handle the fact that my best friend is another guy, then I don’t want to know him,” she sniffled.

“Hey, why do you think I don’t date?”

Ten

Before the school holidays ended, leading into our final year of high school, Mum surprised me with yet another car. This time it was a bit of a bomb; an old red Celica wagon. I’d been working at Franklins stacking shelves, saving every cent for a car of my own but I wasn’t anywhere near the amount needed. I was stoked.

“It’s no Impreza, but it’ll do the job,” Mum said as I sat inside it and gripped the brown steering wheel. It smelled like someone had left their shoes in there on a really hot day. “John, I mean, Mr Mahoney said he’ll help you fix it up, teach you how to tune and repair it. I know you were saving for a car of your own, but I thought this one would do you until you hit your savings goal. Or you can use your savings to keep it running. Up to you. I just wanted to give you back that freedom you were after.”

“The car is perfect, Mum. It’s exactly what I would’ve chosen.”

She grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Four wheels and a working motor were literally the only prerequisites I had.

When I drove it around to Trina’s place, she was just getting back from a bike ride. Even though she’d broken up with Ethan, she continued to train for triathlons. She was good at them too and even tried to get me roped into it occasionally. I was happy to train with her a couple of times a week, but I didn’t have any interest of competing like she did.

“Wow. Did you save enough already?” she asked, leaning through the open window.

“Mum did. It’s a gift to replace the one Dad stole.”

She stood up and looked over the boxy red machine. “I like it. I expect you’ll pick me up and bring me home from school every day.”

I grinned. “Deal.”

Returning to school was shittier than ever. You’d think that by year twelve, we would have all figured out how to get along. But, there was still this great class divide. Cassie and co. continued to rule the school and did their best to make everyone else feel like crap. Quite successfully.

When I told Ethan Trina and I were close like family, I didn’t expect it would come back to bite us on the butt. But it did. Somehow, everyone found out that Ethan found us in bed together. So, Cassie started referring to us as the ‘incest twins’. She came up with this elaborate story about us actually being related, and the gossip mongers grabbed hold of it and went crazy.

We were back to the whispers, the toilet wall graffiti, and the usual jibes when enough people were watching to get a laugh. I never knew what it was about Katrina and me that was so fascinating, but with Cassie as the driving force, the interest seemed endless.

Once again, there was no point denying the rumours. The mindless masses would think what they wanted, anyway. It just meant that Trina and I separated ourselves even more. Somehow, they pushed us even closer. We cut ourselves off and quit the whole ‘group’ scene all together. We just couldn’t be bothered anymore.

Katrina put a lot of time and energy into her training, which in the long run paid off because she got selected to race at Nationals and came close to making it on the Australian team.

I watched every race she competed in—except for the interstate ones—and I couldn’t have been prouder of her. She was amazing.

In our last term of school, year twelve students completed final exams to obtain our Higher School Certificate which would determine what courses we’d be accepted to at university. Normal classes didn’t exist anymore. Which meant that finally, Katrina and I weren’t a concern anymore. The future was all anyone could think about. We were almost free save for a few formalities: graduation and the year twelve formal.

“I don’t know if I want to go to the formal this time,” Trina announced out of the blue. We were sitting at my house going over the university course manuals to decide which courses we wanted to apply for. The deadline was looming and we needed to make some sort of a decision. Just not about the formal.

I flicked the page, studying the marks required to qualify for law as I wondered if I’d studied hard enough to achieve them. “We can boycott it if you want,” I said absentmindedly. “Get drunk and throw eggs at the celebs when they get out of their cars.” I was half joking—I would dearly love to see the look on Cassie’s face when an egg splattered all over her nice dress—but there were bigger issues at hand. Trina and I were both leaning towards studying law and had agreed to apply for Sydney Uni as our first choice since a relationship wasn’t holding her back anymore. The University of Western Sydney was our backup since it was close to home and had lower entry scores.

“That would be awesome. I’m so in!” Katrina laughed.

Huh? I had to backtrack my thoughts a little to remember what she was excited about. Egging Cassie. Oh shit.

“We can’t get drunk first though,” she continued. “We’ll need to be sober to get away. It’s out in Mulgoa, so we can drive out there, park your car around the corner and wear hats and glasses so we blend in with the crowd of parents and friends taking photos. Then, as soon as Cassie gets out of her car, we’ll egg her—we’ll egg all of them—and run.” She laughed and sat back in her chair. “It’ll be epic.”

I watched Trina as she spoke of her evil plan with an amused grin on my face. “Well, look at you. I’ve never seen you go this nasty before. I like it,” I said, nodding my head while I chewed on the end of my pencil thoughtfully, weighing up how likely it would be that we’d actually get away with this. I decided getting back at Cassie was worth the risk and held out my hand. “All right, let’s do it. I don’t think one prank against all of her nastiness will tip the karma scales against us.”

“Not even a little.” Trina grinned and took my hand, shaking it solidly to seal our plan.

Eleven

On the night of the formal, Trina and I loaded up a small Crumpler bag with about a dozen eggs and drove to the venue. With excitement buzzing in our veins, we parked at one end of the street then walked to the opposite side of the circular driveway where everyone would be dropped off to make their grand entrance. And we waited.

The grounds had these really exquisite gardens, so it was easy to obscure ourselves by the side of a palm tree without calling attention to ourselves.

“I’m so nervous,” Trina whispered, slumping against the palm as she pulled her cap over her face.

I grabbed her arm and tugged her away. “Don’t lean against the tree. Those things are always full of Huntsman.”

Trina stood up straight and immediately brushed off her arm, shuddering. “I hate Huntsman. They’re the worst kind of spiders with their long creepy hairy legs. Yuck.”

Families had already begun to gather with their cameras at the ready, and I could see Cassie’s mother in among them. I had a momentary pang of guilt before remembering the multiple humiliations Cassie had bestowed upon Trina and me. She and her cronies deserved some retribution.

People talked a lot about taking the high road and not stooping to your tormenter’s level. But I always thought the people who came up with that shit were either tormentors themselves, or had never been one of the tormented. Because the feeling of sweet, sweet revenge felt like reclaiming our power, our lives.

Not going to the formal to egg Cassie would have been our greatest regret. This had to happen.

I nudged Trina and pointed to Cassie’s mum so we could keep an eye on her. She’d know which car Cassie was coming in and would serve as a warning for us to get ready.

We stood and watched the first few cars come up the drive, letting their occupants out at the front entrance. You’d think it was some kind of award show the way the flashes of cameras and phones were going off.

Eventually, I noticed Cassie’s mum getting excited. “This must be her car now. Get ready,” I said to Trina, reaching in the bag to grab as many eggs as I could carry in one hand.

Katrina let out a loaded breath. “Fuck, I’m even more nervous now. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Think about that time Cassie reported you to the school counsellor by saying you wanted to have sex with your brother.”

“Oh god. I nearly died when they sat me down to explain incest was illegal. He wouldn’t even accept that maybe she was making it up. Her and her friends cackled when I left his office red-faced. I kept finding copies of Flowers in the Attic in my locker all year.”

“Bitches.”

“Yeah. Fucking bitches.”

“Bitches who deserve some egg in their face?”

She grinned. “Hell yeah they deserve it.”

“Then let’s do this.” I grabbed her arm, pulling her forward. “Load your weapons.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and took an egg in each hand. We walked quickly toward the black limousine as it pulled up and waited while the door was opened by the driver.

“Ready?” I asked as I saw the first leg emerge from the limo.

“Not really, but I’ve come this far...”

Out stepped Cassie, wearing this long peach coloured dress that was shimmering with little bits of silver stuff all over it. She was followed by Ben, who was wearing a suit with a tie that matched her dress. After them were, Terry with Maddie, and Aaron with Mara.

“Go!” I called over my shoulder, sprinting with Trina close by my side. We let go of as many eggs as we could on our way past, hitting them square in their chests and exploding yolk everywhere. I would never forget the shocked looks on their faces, the horror, the shrill squeals, the gruff swearing from the guys. Suddenly, I felt so much better about the last few years’ worth of crap they put Trina and me through. Revenge really was sweet.

Laughing hard, we ran.

“Shit. Ben and Aaron are chasing us,” Katrina shrieked.

“Fuck. Run faster,” I yelled, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind me as we sprinted for my car.

We hit against it with a bang and thankfully, I didn’t drop the keys. By the luck of the Gods, the car started first turn. I planted my foot and sped off.

“Did they see the car?” I asked as I turned the corner.

“I don’t think so. I couldn’t see them. I think we had too much of a head start.”

All of a sudden, we both burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe we just did that!” Katrina cackled. “Did you see Cassie’s face? I will remember that fondly for the rest of my days.” She sighed and settled back into her seat.

I glanced over at her, a firm grin planted on my face, just like there was on hers. “That was probably the be—holy shit!”

“What?” Trina demanded, looking around us frantically. “Are they behind us?”

“Ah no. Just stay still, OK?” I told her, slowing the car and pulling over.

“Why? What is it? Oh god, it’s a spider isn’t it? It’s a great big giant hairy mother fucking spider.”

The Huntsman crawled over her shoulder. “Stay still and calm. I’m going to get it,” I instructed, getting out of the car to move around to her side.

I opened her door and took her hand, pulling her out while she made a high-pitched squealing noise. “I felt it move!”

“You need to calm down. You’ll scare it, and it’ll jump off you and into the car. Just come with me, calmly.”

She continued to squeal with a much quieter tone as I pulled her away from the car, keeping my eye on the spider the whole time. I raised my hand and swatted it forward so it landed on the ground in front of us.

“There. It’s gone.”

Trina then let out a huge scream and jumped on the poor thing, stomping on it over and over again until there was nothing left to see but a couple of legs and pulpy mess.

“Holy crap, Trina. It’s not like it was poisonous. You could have let it go.”

She visibly shuddered. “I hate spiders,” she stated, stomping the spot one last time before getting back in the car.

“I can see that,” I mumbled, following suit and getting back in as well. “Where to now?” I asked, once we were moving again and had calmed down.

“Let’s get something to eat. Fish and chips at the river?”

“Sounds perfect. All that egging and spider thwarting certainly works up an appetite.”

We went and ordered our food and took it down to Nepean River then settled ourselves on the bank and ate quietly, watching a team of rowers glide by in their boats, a coach following after them in his speed boat.

I pulled out a bottle of Southern Comfort and offered it to her. “Thanks,” she said, taking a swig then offering it back to me.

“Nah, I’m driving. I’ll drink later.”

“Is it wrong that I don’t even feel a tiny bit bad over what we just did?”

“Killing a defenceless spider? Or egging the Celebs?”

“Egging the Celebs. That spider deserved everything it got.”

“Nope. Cassie has been a bitch to you for years. I’m surprised you haven’t retaliated before now.”

“She’s been worse to you.”

“Ah, she’s just got some weird fixation. I think she decided that if I wasn’t going to date her then she was going to make it so no one wanted to date me.” I shrugged and bit into a potato scallop. “I hated the way she treated you more. She deserved what she got today.”

“You think so? You don’t think we were over the top?”

“I thought you said you didn’t feel bad?”

“I don’t feel bad as such, but I do wonder if it was a little over the top.”

“As over the top as claiming I forced her to have an abortion? Or telling everyone we’re related and in an incestuous relationship?”

“Well, when you put it like that. No, I don’t think we went over the top at all.” She laughed, picking the crispy batter off a piece of fish. “Do you wish we’d gone to the formal?”

“No Trina. I’d prefer sitting here with you any day.”

We went quiet again for a while, staring out at the now glass like water.

“Let’s go,” I told her when we'd finished eating. “We’ll go home and get changed. I’ll take you clubbing, so we can get smashed like you wanted.”

She laughed and helped me roll up the remains of our food in the white butcher's paper. “That sounds like music to my ears.”

I dropped Trina off at her house and went back to mine to get changed and call a taxi to take us to the train station. We had decided to go to one of the clubs in the city and only had about forty-five minutes before our train would arrive.

I told Mum I’d be home at some ungodly hour and dashed out the door to the tune of her telling me that just because I was eighteen, didn’t mean I could do whatever I wanted. I smiled to myself, knowing that as long as I came home before the sun was up, she’d be fine.

When I arrived at Trina’s, she was already dressed and waiting for me. “Whoa!” I whistled at her. She was wearing a fitted black dress that barely covered her arse and a pair of low strappy heels. She’d piled her hair up on her head and put a tiny bit of makeup on. “You look absolutely smoking hot, Trina.”

“Just look after her, David. I’m not happy about her going out in that scrap of a thing she’s wearing,” her dad told me.

“I’ll keep her safe, Mr Mahoney.”

“Mr Mahoney,” he muttered. “I thought I told you to call me John?”

I gave him a half smile. “Force of habit.”

Outside, the taxi beeped to let us know it was there. Saying goodbye to her family, we rushed outside and started the hour and a half journey from where we lived to the city. The nightclubs close to home sucked, so the trip was worth it. We generally spent the train ride in drinking southern and coke out of a sports bottle, so we’d arrive slightly tipsy, anyway. Drinks were really expensive, and we were going out to dance and have fun, not waste time forcing our way up to the bar to drink enough to feel something.

By the time we arrived at Town Hall station, we’d emptied the sports bottle and thrown it into the rubbish bin on the platform before continuing on our way.

By the time we arrived at the Shark bar, the place was already jumping. The moment we entered was like being enveloped in an underwater cave. It was dark besides the flashing lights of the dance floor and the blue illumination of the fish tank and the bar lights.

“One more before we dance?” I yelled into Trina’s ear as we moved towards the bar. She nodded and took my hand, following close behind me so we didn’t lose each other in the crowd.

“Let’s do shots,” she yelled over the noise once we made it to the bar. She didn’t even wait for my answer before she yelled our order at the bartender, asking for six B-52s.

Glancing at her, my eyebrows shot up in question, I placed my mouth near her ear. “Are you sure about this?”

“We agreed to get hammered,” she yelled back.

“We still have to make it home.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes while I handed over some money.

Picking up the first shot once they were set out, Trina handed one to me, tapping the plastic in cheers. “Drink up.”

I held the shot to my lips, watching her as she downed hers quickly then reached for her second. Once again, she was holding mine out to me. “Drink!” she urged me again. “You’re falling behind.”

I downed my shot, then took the second. Then the third, knocking them back one after the other. I was fairly tipsy from drinking the Southern on the train with the shots quickly mixing with what was already in my veins.

Katrina let out a loud whoop and raised her hands above her head, swaying her body as she started to make her way to the dance floor. Following close behind her, I couldn’t help but laugh and feel glad we were out in this club instead of stuck with all the dickheads we went to school with.

With the drink buzzing through my body and the music pulsing through the air, I started to let go. For hours, Trina and I danced among the crowd, slowly pressing closer and moving as one.

Trina, me, dancing and alcohol were obviously a terrible mix. My heart thudded in my chest as my hands started to roam her body, pulling her closer. Our legs became intertwined as we swayed, her arms wrapped around my neck and mine around her waist. We were as close as we could get.

I moved my head, desperately wanting our lips to brush. But when our eyes locked, there was something in hers that told me to stop.

A slight sadness as she looked at my lips and then back into my eyes. “Is this going to be our tradition?” she said into my ear.

“What is?”

“You kiss me on the night of the formal then dump me in the morning?”

“Trina, it’s not like that,” I told her, cupping her face in my hands and looking into her eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t David. Don’t ruin what we have by going down this road again. You hurt me too much last time.”

My mouth fell open as my hands dropped to my sides, and Trina turned and walked off the dance floor. For a moment I just stood there dumbstruck, feeling like an idiot for nearly kissing her again and bringing back the humiliating memories of the time before. Shit. I’m an arsehole.

I kept watch as she moved through the crowd to the bathrooms, realising that she deserved far better than me. I was lucky enough to have her in my life, and I was a bastard who kept fucking that up.

I spent the rest of the night watching over her as she danced with a group of girls she'd obviously met in the bathroom. They kept heading back to the bar and drinking. Eventually, Katrina caught the eye of some guy, and they danced together for a while before he walked her off the dance floor and into one of the darker areas of the night club.

Knowing she was drunk and not wanting anything to happen to her, I moved to where I could see her better, fobbing off a few drunken girls who wanted to dance with me on my way.

By the time I reached her, they were already all over each other. Despite understanding that I needed to back off, I was drunk as well, and watching her kissing and grope at another guy was like being kicked in the guts. I got her message loud and clear—she didn’t want me blurring the lines of our friendship. But, it didn’t mean watching what she was doing in front of me didn’t make me jealous as all hell.

Walking up to them, I tapped her on the shoulder. “Trina, we need to go,” I said loudly.

Breaking the kiss, she looked up at me, all glassy eyed.

“Who the fuck are you? Her brother or something?” the guy she was with slurred.

“Something like that. Come on, Trina,” I replied, pulling at her arm.

“Leave me alone, David. Can’t you see I’m having fun with someone who actually wants me?” she yelled over the music, stumbling over her words with her thick and drunken tongue.

“Please don’t do this,” I begged her. “Just come home with me.”

“Hey mate, she said she doesn’t want to come with you,” the guy said, puffing up a little.

Trina put her hand on his chest and stumbled towards me a little. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go.”

“Whatever,” the guy spat, turning away and disappearing into the throng. I breathed a sigh of relief that it didn’t escalate beyond that and turned to Trina.

She was really struggling to stand up properly, so I put my arm around her and walked her outside to get some fresh air and make our way to the train station.

We got maybe ten metres away from the bar when she pushed at me feebly. “Let me go!” she complained.

“Trina, you’re drunk. I’m trying to get you home.”

“Don’t act all nice like you care, David. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you to like me since forever. But you don’t give a shit do you? You’d prefer to fuck bitches like Cassie instead of having something meaningful with me.” She jabbed a finger at her chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told her, stopping with her as she leaned up against the wall of a building.

“Yes I do, David. If you cared, you wouldn’t try to kiss me when you know you don’t want anything from me.”

I placed my hands against the wall on either side of her head and leaned in close. “Maybe I do want something more with you, Trina. Maybe I’m scared that I’ll fuck it up and you’ll hate me. Have you ever considered that I care about you so much that the fear of losing you eats me up inside? I want you, Trina. I want you with everything I have. You are my world. My everything. If I fuck this up, I’ll have nothing. I can’t risk that. Don’t you understand?”

For a moment, her eyes searched mine then all of a sudden, she sprang into action, crashing her mouth into mine and sliding her tongue inside my mouth while pulling at my hair. I responded with equal fervour, pressing my body against hers as her leg wrapped itself around my waist.

I threaded my fingers through her hair as our tongues explored each other’s mouths, the alcohol in my veins dulling my senses just enough so I didn’t think of the consequences of what we were doing, or the fact that we were doing it on the side of the street in the middle of the city.

We broke the kiss momentarily, pausing to look at each other and check that this was actually happening. Trina’s drunken eyes were slightly glazed as she smiled at me, then coughed and turned her head to the side and spewed all over the pavement.

“Oh god,” I muttered, holding her up while I watched her heave repeatedly on the ground.

“I feel sick,” she complained between retches.

I rubbed her back. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

“I need sleep.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall again. I did my best to clean her up and hold her upright. Shit. She’s drunker than I thought.

“Come on, Trina. I’ll get you some water.” Sliding my arm around her waist to support her, I started to walk with her again to the station.

Her body leaned fully into mine as she struggled to walk. “Where’s David?” she mumbled, as her head rolled into my shoulder. “I’m supposed to wait for David.”

“I’m here, Trina. I’m taking you home.”

“How far away is home?”

“It’s not far, baby girl,” I murmured, feeling the weight of the evening settle in my gut. I’d finally had the guts to do something and mean it. But, she was too drunk to even remember what I said.

On the train ride home, Trina passed out on my shoulder, I started to think it was a sign. Maybe we were never meant to be.

Twelve

Trina didn’t remember much about that night. She claimed the last thing she remembered was downing the shots then dancing. “Everything else is a blank,” she said, giving me a wan smile in her hung over state the next day.

“Probably for the best,” I said, handing her a Berocca and a couple of Nurofen. “It got pretty messy.”

Swallowing the pills followed by the orange liquid, she laid back on her pillow. “I feel messy.”

“I should let you sleep then.” I leant down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re feeling better.”

Except we never did talk. Well, not about that night anyway. Trina never brought it up again, and I wasn’t about to remind her that I spilled my guts, told her how I felt in the most honest way possible before she threw up on the both of us. Destiny was obviously telling us something—quit blurring the lines.

We fell into familiar patterns and our friendship seemed as strong as it ever was. I swore to never get drunk while dancing with Trina again, feeling the need to keep my wits about myself whenever she moved against me like that. At eighteen, clubbing was one of our favourite things to do. So, this new rule was an imperative addition to our boundaries, and it staved off the hangovers too. I was more than happy to stand by it.

Since high school no longer took up my time, I pulled extra shifts at the supermarket, adding to my growing savings. It was earmarked for accommodation and uni fees in the coming year. A little stockpile of funds to pave my way to freedom. We were almost out of the western suburbs, away from the shackles of high school drama, on our way to bigger things. All we needed were our exam results and university acceptance letters to show up.

On the day our Higher School Certificate results came in, Katrina came running over to my place and wanted to open them together. We sat across from each other and counted to three before ripping the envelope open and reading the contents to ourselves before swapping and reading each other’s.

“Jesus David, what are you? Some kind of genius? You flogged me.” She beamed as she read over my results. “This is amazing. There’s no way you’ll miss out on Sydney Uni now. You did it.”

“Your marks are great. You could still get in,” I said, hope in my words as I handed her back her results.

She shook her head. “Not for Law. With this score, I only qualify for Law at UWS.”

“It all depends on how many people apply. You could scrape in to Sydney. Or I might get knocked back. You never know.”

With a smile, she placed her hand over mine. “You'll get in. I know you will. I’d love it if we both got into the same Uni, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“I think we’ll have to go to the same uni. With these marks, you’re gonna need me there so you can ride my big brain all the way to a finished degree.”

“Get lost!” she gasped, laughing before she whacked me on the side of my head with the thick piece of cardboard that stopped the envelope from bending. I knew the moment I said it that I was going to get hit, so I was already braced for it, laughing in return. “You are the worst.” Whack.

“Violence won’t solve your problems.” Whack. I laughed as she kept whacking me with the bit of board. “Only study and hard work.” Whack. With a swipe of my hand, I caught her wrist and snatched the card from her grip. “Oh, now you’re gonna get it,” I said, getting up to chase her as she jumped up squealing and ran out the front door of my house.

“Don’t David.” With a huge grin on her face, she danced from side to side across one of the garden beds where I couldn’t reach her. I leant down and picked up the hose. “Don’t you dare,” she shrieked.

I wiggled my brows then pulled the trigger, a jet of water that hit her straight in her face.

“Argh!” She put her hands up to block the spray, trying to jump out of the way, laughing her head off as I continued to rain water down upon her. Finally, she sought shelter on the other side of my car and called, “I give up. I give up.”

Walking around to her, I held up the end of the hose and pointed it at her. “Are you going to hit me over the head again?”

“No, I promise,” she assured me, tapping the ground next to her to ask me to sit down. I complied, keeping a hold of the hose as I was slightly wary of retaliation. “It’s going to be OK if we don’t go to the same Uni, you know. If you get into Sydney, I want you to go. It’s the better school. And you’ve wanted to go there since we toured the campus. You’ll love it there.”

“I guess.” I tossed the hose out of reach and straightened out my legs. “But this is the last few years of any sort of school we’ll do for the rest of our lives. I wouldn’t mind doing them with my best buddy.”

She got up on her knees in front of me and placed her hands on my legs, looking at me seriously. “I mean it. If you get into Sydney, you need to go. We’ll still see each other. It’ll be fine.”

“We'll see what happens first,” I said, looking out at the street.

“David. You have to promise me.”

“I’m not promising anything.”

“You have to promise,” she insisted, giving me a stern look.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t be your best friend anymore.” She sounded like a kindergartener.

“How very grown up of you,” I said with a laugh.

“Come on, David. You have to do what’s best for you. Promise me that.”

“Fine. I promise.” That was easy to promise since being close to her was what was best for me.

She gave me a triumphant grin. “Good. Because I don’t want to go to Uni with a drowned rat anyway.”

“What?” I barely registered what was happening before a burst of water hit my face.

With a devilish cackle, she stood back and continued to spray me until I was completely drenched. “That’s what you get,” she said when she was satisfied I was soaked through.

I ran my tongue over my wet lips. “Little girl, you’re asking for a world of pain here.”

“No, I’m not,” she yelped, dropping the hose on the ground and running down the street toward her house. I gave a half-hearted chase until she rounded the corner, then stopped, running a hand over my wet limbs as I listened to her laughter until it faded into the distance.

Smiling, I shook my head. How am I supposed to leave that?

With my decision made, I sloshed my way back home and pulled the pamphlet for Sydney uni out of my drawer. Without giving it another thought, I dropped it in the recycling bin. “UWS it is,” I said to myself.

When the university acceptance letters came, I received two. One for Sydney Uni and one for UWS. As expected, Trina only got one. I didn’t even open the Sydney envelope and set it on fire instead. I wasn’t leaving her.

Thirteen

University was a whole other world. I loved that we were surrounded by like-minded people. There weren’t any cliques or hierarchies to contend with. Everyone was there to learn.

Trina and I were both doing double degrees. Law was our primary focus. But, where she had chosen to do humanities, I had chosen to do commerce. We shared a couple of classes a week, but we weren’t together all the time. And the amount of study required was enormous. The library became my best friend.

On top of uni, Trina had continued dominating her triathlon category and was asked to join the national team. She didn’t have a lot of time for a social life after that. When she wasn’t studying at the library with me, she was busy training. I was so proud of her.

When I wasn’t studying, I immersed myself in Uni life, visiting the campus bar with friends every Wednesday and Friday and going to a few parties or clubs with them on the weekends. It was fun having a group to hang out with again. One filled with ambitious people who could discuss complicated concepts even while drinking. I felt like I was finally in my element. Where had university been all my life?

Even though I knew she was in training, I always asked Trina if she wanted to come with us. It felt weird going places without at least inviting her. But she generally begged off, assuring me she’d ease up on training once Worlds was over. She was missing out on the fun part of Uni. But I understood how important her sport was to her.

In a way, the separate social life was good for us. We’d reached a point in our friendship where we kept butting into the same brick wall. Taking a slightly different path gave us a different focus and took the strain off our frayed feelings. After that drunken night in the city when we’d admitted how we felt, I was painfully aware that there was more to us than just friends, but I did feel we were better together when we set those emotions aside. At the end of the day, I’d prefer her in my life as a friend than to risk losing her by complicating things with a relationship. I had no clue how to be the right kind of guy for her. Or if I could even handle a real adult relationship.

My relationships had so far consisted of hooking up at parties and screwing each other’s brains out until one of us moved on. I was also really great at ending things the moment anything remotely ‘relationshippy’ took place—phone calls just to say ‘hi’, invitations to breakfast, overly familiar greetings in public. These things were a big no on my list and warranted the immediate cancellation of all things physical.

I wasn’t being mean. And I wasn’t leading anyone on. I always made it clear from the start that I wasn’t interested in a relationship. It was just that some girls agreed to being casual and though they could change my mind later. Not gonna happen.

Monica was my favourite girl within the circle I ran with. She only ever wanted me when she was drinking or in between boyfriends. When we saw each other at Uni, we’d say hi and maybe hang out a bit. But she never went up to Katrina acting like she owned me, and she never acted all clingy with me at other times either. We had a pretty good thing going on that satisfied us both, but then she met this guy, Jake at a nightclub. He was a tradie; a plumber or something like that. They got serious and our arrangement ended. So long, Monica.

Our arrangement wouldn’t have been worth mentioning if it wasn’t for the fact that Monica’s relationship with Jake was the reason Trina met her next boyfriend.

We’d gone almost two years without the interference of another man in our friendship which was perfect for me, but not so great for Trina who wasn’t the best at casual relationships. For Trina, sex needed to mean something.

When her training tapered down, and she started coming clubbing with us, it wasn’t a huge surprise that she started dating again. A few guys had taken her to dinner or a movie, but nothing became serious until Jake brought his mate Christopher along and she caught his eye.

Besides a tiny flare up of the green-eyed monster, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He was taller and broader than me with dark hair and a welcoming smile. What I noticed most was that he was completely respectful of her. He bought her drinks, listened to her intently, danced when she wanted, and even asked if he could kiss her when he was about to leave. If I had to write down a list of all the things a man for Trina would need, Christopher would tick most of those boxes and I’d sign off on him. But that list of positive attributes couldn’t account for the uneasy feeling I was experiencing.

It wasn’t jealousy. I’d already recognised that spike in my heart rate and pushed it back down again. No. This was something else. Something about the guy felt…off. And I didn’t know what.

“Wow,” Katrina said, touching her flushed cheek when she joined me after he’d left. “That guy was something else. A gentleman. I mean, who asks for a kiss in this day and age?”

“I don’t like him,” I told her flatly.

“Oh, come on, David. He was amazing. And you haven’t liked a single guy I’ve dated, so your opinion hardly counts as non-biased.”

“I’ve liked all your boyfriends. I was friends with Ben, and I played basketball with Ethan. He was cool.”

Placing her hands on her hips, she looked at me. “That’s how you felt before I started dating them. Then you beat the crap out of Ben and insinuated to Ethan that you and I sleep together all the time. Do you think you could just play nice for change?”

“Of course I’ll play nice. But I’m not gonna lie. There’s just something about the guy I don’t like.”

“You’re probably just jealous because he’s bigger than you,” she teased.

“Yeah. I wish I was a muscle-bound meathead. That's why I spend so much time pumping iron at the gym,” I replied, sarcasm dripping from my words.

With a giggle, she placed her hands on either side of my face and looked into my eyes, growing serious. “I have never said a word about the girls you have chasing after you all the time. Please, if he calls, don’t go all protective big brother on me. Just be nice and let me try to have a normal relationship for once. Can you do that for me? I really like him. ”

Looking away, I swallowed my objections then nodded. “I’ll be nothing but nice, I swear it.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, releasing me and smiling my way. She was so pretty when she smiled, and I felt a bit like a douche for raining on her happy. I had to trust her judgement.

Fourteen

The moment Trina and Christopher started dating, I knew it would put a strain on our friendship. Trina’s boyfriends always did. It was one of the primary reasons I was against relationships. They took up too much time and led to possessiveness on both sides with Trina caught in the middle. I’d played the third wheel during her year long relationship with Ethan, and that didn’t work out so great. I didn’t want to be in that situation again so I did my best to be her friend when she needed me while keeping my distance from her relationship. Still, Christopher became possessive. Any time we were out in a group setting, he held her like she might run away and never let her out of his sight. I was barely even allowed to touch her. A brief hug hello or goodbye was the most I could get in. I felt sidelined around them. But she was happy, so I let it go.

I still didn’t like him.

I wished I could pinpoint one particular thing about Christopher that gave me the creeps, but I couldn’t. Outwardly, he was this charming, well-liked guy. Trina’s mum thought he was wonderful. Her dad would spend hours talking to him about cars and sports, and Trina was over the moon with his attentions.

As a couple, they even looked fantastic. She was really athletic from her years of training—golden tan, golden hair—and with his darker colouring and olive complexion, they complemented each other perfectly. The boxes kept getting ticked but I couldn’t shake the unease, meaning I couldn’t relax around the guy.

The only person who seemed to be in agreement was Katrina’s brother. Tom seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face whenever Christopher was around.

“Just look at him,” he said with a lowered voice. Christopher was helping Mr Mahoney light the barbeque while we cleaned off the outdoor setting from the storm a few nights before.

“You don’t like him?” I asked.

Tom shook his head. “He puts on this perfect boyfriend act. But it’s all fake.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He smiles too much.”

I actually laughed. “Smiles too much?”

“Yeah. Like he’s playing a role, manipulating everyone into believing he’s this great guy. I mean, no one finds John Mahoney’s stories that funny.” He tipped his chin towards them as Christopher laughed too loud and slapped Mr Mahoney’s back. Tom was right. No one found Mr Mahoney funny. “How can none of them see through that?”

“I don’t know, mate. I didn’t like him the moment I met him,” I replied. “Whatever it is he’s doing, he’s good at it. They all think he’s amazing.”

Tom and I kept watch through the kitchen window as Christopher walked inside the house and took the tray of meat from Mrs Mahoney. It was like watching one of those happy family TV shows, where no one can stop smiling at each other.

“They’ve all drunk the Kool-Aid,” Tom muttered, shaking his head.

“And there’s nothing we can do without looking like total jerks,” I said.

As the weeks turned into months, I found myself trying to be pleasant and act friendly out of respect for Trina. But quietly I stood by, hoping that eventually she’d see him for what he was and break it off. But my hope was failing.

A few months later, I was at Uni for one of my commerce lectures. When it finished, I sat outside talking to a couple of classmates about an upcoming essay when Monica showed up.

“Hey, Dave,” she said, dropping her hip to the side. “Looks like I’m free Friday night. Will you be at the bar?”

“What happened to your boyfriend?” I frowned, not wanting to tread on some other guy's toes.

“Oh, that’s been over for a couple of weeks. Turns out, those guys are dickheads. I was glad to see the back of him,” she said, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Does Christopher count as one of those dickheads too?”

“Oh yeah. Christopher’s probably the biggest dickhead of all.”

“How so?”

“Tries to act all alpha and shit. Hates anyone who goes against his word. If you have an opinion that doesn’t mesh with his, he puts you down. Typical bully-type shit. He’s a jerk.”

“You’re saying the good guy thing is an act? And the moment I do something to piss him off, he’s gonna turn on me?”

“Yeah. But, I’m guessing you already sensed that since he’s dating your girlfriend.”

“I did. But she’s not my girlfriend. You know that better than anyone.”

The others I was talking to got up and said goodbye. So Monica took the opportunity to sit down with me.

“Don’t you see how your life works? Katrina is the girl in your life. The rest of us are all just fill-ins because you aren’t sleeping with her. You’re a legit good guy, Dave. If you aren’t gonna date her, let her go a little. You and I could have a pretty good time together.”

“That’s not how we work, Mon. I don’t do relationships.”

“That’s because you’ve always been in one without realising. But where is she right now? She’s with some guy who doesn’t let you hang around, stringing you along in case things don’t work out. Then you’ll be her fill in guy until the next long term relationship comes along.”

“Don’t talk about Trina like that.”

She held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I just want you to see that you don’t have to be the guy on the outside. We could have a fun relationship. Nothing serious. Just two friends hanging out, having fun and fucking exclusively until we decide it’s over.”

I gave her a dubious look. “You want me to quit sleeping around, hang out, only see you, and it’s not a full-on relationship?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah. Why not? I won’t even call you my boyfriend. Just my guy. I think the fact that we keep coming back to each other should tell us something.”

“I think all it tells us is that I’m an easy lay,” I said, grinning slightly as I looked around, watching other students walking past.

“You’re a great lay, actually,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder.

“See those two?” I nodded towards a couple lying together on the grass like they were in a scene from a romance film. “I can agree to this as long as we don’t do anything like that.”

“No PDA?” She stood up and held out her hand for me to shake. “It’s a deal. You’re officially my ‘guy’.”

“Then I guess that makes you my ‘girl’.” I wrapped my hand around hers and we shook on it. “But if even one term of endearment comes out of your mouth, it’s over.”

She laughed. “Relax, David. I promise to only want you for your cock.”

With that she left me sitting there laughing to myself as I watched her walk away, wondering how long it would be before Christopher turned on me.

* * *

That same day, I got home to find Trina waiting for me on the front porch, her face etched with trouble.

“Hey there, baby girl. What’s got you looking so sad?”

She smiled. “Baby girl? Did you forget my name or something?”

“Nah. I’ve called you that before. You were just too drunk to remember.”

“Oh.” Now she was frowning again. That wasn’t my goal.

“Do you hate it?” Dropping next to her on the front step, I nudged my body against her. “It’s a term of endearment. You’re the only person I care about enough to give one to.”

Her cheeks flamed briefly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t hate it. It’s nice that you’re giving me one after all these years.”

“Well, consider yourself renamed.” I stood up and pulled her to standing. “Want to talk inside?”

With troubled eyes, she pressed her lips together and nodded. Unlocking the door, I let her walk past me as I hung my keys on the hook beside the door. “What’s up, anyway?”

“Mum and Christopher,” she said, screwing her mouth up in a grimace.

I grabbed the OJ from the fridge and poured us both a glass, placing hers where she leaned on the bench while I waited for her to continue.

“Christopher is moving out of home and he wants me to move in with him. He’s even taking me around to help shop for furniture because he wants to buy the things I like. Mum’s totally on board with the whole idea, but I’m…” She shook her head and took a sip of her juice before sighing heavily. “I’m nineteen. Moving in seems like such a big deal, you know? I said I want to finish Uni first and honestly, I’d like it if we were dating for a bit longer than six months before we moved in. I don’t feel ready.”

I wanted to say, “No way. You are not moving in with that guy. Over my dead body.” Or something with the same sentiment. But I squashed that visceral reaction down and went with something more diplomatic.

“Sounds to me like you already know what to do,” I said, proud of how calm my response was.

“Yeah. But, how do I tell them that? Christopher and mum are practically planning my life. I’m worried if I go, I’ll never finish Uni then I’ll start popping babies out before I’ve even had my twenty-first.”

“You are the smartest and strongest girl I know. If you aren’t comfortable with something, then you should say no. It’s your life.”

“What if he dumps me?”

“No guy is going to break up with you because you need more time—unless he’s a jerk. The way I see it, you only move in with someone if you actually think you’re going to be together for good. Is that the way you see your life with Chris?”

“Don’t call him Chris, you know he hates that.”

“Christopher, whatever. Trina, make the choice that’s right for you. Don’t listen to your mum or Christopher, or anyone else. Do what’s right for you. Please.”

Her mouth twisted from side to side. “I kind of wanted you to yell at me and tell me not to be a fucking idiot.”

Releasing a burst of air, I bounced my shoulder. “I can’t make your decisions for you.”

“I wish you would,” she said, downing the last of her drink and setting the glass on the bench. “It would be easier.”

I offered her a small smile. “I don’t want you to move in with him.” It was what I wanted to say, but the words that came out of my mouth were very different. “Trust your heart, Trina,” I said, hoping her heart led to me more than it did to Christopher.

But that was wishful thinking….

Fifteen

“All best friends go AWOL when they fall into a new relationship,” Monica said over the top of her beer. “It’s just how it works. She’ll come back to the fold once they’ve settled in to their new place and started fighting over whose turn it is to change the toilet roll. You’ll see.”

“She’s nineteen.” I let my eyes drift to the live band playing covers of past hit songs.

“We’re all nineteen.”

“Christopher isn’t. He’s twenty-four.”

“Some guys like ‘em young.”

I shook my head. “It feels wrong.”

Turned out that the answer inside Trina’s heart was Christopher. Within two weeks of our conversation, she was packed and gone. Her heart didn’t tell her to stay living at home until she finished her degree. It didn’t tell her to stay close to me. It told her to move to the other side of town and become partially dependent on a man she’d only been dating for six months. At nineteen.

“Dance with me,” Monica instructed, taking my hand and pulling me towards the dance floor. She was probably sick of hearing me complain about never seeing Trina anymore. I was like a CD stuck on repeat. During the entire semester break, I’d barely had any contact with Trina. The need to see her again was plaguing my mind.

Monica was adept at helping me forget though and joined me on my emotion-fuelled bender. We drank until I couldn’t think anymore, danced until I could barely stand, and fucked until I was so numb I couldn’t remember my own name. She was the perfect salve.

After years filled with near misses and close calls, I’d accepted that Trina and I would never be on the same page romantically. At least I thought I had. I’d envisioned a life where she found someone and I stayed single, even added kids into the mix and imagined they’d call me ‘Uncle Dave’. And I was cool with that as long as Trina and I maintained our closeness. What I needed in life was her. I didn’t care about any of the physical shit. I cared about spending time with her, being the first person she called when she needed to talk, being the holder of all her secrets the same as she was mine.

Maybe if she chose another guy, I’d be OK. But with Christopher, I felt replaced. Pushed out by a guy who barely tolerated me and smothered her freedom. A guy who wore a mask. A guy I was struggling to find a kind word for because he had her fooled. That wasn’t even my jealousy talking. It was the sixth sense that lives inside, telling us we’re in the presence of a predator. And the shit thing about it was that I didn’t know what kind of predator he was. I just knew he was this insidious being who manipulated the people around him and discredited those who didn’t fall in line or fit his plans. People like me and Tom.

Unlike me, Tom had told Trina she was making a stupid mistake by moving in with Christopher. He stated all the reasons he thought it was a bad idea, but instead of taking his concerns on board, she accused him of trying to ruin her happiness. How were we supposed to argue with that? Tom and I felt sure Christopher was in her ear. “It’s like he’s trying to break her off from the herd,” he’d said. And I had to agree. It felt like Trina was a different person. All I could safely do was to keep watch and be there when she needed me. But it was hard.

“Earth to David,” Monica said, clicking her fingers in front of my face. “You stopped dancing.”

Frowning, I looked around. The dance floor was filled with bouncing and swaying bodies, and I was planted in the middle of it, my feet rooted to the floor.

“I think I’m gonna go.”

Monica grinned. “Sure. We can get out of here.”

Placing my hand on her upper arms, I held her in place. “I’m not feeling it tonight, Mon. I’m just gonna go home.”

Her face fell, but she nodded anyway. “You know where I am if you need me.”

Later that night I sat in bed, staring at my phone and wondering how I was going to fix things. I needed my best friend in my life, but I knew that the harder I pushed, the more Christopher would push back. Now that they were living together, I didn’t think I’d win anymore. My confidence was shattered.

Deciding that the best way forward was to be as non-threatening as possible, I settled on a simple text. Hope you’re settling in to the new place. Classes are back next week. See you then.

Then I didn’t look at my phone until the next morning.

* * *

“Come to dinner.” Trina smiled as she walked next to me. With uni back in session, we had two classes together that ran three times a week. She left the moment they were through, claiming she had stuff to do at home. But we texted back and forth a lot.

Even with the limited contact, I felt like I could breathe again. My eyes hurt when they didn’t see her. My head ached when we didn’t talk.

“At your apartment?” Will Christopher be there?

“Of course. It’s all set up now so I want you to see it. You can bring Monica and it’ll be like a double date.”

“No,” I stated.

“What? Why not? Aren’t you seeing her?”

“Yes. But we’re not serious. If I start inviting her out for dinner, she’s going to start thinking I want more from her.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Yes, Trina, it would. I’ll come and check out your place, but I’m not bringing a date.”

“Well, you might have to this time.” She winced.

“Shit, Trina. What did you do?”

“Well, I might have run into Monica in the bathroom and mentioned it.” She twisted her mouth downwards. “I’m sorry. You spend so much time together and you’re exclusive so I got excited for you. I didn’t realise you were still so anti-relationships,” she said.

I sighed. “It’s fine. She knows where we stand. I’m sure she can handle it.”

“Good. Because I don’t think Christopher will be so happy about this whole dinner thing if I just invite you.” She rolled her eyes and laughed while I bristled.

“What’s so wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s just…he knows we have some history. And, well, he gets jealous—like they all did—it’s easier for him knowing you have a girlfriend.”

“Except I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a regular girl. It’s different.”

“I get it,” she breathed. “I do. And this is totally my fault, but if you can please just make the exception and bring her this once, it’ll mean the world to me.”

Releasing my breath, I nodded. “As long as you’re not the one cooking,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, knowing Trina wasn’t particularly talented in the culinary arts.

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, Christopher will barbeque and I’ll just make a salad. I think I can handle that.”

“OK. We’ll be there.”

Wrapping her arms around my neck with a squeal, she jumped up and down in excitement, making me smile because I missed her. I missed this. I inhaled deeply before releasing her.

“Thank you, David, I’m glad you’re coming. I’ve been so busy with the move, I’ve missed you lately. I’ve been a really shitty friend.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, baby girl. I’ll always be around some way or another.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ve gotta go. My tutorial starts in about ten minutes.”

“See you at my place around seven?”

“Sure, I’ll bring a cake or something. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. This is the first dinner I’ve hosted.” She laughed. “If you do, just don’t cook it yourself.”

“I’ll get Monica to make it,” I called over my shoulder as I headed to class. This was going to be a disaster.

* * *

I got to Trina’s place around ten past seven. She buzzed me through the security door straight away, but before I could even knock on their door, Christopher opened it and said, “You’re late.”

“Um, hi, how’s it going?” I said, holding out a hand in greeting while balancing the cake I’d bought from the bakery in the other. He looked at it for a moment, and I thought he wasn’t going to shake it. But, when Trina called out ‘hi’, his demeanour changed, and he smiled at me and took my hand, shaking it like we were long-lost friends.

“Thought you were bringing a date,” he said, sizing me up.

“She couldn’t make it,” I replied, holding firm as he tried to crush my hand. I was lean, but I was strong. I wasn’t going to react.

“Pity. You could have cancelled.” He released my hand and stood aside.

Walking past him, I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate. But I didn’t mind coming alone.”

He grinned outwardly. “But now you’ll feel like a third wheel.”

The apartment had an L shaped living area with the dining area in front of the door, the kitchen off to the right and the lounge room in front of that. Off to my left were three doors that I assumed were the bedrooms and a bathroom. Compact, but functional.

“David has never been a third wheel to anyone.” Trina walked out of the kitchen, smiling as she dried her hands on the side of her thighs. “The man is a unicycle. Doesn’t need anyone to hold him up. Am I right?”

“Got it in one,” I said with a wink, handing over the cake as she kissed my cheek hello.

“What happened to Monica?”

“She couldn’t make it.” I grinned, changing the subject quickly. “I like your place.” Truth be told, Monica could have made it. But when we spoke about the invite, she also said she understood if I didn’t want her to go. So I told her I’d rather she didn’t. Not to rock the boat with Christopher, but to stay true to my own word. Just because Trina was dating some buffoon who was threatened by my single status didn’t mean I needed to buy into his shit and play his games. I always said I’d do anything for Trina, but lying about who I was was where I drew the line.

Trina looked around the small, impeccably neat space and beamed. “I think it’s adorable.”

“Adorable,” Christopher scoffed. “How manly.”

With a giggle, Trina tapped him playfully on the arm. “I think you’re adorable too,” she said.

Christopher rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna get this BBQ going since the little woman burns everything that requires heating.”

“That’s not true. I made pasta last night. That was…” Trina’s lips twitched before they both laughed. “OK. It was edible at best.” She looked at me. “But I’m learning,” she said.

“I don’t know why he can’t cook for you if he’s such a culinary genius,” I muttered as we all moved towards the kitchen.

“What was that?” Trina asked, looking over her shoulder as she set the cake on the counter then moved to the fridge.

“I said I wouldn’t mind a sweet pad like this,” I lied, watching the way she served Christopher with a beer before offering me one. The little woman.

“Do you want the tour?” she asked as she handed the bottle to me. “I’m still getting the meat together, but maybe Christopher can show you around?”

“Sure,” he said, and I wondered if she noticed the grate to his tone. She was being overly enthusiastic, while Christopher struggled to hide his contempt. “There’s not much to see though. This is the lounge and dining room.” He pointed around the room we were standing in. “Obviously there’s a kitchen, and that’s the patio.” He pointed to the big square balcony that was accessible by a large glass sliding door off the lounge.

“Don’t just point,” Trina said. “Walk. Talk. Bond.”

With a tight nod, he took me past the closed doors saying, “Spare room—there’s nothing in there but boxes—bathroom if you need to take a piss, and main bedroom.” He pushed that door open to reveal the large, neatly made bed, a dressing table and a chest of drawers. “That’s Katrina’s shit, that’s my shit.” He pointed at the dressers, making me think he brought me inside their room to drive home the point that she was his. I hated seeing that bed.

“Nice,” I said.

“And you can get to the balcony from here too.” He pulled open the sliding door, and I stepped through to find myself overlooking Jamison Road.

“Doesn’t it get noisy here at night?” I asked, looking down at the busy street.

“You don’t notice it once you’re asleep.”

I nodded.

“Seen enough?” he asked with a sniff.

“It’s great. You should be proud.”

He looked me dead in the eye, thumb hooked in the pocket of his jeans. “Of course, I’m proud. I got the girl.”

With a smile, I ran my thumb across my bottom lip, trying to stop myself from laughing at this guy’s obvious insecurities. “I wasn’t aware there was a competition.”

“Then why did you come alone?” He sniffed again then walked inside. I looked at a pot plant and briefly wondered if he’d be knocked unconscious if I threw it at the back of his head. Then I followed him inside.

“Did you start the barbeque?” Trina asked as she held out the prepared tray of meat.

“I’m doing it now,” Christopher said, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her with an inappropriate amount of tongue.

I got the girl.

“I’ll be back soon. Keep the beers coming,” he said when he released her, flushed and smiling.

She giggled and slapped him against the chest. “You’re such a brute.”

He laughed as he picked up the tray and sauntered outside, not sparing me even a sideways glance. I think I hate him.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“You have great taste in furniture,” I said, moving to stand opposite her, the bench between us.

“Seriously David, do you like it?”

“Of course. It's a nice place. You don’t need me to like it though. You have to like it.”

“I do like it. I love it,” she said smiling. Although, something about her tone and the overly broad grin made me wonder which one of us she was trying to convince more.

Dinner went by…OK. Trina worked overtime trying to keep the conversation flowing. I did my best to join in, but the awkward silences following Christopher’s monosyllable responses made it painfully obvious he didn’t want me there.

When we were through, I helped Trina clear the table while Christopher went and sat in the lounge room like the gentleman he was. Vomit.

“I’m going to head off,” I said, thumbing over my shoulder once we’d filled the sink.

Trina’s face fell. “But what about dessert?”

“I’m full from dinner,” I said, patting my stomach for emphasis. “I couldn’t eat another bite. So you can have it later or something.”

“What about coffee? You can stay a little longer, can’t you?”

Without thinking, I reached for her hands and held them between us. “Thank you for inviting me, but it’s time for me to go.”

Disappointment darkened her eyes as her shoulders drooped. “I’ll walk you down.”

“OK,” I said, releasing her hands then turning to find Christopher glaring at us. “See you around, Chris. Thanks for the meal.” I didn’t even feel guilty about shortening his name. I knew I shouldn’t have been goading the guy. But he couldn’t even make an effort for the sake of the woman he claimed to love. That was some grade A bullshit in my opinion.

Once outside, Trina linked an arm through mine while we walked to my car, the silence of unspoken truth between us. Both of us knew that dinner was an epic fail. We also knew that Christopher was never going to be accepting of me. And now she was living with him. Where was I going to fit in?

“Come here,” I said, drawing her into a hug once we stopped next to the driver’s door.

She tucked her head into the groove of my neck and sighed. “He’s not always like that.”

“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be with him if he was.”

She lifted her head and met my eyes. “He’s just…possessive. It’s why I wanted you to bring Monica. He would have been more relaxed…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby girl.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at Uni. OK?”

“Sure,” she said, standing back as I got in my car, her hands folded across her middle. “You don’t like him. Do you?”

Dragging my teeth over my bottom lip, I nodded towards the apartment building instead of answering. “Why don’t you get back to him? I’ll wait until you’re through the door.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Good night, Trina,” I said softly.

“I wish things were different,” she whispered before heading back inside. I waited until the door closed behind her before I started my car. When I glanced up at their balcony, the dark figure of Christopher loomed, watching until I drove away.

* * *

The thing about guys like Christopher was that they thought their size and strength could intimidate people. I was sure it worked a lot of the time, but with me it had the opposite effect. It made me hold on tighter. I wasn’t going to let him cut Trina off from her friends and family. She wasn’t a thing to be owned. She had a life before him, and that life didn’t stop just because he wanted her to fit into a mould of his making.

He couldn’t make me go away.

Trina made excuses for him: he was scared of losing her; he had a rough upbringing; he loved her so much he couldn’t handle the thought of her with another guy. The list went on. I felt she was quite naïve in her defence of his overbearing behaviour, but she was in love with the guy. If I spoke out against him, it would only drive a wedge between us. So I kept my mouth shut.

“Why don’t we study at my place today?” Trina asked when we exited the lecture hall. “It’s raining so the library will be packed.”

“The library’s fine. We can sit on the floor if we have to.”

She wrapped her hand around my elbow and pulled me to a stop. “Christopher won’t be home until almost seven. He won’t even know you were there.”

“I don’t care what he knows. I care that we have to sneak around so he doesn’t give you a hard time about it.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then how is it? Because that’s how it feels to me. I feel like your secret friend.”

She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Well, you’re wrong. You’re not a secret. He knows we study together.”

“Then why mention he won’t be home?”

“Because I know you don’t like him.”

“OK. Then we’ll study at your place.”

Her eyes lit up. “Excellent. Because I’ve been practising my cooking, and I made this really great cheesecake that you’re gonna love.”

“How can I say no to that?”

I had planned to leave before Christopher got home. Despite Trina’s insistence that everything would be fine, I knew better. I set an alarm for five-thirty then we got to work.

Discussing the cases for our torts assignment, we became so engrossed in the particulars that we didn’t even hear the door open. “Thought I saw your car outside,” Christopher said as he closed the door.

“Oh, hey,” I said, glancing up from my papers. “We’re just about done for the day.” With a quick glance at my phone, I noted the time. After seven. What the hell happened to my alarm?

Trina jumped up and rushed over, greeting him like a puppy would greet his master. She always seemed to be trying so hard to please him. He glared at me over her shoulder. So I gave him a wink then kept working until I’d finished typing out my paragraph.

He pulled out a chair and leafed through the printouts on the table. “What’s all this?”

Trina returned to her seat, placing a bottle of beer in front of him before pulling the pages into neat piles. “Our torts assignment. We have to summarise these cases and discuss the similarities.”

“And you couldn’t do this at the library?”

“What’s wrong with studying here?” Trina asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not a library.”

Feeling the tension rise, I stood up and gathered my things. “I’ll go,” I said, trying to keep my calm as I stuffed everything into my backpack.

“No, David. This is my place too. Christopher, why are you being so rude?”

“I don’t want him here,” he stated, finally admitting it openly for all of us to hear. See the kind of man you chose, Trina?

I clenched my teeth. “Listen, mate. I don’t know what your problem is with me. But you’re going to have to get over it. Trina and I have been friends since primary school, I’m not going away just because you say so.”

Pressing his fingertips into the tabletop, he rose from his seat so he was towering above me. I rolled my eyes at the tactic.

“My problem lies with you going around, fucking a different girl every week then sniffing around mine.”

I glanced at Trina. Did she tell him that? Her eyes dropped, and I looked back to Christopher. Why talk about me like that?

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re doing,” he continued. “You’re just lying in wait for the moment she has a lapse in judgment and fucks you. Then you’ll have won and you’ll dump her too. She’s not yours, David. She’s mine.” What?

“Dude, you are seven kinds of fucked up right now.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“There’s nothing to deny. I’ve been nothing but a friend to Trina. She’s my best friend. My family. I have nothing but respect and love for her. I’ve never treated her like she was some kind of prize to be won. But if that’s how you think then I’d hate to know the real truth behind your intentions.”

“Don’t question my intentions,” he spat.

“I don’t need to. I already know. I see the way you talk to her. The way you order her around. She’s not going to just roll over and let you take over her life. She’s too smart for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t kick me out when I was already fucking leaving.”

“Maybe not, but I can tell you to never come back. I don’t want you in my house, and I don’t want you around my woman.”

“That’s enough!” Katrina yelled. “Stop talking about me like I’m not even in the room. David is my friend, Christopher, and this is my house too. If I want him here, he can be here.”

“He doesn’t come back, and that’s final!” Christopher boomed.

I met Trina’s eyes. “Nice guy you’ve got there.”

“Just go, David. I can handle it,” she said. “I’ll call you later.”

“No. She won’t.”

“Shut the fuck up, Christopher. You’re not the boss of me.”

“Fuck this shit,” I muttered under my breath as I stormed out of the room. I could hear yelling going on behind me as I took off down the stairs, seriously annoyed that someone who claimed to love Katrina could disregard her friends so easily.

Needing the distraction, I put in a call to Monica and drove straight over to her house, hoping to lose myself between her legs for the night.

“Your fuck buddy’s here!” her housemate called over her shoulder the moment she saw me at the door.

“Well, hello to you too, Erica.” I smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“You know I love you, Dave. I just like to tell it how it is.” She laughed as she flicked her dark hair over her should then waddled down the hall.

“Yes, you do.” I stepped inside just as Monica came bounding down the stairs and jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist.

“Needed a bit of a pick me up?” she asked, grinning at me.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, walking us into her room and kicking the door closed behind us.

The moment we were on our own, she crashed her mouth into mine with the same hunger she always displayed. Dropping her on the bed, I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. “Get naked.”

“Hmm. I think I want to make you squirm first,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for me.

I threaded my fingers into her hair. “No teeth.”

Licking her lips, she undid the button of my jeans, pulling down the zip just as my phone jumped to life in my back pocket.

“Ignore it,” Monica purred. “You need to relax.” She slid her hand inside my jeans, causing my eyes to roll back in my head.

“What if it’s important?”

“Then they’ll call back.” The phone stopped singing. Seconds later, it started again.

“It’s important,” I said, stepping out of her reach and grabbing my phone. Trina’s name lit up the screen. “Trina needs me.”

Monica rolled her eyes and scoffed. “What about my needs? I need you inside me. Why can’t she wait for a change?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, hitting accept as I left the room. “What happened?”

“Come and get me, David. I need to get out of here. Please come and get me.” Trina’s frantic words had me rushing for the front door.

“Are you OK?” Shit. I shouldn’t have left her with him.

“I’m OK. Just come and get me.”

“I’m on my way.” I pulled my car door open as we disconnected.

“Are you seriously taking off on me?” Monica called after me.

I froze with one foot in my car. “I’m sorry, Mon. This is how it is.”

“You’re fucked up, Dave. You’ve still got a fucking hard on from my hand, and you're running to another girl.”

“What do you want me to say here? You knew the stakes.”

“Yeah. And I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I thought I was OK being the girl you screwed while you loved someone else. But I want more from you.”

“I don’t have anything more to give you,” I told her, genuinely feeling sorry we’d reached this point. I liked her. It was just never going anywhere.

“Then don’t come back, David. Find yourself another girl. I’m not doing this anymore.”

I nodded once. “OK.”

When it was obvious I wasn’t saying more than that, she burst into tears and ran back in the house, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. I felt like shit seeing her cry and not doing anything about it, but I needed to go to Trina. I needed to make sure she was OK.

She was my number one.

I pulled up outside her units ten minutes after her phone call and found her waiting for me on the side of the road.

“Are you hurt,” I said straight away, getting out of the car to check her for damage. It was dark, but she seemed fine.

“I’m not hurt.”

“Then get in the car. Where’s your bag? Actually, forget your bag. We’ll get you new stuff. Come on.” I pulled the passenger door open then placed my hand on her back to guide her. But she didn’t move.

“I overreacted,” she said.

“What?”

“I’m not leaving. I got crazy angry, packed my things and stormed out. But we’ve both calmed down now, and I’m going to stay. I’m sorry I made you come here. I was being dramatic.”

“Seriously? The guy insinuated I was only trying to get inside your pants and banned me from your house, was a complete arsehole and you’re being dramatic?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ll smooth it over. He’s just stressed at work. It’s making him all angry about stupid stuff lately.”

“Trina,” I sighed. “I don’t like the sound of this. Why don’t you just come and spend the night at my place? Talk to him in the morning when he’s calm.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m going back inside, OK? I’m sorry I worried you.” She kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“If you ever try to tell me you fell and hit your head on a door, I’ll beat the fuck out of him myself.”

She laughed at that. “He’d never hurt me. He loves me.”

Sixteen

Trina swore that everything was perfect after that night, blaming the fight on jealousy and teething problems after moving in together so soon. “You and I have always known how unusual it is for a straight guy and girl to be best friends without sex becoming involved. You have to give him time to understand that friendship is all there is between us.”

“So tell him I’m gay. I don’t care. I’m not letting him chase me out of your life.”

“You’re not gay, David. He knows you aren’t.”

“Tell him I was in denial and I’m gay now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lying won’t fix this. Time will. He understands what you mean to me. We’ve been best friends since we were nine years old, if I want to hang out with you in a house I help pay rent for, I’m going to do that.”

“So, I’m not banned?”

“Of course not. He understands.”

I really wasn’t sure if she was telling me the truth. Especially since each time she invited me over was when Christopher was at work. But, I chose to overlook it. I wasn’t interested in being around him, anyway.

Friday afternoons quickly became our habit. Christopher worked late, so I’d go to Trina’s, we’d eat pizza and watch a movie then I was out of there before the douche came home. It seemed to be the best way to have some quality time without the discomfort of Christopher and me in the same room.

“Pay attention.” Trina giggled as she pushed me on the side of the head to stop my fake snoring.

“Why are you making me sit through this girly movie?” I complained. The on-screen couple whispered urgently as they struggled with their attraction yet again. “Just fuck and get it over with already.”

“Because it was my turn to pick. You made me sit through that horrible action movie that didn’t even have a plot last week. Consider us even.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But I’ll need more beer to get through this. You want one?”

Shaking her head, she lifted her legs from my lap so I could stand. I headed over to the fridge and took my sweet time. I wasn’t a huge fan of these girly movies, but I put up with them from time to time for the sake of my friendship.

Just as I twisted the cap off my beer, a key jangled in the door, a click indicating it was open. “Shit,” I muttered, knowing this wouldn’t be good.

I locked eyes with Trina. She was white as a ghost, telling me what I’d always known—Christopher didn’t know I was there.

“Stay,” she whispered, jumping to her feet to cut him off before he spotted me. My stomach twisted. I felt like a dirty secret. But not just that. The nervous way Trina reacted—wide eyes, shaking hands—had me unsettled. She swallowed hard.

“You’re e-early,” she stuttered, her worried gaze flicking towards where I stood in the kitchen.

Fuck.

Christopher didn’t even answer. His face darkened as he followed her line of sight and spotted me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“G’day, mate,” I said, flashing a false smile as I sensed the shit was about to hit the fan in a big way.

He locked eyes with me in challenge.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he bellowed. For a big guy, he was surprisingly fast. I literally had zero chance to respond before he was in front of me, planting the full force of his fist into the side of my face. The beer slipped from my hand and smashed on the tiled floor. Pain exploded through my sinuses and behind my eyes. Red and yellow lights, flashed across my vision. I rocked back on my heels. And slowly fell. Holy fuck.

“No,” Trina screamed, covering her mouth in horror as she witnessed me land on the floor. “What are you doing, Christopher? Get away from him!”

Her protests were futile. As I scrambled to get up, Christopher grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me to the door, throwing me unceremoniously into the hallway.

“Stay the fuck away for good this time,” he boomed, before slamming the door and flicking the lock.

“Fuck you!” I kicked at the door in frustration. I didn’t even get a hit in to defend myself. What an absolute cunt. I gingerly touched the side of my face as it streamed blood from a cut on my cheek.

From the other side of the door, the yelling continued. “You lying bitch.”

“No. I didn’t. Nothing happened.” The urgency in Trina’s cries had me trying the door handle and ramming my shoulder against the door.

“Stop,” she whimpered.

My heart leapt into my throat. What the fuck is he doing to her? I could hear her protests, the strain in her voice. I backed up and rammed the door harder.

Unable to get through the door, I banged my fists, trying to get his attention away from her. I pressed my mouth against the seal and yelled. “Face me, you coward.”

Ice filled my veins as a scream rang out, followed by a loud crash and the horrible tinkling sound broken glass made when it rained on the floor. No.

“Trina!” I screeched, punching at the door with all I had. It cracked and splintered beneath my knuckles, giving me a spark of hope. I stepped back and kicked out, denting and cracking the door further. Swearing and grunting as I ripped back the wooden panelling, I made a hole big enough to fit my arm.

“I’m coming.” I shoved my arm through the jagged hole, splintered wood catching and tearing at my skin as I fumbled for the lock.

All I could hear was Christopher snarling, calling Trina names. But I couldn’t hear anything coming from her. Not even a whimper. With my heart in my throat, I moved against the wall quickly but quietly until they came into view. Holy fuck.

Blood. It coated her face and her clothes as Christopher loomed over her, tearing her shirt to expose her bare skin. “I’ll show you who you belong to,” he grunted, his hands moving to her jeans. “Fucking slut.”

No, you fucking won’t.

Thinking fast, I sprinted for the kitchen and grabbed the heavy based frying pan from the stove and rushed him from behind. So caught up in his fury, he didn’t even hear me coming. One good hit to the side of his head and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. I honestly wouldn’t care if he was dead.

Pushing his body to the side, I did my best to cover Trina’s dignity before lifting her up gently. “We need to get you out of here.” Barely breathing, she was bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, her face already swelling, making her almost unrecognisable.

Ignoring my instinct to stomp Christopher’s face in, I got her out there as fast as I could. The adrenalin spurring me on, making her seem weightless in my arms.

I drove her to the hospital at emergency speed, dumping my car to the side of the entrance, knowing full well there was a possibility of getting towed, but not caring as I rushed her inside.

“Oh god, Trina. Open your eyes. Please be OK.” Her body felt limp and unresponsive. Frantically, I looked around, ignoring the shocked gasps as waiting patients took in the sight of us, both covered in blood.

“Somebody, help me!”

Epilogue

I lift my head with a start when a hand touches my shoulder, jolting me from my trip down memory lane and my begging prayers for Trina’s safety. I cannot live in a world without her in it.

“Mrs Mahoney,” I gasp.

She smiles. “When are you going to call me Carol?”

“Probably never. Have you seen Trina? Is she OK?”

“She’s awake.” She sighs. “But I don’t know if she’s ever going to be OK.”

I close my eyes, hating that I allowed myself to be thrown out of there. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get back in.”

“Hush,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “You saved her.”

“Can I see her?”

She nods. “Come with me.”

I follow Mrs Mahoney along the corridor until we get to Trina’s room. It has four beds in it, but Trina is the only one inside.

“She's still pretty groggy,” she warns, pulling the curtain aside.

I step through and get my first glimpse of Trina’s prone form. “Trina,” I choke out, tears burning my eyes as I sweep my gaze over her swollen, bruised and bandaged face and body.

“You look like shit,” she croaks out, offering the shadow of a smile.

“Well, you look gorgeous, baby girl,” I whisper as I take a seat next to her, hooking my fingers between hers.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mrs Mahoney murmurs before retreating.

It’s then I release a sob. “I am so, so sorry, Trina. I never should have let this happen to you. I tried to get back in there as soon as I could. But—”

“Shhh.” She places her hand against my check. “You weren’t to know. None of us knew.”

“I should have known,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I should have fought to get you out of there sooner. I should have rallied to stop you from moving in.”

“David.” I close my eyes and hold her hand against my lips. I feel so powerless. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

I shake my head. How can I not?

When I get my shit together, I let go of her hand and sit up straighter. “The police came while I was in the waiting room,” I say, clearing my throat.

“What did you tell them?” Her voice sounds so weak. I hate that she was cut down so easily.

“What I saw.”

“Are they going to arrest him?”

“Probably. They’ll want to talk to you before they charge him.”

“OK,” she says, closing her one functioning eye. The other is swollen shut, an angry purple colour.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“About as good as you look.” She laughs before grimacing in pain.

“I meant, did you want me to go so you can sleep?”

“No.” She grabs my hand with both of hers and holds it against her chest. “I want you to stay.”

“Do you need me to do anything for you?”

Her good eye opens into a slit. “Just don’t say I told you so.”

“Never, baby girl,” I whisper, reaching up to gently stroke the hair on top of her head before I press a soft kiss on her forehead. “Never.”

She closes her eyes and hums contentedly as I continue to caress her hair. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispers.

“Any time.” I keep stroking her hair until she drifts off to sleep. Jesus. I release an emotional sob, covering my eyes with my free hand as it hits me how close I was to losing her. If I’d left in a huff, if I’d walked away, she could be dead right now. Broken, violated and dead.

Christopher needs to die for this.

He hurt the woman I love.

As I look over her beaten body, I realise I’ve been kidding myself. I’ve always loved her. Since that first urge to pull on her pigtails in primary school, I’ve been enamoured with her. Boyfriend material or not, I can’t deny it any longer. I can’t watch her get used up by some bastard who doesn’t love her the way she needs to be loved. I am the right guy for her. Deep down, she knows it, and I know it too. I can’t let my fear win.

I can’t go through this again.

I can’t lose her again.

“I love you, Trina,” I whisper as she sleeps, vowing that when she’s healed and ready to move on from this, I’ll tell her.

I love her.

I’ve always loved her…

Keep reading for the next in the Beautiful Series - Forever

Everything happens for a reason.

So they say, anyway. But, after ruining the best relationship I ever had, I’m struggling to see a reason behind it. Instead, I loathe the man I’ve become. I’m a coward. Somewhere along the way, I stopped living my own life in favour of living for my father instead. What he wants for me, and what I want for myself are two different things. And if I don’t do something drastic, I’ll lose my balls forever.

I need a new direction.

Boarding a plane to London, I have only one thing on my mind: change. I need to get away from my life, my family and my past to figure out what kind of man I want to be. I’m not looking for a relationship, but when I meet fellow Aussie, Paige, something inside tells me to grab on with both hands.

Paige doesn’t make things easy with her high walls and closed off heart. I find that the closer I get, the more she pushes back and clams up. But it see the struggle there too, she wants me just as much as I want her. If only she’d let me in...

The last time I fell for a girl, I made a terrible decision and ruined it. This time, I’m my own man. I won’t be walking away.

Elliot needs to fight harder than ever to win Paige's heart in this gripping romantic drama featuring new and extended scenes from books A Beautiful Forever and Phoenix, republished as Forever: Beautiful Series, Two.

Forever

Book Two

Foreword

I went into Forever thinking it wouldn’t be as much work to rewrite as Struggle was. And boy, was I wrong. I got to absorb myself in the lives of Paige and Elliot and flesh out their story in a way that I feel does their hardships justice.

It’s been great going through these books with the knowledge of future couples in my mind, because I can drop crumbs for you that lead into the next book. One thing I’ve had to smile about though is the mention of Brad. If you’ve read the series before, you’ll know him from Taste. But I didn’t realise I had a tattooed guy called Brad mentioned in both Struggle and Forever. He obviously made his way into my subconscious without me realising.

I’ve made big changes and little changes in the following pages, and I feel that it fits the series better now. When I wrote it the first time, Forever was supposed to be the final book. But there was a call for more, so I provided happily.

Enjoy!

Prologue

Elliot

Encouraging the sweaty, grunting man in front of me to tuck his knees closer to his chest as he does mountain climbers, I distractedly scan the people and the scenery in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney. I do it every time I bring a client here, always searching even though it’s been almost two years.

But then I finally see her. Her movement is unmistakable as she runs in a rhythmic pace along the path in front of me. The two years I spent trying to get over her fall away like I didn’t even live them. I’m taken right back to where I was, wanting her, wishing I could touch her.

Holding my breath, I watch her run, her ponytail swinging from side to side as her feet hit the concrete. God, she’s beautiful. When she turns her head in my direction, a gripping pain creeps over my chest, constricting my airways as recognition steals over her face.

Secretly, I’m hoping she runs past me so I can convince myself I’m seeing things, but no such luck. She’s stopped. My stomach flips in response while my arm automatically waves at her. Suddenly, I hear myself telling my client I’ll be back in a minute, my feet propelling me towards her.

“Hey, stranger,” I say, trying to sound casual as I flash a smile.

Katrina stands with her hands on her hips, grinning at me as I approach. I have so much I want to say to her. I want to tell her I’ve changed, that I’m ready to put her first, that I would do anything for the right to touch her again. My body is screaming at me to reach out. But I don’t. She’s no longer mine.

“What’s this?” she asks immediately, indicating the logo on my shirt. I smile to myself; she’s never been one to mince words. She seems exactly the same, like I only saw her yesterday.

“I’m a personal trainer now,” I say, grinning because she was the one who encouraged me to go after my dream.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What? What happened to becoming a judge?”

Still smiling, I shake my head from side to side. “That was my father’s dream for me. After you left, I did a lot of soul-searching and decided to make my own path.” It took a huge amount of courage and fighting for me to get here. I dedicated my life to the legal profession, pushing my own desires aside so I could fulfil what my father insisted was my destiny. But I was miserable, and it wasn’t until after Dad forced me to choose between his plotted path and Katrina that I finally looked at my life and fought to reclaim it for myself. No more living other people’s dreams.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Elliot. I'm really happy for you.”

My eyes land on her left hand, and my chest tightens as I see the ring she now wears. Shit. Swallowing the ball that has lodged itself firmly in my throat, I gesture to it. “Looks like congratulations are owed to you as well. Is that from David?”

She looks at her hand briefly, like she needs to confirm we’re looking at the same thing then gives me a small nod. “Oh, thank you. The wedding is a while off, but everything else is great.” Giving me a tight smile, she meets my eyes and places her hand back on her hip. “How about you? How are things with you?”

I look into her face, searching for some semblance of the way she used to look at me. But there's nothing there. I shift a little uneasily on my feet, feeling slightly sick in the guts.

Clearing my throat, I finally answer her. “Well, I don’t really speak to my dad anymore. Which, really, is a good thing. And I’m seeing someone now. It took a while, and she’s not you...but things are OK. I’m certainly not ready for a commitment like that yet,” I say, nodding at that bloody ring again. I’m trying to sound OK with it, but it hurts. It's like my brain is swelling and throbbing against my skull from the sight of it.

She seems unfazed by seeing me and just stands there, smiling like we’re buddies. Her eyes shift to look over my shoulder, where I’m sure my client is still waiting.  “Well, I’d better let you get back to it.” she says, starting to back away from me. I hate feeling like this. It's like she’s tearing a part of me off the further she steps. “It was nice to see you again, Evan.”

I laugh, but it makes this hollow and empty sound. I don’t mean for it to come out that way, but I’m feeling a little bitter. We had something amazing, and I let it slip away.

“You too, Katrina. I'll see you around. If not, have a great life.” I smile on only one side of my face before I run back to my client, forcing my feet every step and refusing to let myself turn around.

I don’t chance a look at her again until after I’ve told my client what his next exercise is. My guts are churning as I watch her run away, but I can’t stop staring. She doesn’t even look back. Fuck.

I lied to her. I'm not seeing anyone. Truth is, I haven’t dated anyone in the two years since her. I fucked around a lot which is really out of character for me, but I needed to try to get her out of my head. It never helped because every time I closed my eyes, I dreamed about our time together. It was fucking perfect, and I destroyed it because I was too much of a pussy to stand up to my dad.

Now she’s engaged, and I’ve got no chance. I guess I could pursue her and try to change her mind. But there’s something about the way she just looked at me that tells me it would be a waste of time. Plus, she seems happy, and I’m not a home wrecker. At the end of the day, David is a good guy, and they have a lot of history. I'm sure they’ll be disgustingly blissful together.

“Elliot!” My client snaps me back from my thoughts. “What’s next?”

Dragging my eyes from watching Katrina’s figure fade into the distance, I apologise. “Let’s cool down,” I say, taking him for a run in the opposite direction. I don’t trust myself not to chase her down.

One

Paige

“My family are all dead.” I drop that bomber after trying to avoid questions from the well-meaning lady beside me for the last twenty minutes. I get that she’s just trying to make conversation to pass the time, but the flight from Sydney to Heathrow Airport is almost a day in length. I don’t have it in me to talk to her for that long.

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” she stammers out, now not sure what to say. She looks at me, her mouth moving up and down like she's a goldfish caught out of water. Her jowly cheeks wobble, and her eyes dart nervously around as she searches for something else to say.

“It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it,” I tell her, looking out the window at the passing clouds. After years of saying my family kicked me out, I’ve stopped. I’ve taken to telling people they all died in an accident. It’s easier that way. People ask too many questions when you tell them you were evicted from your own family at fifteen. Besides, it doesn’t make me sound so great. I’m the one who was cast out. The one no one loved enough to fight for, someone who’s too much trouble to put up with. It’s better if I say they’re dead, it makes me lucky to be the one who’s still alive. Better still, it stops the questions.

Staring out the window, I watch the clouds roll by below us, a fluffy white and grey blanket I so desperately want to touch. The woman turns her attention to the guy sitting on the other side of her—some guy I noticed in the gate lounge—and asks him questions about his life instead. I've made her uncomfortable. I’ve probably made everyone within earshot uncomfortable. Oh well.

Pressing the buds of my headphones in my ears, I scroll through my music and select an album. I’m really into 90s alternative music right now so I choose Custard’s Wahooti Fandango. ‘Teensville’ starts floating into my ears as I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I keep the sound at a level that is just enough to mask the sounds of the plane but quiet enough to lull me off to sleep. Every moment that passes is a moment closer to freedom, to a new start.

Elliot

Please let me sleep. This woman sitting next to me won’t stop yammering in my ear. I’m trying to listen and answer her politely, but I have been awake for over twenty hours now, and I’m really struggling.

My eyes stray towards the girl sitting in the window seat. Her dark curls have fallen forward, covering most of her face as she sleeps at an awkward angle against the window. I so wish I was her right now.

“Is London the end of your journey?” the woman asks, leaning slightly so her face blocks my view.

I nod and exaggerate a yawn. “It is. How about you?”

“Oh no, I'm going onto Scotland. My sister lives there in Dundee. I’m staying with her for a whole month. It’ll be wonderful. Just like when we were kids. I grew up there, you know? But we left for Australia when I was very young. My sister returned in her 20s to rediscover her heritage. Then she met a man and never left. We’ve always been so close. It’s hard having her live on the other side of the world.”

Opening my mouth, I exaggerate another yawn, nodding along while I add some sleepy eyes in for good measure.

“You poor boy, I’m keeping you up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s no trouble.” It’s a lot of trouble. Be quiet.

“I don’t sleep very well without one of these.” She takes a packet of sleeping pills out of her bag and puts one in her mouth, swallowing it dry. “I’ll stop talking now. You sleep.”

Gratefully, I close my eyes. Exhaustion washing over my body.

Paige

In my dream, there’s a bear growling outside. I’m aware it’s a dream because Australia doesn’t have bears in the wild, so it confuses me to hear one. My consciousness moves forward as the rumbling sounds vibrate through me. It’s the sounds of the plane and…. snoring? My eyes flutter open and I remove the buds from my ears—the album I was listening to long since over—and turn my head towards the exasperating noise.

The woman who was talking to me earlier has her head tilted back, her mouth wide open, the noise emanating from her throat. I squint at her, willing her with my mind to stir enough so the noise will stop. When she makes a small choking sound, I flinch, surprised and slightly impressed with my new mind control ability as she quiets and her breathing evens out.

I breathe out slowly, glad the noise is over, and move to replace the buds in my ears. But I’m paused, my reprieve all too brief, as my skull vibrates when she starts up again. So much for my awesome mind control skills…

I cross my eyes in agitation and reach my hand toward her, clamping my fingers on either side of her nose. She makes a guttural sound, and I withdraw my hand quickly, looking out the window and pretending nothing happened. I count seconds as I wait to see if it worked, feeling safe when I reach a full minute in silence.

“Thank god,” I say to myself as I lean my head back against the window. The second I relax however, she starts up again.

The guy on the other side of her starts laughing. I lean forward to look at him. Fuck, he’s pretty. In my old life, I’d call him a ‘gorgeous fuck’: a man who looks good but has little substance. They’re only good for one thing, and that thing is something I’m no longer interested in.

Seems he’s caught the giggles. He’s laughing so hard over my snore battle with Chatty McChatterson that I find myself smiling without even meaning to.

He's quite frankly, the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. Which is saying something because I’ve met some stunning men in my time. He looks almost too large to be in such a small seat. His long legs are angled so that one is in the aisle, and the other is wedged in the minute gap between the seats in front of him. His broad shoulders span further than the width of the seat. And not that it matters, but his golden brown hair is a little longer than I like on a guy, but it suits him. He’s wearing a good day or two worth of stubble, which I’ll admit is a bit on the sexy side. And up this close, it’s his eyes that are most striking. They look like someone took the clearest, bluest part of the ocean and dropped it into his irises. Magazine material.

“I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand over his face. “I’m not laughing at you. I've been trying to make her stop snoring for ages. I’m laughing at the situation.”

His smile is textbook perfect and creases the corners of his eyes as they water a little from his laughter. It’s a killer smile. If I hadn’t sworn myself off men years ago, I think I’d go all fluttery over him. But I don’t. I have a black heart.

Elliot

Tears are streaming out of my eyes, and I wipe at them as this girl keeps looking at me. She’s a stunner. With masses of curly dark-brown hair, olive skin, a full pouty mouth and amazing eyes. They kind of look like a piece of amber, hazel in the middle and flecked brown and gold with a thick dark edge before her whites come into play. They’re pretty awesome. I don’t mind that she’s studying me, because it gives me a good look at them.

I just wish I could stop laughing, because I feel like a fool. But, I’m so tired I can’t seem to control myself.

I take a deep breath to try to still my shaking body. “I’m sorry,” I say again, calming myself a little. “I think I’m delirious from lack of sleep.”

“You’ve been trying to stop her as well?” she asks, ignoring my fits of laughter.

Wiping the last of my tears away, I nod. “She took a tablet a while back and no matter what I do she still snores.”

“Great,” is all she says as she sits back forcefully in her seat. She’s quiet for a beat before saying, “Listen, I need to get away from her before I go mental. Can you get up, so I can climb out?”

“Sure,” I say, moving my legs to the side and standing in the aisle. As she stands up, I notice she’s a decent height, probably hitting just above my shoulder and I’m six-three. She’s wearing almost the same as me: light blue jeans and a fitted t-shirt. Although, mine is plain black, and hers is white with a picture of two chickens dressed up in Mexican-styled clothes leaning up against each other, the words ‘LOS POLLOS HERMANOS’ written in a circle around them. I recognise the logo from Breaking Bad.

“I love that show,” I say, indicating her shirt with a nod of my head.

Without responding, she puts her foot on her seat and hunches over as she climbs over our snoring companion and onto my chair. I put my hand out to steady her, but she doesn’t take it. She just steps down from my seat and says ‘thanks’, before walking toward the back of the plane. I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her lower back when she adjusts her shirt before my eyes drift down to her arse as she walks along the aisle. It’s one of those firm round arses that sways as she walks, whether she’s meaning to do it or not, it’s hot. And kind of mesmerising. I feel a slight shift in my pants as I’m suddenly wondering if I could get her to join the ‘mile high club’.

Don’t be a dick.

I laugh a little and blow a burst of air out my nose as I scratch at the back of my head and retake my seat. She wouldn’t be into that, I’m sure. She showed no sign of attraction whatsoever. Most girls would have gladly grabbed a hold of me if I offered my arm.

Besides, I need to stop that shit. I’ve lost count of the amount of girls I’ve screwed in the last couple of years. I’ve become sick of it. It’s fucking hollow.

I struggled with girls when I was younger and never got over that teenage awkwardness until after a shitty breakup. Something about losing that girl made me stop giving a shit. I quit overthinking everything and suddenly, I could pick up like I was Don Juan. I'd go to a club and ask a girl to dance, and the next thing I knew I was taking her home and screwing her brains out all night long. Some girls expected more from me the next morning; others just got up afterwards and left without a word. I barely even knew their names, and I know I hurt the feelings of more than one. But, I wasn’t thinking about them. I only cared about myself.

Eventually, I took a girl home and realised I’d fucked her before—I’d been with her a few times actually—but I still hadn’t learned her name. I stopped, and told her I couldn’t go through with it, even paid for a cab to take her home. I felt like shit. That was when I decided I was done. I’d had enough of night clubs. I’d had enough of treating women like my own personal harem, picking and choosing them as I saw fit. It was crappy of me, and I hated myself for it. Something needed to change.

That change is why I’m heading to London. I’ve secured a three month working visa, and I’m going over there for something different. Maybe I’ll find myself again while I’m there. This guy who screws around and sees women as sex toys isn’t me. At least, I don’t think it is… If I’m honest; I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.

Two

Paige

As I walk towards the back of the plane, I feel his eyes on me. It makes my skin prickle with an attraction I don’t want to feel. I pull at my shirt to make sure all my skin is covered.

Covertly, I glance over my shoulder at the gorgeous fuck who’s still standing in the aisle. He leans forward and rubs the back of his neck with a strong lean arm. He seems the epitome of the perfect man: strong, healthy, and based upon my short interaction with him, he’s been brought up well too. Manners aren’t as common as one would hope.

I walk until I reach the back of the plane where there's a little alcove with a window. I'm so tired that I rest my forehead against the glass and look out at the nothingness that is the night sky.

“Hey there,” a deep rumble of a voice says from behind me, I tilt my head to the side, still pressed up against the glass. It’s the guy from my row. Of course it is.

Sighing, I turn and face him, not saying anything. I just look at him and wait for him to speak. He obviously wants to have a conversation, and I'm doing my best to seem uninterested. I want to get this done and over, as quickly as possible.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says, putting his hands in his jeans pockets, suddenly looking unsure of himself. “I needed to get away from the noise too.” The corner of his lip tips up as he studies me. I notice his eyes scan the length of my body and automatically fold my arms across my middle protectively, feeling betrayed by my skin when it flushes hot under his gaze.

“Why would I mind?” I ask him flatly. “It’s not like I own the plane.”

He gives me what I think might be his most dashing smile, but he still looks unsure of me. “I’m Elliot, by the way,” he says, extending his hand to shake mine.

My eyes travel down to his outstretched arm. I don’t want to take it. I don’t want to risk touching him. Once, a long time ago, I had a connection with a beautiful man who set my skin on fire with a single touch. That connection ruined my life completely, and I swore I’d never give into attraction again. I just want to live my life alone.

When I look up at Elliot’s expectant face, his eyes narrow slightly, but he keeps his hand stretched towards me stubbornly.

Elliot

“I won’t bite,” I tell her, wiggling my fingers while her brow furrows like she’s warring with something in her mind.

Hesitantly, she slips her hand into mine and gives me a light squeeze. “Paige,” she says, snatching her hand back as if I’m made of fire. Then she looks past me like she really wishes I’d piss off.

I smile at her, enjoying the lingering feel of her touch on my hand. This is the first girl I’ve spoken to in a long time that isn’t giggling and flicking her hair the moment I make eye contact. I like it. I don’t think she likes me, but we’ve both got the same problem, so that makes us friends in my opinion.

“It’s nice to meet you, Paige. But since we can’t hide out back here the entire flight, I have to ask—what are we going to do about Connie McSnores-a-lot back there?”

A tiny smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn’t turn into anything more than that. Surprisingly, I feel disappointed. I want her to smile at me again like she did before.

“Is her name really Connie?” she asks, completely serious.

I chuckle and shake my head slightly. “I have no idea. I just made it up, same as the McSnores-a-lot part. As appropriate as it is, that’s not her name either,” I say, as seriously as I can.

Suddenly, she’s laughing. Her hand flies up and covers her mouth. She’s trying to keep quiet, but her shoulders are shaking and small sounds are escaping as she gasps for breath. “Do you know what I’ve been calling her?”

I lift my brow in question.

“Chatty McChatterson.”

My shoulders bounce as I laugh along with her. “She just wouldn’t shut up, would she? I thought she’d stop when she fell asleep. But then this noise came out of her.” I’m crying again.

“I thought she was a bear,” she forces around her cackles, holding her stomach as she hunches forward then leans back and wipes her eyes. “Man, I’m heading to delirium from lack of sleep. I just can’t stop thinking how funny it would be if that really was her name.” She shakes her head from side to side, laughing all over again as she leans back up against the side of the plane.

I’m just standing here with this huge grin on my face watching her eyes sparkle from tears of laughter.

“Oh God,” she says, pushing her hair back. “It’s not even that funny.”

“You got a hold of yourself now?” I ask, as she endeavours to stay calm.

Nodding, she wipes her eyes and stands up straight again taking a deep breath and attempting to look serious. “Maybe we could ask to move seats. I noticed a couple of empty rows in the middle aisle.”

“I’ll find a flight attendant.”

Her eyebrows shoot up as she eyes me off, not looking so amused now. I wonder what I’ve done wrong as I walk toward the front of the plane to find someone who can help us.

Paige

I feel like rolling my eyes so hard that they do a full 360 loop. This Elliot guy is so aware of how good looking he is that he thinks he can snap his fingers and get whatever he wants. What makes him so sure a girl who looks like a slightly deranged witch can’t get us new seats? I’m not entirely without charm. And I don’t need some guy ‘helping’ me. I’ve never met one who does anything out of the kindness of his heart.

I pull a hair elastic out of my pocket and quickly twist my mess of hair into a bun before I hurry to catch up to him, feeling like I have something to prove now.

However, I’m too late. I can see him already talking to a flight attendant as I get closer. She’s all smiles and coy gestures as she nods agreeably.

He turns as I approach and winks at me, and I swear my stomach does cartwheels in response. “Paige,” he smiles. “Erin here, will see if she can get us some new seats.”

Nodding, I watch Erin the perky flight attendant as she flicks her gaze at me but continues to smile only at him. I actually do roll my eyes this time, then I cross my arms and walk back to my original seat, cursing my body for having any sort of response towards him. My hand is still tingling. I decide it’s easier to plonk myself in Elliot’s seat instead of climbing over Connie McSnores-a-lot while I wait to find out where our new seats are.

Elliot

The flight attendant leaves to work out where she can move Paige and me to. When I turn around, I’m expecting Paige to still be behind me, but she’s sitting on my old seat, staring at the shuttered window with her arms crossed and her face stern.

I feel like I keep pissing her off.

One moment I have her laughing, and the next she seems annoyed with me. I don’t even know why I care, but as I approach her, I can’t help but wish she’d look at me and smile again. She has a beautiful smile. And I get the feeling she will make me work for every single one.

She’s pulled her hair up in a tight bun, and her profile looks sophisticated with her hair like that. Kind of like a ballerina performing, the elegance in her stance, an expression that shows little more than calm control.

Connie is still rumbling away in the next seat, her mouth wide open as she lies back. Due to some sort of miracle, the people in front and behind her are managing to sleep. Perhaps they thought to bring sleeping pills too? Something I’ll need to remember the next time I’m on one of these long-haul flights.

“The flight attendant will find out where she can move us to,” I say, standing in the aisle since there’s no easy place for me to sit.

Paige’s only answer is a nod as she looks me over, watching as I move to open the overhead locker and take out my carry-on luggage. I continue to feel her eyes on me as I wrestle my backpack out of the confined space. Slinging it over my shoulder before I look down at her, trying to return a gaze with the same intensity she’s giving me. I’m not sure what game we’re playing. But right now, I’ve got nothing but time.

Paige

He’s very graceful in his movements considering his size. I like that he is so tall and broad, but doesn’t seem to take up all the space around him. Most guys as muscular as him are all stiff and seem to have trouble with their natural movement. But this Elliot guy carries his bulk as if it was always meant to be there.

He gets his backpack out of the overhead locker then looks at me, so I lock my eyes with his, waiting for him to say something. But nothing comes, just a quiet challenge that makes me think he wants me to be the one who speaks first. Fat chance, buddy. I can go days without speaking.

Maybe a full minute of staring passes before he cracks and points upward.  “Do you want me to get your stuff too?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I stand up. “I’ll get it myself.”

“No problem.” He moves out of my way and looks down at the floor. The movement makes me hesitate because I know I’m being a bit of a bitch. He’s trying to be nice to me, and I keep rebuffing him. And it’s not because I don’t like him, I mean, I don’t even know him. I just have some pretty massive walls when it comes to trusting people—especially men—and I struggle with kindness. It feels unnatural to me.

I stop with my hands reaching into the locker and look at him until his eyes meet mine. “Thank you, though,” I say. “For the offer… it was very kind of you.” There. I’m not so bitchy after all.

He gives me a tight smile. Then the flight attendant comes up and touches his arm to get his attention. “I have new seats for you.”

She gets us settled in a middle row of five empty seats, telling Elliot especially that, “If you need anything else, I’m only too happy to help.”

Leaning over so she’s forced to meet my eyes, I smile brightly at her. “You are such a doll. Thank you so much for helping us. We really appreciate it.” I say that last part while placing my hand on Elliot’s upper arm. Now she thinks something’s going on between us. I don’t know why I’m doing that, but I keep on smiling, behaving like the other half of a happy couple until she goes away. I’m going to blame it on my tiredness.

Elliot

The second Erin walks away, Paige moves one seat over. “I hope you don’t mind,” she says. “You’re very broad. I thought you might like the extra space to stretch out.”

“Thanks.” I smile at her gratefully. She’s right. These seats are ridiculously small.

She's lifted the arm rests and shifts two seats away from me, her legs resting on the seats between us. Looking at me with heavy-lidded eyes she rests her head against the back of the seat.

“Why are you going to London?” she asks.

I lean back then look over at her, deliberating over my answer. Something about this situation makes me think, Fuck it. I will only know this girl for a handful of hours. I may as well tell the truth. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Her eyebrows move closer together as she considers my words, “Who do you think you were before?”

“A solicitor,” I answer, thinking about how much time I wasted studying for a career I didn’t even want.

Yawning, she shakes her head. “I didn’t ask what you were, I asked who you were.”

I look at her for a long moment before I answer, again with truth. “A jerk, I used to be a jerk.”

“It’s the curse of the good-looking guy. You're all jerks,” she says knowingly.

I laugh a little at her revelation. “Talking from experience?”

She shrugs and tilts her head noncommittally in response.

“So where did your catharsis come from? Some girl break your heart?”

I can't help but smile at her insight. “I kind of turned into a jerk after that, actually. Before, I don’t know if I was a jerk. I was just living a life that wasn’t mine.”

“So, you don’t know who you are, and you’re hoping to find yourself on the other side of the world?”

I rest my head back in the seat and sigh heavily. “I don’t know what I’m hoping. I need a change because I’m sick of just… existing. What about you? Why are you going to London?”

“Same reason as you, I guess. My life isn’t anywhere near what I used to imagine it would be. Time for a change.” She covers her mouth as she yawns, closing her eyes and working her head into the back of the seat, effectively ending our discussion. I wish she’d stay awake and talk to me some more. I want to know what she thought her life would be, and what kind of change she’s hoping for. Instead, I watch her beautiful face until her breathing deepens and her features soften. It should feel creepy, but it doesn’t. She’s mesmerising.

Three

Paige

I sleep the rest of the flight, only waking when it’s time to fill out paperwork and eat a meal. Blinking rapidly, I yawn and stretch as I right myself within my seat. I look over at Elliot who is rubbing his eyes, also yawning. His hair is sticking up. Which of course, looks really attractive on him. Must have been a hard life for him, looking awesome while everyone else looks shit. My eyes roll involuntarily at the thought. I can’t help feeling resentful towards anyone who had an easy life. Compared to me most people had it easy. So I tend to resent everybody.

“Morning.” Elliot doesn’t even glance at me. “I think that was the best upright sleep I have ever had in my life. I was exhausted.”

“Me too,” I say, moving one seat closer so I can take my breakfast tray from the approaching food trolley. “Thank you for not being an obscenely loud snorer.”

“I wish I could say the same for you.”

“I don’t snore.” At least I don’t think I do.

“Everyone snores sometimes.” He smirks, his head jerking back like he’s really amused about something. I’m about to ask him what when the trolley stops near us and we accept our trays. While we’re going over the contents, he sneaks a glance at me, that smirk still present on his lips.

“What?” I snap, annoyed over the snoring and the smirking.

He laughs, shaking his head. “You didn’t snore. To be honest, I wouldn’t even know. I passed out the moment I closed my eyes. I was just ribbing you.” He’s still smiling, pleased with his joke.

I just watch him as he works his way around his food. These people and their regular sense of humour astound me. I wonder what it’s like to be quick to laugh and feel confident teasing a stranger for fun. I’m not a big laugher. My giggling fit in the back of the plane was a rare occurrence for me, caused by exhaustion and not actual humour. My old co-workers used to tell me I was too serious, so I smile because it’s expected. It’s how I fit in. But laughter? I don’t remember the last time I found something truly funny. There’s too much suffering in this world, and it sucks the funny right out of it.

Pausing mid-chew, Elliot raises his eyebrows. “Are you not eating?”

“Yeah, I’m eating,” I say, snapping my gaze away from him to focus on my own plate, poking the rubbery looking eggs with my fork. I pull the foil back on my cup of orange juice and take a sip of the cold sweet liquid, gulping greedily as I realise now how thirsty I am.

“How long are you staying in London, Paige?”

I frown at my food and shake my head slightly. “I don’t know,” I say, feeling nervous about landing and why I’m going there.

“You don’t know?” he repeats. “Didn’t you get a visa? A return ticket?”

I turn my head to look at him. “I have dual citizenship. I don’t need one. My um, father, is from the UK.”

“Oh,” he says, looking slightly uncomfortable, “I ah… heard you tell Connie your family passed. I’m sorry to hear that.” We lock eyes for a moment. He’s so sincere that I break the connection, suddenly uncomfortable with the lie.

To cut a long story short, my mother went to London for some business meeting when she was in her early thirties. When she came home, she was pregnant with me. The catch? She was already married to the man I always thought was my father.

I never understood why I was treated differently from my siblings until after I was kicked out of home and ordered a copy of my birth certificate. My real father is some British guy called Daniel Ashdown. It explains so much about my life. I always thought my parents looked at me with disappointment in their eyes because I wasn’t the star athlete or pupil my siblings were. Now, I think it was sadness; sadness for a lost love and sadness because I was a constant reminder of an infidelity.

I’m going to London to find out who the other half of my biology belongs to. I don’t know what I’ll do once I see him. I don’t even know what I’m expecting. But, I need to know who he is because he’s affected my life insurmountably without ever meeting me. Maybe seeing him will give me a sense of closure, finality? I’ve been through a tonne of counselling over the last few years while I dealt with the traumas in my past. And while I’ve accepted what happened to me, I feel that finding my biological father is the missing piece of an intricate puzzle. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking? But it’s something I need to do.

I press my lips together in a tight smile. “I don’t like to talk about my family, but thank you.” He looks away and I pick at my breakfast again.

We could sit here in silence. The dead family is a pretty excellent conversation stopper. And it’s normally exactly what I want, but in this case I find myself turning back to him and asking questions of my own. Maybe it’s because I know that when we get off this plane this connection will be over? So talking to him feels safe-ish. I don’t know. I don’t hate people. I just struggle to connect with them. I’m too wary.

“How long are you in London for, Elliot?”

“Three months,” he answers quickly, his eyes brightening. “I’m working at one of the big health clubs in the gym.”

“Are you an instructor or something?”

He nods. “Personal trainer. I saw online that you can go over there for a working holiday. So I signed up, found a flat with some other Aussies, and here I am.”

“What are you going to do if you find yourself in the UK and then you have to leave it all behind?”

He lets his head fall against the back of his seat, looks up and shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought it through that far.”

Elliot

Shit. Now I’m worried. What does happen if I find myself and then I have to leave and go back to my old life? Do I lose it? I look over at her, and she’s studying me. It feels like she’s trying to figure me out. Like I’m some kind of exotic animal she’s never seen before. Strangely, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I kind of enjoy having her eyes on me, even if they’re always assessing.

“So, you’ve already sorted out a job and a place to stay?” she asks, moving the conversation along.

“Um, yeah, a friend of a friend is in a share house with a spare room. So I’m moving in there. It’s like, five minutes from a train station. Easy commute for work.”

She nods, looking slightly impressed. “It’s good you have everything mapped out.”

“What about you?”

She laughs. “I obviously didn’t think this through as well as you did. I have a room booked for a couple of weeks at a cheap and probably very nasty hotel. I'll look for work when I get there.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“A little bit of everything,” she says with a vague shrug, just as the flight attendant comes past for our trays.

I check my watch. We only have another half-hour before we’re due to land. My leg bounces up and down. Fuck I’m nervous. This past year has been full of change. I’m twenty-seven and it’s taken till now for me to be fully independent. I’ve never been one to do things by half measures so I’ve been pushing and pushing to keep my pace moving forwards. It’s not easy starting again. It’s not easy stepping out of your comfort zone. It’s not easy living with twenty-five years worth of regret.

I keep talking to try to keep calm.

Paige

“A little bit of everything,” he repeats. “What kind of job will that get you?”

“The kind I apply for, I suppose.” I offer a smile as I insert the buds back into my ears. That’s enough conversation for one day.

I blast Stone Temple Pilots until the seatbelt sign lights up, removing my headphones as the captain’s voice comes over the speakers, telling us we’re making our descent into London’s Heathrow Airport.

“The weather on the ground is cold and overcast so I hope you brought your jackets. It’ll be a bit of a shock to the system after Sydney’s recent heatwave. On behalf of myself and the cabin crew, we hope you’ve had a pleasant flight. Cabin crew, please prepare to land.”

“Here we go,” Elliot says, as he clips in his seat belt. “Did you bring a jacket?”

I nod and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I desperately need this fresh start away from everything that’s defined me until now. When you get kicked out of home at fifteen, you fall into a lot of different situations in an effort to take care of yourself. No matter how hard I worked to change my lot, people from the past kept popping up with their long memories, reminding me what I once was, of everything I lost. When I get to London, the reminders will stop. I’ll just be Paige, the girl from Australia. I don’t need to be any more than that.

Four

Elliot

Waiting at the baggage claim, I look around to see if I can find Paige. I lost her as we went through our passport checks. I spot her as she hauls her bag off the carousel and starts to wheel it away.

“Paige,” I call after her. She stops and looks around for the source of her name, eventually spotting me.

She smiles slightly, and I feel lucky all of a sudden. “Elliot. Have you found your bags?”

I look at the crowded carousel and shake my head. “Not yet. I just wanted to say bye, I guess. Maybe see which direction you're headed. We could share a cab?”

She shakes her head. “There’s no need. There’s a shuttle bus that’ll take me where I’m staying.”

My hopes deflate as I realise this is it. Goodbye. I’ve really enjoyed her company—even though she didn’t talk much. “Oh, well… maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

She smiles again, her eyes telling me she thinks I’m naïve. “I doubt that, Elliot. London is a lot bigger than Sydney. It was nice to meet you though. Good luck finding yourself.” She lifts her bag and walks away, waving over her shoulder as I stand here doing nothing and watch her walk out of my life.

* * *

Paige

My room is tiny. I can take four steps in one direction and only three in the other. There’s a small wardrobe, a minuscule desk and chair, and a single bed with a polka-dot quilt on top. The carpet is royal blue, and the walls are stark white. It's clean and doesn’t have any funky odours hanging about, so for that I’m thankful. I’ve stayed in some disgusting motels in my time. Cleanliness is the top of my pre-requisite list, and this place wins.

I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and lie down, the jet lag already seeping in and dragging my eyes closed. I sit up, not wanting to fall asleep and ruin my night by being wide awake. With no TV in my room, I would like to spend it sleeping.

Reaching into my bag, I find the folder of papers I’d printed out before I left Australia. I’m a trained hairdresser, so I made a list of salons to call about work in an area close to the city I can afford to live in. I’ve done some research on share accommodation, but I got really confused with what the different ‘zones’ mean. I’m planning to have a look around to see what’s what tomorrow. But for today, I’ll make phone calls to enquire about a job. I have limited funds, so a job is a high priority.

Leaving my room, I head for the hotel shop, sucking in my breath when I'm blasted by cold air the moment I open the main door to cross the small courtyard. Still hugging myself against the cold, I purchase a prepaid phone card and return to my room to activate it. The first place I call is a shop called ‘Stylz’ in Waterloo.

Elliot

I get out of the black cab in front of the block of flats I’m staying in and look around. It feels so strange knowing it’s the end of January but feeling so freaking freezing. Lifting my bag, I climb the short flight of concrete steps leading up to the rendered white building and press the button for number twelve.

“Hello?” A female voice with an Australian accent, crackles through the intercom.

“Hi, it’s Elliot. I just arrived from the airport.”

“Of course, I’ll just buzz you in.”

As I hear the buzz from the entry door, I push. “Got it, thanks,” I call out.

“Great, see you up here,” she says, I can hear the clunk over the intercom as she replaces the handset.

As I ascend the stairs, I can’t get that stupid Abba song out of my head. It’s the name of the town I’m staying in, Waterloo. I hope I get over that fast because I’m not an Abba fan and three months with that song in my head is gonna drive me mad.

A petite blonde girl waits at the door when I round the corner, she’s wearing jeans and a woollen turtleneck. Her brown eyes widen when she sees me, and I get the sense I’ll need to keep my distance from her now that I have put my screwing around days behind me. Unless she wants to screw around… I shake away the thought. Bad, Elliot. Your dick’ll fall off.

“Wow. You must be Elliot. I’m Naomi. Stephanie told me you were good-looking but wow.” Her mouth is actually open. I think this girl might be missing a filter or something.

“Hey.” I nod, walking into the flat as she steps to the side, but only enough so I have to brush past her. She even places a hand on my bicep and squeezes.

“Nice,” she says, meeting my eyes with a wicked glint in hers. “Let me show you where your room is then I’ll give you the tour.” Naomi leads me through the lounge room where another guy and girl are sitting draped across each other watching TV.

“Hi mate, you must be Elliot,” the scruffy-looking guy says. He’s wearing tracksuit pants that have a massive hole in the knee, and a hoodie that's also seen better days. His dark-brown hair is sticking up all over the place, and I’m not sure if he has a beard, or just hasn’t bothered to shave for a few days. He gets up to shake my hand. “I’m Gavin and this is Petra.” He indicates the tiny girl with a dark-brown pixie haircut, and large chocolate coloured almond eyes set in a face with small but pointed features. She gives me a finger wave but remains seated.

I nod at both of them as I shake Gavin’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you both,” I respond.

“I’m just showing him to his room,” Naomi tells Gavin, who nods his understanding and doesn’t hesitate before he flops back on the couch.

I follow Naomi down a hallway with four doors leading off it. She stops at the second one on the left and opens it. Inside are two single beds, two wardrobes, and some mess. That’s all. One bed is unmade and there are clothes on the end.

“You’re sharing with Brian. He's at work right now. But he’ll be home by dinner. You’ll meet him then.”

I nod again and rest my suitcase on the end of the second bed. I didn’t realise I was sharing a room with someone, but whatever. It’s only three months.

Naomi is standing in the doorway watching me unzip my bag while she twists, side to side, happily twirling her hair around her fingers. I pause my unpacking and look at her with raised eyebrows.

“Do you want me to show you around?” she asks.

Straightening up, I look at her and place my hands on my hips. “I think I’ll be OK. It’s pretty much kitchen, living area, bedrooms and bathroom at the end right?”

“Well, yeah,” she says, giggling a little. “But I could show you my room.”

“We just met.”

She shrugs. “Yeah. But time is limited. No sense beating around the bush when you might only get one chance.”

I can’t help but smile at her logic. She’s cute. Pretty in the ‘girl next door’ way. My dick even twitches a little, disappointed in me for the lack of exercise I’ve been offering it lately. Down, boy.

“Thank you, Naomi,” I say, placing my hand on the door. “But I think I’ll pass.”

“Well, I’m just at the end of the hall if you change your mind.” She walks back from the door, maintaining eye contact until I’ve closed it on her. When I’m alone, I blow out my breath, walking away the gentle blood flow waking up my crotch. This reinventing myself thing will be harder than I thought. I’m just a man after all.

Paige

Wow, that was easy. I have a trial shift set up already. Tomorrow. Shit, now I’m petrified I won’t find my way there, or that I will get a terrible case of jet lag and cut some poor person’s ear off during the trial. Crap. Bouncing my legs up and down, I look at my phone screen and notice it’s picking up a Wi-Fi signal. When I select it, it has the name of the hotel I’m staying at, and blessedly it connects with no password.

I search for a trip planner to tell me how to get to Waterloo Station. The salon is in one of the shop fronts housed in the actual station, so finding it shouldn’t be hard. But, it will be over an hour’s journey. I’ll need to make sure my phone is fully charged so I'll have something to do.

I’m wishing I had sprung a few extra pounds for one of the rooms with a television. I have games and books on my phone, but it would be nice to kick back and watch something when I can’t sleep—which is often. Lonely nights in the dark are the worst. Maybe I should download Netflix…

Five

Elliot

“Here's to Elliot he's True Blue!

He's a Piss Pot through and through.

He's a legend so they say.

He meant to go heaven, but he went the other way!

He’s going down! Down! Down! Down! Down!”

I skol my beer without taking a breath, and the singing erupts into cheers when I hold up my empty pint glass. My new flat mates are the loudest people in the entire pub. Which is a pretty good effort because the whole place is noisy. There’s a football game on the telly, and the whole place is a cacophony of sound. It’s fucking great.

“Welcome to London, mate,” Gavin says, hanging over my shoulder after he plonks another beer on the table in front of me. I’m going to have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow, but I pick it up and drink, anyway. You only live once, right?

My arrival called for a celebration as far as Gavin was concerned, and the moment everyone got home, we took the five-minute walk to Waterloo station and jumped on the train—or maybe I should call it the ‘Tube’ now—to London Bridge and came to a place called the Southwark Tavern. It’s amazing. I feel like I’m in a movie or something, because pubs don’t look like this in Australia. Well, not any I’ve come across, anyway.

It’s on a corner and has this round-tiled façade with lead-light windows and these old-style lamps that look like the old gas lamps that had to be lit manually every night. I feel like taking photos, but don’t want to stand out as a tourist when everyone else acts like they belong here. Inside it’s wood panelling as far as the eye could see with leather-cushioned bar stools set around high tables.

“How’d you enjoy your first meal in an English pub?” Naomi asks, taking the stool beside me when Gavin vacates it. He’s jumped up to get a closer look at the big screen, making lots of ‘Aw’ and ‘Ar’ noises along with everyone else.

“Better than the plane food. And better than anything I could ever cook.”

She leans on her elbow and plays with her earring, giving me her undivided attention. “Not much of a cook?”

I shake my head.

“I can teach you if you like. We all take turns putting on the evening meal. I’ll show you a few tricks when it’s yours.”

I meet her eyes. She’s forward. Really forward. Everything about her positioning—solid eye contact, tongue touching her teeth, chest out—says she’s available if I want her. As the beer takes over my mind, I’m struggling not to curb my interest.

“Tricks, huh?”

“I have a lot of them,” she says. “In all areas of life. I can show you those too.”

A grin pulls at my mouth as I force my gaze to the drink in front of me. I’m interested. Fuck, I’m interested. “I’m trying to be good here.”

“I don’t want you to be good, Elliot. I want you to be bad.” She leans on my shoulder and now her fingers are playing with the shell of my ear, her other hand moving along my thigh. Fuck.

“This is a terrible idea.” I shake my head.

“Why resist? It’s just a little fun on your first night. Tomorrow morning we can pretend like it didn’t even happen.”

I hiss through my teeth as her hand lands on my crotch and she squeezes. “Fuck me.”

She bites at my ear. “Yes, please.”

* * *

The next morning, I roll out of bed with a thump, forgetting I’m in a single and miscalculating my space. Brian mutters something half asleep and rolls over to face the wall. The room smells like stale booze.

Trudging out of our shared room, I head to the bathroom and relieve myself. Then I gulp water from the tap like I’ve just spent a year in the desert. The cotton mouth is serious this morning.

“Ugh.” I look like shit.

Splashing water on my face, I grab my toothbrush out of my toiletries bag and run it around my mouth, groaning the whole time because this is death. I’m never drinking again.

That’s a lie. I totally will.

“Almost done in there?” A knock raps against the door, hurting my brain. “I’m busting.”

Reaching out, I flick the lock on the door and Naomi comes bursting in, dropping on the toilet with a groan as I spit out my mouthful of toothpaste.

“I was about to tell you I’d be done in a minute. Is this where we are now?” I ask, glancing at her through the mirror as the sound of her pee echoes in the small room.

“One bathroom. Six people. Get used to it.”

Shaking my head, I rinse my toothbrush and wash my mouth before clearing the sink then getting out of there. This will be a learning experience for me. I’m not used to sharing my space.

All up there are six of us in a three bedroom flat, so two in every room. I’m with Brian; he's an accountant working in the city. He seems all right. He's a small mousy-looking guy with glasses and a pointed nose. Naomi and Petra are the only two girls, and they share the largest room, while Gavin and a guy called Shane share the third. Shane looks like your typical Aussie surfer stereotype. He's a little shorter than me—around six foot—has longish blond hair, blue eyes and a medium build. He talks in a slow laid-back manner, sounding as though he spent a lot of his teen years with a bong in his hand. He says he works in advertising; doing what, I have no idea.

Work-wise, the rest of them are all in hospitality, either behind the bar or waiting tables at a restaurant. I guess that means the flat will rarely have all of us there at the same time. A good thing, I guess, it was pretty crowded here last night when we got back from the pub. Another good thing, because it meant that Naomi, and I didn’t end up sleeping together. In the cold light of my hungover morning, I’m really fucking happy for that. Sex always makes things awkward the next morning when that’s all you wanted from each other.

Making my way to the kitchen, I notice I’m not the only one with a sore head this morning. The lounge room is littered with bodies in a state of half-life.

“Remind me never to mix my drinks again,” Petra says as Gavin passes her a coffee.

“My liver can’t take much more of this,” he says in return.

“We could always stop. Go on a cleanse or something?”

They look at each other for a moment then burst out laughing. I just smile and grab some coffee and headache pills for myself.

“You know what we need?” Shane says, leaning back on the couch with an unlit cigarette between his lips. “A dirty-greasy Maccas breakfast. That’ll fix us up.”

“We should get it delivered,” Petra says, pulling out her mobile.

“Uber Eats. Yes,” Naomi says as she emerges from the hall. She’s wearing the oversized t-shirt she had on in the bathroom, but her hair is pulled into a neat ponytail now.

Putting our orders in, we gather around the table once it’s delivered to eat the delicious hangover cure that is McDonalds breakfast. Unsurprisingly, Naomi sits to my right. I’m not getting out of this one easy. We made out a little at the pub last night, and I have a feeling she’ll be on me until she gets what she wants. I like that she’s bold. But she’s a little relentless.

“I’m not working until tonight if you’d like to sightsee today,” she suggests.

“Uh, yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck as I finish the food in my mouth. “I was planning on doing one of those open-top bus tours. Sounds lame, but I start work on Monday and want to see as much as I can before then.”

“I’ll come with you,” she says with an excited pitch to her voice.

“Me too,” Shane says, his mouth full of McMuffin. “I haven’t been yet, so—” His eyes go wide and he stops mid-chew, looking from Naomi to me. “Nah, actually. I’m busy today. I can’t, um, go.”

Naomi smiles and taps him on the hand. “Maybe Coral can take you?” She turns to me. “Coral is his girlfriend. You’ll meet her soon.”

“She busts my balls, but she does this thing in the sack where she—”

Petra clears her throat exaggeratingly loud. “Not while we’re eating, Shane!”

* * *

Naomi and I get to Waterloo station before most of the shop fronts have opened for the day. It kind of reminds me of the train stations in the City Circle back home. It’s a mini shopping centre.

As we follow the signs to the station entrance, I’m surprised when I see a girl who looks just like Paige. She’s standing in front of a hairdresser and I almost stop and go to her. But I think I’m mistaken. This girl’s hair is sleek and straight, not that mass of curls that Paige has. It sure feels like her though.

“We’ve got about ten minutes before the train gets here,” Naomi says, pulling my attention away. “Just enough time to grab tickets.”

I assume I need to pick up the pace. Shooting a glance over my shoulder, I look at the Paige lookalike again and fill with disappointment. It makes me realise how much I wish I could see her again. And how shitty I’m being even entertaining the idea of sleeping with Naomi.

Paige

I’m a little on the early side for my trial shift at Stylz. The roller door isn’t even up yet. Eager much? The shopfront is inside on the main level of the station, so at least I’m not standing outside in the cold, freezing my arse off while I wait for the manager to turn up.

I run my hands over my hair to make sure everything is in place. I used plenty of product and straightened it to a glossy shine. When I do my hair this way, I feel like I should be in a Shampoo ad, flicking my hair around and talking about how fabulous my conditioner is. But, fuck I’m nervous.

Thankfully, I’m not left stewing in my nerves long before a girl comes walking towards me while fiddling with a set of keys. Her smile is friendly and her curly black hair bounces as she walks. As she gets closer, she extends her hand. “You must be Paige. I’m Andrea. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

Reaching out to take her hand, I smile brightly. It’s show time. “Hi Andrea, it’s lovely to meet you,” I say as I look her over. She has a small, slim build and smooth light brown skin with dark chocolate-coloured eyes. On closer inspection, I notice her hair has red highlights scattered through it. She wears little more than lip gloss for makeup and is dressed in a pair of black pants and a fitted shirt with ‘stylz’ written in poison green letters across the bust.

Unlocking the roller door, she presses a button and we stand back to watch it rise. “Were you waiting long?” she asks.

“I literally just got here.”

The inside is like any other salon you’d visit, with chairs and magazines in front of a reception counter. It kind of reminds me of the Just Cuts I used to go to before I started my apprenticeship.

“You called at the perfect time,” she says, as she bustles around preparing to open. “My other stylist up and quit on me two days ago, and I’ve been run off my feet. The other girl, Amanda, can’t do Wednesday through Friday, so I’ve had no one. We get a lot of walk-ins in this location, so I’ve had to turn people away.”

“That can't be good for business,” I respond astutely.

“It's not.” She walks over to me with a t-shirt in hand. “Here, put this on. We have a fairly busy morning ahead of us. I really hope you’re good because I booked knowing I’d have you here today.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I mean, I’ll be fine. I’ve worked in busy salons before.”

“So you’re in the UK indefinitely did you say?”

“I did. I have dual citizenship, so there’s no visa to force me back.”

“What made you want to leave Australia? It sounds like the ideal.”

“Time for a change,” I say, leaving it at that. She tilts her head in a ‘fair enough’ gesture then directs me around the salon to help her get things ready. When we flip the sign to say we are open, there’s already a customer waiting.

Elliot

God, I wish we had open top buses in Sydney. It'd be so much better traveling with the sun shining down on you than inside a closed off vehicle that smells like damp socks. It’d suck in the rain though. ;

“I have been here a whole month and I haven't seen any of this stuff ,” Naomi says, holding her phone out to snap a selfie of her and me in front of Big Ben. “These are all going in my Instagram story.” Fantastic. She’s an insta-girl.

“I don't do social media much,” I say, taking a few shots myself. I have Facebook but that's about it. I don’t even use that much.”

“But you'll put these photos on it, won’t you?”

“Well, yeah. How else is my mum gonna see them and show my gramma?”

She scoffs out a laugh. “Oh my God. You’re adorable. You’re supposed to put this stuff online to make all your past enemies jealous because you’re off living your best life while they’re trapped behind a desk somewhere slowly selling their soul to corporate greed.”

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this.”

She stands up and takes a photo of herself fake laughing as we pull up near Buckingham Palace. “The people I went to school with were arseholes. Most of them are already married and popping out kids. And the rest went from high school to uni to work. I don’t think a single one kept following their dreams.” She sits back down and focuses on posting her photo. "Actually, no. That’s a lie. One guy in my grade is still chasing his dream. He’s in a band but it’s like his side hustle. A couple of the girls me and Stephanie used to hang with, follow him like groupies. Pretty lame. But I guess they figure if Matari—that’s the band name—make it big, they'll get a front-row seat on the world tour.” She holds her phone out for me to see the screen. “That’s them.” I’m looking at a photo of some guy on stage, his mouth open while he sings into the microphone with his eyes closed.

“Why is his guitar on his back?” He’s wearing it like a backpack.

“Because they’re using the piano in this song. His brother is playing it off to the side.”

“Are you friends with the brother too?”

“Nah. We barely know each other.”

“As you think their band has what it takes?”

“I don't know. I think it needs a little something else. Like strings or a feminine backing vocal. They’ve got a good following, gigs most weekends. They kind of sound like Muse and Damien Rice had a baby. And if that baby would do a Billie Eilish and pair up with someone like Khalid, they’d kill it.”

I’m watching her mouth move but I’m not sure I understand what’s coming out. “I know Muse but I'm not sure on the rest of them, so I'll take your word for it.”

She shrugs and returns to taking tourist photos. "Music is kind of my thing. I get a bit carried away sometimes.”

“Your thing? As in you create it? Or you enjoy listening to it?”

“Both. But I'm taking a break from creating. I lost my joy.”

“That sucks.”

“Sure does.” She turns her camera on me and watches the screen as she talks. “What’s your passion, Elliot?”

“Fitness.” I grin. “Boring, huh?”

“Nothing’s boring when it feeds our soul, Elliot.”

We see pretty much every landmark you’ve ever seen on TV. It’s astounding to see them all in real life, and even though you recognise them all, they’re now a three-dimensional object in your mind instead of the filtered media image you normally associate them with. It’s lunch by the time we’re finished, so Naomi and I find a café to have something to eat.

“I can’t believe I’ve waited so long to do that,” Naomi says, in between bites of her open sandwich.

Nodding, I chew my mouthful of steak sandwich, waiting until I can swallow to speak. “It was number one on my list.”

“I’m glad I got to join you. Thanks for letting me tag along,” she responds.

“It was nice talking to you without all the innuendo if I'm honest.”

She laughs. “Figured an open-top bus wasn’t the best place to try to jump your bones.”

“There she is.” I laugh, as I flick through my photos before I post them to my Facebook page. There is already a message on my wall from my mother reminding me to send her my UK phone number. I remind her I installed Skype on her computer and phone, but private message her my number, anyway.

“I really love it here,” Naomi says, taking a deep breath before she chatters away about all the culture and history in London. But I’m not really listening, a woman with wild curly brown hair just walked past, and now I can’t stop thinking about the woman I saw at the station earlier. The more I think about it, the more I think that girl was Paige. Which would be nuts. In a city of eight million people, what are the odds of us settling in the same area?

I suddenly feel a great need to return and push back from the table. Naomi stops speaking mid-sentence and looks at me in wide-eyed surprise.

“I’m ready to go back. I’ll see you there?” It sounds like a question but I'm actually telling her.

“Oh,” she says looking around at her half-finished food. “Um, but we’re not finished yet.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You stay. I’ll go alone.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She frowns, and now I’m feeling like an arse.

“No. Not at all. I just have some stuff I want to do.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just come back with you now.” She gathers her things off the table, and I pick up her bag, handing it to her.

“Tell me about your music,” I say once we’re seated on the train. “Do you play an instrument?”

“I play the violin.”

“Classically?”

“Classic, modern; if you can play it on a fiddle, it's something I can do.”

My brow shoots up. “I didn’t expect that”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Piano?”

She smiles. “I can play piano too.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

“I went to a performing arts high school. I dabbled.”

We chat about her school days all the way back to Waterloo. I’m enjoying talking to her without the flirting. It’s helping me think with my head instead of my dick, and I’m even more glad we didn’t fuck last night. I would have missed out on getting to know her if we did. I think I want to keep her as a friend. Especially when my mind keeps straying, thinking about Paige instead of listening to Naomi. That alone says something.

“I’m thinking of getting my hair cut. You think you can head back to the flat without me?” I ask as we walk towards the hair salon. Nerves build up inside my chest as I stop walking and look in, hoping the girl I saw is still there. When my eyes find her, I watch her movement as she talks to a customer while taking their money at the counter. I’m now positive it’s Paige. She’s smiling and animated and well, beautiful. An odd feeling overcomes me as I watch her. It’s like I’m being enveloped in some sort of mist, and she’s the only person I can see around me.

“Do you know her?” Naomi asks from beside me. Turning towards her voice, I need to blink a couple of times before she comes into my focus.

“What?” I ask in return.

“That girl in there, do you know her?”

“I think I do,” I say. “I met her on the plane.”

“Small world,” she says. “Is she why you want a haircut?”

My eyes settle on her soft brown gaze before I nod. “I want to know her.” It would be cruel to be anything other than honest here.

“I see,” she says, forcing a smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s there to be sorry about?” She reaches out and nudges my arm. “My offer is still on the table. You know, in case chasing her falls through.” I can’t help but smile as she gives me a wink then tells me she’ll see me at home.

Paige

“Just make sure you keep up your weekly treatments. You've over bleached your…” I stop talking as the bell above the door jingles and a person I never expected to see again walks through. Betraying my mind, my stomach flits about happily as I look back to the customer and try to finish. “Sorry. You’ve over bleached your hair. We’ll have to cut it really short if you don’t take good care of it.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” she says as I hand her the bag full of products she’s just purchased.

“That will all help it stay in good condition until your next appointment,” I say before bidding her farewell.

As I watch her walk out the door, I have to force myself to look over at Elliot. I don’t know why, but it’s really freaking me out that he’s standing in front of me, smiling like we’re long-lost friends.

“Long time no see,” he says with that gorgeous smile of his.

“If you call yesterday morning a long time ago,” I state. “Are you here for a haircut? Or are you just passing through?”

He looks at the other customers sitting on the chairs waiting. “Um, yeah. I want a haircut. Can you fit me in?”

“Ah,” I cut my eyes to the clock upon the wall while I think. “It could take a good hour. I have two clients ahead of you.”

Drumming his hands on the counter, he nods. “That’s fine. I'll wait.”

Six

Paige

“You know that guy who's been waiting for an hour?” Andrea says behind me as I blow dry my current client’s hair. I nod in response, still focusing on curling the brush to create enough volume.

“Well… he’s asleep.”

“What?” I laugh incredulously, turning my head slightly to spot him in a chair with his head slumped on his chest. Oh wow.

“You think I should wake him?”

“No. He flew in on the same flight as me yesterday. Probably jet lagged. I’ll get him when I’m done here.”

When I finish up with my client, I walk her to the counter, quickly offering her some product, but not caring if she takes any. I can’t seem to stop my eyes from flitting constantly to the sleeping figure in the waiting area.

The moment she leaves, I walk over to Elliot and stand in front of him as I contemplate how best to wake him.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Andrea calls out in one of those whispers that might as well be a yell. “I want to witness this.” She stands beside me and adjusts her shirt as she prepares herself.

“What are you doing?” She looks like she’s getting ready to catch a ball or something.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, laughing a little. “Just wake him. Wait. Do you think I should film it?”

“What? No.”

“You’re right. That would be mean.” She pulls out her phone. “I’ll just take a couple of pictures.”

Elliot

I jerk my head up as a loud clapping sound startles me awake. Wait. I was asleep? Slowly, my eyes focus and I’m met by the sight of Paige and her co-worker standing in front of me, smiling their arses off. The co-worker takes a couple of pictures. Great.

“Jetlag can be a bitch, huh?” Paige comments. “You still want that haircut?”

I scratch my head and stand up, stretching to bring myself fully awake. “Yeah, I still want that haircut,” I reply through a yawn. "Won't mind you getting rid of those pictures too.”

The co-worker shakes her head. “Nah-uh. I need these to show my sister while we laugh about you later. They might also go on our Instagram to show our customers how comfy our waiting area is.”

“Always bloody Instagram,” I mutter as Paige inclines her head towards the wash basins. I follow her over, taking the seat she points to.

“Not a social media fan?” She places a towel around my neck and gets me to lean back against the hard porcelain.

“Hate it. I prefer talking in person.”

As she turns the water on and tests the temperature on the back of her hand she says, “Try not to fall asleep on me. I don’t want to have to pull your hair to wake you up.”

I laugh. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

God, I love getting my hair washed by a hairdresser. The way they massage your head is brilliant. Knowing it’s Paige doing the massaging makes it that much better.

“All right, sit up,” she instructs as she throws a towel over my head and dries it off. Once finished, she walks me over to a chair and drapes a waterproof cape over my clothes, securing it around my neck.

“Just a trim? Or you going for a whole new style?” she asks.

“I have no idea, what do you think?”

She smiles to herself, and I think I catch an eye roll. “Well, if it were up to me, I’d shave it off. I like very short hair on guys,” she replies, her eyes on me via the mirror.

“How short are we talking?” I ask, suddenly worried she might try to shave my head bald.

“A number four,” she tells me, and I can see the challenge in her eye.

I look at my hair in the mirror. It's gotten long to the point that it gets in my eyes and almost touches my shoulders. “Number four it is,” I say seriously, holding her eyes in the mirror.

She raises her eyebrows slightly and nods, preparing the clippers to buzz all of my hair off. I’m a little nervous, but hair grows back… right?

Paige

I really didn’t think he’d go for it. Truthfully, I don’t care how long or short a guy’s hair is, but I enjoy the way it feels when it’s short and you run your hand over the spikes. My very first relationship was with a guy with cropped hair, and before it went to shit, playing with his hair was my favourite thing to do. So it wasn’t a total lie.

As I lift the clippers towards Elliot’s hair, I look at him in the mirror. “Are you sure?” He looks at me and nods confidently, so I take the strip of hair away straight down the middle of his head.

“Reverse Mohawk,” he says.

“Can’t change your mind now.”

He laughs. “I don’t want to.”

I run the clippers slowly through his hair, watching as his golden locks cascade over his shoulders and slide down the cape to the floor.

“Where are you staying?” he asks.

“Heathrow, near the airport. I’m there for a couple of weeks until I find a share house. First stop was a job though.”

“You got a job in a day?”

“I got a trial in a day.”

“She got a job in a day,” Andrea interrupts. “As long as she wants it.”

I pause and smile at Andrea. “Really? Thank you, Andrea.”

“Well, you’re good and I need help. It’s a win win.” She winks at me and carries some wet towels into the back room.

“Congratulations,” Elliot says, smiling.

“Thank you.” I can’t help but smile back. I’m so glad the job part is sorted out now.

“Can I take you to dinner to celebrate?”

“Oh… I don’t know about that,” I hesitate, as I finish neatening his hair and put the clippers down. I reach for a soft powdered brush to flick away the excess hair on his neck.

“You don’t want to celebrate? Or you don’t want to celebrate with me?”

Gliding my hand over the short spikes, a delicious chill runs through me. I touch him—perhaps a little more than I should—as I take a deep breath. I need to put a stop to this. “Listen, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here.”

“And what idea is that?”

“I see the way you look at me.”

“How do I look at you?”

“Like I make you hungry. But I can’t give you what you want. You’re a great-looking guy. I'd be a fool not to notice that, but I need to be clear—I’m not the girl for you.”

He sits up and spins his chair so he’s facing me now. “Oh wow. You’re mistaking my literal hunger for sexual hunger—I skipped lunch. And while I’m flattered you think I’m so great looking, you’ve got the wrong idea about me. I think it would be pointless to start anything with anyone. Especially with you. I only have three months, and you’re here indefinitely. However, you’re the first girl I’ve met in a long time that doesn’t giggle every time I speak. So I like you, I’d like to get to know you… if you’ll let me. As friends.”

“I don’t know.” I take a step back.

“Oh god, girl,” Andrea interrupts. “A fit man like that offers to feed you and you turn him down?” She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “Nah-uh. I’m not letting you do that. Go and be young and free. It’s your second day in the country and all you’ve done is sleep and work. Go.”

I sigh as I narrow my eyes at Elliot. “Only friends?”

“Only friends,” he says.

I’m not sure I believe him. But, I have to admit that I am hungry, and he is the only other person I know in town besides my boss.  “All right. We can have dinner.”

Andrea cheers.

Elliot

“Tell you what,” I say, getting up from the seat. “I’ll take you to the flat I’m staying in, and we can see what everyone else is doing. It can’t possibly be a date that way. Plus, you’ll get to meet some new people. Maybe they know someone looking for a flat mate?”

I can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she considers my proposal. “Where are you staying?”

“About a five-minute walk from here.”

“OK, fine. Just give me time to finish up, and I’ll meet you outside.” She walks me to the register, and I pay for my haircut. I can’t stop running my hand back and forward over my head. It feels strange and awesome all at the same time.

She’s smiling as she watches me do it. “Feels good, huh?”

“It does,” I admit. “I’ll see you when you’re through?” She nods, and I walk out the door as she flips the sign to ‘closed’ behind me. I’m waiting maybe ten minutes before she comes out with her bag.

“That was fast,” I point out.

“I got let off early for being such a good worker.”

“Lucky you.”

“No, lucky you. You would have been waiting for a good thirty minutes otherwise.”

“I don’t mind. Listen, don’t take this as flirting, but I like your hair this way… it’s pretty. I mean, I like it curly. I like it both ways actually… maybe I just like your hair.” I laugh nervously, tripping over my words and sounding kind of dopey.

She smiles back. “Normally I would definitely take that as flirting, but since you were so clear that it wasn’t, I will take it as it is—you like my hair. Although I’ll admit, now that your hair is short, I like yours too.” She reaches her hand up and rubs it over the fuzz that covers my head.

“You didn’t like it longer?”

She shakes her head vigorously and scrunches up her face.

“It was that bad?” I ask, surprised.

“No, not that bad. I just don’t like long hair on guys.”

“Why not? Did you date a guy with long hair who broke your heart or something?” I ask as a joke.

“Or something,” she replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That was a dick thing to say.” I’m kicking myself for saying the wrong thing.

She chuckles a little. “It’s fine, Elliot. Nothing happened with a long-haired guy. Cropped hair is simply my personal preference.”

“Really? Well, that was kind of mean, making me think I took you to a bad place. Not cool, Paige. Not cool,” I tease light-heartedly.

When she smiles at me again, I’ve found my new addiction. Paige seems to have some sort of sadness emanating out of her, so when she smiles, it feels special. I wonder if getting her to laugh will feel like winning the lottery…

Approaching the block of flats, I point ahead and dig for my keys in my pocket.

“That’s it, the white one?” she asks.

“Sure is,” I tell her.

“What’s it like inside?”

“Cramped, but nice. You’ll see.”

Paige

Elliot leads me up a few flights of stairs until we reach a cream-coloured door with a brass ‘12’ attached to it above a peephole. Using his manners, he opens the door for me, and I smile as I step inside. I’m really not used to spending time around courteous men. This is unusual.

I can hear loud voices and laughter coming from the living area. I move to the side and let Elliot go ahead of me so he can make the introductions. I don’t want to look like some random who walked in off the street.

“Hey everyone, what’s happening?” he says as he enters the room.

“Hey man, oh my god! You shaved your head,” one guy points out before moving straight on. “We’re just deciding what to do tonight. No one wants to cook, so we’re thinking of heading down to the pub for something easy.”

“Or,” another guy interrupts. “We’re thinking of getting Indian. There’s a debate over what’s best. We are a house divided.” He tilts his head as he looks from Elliot to me. “Hello there, I’m Gavin.”

“Paige,” I say, nodding at him.

Elliot does a quick introduction around the room. “We’re only missing one person, Naomi. Did she come back?”

“She’s at work,” Petra says, tucking her leg beneath her on the couch. She reminds me of a pixie.

After a small discussion, it’s decided that everyone will just go to the closest pub, which is also the place where their other roommate works.

“So, Paige,” Gavin says, as we walk towards the pub as a group. “How do you know our Elliot?”

“Oh…I wouldn’t say I know him. We met on the plane and just kind of bumped into each other again.”

“You met on the plane? Are you a Sydney girl too?”

“Kind of, not Sydney city, but not too far out. What about you? I’m going to peg you for a Brisbane boy.”

He raises his eyebrows, an impressed look on his face. “Very close, Paige. I’m from the Goldcoast, Nerang to be exact. How did you know?”

“I’m a hairdresser. I meet a lot of people, so I’ve learned how to pick the different accents.”

“That’s a good skill to have,” he says thoughtfully as Petra moves in beside him and links arms.

“What’s a good skill?” she asks.

“Paige can tell where you’re from in Australia based on your accent.”

“Really? Where am I from?” she asks.

“Melbourne,” I tell her without hesitation.

“Correct,” she smiles.

“Here we are,” Brian says as we come to a stop outside a pub called, The Hole in the Wall. It’s aptly named because there's what looks like a storm pipe coming through the wall near the roof. I wonder if it was always there and inspired the name or whether they added it to justify the name when they built the place.

As we file inside and head toward a table, everyone waves at the blonde behind the bar. Her smile isn’t as bright when it lands on me, so I nod and smile kindly at her, not wanting to ruffle any feathers.

Elliot pulls out my chair for me, and I look at him with raised eyebrows. “Seriously?” I ask.

He shakes his head and laughs. “I’m sorry. I was simply using the manners my mother taught me.”

“Well then, tell your mother I said thank you,” I say as I take the seat he offers.

“I will,” he says, before turning to the guys to discuss our all-important drink choices, and who is shouting the first round.

“All right,” Brian says. “I’ll go first round. Paige, what are you drinking?”

“Oh, just a coke for me, please.”

“You sure you don’t want something a little stronger?”

“No thanks. Coke’s fine.”

“All right. Petra, what are you having?” he asks moving his way around the table until he has everybody’s choice. Elliot gets up to help him, and I stay and chat to the others while we decide what we want to eat off the pub menu.

During dinner, I get quizzed further about where I’m from and what I’m doing in London. I try to be as vague as possible, but it’s hard to do that and not seem rude, so I deflect by asking lots of questions of my own.

“I like that accent thing you can do,” Petra says. “I always thought if you’re from Australia, your accent is just Australian. Where did you grow up?”

“Around Sydney. Are you from Melbourne city or did you grow up in one of the surrounding suburbs?”

“I’m from Templestowe. It's about twenty kilometres out of Melbourne city.”

“Did you always live there or move around?” I continue.

“I’ve been in the same place all my life. That’s why I came to London. I need a little adventure in my life.” She smiles.

“Where are you staying, Paige?” Brian asks from next to Petra.

“A hotel near the airport,” I reply.

“That’s a bit of a hike from here,” he comments. “I'll drive you back after this. Don’t catch the tube on your own.”

“You don't have to do that, I'll be fine.”

“He insists, and I'll come for the drive too. It’s no trouble,” Petra says. “Where will you be living after that?”

“I don’t know yet. I still have to find a place. I’ll start looking around here tomorrow. There has to be a share house needing someone somewhere.”

“You should come and stay with us,” Brian suggests. “Petra is going home in a week so her bed will be free.”

“Yeah that’s a great idea,” Petra adds. “It needs to be another girl because we share rooms—that’s why the rent is so low.” She stands up from her seat and cups her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Nomes! Paige is gonna be your new roomie.” Naomi lifts her head as she’s pulling a beer and makes an O shape with her mouth. Brian and Petra give her the thumbs up, not paying any attention to whether or not she’s happy about the idea.

“There you go,” Brain says, beaming at me. “It’s settled. You’ll come and stay with us.”

“Really? Well... I guess that could work out, considering my job is so close… All right then, I think I’ll have to take you up on that,” I say feeling pleased. A full-time job and a place to live sorted in one day. My luck is good right now. It’s precisely why I left Australia. To leave the anchor of my past behind. I can be a new person here. Undamaged.

“Did I just hear that right? You’re moving in?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah, in a week. Is that cool with you?” I reply.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… it’s great for me though. Five minutes from work.” I hold my fingers up in his face for added emphasis. “How awesome is that?”

He laughs, nodding his head in agreement. “It’s awesome.”

Seven

Paige

“Oh look, lover boy’s outside waiting for you again,” Andrea teases as she reconciles the receipts from the till and counts up the day’s takings.

I look up from the pile of stray hairs I'm sweeping, and there he is waiting on exactly the same spot he always is. He’s like a stray puppy: I cut his hair, had a conversation with him, and now we are best friends. I’d find it annoying if I didn’t find him so adorable. It’s a funny thing to think of a grown man—a manly man like Elliott—as adorable. But that’s what he is. It’s like he’s so untouched by the evil in the world that he’s still pure at heart. And despite my reservations, I have to admit I enjoy the five minutes of conversation I have with him at the end of my day. Andrea enjoys it too; she practically molests him with her eyes every time.

“He’s not my lover. His train gets in a little before we close and he likes to say hi since I’m moving into the flat soon. This is his way of getting to know me. Making sure I’m not a crazed serial killer or something, you know, the usual.”

Andrea laughs. “Men who look like Elliot don’t stand around in a train station after a long day at work to hang out with a potential flat mate. If I wasn’t stepping on your toes, I’d so be chasing after that boy. He’s all kinds of delicious.”

“I assure you, Andrea. My toes will not be squashed. Go for it,” I tell her flatly, focussing on attacking a stubborn piece of hair that won’t move out of the grout in the tiles.

The room feels too quiet, and when I look up, she’s watching me with her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “That broom and I both know you’re into him, Paige, you’re only trying to convince yourself that you aren’t.”

“I don’t date.”

She pushes the cash drawer closed with her hip. “Well, you should.”

Choosing to ignore her comment, I finish sweeping and deposit the small pile in the bin before I move over to wash out the basins.

“You can go home now, Paige. He's waited long enough,” Andrea says, winking at me as she walks the bundled-up cash to the back room to put into the safe.

Collecting my bag and coat from the cupboard, I head out the door, my heart beating annoyingly fast when Elliot and I lock eyes.

“Hi,” I say on a breath.

A smile creeps over his face, and I inwardly shake my head. I don’t believe for a second that he isn’t interested in me. Pity he’s barking up the wrong tree.

“Hey, stranger.” God, he has a pretty smile. “I have an invitation for you.”

“Oh?” I stop a good metre away from him, needing distance.

“We’re having a get together tomorrow night to farewell Petra, and since you’re the new housemate, everyone wanted me to invite you along.”

“OK. Where is it?”

“Not sure. It’s dinner at a restaurant, and they want to go dancing afterwards.”

“Dinner and dancing?” I bite the inside of my lip. “Like, at a club?” I haven’t been inside one for years.

“That’s the plan. I’ll meet you here after work and walk with you to the flat if you like.”

“Is this something you guys do a lot?”

He nods. “There’s been a lot of drinking so far. This is the first time dancing has been included though.”

I don’t drink. And I’ve avoided night clubs like the plague for five years. Too many memories, too many gaps in my memory. I’m not a party girl any more. But I’m also not in Sydney any more. Nobody knows me here. There’s no chance I’m going to run into somebody who remembers what I used to be. I’m just Paige. I’m a blank slate.

“I’ll come,” I say, feeling a strange sense of control as I meet his eyes.

His grin widens. “Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.” I nod, then I back away, heading for the station entrance.

“Goodbye, Paige,” he calls after me, and my stomach jumps for joy at the sound of my name on his lips. Don’t.

Not even meaning to turn around, I shoot a small smile over my shoulder as I go through the gates. I can feel him watching me. The skin on my back heats and my sides contract, reminding me to be careful. Men have the power to destroy. They offer hope, comfort and companionship. Then they use it to pull you apart piece by piece, to sell you out. I can’t forget that.

* * *

Elliot

Is it wrong that I’ve been counting down the hours and minutes until Petra leaves? I feel shitty about it because I like Petra. She’s a cool chick. I'm just happy because it means Paige is moving into the flat. Now I’ll get to see her for more than five minutes each day.

I know I sound like a lovesick fool who won’t take a hint. She’s got a massive wall up that she doesn’t want to take down. But I also know there are cracks in that wall. During every moment I persist, I see a tiny crack of light when I think she wishes those walls weren’t there. And there’s something inside me that wants to keep chipping away at those cracks until the bricks fall and I find her hidden inside there. It’s crazy. But I have to know her. And I don’t have time to be patient.

It’s only this week that I’ve understood where Naomi’s brazenness came from. Three months is a tiny amount of time when you’re chasing something.

Paige walks out of the salon a little later than normal, but she’s changed into a long-sleeve wraparound dress and a pair of heels. Her hair is straight and shiny, and she’s wearing a tiny amount of makeup, which I really like. I'm not a fan of women with big black lines around their eyes and thick lipstick. It just looks fake to me. Like they’re trying too hard or hiding themselves. I like it when they look like they’re supposed to.

Stopping in front of me, she puts her hands on her hips. “Ready?”

“Wow, you look gorgeous,” I gush. Fuck. I’m an idiot. I actually watch her walls locks in place.

She raises her brow. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” I hold my hands up, feigning innocence.

“Like you want to eat me,” she replies, completely serious.

“What? You look gorgeous. I paid you a compliment. Friends do that, right?”

She draws a tight breath. “Number one, I have a mirror. I know what I look like. When my hair isn’t styled, I look like a demented witch. When it is styled, I still look like a witch—it’s the eyes—but a well put together witch. Number two, me moving in isn’t going to change anything. You’re not going to find yourself in me, Elliot Roberts.”

I inhale the same way she did; through my nose like I’m trying to keep my cool. “Number One, you’re gorgeous and you know it. Don’t put yourself down, and number two, I like you, Paige Larsen. Deal with it.”

With her eyes narrowed, she studies me for a beat. “I’m not starting anything with you.”

“I can like you and not fuck you, Paige. Last I checked that was called being friends.” I’m not normally this blunt, but it seems the best way to communicate with her.

Regarding me thoughtfully, she nods her head. “As long as we’re clear where we stand,” she says.

“You have made yourself loud and clear, Paige Larsen. And for the record, just because a guy is being nice to you, doesn’t mean he’s trying to get inside your pants.”

“That’s not my experience,” she says, before hooking her bag over her shoulder and walking towards the exit.

“Then you’re not meeting the right kind of men,” I say, as I catch up to walk next to her. I make sure to keep my distance, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. Although, who am I kidding, she has the exact right impression.

Paige

Dinner is at some Indian restaurant. The food is superb, and it gives me a good opportunity to get to know some of the other housemates—especially Naomi, who I’m to share a room with.

I pay as much attention to her as I can, asking lots of questions about her life and complimenting her at every opportunity. I see the way she’s looking at Elliot, and I don’t want her to see me as someone who’s vying for his attention. I want us to get along.

“What made you become a hairdresser?” she asks.

“I just kind of fell into it. Do you know how hard it is to create your hair colour?” I ask her, steering the conversation so we’re focusing on her and not me.

“Really?” she asks. “I’ve never done anything with it. I was thinking of becoming a red head. You know that nice auburn colour?”

“Oh no, don’t do that. Your hair is amazing,” I tell her. She has light natural-blonde hair a little longer than her shoulders. It’s streaked with different shades of red, brown and caramel. “We try to recreate that natural blonde look for women every day, but it never looks as good as the real thing.” The way she smiles at me she’s exhibiting a new appreciation of her god-given colouring. I think I’ve just made myself a friend.

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” Elliot asks quietly at my side.

“Do what?” I question him, not understanding what he means.

“Deflect.”

Shifting uncomfortably, I meet his eyes. He needs to stop watching me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leans on the table and speaks in a low voice that only I can hear. “Sure you do. Someone asks you a question, and you give them a cryptic answer that leads to a question about them. You missed your calling as a politician or a journalist, maybe. It’s an impressive skill.”

“Hmmm.” I don’t have anything else to say, so I just smile and wink at him—I have no idea why I winked. It just seemed like the thing to do in that moment—then I turn away and begin a new conversation with Petra.

“Are you looking forward to going home?”

“Yes, and no. I miss my family. But I’m gonna miss these guys too. They’ve become like family and I’ve had so much fun living here. You’re lucky you never have to leave.”

Thank God I never have to go back.

When dinner is over, I try to beg off so I can go back to my hotel—I still don’t want to go to a nightclub—but the others won’t hear of it. “You can’t go home now,” Naomi says, hooking her arm through mine. “The fun part hasn’t even started yet.”

“Thanks, Naomi. But I still have to go back there to pack my things and be out by ten in the morning.”

“That’s easy. You can stay with us on the couch at the flat tonight, and we’ll get Shane to drive you out there and collect your things in the morning. He won’t mind.”

“Naomi, it’s…” I try to protest, but she doesn’t stay long enough to hear, rushing over to Shane and asking if he can help me out in the morning. They both give me a thumbs up and nod their heads, letting me know they have sorted everything. I love how good they are at listening…

Elliot moves in next to me. “Gee, you’d think she’d know you well enough to let you make your own choices, especially after you shared so much information about yourself earlier,” he comments, the sarcasm practically dripping off his words.

“And you know me so much better?” I say in retort.

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t know anything about you.” He walks backwards, watching me for a few steps before turning around and catching up to the other guys as we walk towards the night club.

That was really strange. He’s normally so bubbly and polite and suddenly he has an attitude? Under my skin, I quietly fume. This is exactly why I don’t trust men. They act one way with you when they want something, and the moment they realise they aren’t going to get it, they turn mean. Thanks for reaffirming that viewpoint, Elliot.

Petra and Naomi fall in either side of me and I fix my smiling mask. Reinventing myself is a huge emotional effort.

“You’re going to love this place, Paige,” Petra gushes. “There’s always great music and tons of people. We go and get drunk, and then we dance until we can’t walk anymore.”

“Sounds great.” I force out a laugh, trying to sound enthusiastic. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

“We booked a table on the mezzanine level too,” Naomi adds. “Tonight will be epic, and since you don’t have to worry about going back to your hotel, you get to cut loose with us.”

Reaching back, I run my fingers underneath the neck of my dress and along my shoulder. Keep me strong, I whisper in my mind as I shift my focus forward. You’re different now. Stronger.

Eight

Elliot

At twenty-seven, I’m starting to feel too old for the club scene. But Petra is only twenty, and she loves it. So, her farewell, her choice. But when it’s almost ten o’clock on a Friday night, and we’re standing outside a nightclub in the midst of a bunch of eighteen-year-old girls, shivering their butts off in tiny skirts and way too much makeup, I’m feeling my age. Or maybe it’s just jetlag?

This is her favourite place. It's called Fabric, and as she tells it, there are three different rooms where DJs play all night. It sounds enormous. And really, really loud. Hmm, it’s definitely my age.

The doors open and Petra leads us straight to the front of the cue. She’s booked a table on the mezzanine level for all of us so we can either sit and drink or get down and dance in the sweaty pit of people expected below. Personally, I’d rather not go down there. I’m not much of a dancer unless I’m drinking, and I’ve had so much alcohol this week my liver is threatening divorce. I need to go slow for a night.

Once upstairs, a waitress comes to our table and takes everyone’s drink orders, returning quickly and handing them around. I sip slowly as I watch everyone’s smiling faces, entertained by their attempts to interact with each other over house music that mutes their voices to everyone but the ear they’re yelling in.

Paige stands at the railing, talking to Petra while she holds her drink and looks out over the room. She’s bouncing her knee to the beat which sways her arse and attracts the attention of a few of the guys at another table. I can see them ogling her while they unashamedly and very obviously talk about her. And why wouldn’t they? She doesn’t look anything like a witch as she claims. She has this ethereal quality about her that makes her look like a golden goddess.

“Come and dance,” Naomi says in my ear, leaning on the seat next to me.

I shake my head and show her the beer I’ve barely touched. “Maybe later.”

She gives me a smile, bouncing her shoulder before dragging Petra and Brian with her, leaving Paige at the railing on her own. One of the ogling guys takes that as his cue to try this luck. She smiles at him, and I grit my teeth. Those smiles belong to me. The jealous thought hits me as a growl in my chest, and I have to stop myself from getting up and dragging her away from him. Keep your cool, Elliot. She’s not yours yet.

She shakes her head ‘no’ when he inclines his head to the dance floor. Then he puts his hand on her arm to coax her by force. No, you fucking don’t. That’s where my ability to hang back ends and my protectiveness kicks in. She said no.

As I rise to my feet, Paige’s brow furrows as she looks from him to the hand on her arm and pushes him away from her. I can’t hear her, but her mouth forms, “Fuck off.” And the guy is such an idiot he tries to grab her around the waist and dance with her where they stand. I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care how drunk you are; you don’t touch a girl when she’s saying no to you. This guy just earned a punch to the face, and I don’t give them out often.

Just as I’m about to reach out, Paige pushes the guy away. There’s a fire in her eyes as she flicks her glass, splashing the contents all over the guy’s face. I halt my advance, as in one swift move, she grabs the guy’s shoulders and jams her knee into his crotch, stepping back when he doubles over to brush the back splash from her drink off her dress like this is something she handles every day.

Paige

What a jackass! I said I didn’t want to dance, and I meant it. I hate people touching me when I don’t invite them to. And he just messed with the wrong girl. Fucker.

Brushing my hands over my dress, I step over the groaning drunkard and come face-to-face with Elliot. He has his mouth wide open, eyeing the crumpled guy I just kneed in the groin.

“I think I’d better leave,” I say close to his ear, needing to yell over the music.

His mouth spreads into a smile. “I think I just fell in love with you,” he says, nodding his head appraisingly.

“Is that all it takes?” I laugh. A real, genuine laugh as I tuck my purse under my arm. “Tell Petra and Naomi goodbye for me?”

“I’ll go with you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need you to. As you can see, I don’t need protecting.”

“I do see that. But you’d be doing me a favour. I’m not into nightclubs, anymore. I've had enough of them. Besides, you’re supposed to be staying with us tonight, and I have the keys.” He pulls them from his pocket and dangles them in front of me.

“Fine, let’s go,” I agree, empathising with his need to get out of this club. I remember a time when the music pumped along with my blood and dancing all night led to fucking until the early morning. But that girl isn’t me anymore, and I have no desire to relive it.

We stop off at the table and interrupt Shane and his girlfriend while they make out, letting them know we’re leaving. Who knows if they’ll remember? They seem pretty smashed right now.

To be on the safe side, Elliot pulls out his phone and texts the others, hoping that at least one of them will check their phone before they leave.

“I feel so old,” Elliot groans as we exit the club, the blissful dullness of night refreshing against our beat-sore ears.

“What are you? Thirty?” I tease.

He frowns a little. “You think I look thirty?”

I laugh and shake my head. How does he do this? My laughter comes easier when I’m with him. “I think you look twenty-five.”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“October.”

“I’ll be twenty-seven in May.”

“Thirty-seven?” There’s a teasing glint in his eye, although sometimes I look in the mirror and see the life I’ve led in the lines around my eyes. It wouldn’t surprise me if he thought I was forty.

“I feel it,” I joke.

“You don’t look it.” He smiles as he gives me a nudge with his elbow before flagging down a cab.

After a good five minutes worth of driving in silence, Elliot starts laughing. “I can’t believe you kneed that guy in the crotch.”

I chuckle a little as I look out the window and think about the look on his face as he went down. Utter disbelief. “Well, he shouldn’t have been so grabby with me.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you. My fist wanted to have a conversation with his face after watching the way he was treating you.”

I look over at him, studying his profile as he stares ahead, his jaw tightening. “Were you going to rescue me, Elliot?”

He looks at me and his eyes soften. “I didn’t like the way he was touching you. You said no.”

We lock eyes for a moment, quietly regarding each other. I’m not sure how I feel about this man being protective of me. I’ve been on my own and fought for myself for so long now. The thought of someone else willing to do it for me… well…it feels kind of… hard to accept. What’s his game?

Elliot

I offer to pay the cab fare, but Paige insists on splitting it. Once upstairs in the flat, I put the kettle on and make us both a coffee. I’ve had maybe three drinks over the course of the night, so I could do with a little pick me up, even if it is midnight.

Paige sits at the kitchen table, her shoes off by her chair and her feet tucked underneath. It’s very…domestic, comforting. I like seeing her there. She leans her elbows on the table, her eyes tracking me as I carry our mugs over.

“Thanks,” she says, blowing on her coffee and taking a tentative sip before sitting back in her chair and looking at me. Looking, studying, searching. Like I’m a book and she’s reading the words on my skin. “Were you annoyed with me tonight?” The question feels out of the blue as she drops her eyes to focus on the warm mug she’s cradling in her hands.

“Annoyed? What makes you think that?”

“Just a few comments you made. I thought maybe you were pissed because I only want to be your friend.”

I watch her until she lifts her eyes to meet mine before I answer. “I’m not that guy, Paige. I don’t play nice until I get in a girl’s pants, and I don’t retaliate when she says no.”

“Then why—”

“I was giving you space. You seem to want me to back off, so I backed off. But I wasn’t annoyed. I’m just letting you know that I see you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you keep everyone at a distance. These people you’re moving in with are good people. They’re trying to get to know you, and you haven’t really given them a single thing. I’ve known you the longest, and I don’t know anything real either.” I hold up my hand and count on my fingers. “You’re from somewhere around Sydney, you’re a hairdresser, and you lost your family. That’s everything I know. But what I see is a beautiful woman trapped in her own pain. I don’t know what it is, but I’m guessing it’s got to do with whatever happened to your family, and you’re torturing yourself over it.” I sit back and lift my coffee part way to my mouth. “Am I close?”

A burst of air escapes her nose, as she continues her study of me. “Looks like you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Not even close.” I shrug and pull my lips up to the side before taking a gulp of my coffee, now wishing I’d tested it before I took such a big mouthful. It’s really hot. I can’t hide my cough as my eyes water slightly from the burn.

Paige notices and stifles a giggle before she lets out a sigh. “I suppose what I really need from you is to understand that this can’t go any further than friendship. I need to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what I want. I’m saying no. And I need you to respect that,” she says bluntly.

I hold my breath while I nod, our eyes locked as she refuses to elaborate any further. What has happened to make her want that? I’m more curious than ever. But I have to respect what she wants. Even though it’s the complete opposite of what I want.

“Do you think you’re going to do any weekend trips at all while you’re here? Europe’s just over the pond, you know?” Paige says in an attempt to change the subject.

Picking up my mug again, I stretch my legs in front of me and look at her pointedly. “Listen, I can handle being your friend. But if we’re going to call ourselves that, I’d like to have a conversation with a little give and take to it.”

She shifts in her seat, looking into her mug instead of at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I ask a question, and you answer it with actual information. Then you ask a question, and I answer like I normally would, because compared to you, I’m a sharer.” I stare at her unblinking, eyebrows raised, watching as she thinks.

She puts her mug down and sits more upright on her chair as she scratches at something real or imaginary on the table, refusing to meet my eyes again. “Fine, but I don’t have to answer fully or elaborate if I don’t want to.”

“Deal,” I say, mentally preparing my first question as she adjusts herself in her chair, sitting even straighter than she was before. Her glare even has an edge to it, warning me not to push too hard.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Miranda.”

“A shire girl, huh? You don’t sound like one when you speak.”

“No. I don’t. Where did you grow up?”

“Bondi. Where did you go to school?”

“Port Hacking.”

“Did you like it there?”

“It was a school. How about you?”

“Sydney Grammar. First job?”

Watching her, she’s clearly uncomfortable talking about herself, her arms folded protectively around her waist while she watches me as if she’s ready to shut down at any moment. Come on, Paige. Let me know you.

“Sex toy.”

I sit and stare back at her trying not to react to this one. There’s a challenge in her eyes, and I feel like she’s trying to shock me or test me to see how far she can push before I’ll stop. When I open my mouth, I force my voice to stay even as I speak. “Sex toy?”

“Fine. I was a drug dealer.”

“A drug dealer?”

She shifts in her chair again and sighs but continues eye contact. “A salon hand.”

“There we go. I knew we’d get to the truth, eventually. How old were you when you lost your family?”

She presses her lips together and sniffs. “Fifteen.”

“Who raised you after that?”

Her eyes land on mine, and a cold shiver runs up my spine. There’s something in them she doesn’t want to let out, but I see it there. The pain. It’s there for maybe an eighth of a second. Then it disappears and I know she’s shut down.

“I think it’s my turn to ask some questions.”

Paige

I feel like we’re playing a game of Battleship in this rapid-fire question-and-answer session. But he’s getting all the turns, and he’s moving towards an area of my life I don’t want to talk about, and he doesn’t want to hear. I knew we’d get to the truth, eventually. It’s time for me to focus on him.

“Tell me about your family. Are they good to you?”

He sits forward, taking a drink from his mug now that it’s had time to cool down. “Does it upset you to talk about other people’s families?”

“No. I like hearing about happiness and love. Does it bother you that I don’t have one?”

“Does it bother you?”

He’s playing me at my own game. “Are you only going to ask questions?”

“Are you finished answering questions?”

“Are you trying to teach me a lesson?” Because I've had my fill of ‘lessons’. I won't be schooled by anyone.

“Would you like a Tim Tam with your coffee?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Even though he’s sitting here trying to push my buttons and get me to open up, he knows just when to back off and insert a little levity before I crack. I’m impressed. “I can’t believe you played the chocolate biscuit card. I was getting ready to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

The shadow of a smile plays on his lips. “Did it work?”

“It did. I’d love a Tim Tam.”

Now his smile develops into something real, taking over half his mouth and touching his eyes. I want to like him. I watch as he rises gracefully from his chair, the muscles in his arms rippling as he reaches up and pulls a packet out of the cupboard. The plastic crinkles loudly in the quiet room as he slides the biscuits out of their packaging and places them on the tray between us.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says.

“That I don’t have a family? What kind of question is that? Of course it does. I lost everything I knew at an impressionable age. I was left with no one in this world to defend me. It’s why I like hearing about other people’s lives. About their families, their friends, their interests. It’s part of what I love about my job. These people come in and share so much about themselves, and I get a tiny window into a different life. One that isn’t ravaged by loss. So please, I’m now begging. Tell me about your family.”

He remains silent for two beats of my heart and I quickly run through exactly what I said, deciding it was far too much. Ravaged by loss. He will pick up on that for sure.

“I meant the question about who raised you. But I'm guessing from all that you went into foster care?”

I close my eyes and drop my chin. “Can we please talk about you for a while, please?” There’s a note of begging in my voice, and I’m so grateful when the next thing out of his mouth makes my silent heart smile.

“My mum is fantastic.” He wipes a hand across his jaw as he chuckles at some sort of memory. “She asked me yesterday to tell the Queen she said hi. Like I’m actually going to get close enough to do that.”

“Sounds like you have a good relationship.”

“We do. She’s nuts. But I love her. And my stepdad is pretty great too. Treats me like a son even though I was mostly grown when he came into my life. Mum and Dad divorced when I was sixteen and she remarried by the time I finished year twelve, so there wasn’t a lot for him to do besides be a decent guy. And since I saw how happy he made Mum, I couldn’t fault him.”

“Sounds like you’ve been blessed with a lot of love.”

He looks at the table and chuckles uncomfortably like he’s leaving something out. “It was OK. Mum did her best.”

“You’re leaving out your dad. Is that on purpose?”

He rubs at the back of his neck and grimaces. “Kind of. He’s…a hard man. He had high expectations I was incapable of meeting, and I’m afraid I’m a terrible terrible disappointment to him.”

“What kind of expectations?” Seems Elliot hasn’t lived the ideal life I thought he had.

“The Roberts men have a long history in the courts—barristers, QCs. I was expected to be the first judge. I studied law at uni, even got a job at a top-tier law firm. But I hated it. When I threw in the towel and altered my career path, he threw in the towel and stopped caring about me. We haven’t spoken in over a year.”

“Do you miss having him in your life?”

“I don’t know. He was very controlling. I hated being a solicitor, but he was so intent on having his son follow in his footsteps that he wouldn’t listen to what I wanted. He even had a say in who I dated... So, no. I don’t miss him.” He shrugs, letting his shoulders drop heavily. “Does that make me sound like a shitty person?”

I take a deep breath, contemplating what I’m about to tell him for a moment. I don’t do a lot of sharing, but something about Elliot makes me feel a little less…guarded. He seems so genuine. I like that he’s an open book, and I want to offer him something in return; comfort. “I’d like what I’m about to tell you to remain between you and me,” I start.

“Of course.” He doesn’t even miss a beat.

“I don’t miss my family. They weren’t good to me. I mourned the family I wished I had. But I never mourned them.” My temples flash hot with my admission. “Does that make me awful?”

All at once, he frowns and reaches across the table, placing his hand on my forearm. “No. Not for a second.” He withdraws his touch almost as fast as he offered it.

I’m stuck looking at my arm like something’s now missing. “You shouldn’t feel bad because you’re happier without someone in your life,” I say, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “At the end of the day, the only person you can truly count on is yourself. No one cares like you do. No one.”

Elliot sucks in a breath, his whole body reacting to the power in my words. But a squeal of laughter filters in from the stairwell, stealing the intensity out of the air, along with our attention.

“There she is: The Cock Smasher!” Shane drunkenly announces as everyone pours through the door like tumbling laughter.

“I can’t believe you dropped that guy,” Naomi says, as they all gather round the table. There’s a flurry of hands in front of me as the Tim Tams are snatched up and devoured in seconds.

“God, I love these things,” Petra moans through the chocolaty goodness. “When I get home, I’ll send more packets.”

“You’d better,” Brian tells her. “It’s an unwritten law for a returning Aussie, you know.”

“What is?” I ask. “Sending Tim Tams?”

“Hells yeah,” Naomi answers. “Every time one of us goes home, we have to send back a box of things we can’t buy here like Tim Tams, Vegemite, Minties, Milo—stuff like that. Our families send things too, but we kind of do it as a farewell gift for each other.”

“They don’t have Milo here?” I ask, surprised.

“No, they drink Ovaltine instead,” Petra puts in.

“Speaking of Milo.” Brian gets up and flicks the kettle on. “Who wants one?”

A round of hands go up, and he pulls mugs out while we continue talking about the differences between Australia and here, laughing and joking as we do. It feels unnatural to be in the midst of this jolly scene. It also feels unnatural to be genuinely enjoying the moment.

“Sometimes,” Elliot murmurs near my ear as Brian and Petra place a hot cup of Milo in front of me. “Family starts as friendship.” I turn and catch myself in the ocean of his eyes. He offers me the last Tim Tam. “People care, Paige. But you have to let them.”

Taking the biscuit, I bite into it as I look around the table, taking in all the smiling faces in this tight-knit and welcoming group. Each person is different and unique in their own way. But they all fit in, not because they have to, but because they want to. In this home away from home, they’re family. A sense of belonging skitters along the edges of my heart. I haven’t felt a part of something in such a long time. I think I’m really going to like living here.

Nine

Elliot

A couple of years ago, I was dating a girl who worked in my office. We had a lot in common, and everything about being with her felt easy. I thought I’d found my lobster, but when my father intervened, I found it too easy to walk away from her. I've regretted my actions almost every day since. And for a long time I thought my regret stemmed from losing my chance at love because I was too chickenshit to stand up to my dad. After spending a month in London, I don’t think regret is the right way to categorise that relationship. The word I'm going for now is grateful. Because if I hadn’t messed up with Katrina, I never would have stood up for myself, and I never would have found myself on a plane to London, looking for a fresh start. I never would have met Paige.

She’s an interesting one. They say that opposites attract, but I flip-flop between wanting to fuck her and wanting to shake her. I don’t know it that’s what opposites attract really means. She can be so closed off and cryptic that it's infuriating at times. Besides getting along, I don’t think we have a single common interest. She loves books, and I love sport. She loves art galleries and I like the outdoors. She loves staying home, and I like going out. But when we’re together, none of that matters. I’m drawn to her. More than I've ever been to anyone else. Just before she moved into the flat, she told me I wasn’t going to find myself in her. But, I’ve gotta call it. I think I have. I think she’s precisely why I’m here.

Paige

After a whole month living in London, I’m yet to see my father. He’s aware I’m here. But, I’ve been so wrapped up working and hanging out with my housemates—also known as, being a regular person—that I’ve let it slide. It sits in the back of my mind, niggling at me to do something, but I guess I’m just erring on the side of caution…no, I’m being chickenshit. I really am afraid to go and meet him, because I have no idea what to expect. I’m scared meeting him will turn my carefully created world upside down. Right now in this moment, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I have friends, I have a home, I have a job I love… I’m feeling great. Like the Paige from my past—the girl I used to hide inside a mirror—isn’t weighing me down anymore.

I still live with the reality of what I’ve done. And I still stand by my decision to maintain a state of celibacy. Even though that decision has been made harder of late with the introduction of Elliot in my life. I’ve experienced the kind of connection I have with him before. It’s the kind of connection that has no rhyme or reason to it. It’s just there, and it’s intense enough to make you forget how to think. Which is why I need to maintain my distance. It was a mistake to give into it the last time, and I think it would be a mistake in this instance too. Elliot has a full life back in Sydney, and I am never planning to return. Breaking my vow for the sake of a man I can only have a short-term relationship with feels dishonest and self-serving. It goes against every promise I ever made to myself. And my promises are more important than my feeling. Even when it does seem like Elliot is the first decent man to enter my life.

“You’re pretty close to Elliot aren’t you?” Naomi asks me one night as we both sit in our room preparing for bed. It's been a long time since I shared a room with someone, and this experience with Naomi has been very different. There's no competition between us—even though she has an obvious crush on Elliot—and there’s never any arguing over space. It’s just easy. It’s how I imagine sisterhood should be like.

“Um, not really.” I look at her via the mirror on my wardrobe as I rub leave-in conditioner into the ends of my hair. “I mean, we’re friends, but I wouldn’t call us close…Why?”

“No reason. You just seem to be together a lot. You make eyes at each other across the room. We’re all wondering what’s going on, that’s all.”

“Eyes at each other.” I scoff. “There’s nothing going on, Nomes. He goes home in two months. We’re friends,” I say, wiping my hands clean on a moist towelette before depositing it in the small bin by our door.

“What if he wasn’t going home?”

I shrug. “I’d still be his friend. Me and guys—relationships—we don’t mix well. I have massive trust issues. And Elliot, no matter how long he stays here, doesn’t need my baggage.” Not to mention the fact that if he found out what my baggage was, he’d run a mile.

“Jesus, Paige. What happened to you?”

“Nothing serious,” I lie, avoiding eye contact. I can feel her still watching me, but I continue to focus on myself, relieved when I hear her sigh then get into bed and open her book.

I’m going to go right ahead and admit that I’m attracted to him. Elliot Roberts is by far the most beautiful man I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. There, I said it. I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to him? He turns the head of every female, every single time we go somewhere. But he seems oblivious to all of it, taking it all in his stride. Most guys in his situation would be cocky and sleazy. But he's down to earth, friendly, kind. He's the perfect blend of personality and looks. It amazes me that he even spends time with me. I’m so not his type. His type would be supermodel stunning. He belongs with someone tall and leggy who turns heads as much as he does. He’s wasting his time on me.

Rising from the end of the bed, I move over to the light switch. As I do, Naomi reaches out and switches the lamp on so she can continue to read while I go to sleep.

“Why don’t you ask Elliot out?” I ask, as I slide beneath my covers.

She rests her book open on her chest and smiles as she looks at me. “I did,” she admits. “Threw myself at his feet when he first got here. But then he saw you and he hasn’t looked at me since.”

A pang hits me in the chest. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I never wanted to steal his attention.”

“Oh, I’m not mad. You can't steal a man. They have to be willing. And he wasn’t even mine. We were flirting, and I wanted to fuck him. We didn’t have that energy you guys have.”

“Energy?” Can other people see it?

“Yeah,” she says. “Like a magnetic attraction. Take this couple in my book for instance; they absolutely hate each other. Sworn enemies within the office. But when they’re alone, there’s this attraction between them that’s palpable in the air, and really difficult to resist. They fight it but eventually they’re going to have to give in. Just like you and Elliot will. It’s inevitable.”

“That’s fiction,“ I say, pointing at her book.

“They only write this stuff because it actually happens. And that’s why we read it, to remind ourselves there’s more out there. You don’t have to settle for mediocre when there’s someone out there who’s going to the make your heart jump out of your chest and your whole body sing just to be near them.”

I frown, remembering a time when I had exactly that. It was so fleeting that it hurts to think about it. And the cascade of shit that followed means I don’t associate that feeling with passion or need. I associate it with destruction. “That kind of feeling doesn’t last, Nomes. You give in, and then it’s gone. It’s not real. It’s only hormones.”

She takes a deep breath and picks her book up again. “I don’t want to believe that. Because otherwise, what’s the point of it all? Why have this insane connection with someone if it can't turn into something beautiful?”

As I look into her big brown eyes, full of hope and yearning, I feel this great need to protect her. I want to tell her that the only beauty in this world is in art and that most art is created out of pain. Love and life is pain. But at the same time, I don’t want to be the one to squash her heart and tell her fairytales don’t exist. So I don’t.

“Goodnight, Naomi,” I say, as I roll over to face the wall. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” she says, not knowing that’s impossible. I don’t dream any more. I only have nightmares. No, Not nightmares. Memories. I relive every shitty moment. I don’t sleep much.

Ten

Elliot

Walking faster than normal, I try to propel myself home at warp speed. I had a late client, so I didn’t meet up with Paige and walk home with her like I usually do, and I hate that I haven’t seen her yet. Her face is my addiction.

Once back at the flat, I dump my gear in my room then head out to the living area. Paige and Naomi’s names are missing from the whiteboard we write on to say who will be home for dinner.

“Where are the girls?” I ask Gavin and Brian, who are sitting in front of the television watching the cricket, beer in hand, a bag of chips on the couch between them. They let out a loud cheer as the batter gets caught out before they even answer me.

“Nomes dragged Paige out with her for a girly night,” Gavin informs me without taking his eyes off the screen.

Brian laughs and throws a handful of chips into his mouth, crunching down loudly. “Yeah, she didn’t look too happy about it,” he says. “Fuck, that Paige chick is hot though. You should have seen her in that dress.” He nods his head appreciatively and blows out his breath.

Gavin’s head joins in. “Are you two banging? ‘Cause if you’re not…” He leaves the end of the sentence hanging as he finally looks away from the TV to gauge my reaction.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” It’s an instruction and a warning.

Gavin raises his hands, signalling ‘no offence’. “It’s all right, mate. We’re just talking. Everyone can see you’ve got a thing for her. No one’s cuttin’ your grass.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you talking about her at all.”

They both nod their understanding.

“Why don’t you get a beer, mate?” Brian suggests. “Come join us.”

“Sure,” I say, moving into the kitchen. “You guys want one too?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Shane laughs, and I can’t help but crack a smile. I know they were just being regular guys before. Paige is a beautiful woman, and I don’t blame them for appreciating what they see. But when she goes to great lengths to separate herself from any type of male advances, I have to think she’s got a damn good reason for it. I feel the need to shield her. Even when she’s not here.

Handing them their drinks when I return to the living room, I take a seat on the other couch, staring at the game on the TV, not really watching. I’m busy thinking about where Paige is. I wish she’d texted me to say she was going out. Fuck, who the hell do I think I am? It’s not like I own her or she owes me anything.

I kick myself for thinking like a douche. Paige doesn’t want me either. She says she doesn’t want anyone. But, fuck, I want her so bad it’s like a burning in my blood. And I feel sure she feels the same, that she’s just holding back because… fuck. I have no idea why she’s holding back. All I can do is guess it’s got something to do with her past, with the reason behind why she doesn’t like talking about herself, why she’s keeping all of us at an arm’s length.

If I have to go back to Sydney without having a single moment with Paige, I think it will be the biggest regret of my life. I need to find a way to get through to her. I don’t have time to play nice.

Paige

Naomi has dragged me to this salsa club she’s heard about and has been dying to try out. We've both put on our most flowing dresses, and I helped her curl her hair and pin it back to suit her outfit. I even went a little wild and put some red lipstick on myself—it was under slight duress. Naomi insisted I needed red lips to go with my black knee-length dress. Other than that, I just have mascara on.

Sitting at the bar, I watch Naomi strut her stuff on the dance floor with a guy who certainly knows his moves. He’s spinning and swinging her around the floor effortlessly, and I have to resist the urge to clap whenever they finish a song.

“Come and dance with me,” she asks breathlessly when she walks back towards me.

“Oh, I don’t know. I'm really not that coordinated.” I laugh. I haven’t danced in so long. I’m not sure I trust myself to keep the beat.

“Nonsense. Come with me and I’ll show you.” She grabs my hand and pulls me off the stool and shows me how to move my feet and swing my hips. I don’t do too badly, but I feel awkward next to the smooth moving Naomi, who went to a performing arts school and learned dance and music there.

The guy Naomi was dancing with, moves back over to cut into our lesson, and I happily step away, bumping straight into another guy who, when I turn around and see him, is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

A grin takes over his face as his eyes drag over my body. “Can I interest you in a dance,” he rumbles in a deep baritone.

The skin on my back tightens, pulling at my ribs as the little hairs on the back of my neck lift. I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m not much of a dancer.” I don’t want you to touch me.

“Not from what I saw,” he responds holding out his hand for me to take. I look at it and step away from him, refusing his offer.

“I said no.” I practically yell it at him.

“Jesus. I was just being friendly.”

“Well, I don’t want to be your friend.”

The guy looks at me like I’m possibly insane then shakes his head before he moves on to some other pretty girl, who’s smiling and practically swooning the moment he holds his hand out to her. I go back to my still vacant bar stool, watching them move together. Now I wish I hadn’t agreed to this. I’m still not capable of dealing with advances without reacting badly. This is why I prefer to stay home.

Playing with my phone in my hand, I finger the touch screen. I can handle Elliot. But that’s because he isn’t always trying to get in my pants. He seems happy being my friend, and he doesn’t touch me unnecessarily. I really appreciate that. I wonder what he's doing right now? I feel lonely without him all of a sudden.

What u up to? I tap out and send before I have a chance to change my mind.

He responds quickly, like he had his phone in his hand and was waiting on me. Watching cricket with the guys. U?

I glance up as Naomi twirls with her hands above her head. Watching Naomi dance.

Y aren’t u dancing?

Pressing my lips together, I glance at Tall, Dark and Handsome. I don’t like strangers touching me, I send. Elliot is probably the one person I trust enough to say that to. I don’t know what it is about him, but he puts me at ease.

Want me to come get u?

Yes. Yes a thousand and one times. My reaction is instant, but my thumbs hover unmoving. I can’t exactly bail on Naomi.

“How’s Elliot?” I jolt my head up and cradle my phone guiltily in my lap. Naomi is standing in front of me, holding a bottle of beer and smiling. When the hell did she get there?

“How would I know?” I reply, feeling strange that she immediately jumped to that conclusion.

She tilts her head and looks at me like she can’t believe I think she’s that stupid. “Because you’ve been staring at your phone with a love struck smile on your face.”

I frown a little. “I wasn’t...”

She laughs. “You were. I don’t understand why you keep denying it. What’s holding you back? He’s only here for eight more weeks. Why aren’t you making wild monkey love with him every chance you get?”

“Because…” I can’t get the words out. “I-I just can’t.”

“Just can’t. What kind of a reason is that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I think he’s too good for me; maybe I don’t want to get my heart broken when he leaves; maybe I don’t want to ruin our friendship. There’s literally dozens of reasons why it’s a bad idea.”

“Reasons. Excuses. Why can’t you have an amazing couple of months together? Whether you keep him as a friend or if you take him as a lover, it’s going to end and you’re going to get hurt, and you’re going to miss him. No matter what you do here, you’ll lose him in eight weeks. Why not have the best eight weeks you can have? Even if that’s all it is? It’s better than doing nothing, watching him leave, and regretting it for the rest of your life.”

“But if he knew me, I mean really knew me. He wouldn’t want me. It’s the unattainable thing that’s making me attractive right now. He'll find someone else to turn his head eventually, and this will all be a moot point.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Naomi snatches my phone

“Hey! What are you doing?” I grab for my phone but she steps away, keeping it out of my reach as she types out a message.

“You’re welcome,” she says, handing me my phone before she smiles and heads back over to her dance partner. My phone beeps in my hand, and I look at the message on the screen.

I’ll b there in 10

“Fuck, Naomi.” Feeling nervous, I get up and head to the ladies' room to check my reflection, frowning when I see the painted lady looking back at me. This isn’t you anymore. Turning on the tap, I grab some paper towel out of the dispenser and wipe the lipstick off my face.

Looking at myself again, I take a deep breath. “Nothing changes,” I coach myself.

Elliot

I borrow Shane’s car and drive to the club to pick up Paige. She's waiting outside with Naomi, who’s leaning up against some guy. When they see me pull up, Naomi waves at me then nudges Paige towards the passenger-side door.

“Have fun!” she sing songs as Paige climbs in.

“Has Naomi hooked up?” I ask, once the doors shut. Naomi walks back inside the club entwined with that guy.

“Sure has. Thanks for coming to get me,” she says pulling on her seat belt.

“You rescued me, actually. I hate cricket,” I admit.

“Isn’t it blasphemy to say that?”

“It is. Don’t tell anyone.” I wink as I pull into the traffic and make my way through the streets.

“You want a coffee?” I ask when I spot an open café.

Paige looks to where I’m indicating. “Yeah, I do actually.”

We keep our eye out for a parking spot, finding one quickly and walking back to the café. It’s surprisingly busy, and we have to line up behind another four people to order.

“Don’t take this the wrong way; you look really beautiful tonight,” I say, nudging her lightly in the arm with my elbow.

She laughs, and I prepare for the coming lecture. I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn’t help myself. The woman is gorgeous, she should be told.

“Thank you, Elliot,” is all she says.

“Wait, what? Where’s the browbeating?”

She shrugs and smiles at me as we reach the front of the line. I order for both of us, and we sit at a table near the window while we wait.

“What made you agree to go to a salsa club if you didn’t want to dance?” I ask, watching her play with the packets of sugar on the table. She's reorganising them so they're lined up in their colour groups.

“I don’t know why,” she answers. “I hate clubs. I really do. All that gyrating against strangers.” She makes a face to illustrate her distaste before continuing. “I suppose I thought a salsa club would be different, and it was. It didn’t have the massive crowd, but it still had the gyrating, and the touching. So I was glad to leave. Thank you again for coming to get me.”

“It was my pleasure,” I say, placing my hand over hers to stop her fiddling with the sugars. “Relax.”

Quickly withdrawing her hand, she places it in her lap, her cheeks flush as she looks around the room nervously.

Feeling an emptiness in my palm where her hand was, I move the sugar to the side and watch her flit, curious as to her behaviour. “Paige, does it also bother you when I touch you?” I ask. I curb my need to touch her as much as possible because I can see she’s uncomfortable with closeness. But sometimes, touching her feels necessary. And we all need physical contact at times. Even if it’s just a comforting hand on our shoulder.

The flush on her face increases as she focuses her attention on me, meeting my eyes. “No,” she breathes, shaking her head lightly. “No, it’s just the opposite. That’s what bothers me most.”

Paige

Did I seriously just say that? Confusion passes over his face, before the realisation of what I admitted dawns on him. I’m so grateful when our coffees are brought over, our attentions diverted as we accept them and thank the server.

Now he’s watching me, his eyes boring through me as I take a shaky sip from my coffee. “Oh, fuck that’s hot!” I exclaim, almost spitting the scalding liquid back into my mug.

A smile plays on the edge of his lips as he watches me fiddle about with a napkin while I wipe my mouth and try to cool my tongue. “You need some water?”

“I’m fine.” I wave it off. “So um… Naomi’s a fantastic dancer. You should see the way she twirls around the dance floor. I’ll have to ask her if she gives lessons when I see her next,” I say, trying to salvage some sort of normal conversation.

“Paige,” Elliot says, reaching across the table and placing his hand over my own. My breath catches in my throat as I close my eyes to the feeling his touch evokes inside me. I’m aroused and frightened all at the same time.

“Elliot.” My fear wins out, and I try to pull my hand away. But, I’m met with resistance when he encloses his hand firmly over my own.

“Please don’t pull away,” he whispers.

With a shaky breath, I open my eyes, focusing on our combined hands. I catch myself thinking about what it would be like to give in to this attraction between us, to pretend I’m the girl he thinks I am, to simply go with the flow and be normal for a change. It’s so tempting, we’re halfway around the world, this doesn’t have to be forever… so tempting.

I place my other hand on top of his, my thumb caressing his skin as I meet his intense gaze. The attraction between us crackles and sparks through the air between us, numbing our senses to all that surrounds us. So tempting. Closing my eyes again, I inhale slowly to calm my rapid heart.

“Please, Elliot, just let go,” I whisper, a frown etched on my face as my words betray my feelings. The moment his hand retreats, I’m at a loss. The ache in my chest seems to slide down into my stomach and turn sour. “I’m sorry. It's not you.”

“I don’t need any speeches, Paige,” he says, unable to hide the hurt in his expression. “I know where we stand.”

“OK.” I attempt to fill the emptiness in my hands by wrapping them around my mug and taking careful sips.

“So…Naomi can salsa can she?” he asks, ending the silence before it becomes uncomfortable.

My gaze flicks to his, gratefulness filling my chest. “She can. She's really amazing. You should watch her sometime.” I want to hug him for letting that moment pass and speaking normally to me.

“She’s very musically talented. Have you heard her sing?”

“Only once when she didn’t know I was there,” I say. “She stopped as soon as she saw me.”

“Same. I wonder why she’s hiding it?”

I lift one shoulder. “We all have our reasons for hiding things from the world. Sometimes sharing is too painful.”

“I think hiding from pain and truth distorts it and gives it too much control.”

“What gave you that insight, Elliot? Because it was hard when Daddy refused to pay your way anymore?” I snap, immediately regretting my defensive attack. He doesn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry.” I close my eyes. “I’m sorry. That was cruel and unnecessary. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s OK,” he says, keeping those calm blue eyes locked with mine. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first broken girl I’ve fallen for.”

Fallen for? “And you’re not the first rich boy trying to make his own way that I’ve fallen for. Which is why I know this would be a mistake. We’ll only hurt each other.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers.

“I’ll bet you said that to your last broken doll, too.” When his eyes flicker, I know I’m right. “It’s OK. He said it to me too.”

“Is he the one who made you like this? Did he break you?”

Twisting my coffee between my hands, I watch the dark brown froth cling to my mug. “Imagine me as a puppet, living a life to suit someone else’s needs. Then he came along and cut my strings, giving me one beautiful moment of freedom before I fell down, crashing and breaking, my pieces getting smaller and smaller as others came along and walked over the shards until I became nothing at all. Just a memory of a doll they once played with.” I suck in my breath. That's as direct as I can be.

“I don’t know if I understand.”

I press my lips together in a tight smile. “You weren’t meant to.”

Eleven

Elliot

That moment in the coffee shop keeps playing over and over in my mind. What did that guy—those people—do to her? I can only imagine something horrible, something most of us could never consider doing to another person. When I was dating Katrina, and she opened up about the beating she took at the hands of her ex, it tore me apart. I wanted to find the guy who hurt her and give him a taste of his own medicine. I feel that same urge now. To go into Paige’s past and tear everything down that caused her an iota of pain. I want to fix it. Even though I know I can’t fix anything. All I can do is be here for her, test her barriers until they break, and show her that even the most broken dolls are still worthy of love.

You’re not the first rich boy trying to make his own way that I’ve fallen for.

Fallen for. That admission alone is enough to spur me on. But then I’m torn. I have a whisper of time to get close to her. And who's to say I won’t do even more damage when I leave? Maybe I should shelf this crazy notion I have where love conquers all, and I can make a difference to her life just by caring? It’s almost impossible to know what to do, and I find myself working back late to give her space and give me time to figure it out. But that’s the problem isn’t it? We don’t have time to figure anything out. I honestly don’t know what to do. These past few days have felt horribly lonely without our evening walk between the station and home. And that feeling is compounded when I get home to find her reading in her room, or out somewhere with Naomi. She’s avoiding me. I don’t want to avoid her. I just need time to get my head straight, but then I’m right back where I started—there isn’t enough time.

“Am I done for the day?” I ask Celsey, our American receptionist who arrived on her working visa not long after I did.

“If you don’t mind hanging around, I heard Jessica say she’s struggling today and wants to go home early,” she says, smiling brightly as she tucks her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear to keep it from falling over her eyes. “Do you think you could take her last couple of clients?”

“Yeah, I can use the cash.”

“Can’t we all.” Celsey laughs as she taps at the keys on the computer in front of her. “OK. I’ve added her bookings to your schedule. You can let her know she’s free to leave.”

“Thanks, Celsey.” I turn to go find Jessica, figuring this couple of hours will give me the chance to decide what to do about Paige. Do I back right off? Or do I keep pushing? And which is the best for her?

Paige

“Looks like you finally pushed hard enough to chase him away,” Andrea comments as we exit the salon. This is the fourth day in a row that Elliot hasn’t been waiting for me.

I press my lips together. “I think I’ve fucked everything up with him.”

“You could always un-fuck it. He's obviously crazy about you. I’ve never known a guy to hang around outside a hair salon for weeks on end for someone who’s just a friend.”

“I don’t know if I want to un-fuck it. I think maybe we’re better this way.”

“Bullshit,” she blurts.

“Excuse me?” I blink in surprise.

“Bullshit, Paige. You’ve got it just as bad for him as he does for you. You’ve been a miserable bitch all week, and that frown of yours is driving customers away.”

“Jesus, Andrea. Tell me how you really feel.”

She lifts her brow giving me a stern look. “I just did. Sort your shit out. I want you smiling when you get to work on Monday morning or don’t come in at all.” With her chin in the air, she stalks off, leaving me standing in front of the salon with my mouth hanging open. Is she for real?

Pulling out my phone, I contemplate exactly what I should do. Yes, I like Elliot. I like him more than anyone I’ve ever known. But I promised myself I’d never get caught up in a guy again. I don’t know if I can risk my fragile sanity.

Why not have the best eight weeks you can have? Even if that’s all it is? It’s better than doing nothing, watching him leave, and regretting it for the rest of your life.

Naomi’s words keep rolling around in my mind, her logic making it that much harder to stand my ground. We’re almost down to seven weeks. If that’s all I can ever have with him, maybe I could take that chance? I could have seven beautiful weeks where I let go of my past and have a holiday fling like one of those girls in Naomi’s romance novels. Shit. Could I do that?

Pulling up the message app on screen, I text Naomi. Is Elliot home?

I wait for a couple of minutes for her to respond, her answer the deciding factor in which way I go. I at least need to talk to him.

No not yet, she replies.

Letting out a nervous breath, I put a call through to his work.

“City Point Club, Celsey speaking,” answers a girl with an American accent.

“I was just calling to ask if Elliot Roberts is working this evening?”

“Yes, he is. Would you like me to see if he has time for another client?”

“Um, what time would that be?”

“He’s booked up until seven thirty.”

“Ah, that’s probably too late for me. Thanks for your help though.”

“No problem,” Celsey says, as I disconnect the call and work out my timing. If I leave now, I’ll get to his work in time to be waiting for him for a change.

Elliot

As I exit the building that houses the City Point Club, I’m more than ready to go back to the flat and veg out with a movie for a couple of hours. Based on the whiteboard this morning only Shane, Paige and I are due home for dinner. I might even get the chance to sit and talk with Paige alone. I don’t know, this extra couple of hours hasn’t really given me any clarity on the subject. I’m still as torn as I’ve ever been.

“Elliot. Wait up!” a female voice calls out the moment my foot touches the pavement outside. I turn, seeking out a face I might recognise and notice one of the girls I trained this afternoon smiling and walking toward me.  “Are you finished for the day?” she asks, as she stops in front of me. She has a tiny figure with long wavy caramel coloured hair and large brown eyes. Although, I can’t remember her name.

“Yeah, I’m just headed home,” I reply, smiling politely at her.

“Could I interest you in maybe grabbing dinner, or a drink?” she asks hopefully, adjusting her hair and smiling brightly at me.

Clearing my throat, I look up at the building, feeling awkward as I work out my reply. “Um, sorry, what was your name?”

“Kerry,” she responds quickly, a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

“Right, Kerry. Thanks for the offer but I’m expected elsewhere tonight.”

“Oh, how about tomorrow?” she pushes.

Pressing my lips together, I reach out and touch her arm to rebuff her gently. “Listen, I’m sure you’re a lovely girl,” I start.

Paige

As I walk towards Elliot’s work, I spot him standing outside talking to a tiny girl who’s obviously flirting with him. Crap. My heart hammers against my breastbone as I witness him smile and reach out to touch her arm. No way. I’m not letting this happen. In that moment, my rational mind leaves my body, and I find myself standing boldly in between them, behaving like a woman scorned.

“Who the hell are you?” I practically spit at the tiny super-pretty girl with her beautiful hair and perfect body.

Elliot cuts his head towards me and frowns like he’s not sure what I’m doing here. Truthfully, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I seem to have lost my mind somewhere along the way.

“Paige? What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the tiny girl I hate squeaks out in her annoyingly cute voice. “You have a girlfriend. I should have known you would.”

I stare her down as Elliot frowns at my behaviour. “Uh, yeah,” he says, placing a hand on my upper arm. “Thanks for the invite though.”

He drags me away as I make the ‘I’m watching you’ sign at her before she goes bright red and skitters away.

“Who the hell was that?” I demand, tugging my arm from his grip.

“Paige, what are you even doing here?” he asks, his voice calm as he searches my face for answers.

“Well, I’m sorry. I was trying to be nice and meet you at work for a change. I haven’t seen you all week. But I didn’t realise you were staying late so you could pick up,” I bite out.

“What the fuck, Paige?” he demands, confused. “I just knocked her back. Right in front of you.”

“Whatever, Elliot. I saw you touching her arm.”

His eyes flash. “Are you serious? I was trying to let her down gently. She’s a client. This is my work. I can’t be a bastard and tell her to fuck off because I’m crazy about a girl who hates that she likes it when I touch her. That I’m not even sure how to behave around her now because I’m afraid of adding to her hurt.”

“I don’t hate it,” I whisper, closing my eyes in a fight to make my internal defences let me open up to him. “This…this is hard for me, OK? I haven’t been close to anyone for years…and I…I’m just not sure how to do it.”

“I don’t want to push you, Paige. But, I feel like time is slipping away. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

My mouth opens and closes as I fight to find something to say. “I don’t know either,” I force out.

He looks up to the heavens for an answer as he sighs and chews the side of his lips. “Let’s just go, OK?” he says, as he puts his hand on the small of my back and prompts me to walk in the direction of the train station.

The return of that simple touch is more beautiful than I can bear, and I have to pretend to brush my hair out of my face to catch the tear that escapes from my eye.

Elliot

We travel home in virtual silence, both of us inside our own heads attempting to work out how we're supposed to be together. One thing I know for sure is that I’m out of my mind crazy for her. She keeps pushing and pushing at me, and I just stand there, taking every single blow because I can’t be the guy who walks away from her. I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll go home and come back if I have to.

“Finally,” Shane says when we come through the door. “I was just about to call you both. Dinner’s almost ready. I made pasta.”

Still without a word, Paige and I move straight to the kitchen and get drinks, bowls and cutlery out to set the table while Shane strains the penne and mixes it with the sauce.

I don’t think I’ve sampled Shane’s cooking before; it’s um…interesting, and I’m doing my best to eat it without grimacing.

“Uh…Shane, what did you do to this pasta?” Paige asks, seeming more relaxed than she was earlier as a smile plays on her lips. She’s poking at a clump of penne stuck together, only half cooked.

“Man, I don’t know. I put it in boiling water and cooked it for ten minutes like the pack says, but…”

“Did you stir it?” she asks.

He sits up in his chair and looks at her, pressing his lips tightly together as he thinks. “Nah. I don’t think I did.”

“Well, there’s your problem. You have to stir it a couple of times while it’s cooking,” she tells him.

He nods his scruffy blond head, slowly committing this new information to memory. Suddenly, the theme music for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ cuts through the quiet of the room.

“My butt’s ringing,” he says, shifting in his seat to remove his phone from his back pocket, leaving the table to take the call.

Paige watches him walk into the lounge room, before she turns to me. “She will kill him if she ever hears her ring tone,” she comments, referring to Shane’s girlfriend, Coral. She seems like a nice enough girl; she's just a little full on, I guess. She likes to know exactly what Shane is doing at all times, and despite joking that she’s a ball and chain, Shane is thrilled to jump whenever she calls.

I study Paige for a moment, amazed at the change in her demeanour. She seems so much happier now we’re back at the flat. Like this is her sanctuary.

“Are you going to eat that?” I ask Paige, who is doing little more than poking her food around in circles. I can’t pretend to eat this food anymore and put my fork down.

She opens her eyes wide and mouths ‘NO’, as she shakes her head from side to side.

I glance at Shane, who has his back to us, and grab the bowls, quickly dumping their contents into the bin before he has the chance to see. When he walks back into the kitchen, I’m already at the sink busily washing out the bowls.

“Listen guys,” he starts, “I need to give the movie a miss tonight. The girlfriend’s in a bit of a tizz, so I’d better go and sort things out with her.”

“What’d you do this time?” I ask.

“Nothin’. She’s upset I’m leavin’ soon. Wants me to extend me visa, but there’s no time for that. Processing time is like, eight to ten weeks.” There goes that idea. “Anyways, I gotta go.”

Paige

Shane grabs his jacket and keys then heads out the door, leaving Elliot and me alone in the house for the first time since I started living here.

For a moment, I watch him from where I’m sitting as he moves around, cleaning the kitchen. He’s such a kind and beautiful man, and I feel bad for leaving things so ambiguous between us. Still, I can’t help feeling happy just being around him right now.

Rising from my seat, I decide I should help him by drying the dishes. He smiles gratefully at me as I take the first one from the strainer, but he doesn’t speak. He seems lost in thought as we work together, quietly and comfortably, side by side.

Leaving the tea towel on the bench top, I pick up the pile of dry dishes to return to the cupboard, bending from the waist to slide them into place. As I right myself, my breath catches in my chest when I find him looking at me, his eyes so intense that I feel frozen in place. Reaching for the tea towel, he dries his hands, before he stops what he's doing and turns his whole body to face me.

“What’s your tattoo of?” he probes, dropping his eyes to my waist height.

“What tattoo?” I reply nervously, a lame attempt to deflect.

“The black and orange one that occasionally sticks out from under your shirt. I saw it on the plane when we first met, and I’ve seen it a couple of times when you’ve leant forward. What is it?” He steps closer to me, a solemn look in his eye.

My skin tightens as I imagine the tattoo’s giant wings, hugging me for strength. My sweet girl. “It’s…” I shift uneasily under his gaze. “Uh… the markings of my misspent youth. It’s a phoenix.”

“A phoenix?” he repeats, his voice low and rumbling, caressing even, as he steps closer.

My breathing quickens as I nod quickly in response. Suddenly, I’m feeling light-headed. Taking a step backwards, I try to gain a little distance between us, but that only puts me up against the cupboard behind me.

“Elliot don’t,” I whisper watching him stalk towards me. He stops right in front of me, his body brushing up against my own and sending little spirals of longing shooting through me. He’s so close that if I lift my head, we’ll be kissing.

“Can I see it?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

“No,” I breathe out, closing my eyes and trying to focus on keeping calm. His lips brush mine lightly, and I let out a whimper. I'm torn between my body’s impulses to pull him towards me, and my brain’s insistence that I stay away from him. Then all of a sudden, nothing.

Letting out a shaky breath, I open my eyes, feeling both relieved and bereft to see him standing at the sink again, washing up as if nothing happened. I decide to take my cue from him and walk back over to continue drying up. Holy fuck.

“I’ll do it,” he says, a slight thickness in his voice. “You go choose a movie.”

I pause and look at him, warring with myself about how I want to deal with this. I can walk away right now, let whatever this is between us go without ever having to deal with it. Maybe if I push him away one more time, he won’t come back...

The thought creates a heaviness that weighs down my chest, making it hard for me to move. It feels as though my decision now—whichever one it is—will change everything between us. I don’t want to push him away, even though it would be better for us both if I did.

This can’t end well.

Despite the fact my better judgement keeps screaming at me to stop, I do something that makes me terribly nervous. I reach out and place my hand on his arm to get his attention, ready for whatever comes next…

Elliot

Besides when I forced her to shake my hand on the plane and paid her to cut my hair, Paige has never reached for me willingly. It’s always been me reaching for her. That’s why, when she does, it makes my heart ache from not knowing it until now.

“Elliot,” she ventures, her hand still resting upon my arm. “I’m sorry, OK. I haven’t shown anyone the tattoo. Ever. Well…besides the artist, of course. But…” Her hands drop to her sides with a slap. “God. I'm ruining this, aren’t I? There’s something special here and I can’t seem to stop myself from fucking it up.”

Drying my hands again, I turn to face her, meeting her amber eyes as they brim with tears, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth opens like she wants to speak but the words won’t come. Her eyes dart from side to side as she clamps her mouth shut and presses her full lips together in a thin line. I say nothing, watching her beautiful face run a gamut of emotions.Disappointed however, when none of them are conveyed to me.

Leaning with one hand on the edge of the sink, I glance down at the floor and clear my throat. I don’t know what it is she isn’t telling me, but it bothers me that she doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me. I’d hoped we were moving past this, but I have a feeling she’ll forever be an enigma to me.

“Paige, what is it you want from me?” I ask point blank. It's time to lay our cards on the table or I’ll go crazy guessing.

“I…I don’t know,” she stammers out.

“I think you do,” I whisper, reaching out to gently touch her cheek. She quivers under my fingertips, and when she closes her eyes, a single tear escapes, sliding down toward my hand in a bright trail of emotion. Brushing my thumb over the tear, I wipe it away “You’re just afraid to admit it.”

Paige starts shaking her head and squeezing her eyes tighter. “No, Elliot,” she breathes. “You don’t want me like that.”

When she opens her eyes and stares into mine, hers are so full of anguish that I ache along with her, desperately wanting to take some of that pain away.

“But I do, Paige. I want you so much that my body aches and I can hardly breathe. I don’t give a fuck about your past, or the reasons you think you’re not good enough. I want you. Just as you are.” I lean in a little closer. “What do you want from me?”

“I…I can’t.”

“You can. Say it, Paige. Say what you want or I swear to you, this goes away. I will walk away from you.” I feel like an arsehole the moment the words leave my mouth. But I need to know. No matter the cost.

“I can’t.” She shakes her head.

“Say it,” I insist.

Her eyes flash bright and her lips tighten, a frantic moment of thought and risk.

“Say. It.”

She takes a breath and closes her eyes. “You, Elliot. I want you!” she yells, putting her hand on her face before she steps away from me. “But you don’t want me. You can’t. Because I’ve done things, Elliot. Terrible things. I’ve hurt people. I've used people. I….Oh, god, I can’t do this…” She shakes her hands, agitated, blowing out a calming breath before she continues, placing her palm over her forehead. “The tattoo.” She meets my eyes, folding her arms protectively across her middle. “It’s a huge reminder of everything I never want to be again. And because of what I was, I don’t get to have someone like you. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything good. I'm not supposed to be happy,” she cries, breaking down. “Can’t you understand that?”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes, my chest aching. I’ve never witnessed anguish like this. And I feel like an absolute bastard for bringing it out in her. Taking a couple of quick steps, I close the distance between us. I can’t fix her. But I can hold her. I can refuse to let go.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair as she sobs even harder against my chest. “I’m not going. I’m here.”

Paige

In all my life, I have never been held as I am now, and it’s more than I can bear. Huge sobs wrack through my body for everything I wish I could forget. Clinging tightly to him, I draw on his strength and take comfort in his arms. Don’t leave me.

“There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me stop caring about you, Paige,” he says after a while, lifting my face so I have to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes pulls at my heart, and I can see he fully believes his own words. For a moment, I do too. But the reality is, no man wants a woman with a past like mine. Not anyone decent anyway. “Whatever happened, whatever you did. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is who you are in this moment, who you are to me.”

I can’t breathe. I want that. I want that to be true so badly.

He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, a slow sweeping motion that sends a feeling of beautiful longing through my body, causing fresh tears to fall from my eyes.

“Please, Paige,” he whispers, tipping me over the edge of my ability to resist him.

Overcome with emotion, I give in to my desires and kiss him back. Opening my mouth slightly as he holds my face tenderly in his hands, his lips entwining with my own, softly tasting and teasing. Never forcing. My heart. My tattoo is on fire, protective and unsure. I don’t know if I can live knowing that one day he could learn my truth and hate me for it.

Pulling away, he presses his lips to my forehead and circles his arms around me once more. This time I hug him back, breathing steadily as I listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. Just a moment. Just let me have a moment, I tell Phoenix. And she listens, calming her fires, easing her grip.

“Do you think we can just watch a movie now?” I ask when I’ve gained some control over my emotions.

I feel his chest bounce as he laughs. “Yeah, I think a movie would be good,” he says, sliding his fingers between mine as he guides me over to the couch.

While he sets up Netflix, I let him keep a hold of my hand. I even let him put his arm around me as we watch the movie. I feel so undeserving.

When I rest my head against his chest, my heart swells when his lips brush against the top of my hair. I’ve fallen too far. So much further than I wanted to. My mind keeps telling me to get up and go, pack my bags and leave, save him. But my body is staying firmly, pressed up against his, refusing to let go.

You made a promise, Phoenix says in my head, disapproving with her words, a living, breathing being etched into my skin.

And I’ll keep it. When he leaves, I’ll tell him everything, so he never comes back. Will that work?

Perhaps, she says, her fire calming as she leaves me be, allows me a moment without her memory tapping against my skull.

I’m not crazy. I don’t think the tattoo on my back is alive. It’s more symbolic to me, like the phoenix is my conscience, and I have to reason out my decisions with it before I feel OK about making them. It’s complicated, but there’s a reason for it. One I’m not quite ready to share.

So, instead of focusing on the movie, I’m running through my options in my mind wondering if it’s wrong of me to want him as much as I do. He’s only here for seven more weeks. There’s no time for him to extend his visa, so he’ll have to leave. Anything we have can’t possibly go anywhere. Could I just enjoy what little closeness we can have before he goes? Can I let go of the guilt and anguish from my past for a little while? I wriggle a little against his hard chest and feel myself melting against him. Yes, I think I can.

Seven weeks… seven weeks until he goes home, and then if I have to, I’ll tell him everything. Seven weeks of happiness. Then I’ll let him go.

Twelve

Elliot

“You’re awfully happy today,” my client, Agy, comments as she wipes her face with the towel I just handed her. “Is there a new love interest making you look that way?”

Smiling, I simply shrug my shoulders. Agy is one of my favourite clients. She's in her late fifties and comes to the gym every day to workout. She doesn’t come here to partake in any gentle movement either; she does full-on weights training and intense cardio. She’s strong as an ox, and I’m betting she will live until she’s at least a hundred.

“A gentleman never tells, Agy.”

Training her is always entertaining, because she’s got loads of great stories to tell me about when she was a kid growing up in the country, and she in turn, loves to hear me talk about Australia.

“Come on, tell me all about her. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a dose of young love,” she presses.

“I guess it depends on what you want to know.”

“Well, her name for starters. Unless it’s a he of course, then you can give me his name,” she starts all very matter-of-factly.

I can’t help but laugh at her boldness. It's one of the reasons I like her so much. “Paige, her name is Paige, Agy.”

“Well, that’s a lovely name. Now you can tell me all about her,” she prompts, eyes gleaming as she listens in rapt attention while I tell her about meeting Paige on the plane and some brief details about how she came to stay in the flat and how our friendship has been progressing. Once I start, it’s difficult to stop.

“She’s been making it hard to get to know her; like she’s scared of her feelings for me. But we finally made some progress last night, and this morning, well, she just kept smiling. And Agy, she’s beautiful when she smiles,” I gush, fighting hard to stop my mouth from curling into some goofy grin.

“That’s wonderful, Elliot. I'm sure any girl who can hold the attention of a gorgeous young man like you is well worth the effort.”

“She is, Agy. I really think she is.”

Paige

“Let me guess,” Andrea says, looking at me with squinting eyes. “You took my advice and finally told Elliot you’re into him? Are you dating now?”

I look at her briefly, trying to focus on cutting hair, but just the thought of being with Elliot causes a smile to creep across my lips. “Not exactly dating, but things are good.”

“Hmmm, have you shagged him yet?”

I raise my eyebrows and look at her again while my client watches us closely in the mirror.

“No, I haven’t ‘shagged’ him,” I answer, using my fingers as quote marks.

“Well, you’re glowing like you have. Must be love,” she says before she turns back to her own work.

Love. I shake my head at the idea because it’s just too crazy. Still, I smile my way through the rest of the day.

Elliot

Standing outside the hair salon waiting for Paige, I’m suddenly filled with nerves. I only have six weeks and five days left in the UK. I don’t want to waste any more time pretending with her. I want more, and I’m not going to hide it. Not after our breakthrough on Friday night. We’ve done little more than hold hands and kiss a couple of times since but every time I lay my eyes on her, the entire world just melts around me. She's all I can think about.

When she emerges from the salon, she’s with her boss, Andrea, who gives me a little finger wave. “Hi Elliot,” she sing-songs at me. I smile and nod at her as I notice a look pass between them, causing Paige’s face to go bright red.

“Have you been talking about me today?” I ask, grinning at her as she gets closer.

The answer she gives me is a coy smile, and a little shrug of the shoulders.

“Have fun, lovebirds,” Andrea calls out, as she walks towards the station.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say to Paige as I catch her hands, and pull her into my arms. “It’s OK. I was talking about you too.”

She smiles as she leans against me. “Good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” I whisper before bringing my mouth to hers. Kissing her gives me life.

“Mmm. What’s happening for dinner tonight?” she asks as we interlace our fingers and make our way towards the flat.

“Brian texted earlier. Said everyone was heading to the Hole to get some dinner and have a few drinks. You up for it?”

“Of course.” She smiles, meeting my eyes. The attraction between us buzzes through the air as it passes between us. We don’t say a lot. We just walk together smiling stupidly. It’s hard to believe that something as minor as a hand hold would make me so ridiculously happy, but it does.

Paige

The moment we reach the door to our flat, I drop Elliot’s hand, my disconnection causing him to look at me and frown.

“I feel kind of weird,” I explain.

“You feel weird?”

“I do.” I grimace. “I’m sorry.”

He sighs and lifts his hands to hold either side of my face. His touch causing a light headiness to overcome me. I have to fight to keep my eyes open so I can focus on him.

“Paige. This is your one and only chance to back out. Otherwise, we’re going to walk through that door holding hands because as far as I’m concerned, I’m with you, and I’m not willing to hide it. It’s all or nothing from here. I can’t pretend to be your friend anymore.”

His blue eyes are dark and serious, and I find myself staring up at him and nodding helplessly. My head didn’t even consult me, it just started moving all by itself.

“What does that even mean?” He smiles as he watches my helpless nodding.

“Hold my hand,” I whisper.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to my forehead before taking my hand and pushing open the door.

We have to let go to remove our coats and hang them on the pegs by the door, but as soon as we do, we link our fingers again and head into the living area.

As per usual, there are bodies draped all over the couches and a mess all over the table. We say a quick hello to everyone, and they barely even glance at our joined hands. I look to see what they're watching on TV.

“Home & Away? You might as well all be back in Australia,” I say with a laugh.

“But I love this show.” Naomi’s eyes shine as she flicks her eyes to mine and Elliot’s hands before they return to my eyes, her quiet smile telling me how happy she is for me. “I don’t want to miss out on the happenings of Summer Bay.”

“Summer Bay isn’t even a real place,” I tease. Those watching, blow raspberries and wave me away, laughing good-naturedly, as I release Elliot’s hand then go into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“That wasn’t weird at all,” Elliot says, as he follows me and leans against the bench top, watching me drink. “They didn’t even notice.”

“I think maybe they’ve been expecting it,” I say. I love the way he watches me. It feels like he’s caressing everywhere he looks from across the small space.

“Come here,” he says, and I’m about to, but we both turn to the front door as it opens and Shane walks in with his girlfriend trailing behind him.

“Hi.” She waves at me.

I’ve met her a couple of times, but I can’t for the life of me remember what her name is. It’s some sort of flower, or tree…

“Hi Shane, Hi Coral,” Elliot greets seamlessly. That’s her name!

“Hey,” Shane says, taking off his jacket and hanging it next to ours. “How long til everyone’s ready to go?”

“They’re watching Home & Away so probably a good fifteen minutes,” I tell him.

“Excellent, I’m busting for a dump.”

With wide eyes, we all grimace at each other after that stellar revelation from Shane.

“Way too much information.” I laugh and grimace, as he disappears down the hallway towards the bathroom. Trying to lose the discomfort of his toilet needs, I turn to his girlfriend, feeling the need to change the subject. “So Coral, I don’t think you’ve ever told me how you and Shane hooked up.”

“Oh,” she says, making a face. “Nothing exciting, we just hooked up at the pub. I really liked his accent, so I was an easy catch, I think.”

“He seems to like you a lot,” I offer. I'm shit at these conversations.

Coral just shrugs her shoulders looking slightly disheartened. I’ve said the wrong thing. Awesome. An uncomfortable silence stretches out for what seems like forever before she shifts the conversation.

“How long have you two been together?” she asks looking from me to Elliot.

“Oh… I… we’re…” I stammer, freaking out a little about qualifying any relationship status at this early stage.

“We met on the plane over here,” Elliot puts in, sliding an arm around my waist. Touch me some more.

“Oh, you’ve been together a while then,” she comments.

“Seems that way doesn’t it?” I say, eyeing Elliot, who’s grinning down at me.

“Best day of my life.”

I blush and force myself to look away before I turn into a puddle of mush. “What is it you do for work, Coral.” I need the distraction of conversation before I do something to embarrass myself.

She’s a little difficult to talk to, not wanting to elaborate too much. It makes me wonder if that’s how I come across to people, thinking that perhaps I need to make the effort to change that. I’m supposed to be reinventing myself, after all.

Thirteen

Elliot

As we all walk towards the Hole, I decide to go bold this time by putting my arm around her. When she slips her arm around my waist, I breathe a slow sigh of relief. I didn’t even realise I was holding my breath while I waited for a response.

When everyone else enters the pub, I hold her back and turn to her as she smiles up at me, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold air, her long hair sitting over her shoulders in the thick glossy curls she created for work.

“What is it?” she asks, those amber eyes of hers search my face as she waits for me to tell her why we stopped.

Hooking my finger under her chin, I tilt her head up to mine and lower my mouth to hers. “I need to taste your lips,” I whisper, brushing my lips against her own. Nodding imperceptibly, her eyes lock with mine as her tongue slips out of her mouth to wet her lips.

Watching her, I feel so turned on right now. I can barely see straight. I want to crash my mouth into hers and carry her back to the flat with me. But, I restrain myself, slowly closing the last few millimetres of distance between us. As our lips touch, I tease her mouth with mine, brushing, but not fully kissing her, testing if she wants me as much as I want her.

When she moans and opens her mouth, this surge of need floods through my body, and I slide my tongue inside the warmth of her mouth. Responding with equal intensity, her mouth and tongue move with mine as we take our time exploring all the crevices in each other’s mouths.

All too quickly, she hums and places her hand on my chest, pushing me gently. I separate my mouth from hers and take a moment to admire the way her face appears right now. Her eyes soft, her cheeks even more flushed than they were before, and her lips have progressed from pink to almost red.

Paige

Clearing the huskiness in my throat, my voice is still barely audible when I speak. “We’d better go inside,” I whisper, my head swimming from the lust and desire that’s threatening to take over my body and make me do things I could get arrested for in a public place.

Elliot looks at me intently then nods, before he hugs me to his chest. I wish I could just fuse to him and stay there. This is now my favourite place to be.

“You OK?” he asks, as we separate, and he holds my hand.

“More than fine. I am hungry though,” I reply, pulling on the collar of his jacket. “For a lot of things.”

His eyes darken with arousal before he kisses me again. I could dine on this mouth until I starve myself for food and I still wouldn’t stop. “I should feed you first,” he says, tearing his mouth from mine “We can continue this later.”

Biting my kiss-swollen lips, I nod.

“Later,” he says like he’s restraining himself before he leads me inside to join in with the group.

The joining in part is fairly unsuccessful as we sit together, talking quietly and touching regularly. It’s been so long since I’ve let someone in my body space that I feel this burning need to touch and be touched. I’m greedy for him.

There’s something about Elliot that makes me feel that maybe he’d understand my truth. Although, deep down, I know it’s impossible. No one could truly understand. Hell, I barely understand a lot of it myself. I know I should stay away from him. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be giving either of us hope. I should never have even shaken his hand on the plane. I should never have agreed to cut his hair. I should never have agreed to live in the same flat. There're so many ‘should never’s at play here. But I’m trying to focus on what Naomi said about regrets a couple of weeks ago. I don’t want to say goodbye to Elliot then spend the rest of my life wondering ‘what if’. This is my perfect moment in time, the one that will overshadow everything that came before and carry me through the darkness when I need light. It’s selfish. But I want it. I want him to be my moment.

Elliot

“So, what’s going on with you two?” Naomi prods from across the table as everyone watches the change in Paige’s and my interactions.

“Yeah, have you two finally hooked up?” Brian asks.

“Haven’t they been together for weeks?” Coral adds.

“No, they’ve been dancing around each other,” Naomi responds.

“Well?” we’re asked, a host of expectant faces looking at us.

As we glance at each other, I notice that Paige’s face is bright red with embarrassment, so I answer for the both of us. “We’re just moving forward. That's all for now,” I tell them.

“Well, forward is the right direction.” Naomi says first, beaming as she gives Paige a wink. “It’s about time you both just got on with it already.”

We get a chorus of agreement from everyone, and dinner continues on normally after that.

As we all get up to leave, Brian informs us he’s heading off to his girlfriend’s house. Gavin claps his hands together. “Who’s up for clubbing?”

Paige immediately shakes her head ‘no’, and I join in with her refusal. Naomi, Shane and Coral all agree to go, parting from us with more than a few knowing glances.

“Well, that was fun,” I say, as we start the short walk home trying to make small talk through my nerves. We’re going to be alone. For the first time since Friday night, we’ll be completely alone and I’m nervous like I’ve never been with a woman before.

“Mmm-hmm.” Paige leans her head against my shoulder as we walk, arms entwined and hands interlaced, falling into an easy quiet as we continue on our way.

Paige

I imagine that this is what falling is love feels like. There’s an entire zoo enclosure full of butterflies flying about in my stomach, something I’ve never experienced around a man. I’ve mainly been chemically confident or wantonly stupid, but this…it’s different. Special. My time with Elliot is fleeting, so I want to make the most of what time we have now. I want to give him what I can of myself, while I can. I don’t want to fight this anymore.

As he closes the front door to the flat behind us, he takes my hand and leads me through the kitchen towards the couch. Maybe he isn’t planning on going as far as I am, but I’m sure he won’t object when I plant my feet as we reach the hallway leading to the bedrooms and shake my head.

“Bedroom,” I explain when he looks at me, then I brazenly lead him to his room.

Shutting the door behind us, he looks at me with raised eyebrows, his fingers on the lock. I nod, shivering as a skitter of anticipation flits through my body when he spins it, giving us all the privacy we need.

I take a nervous step back as he moves towards me, sliding his hands around my waist as he pulls me against him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, my head swimming with attraction as I breathe him in, luxuriating in the scent of him so close to me. I glide my hands up over his well-muscled arms following them with my gaze until I reach his shoulders. There, I meet his eyes. The blue pools of perfect ocean water look down upon me with such intensity I feel lost in them.

“Are you sure this isn’t too fast?” he asks, his voice thick and low, caressing my ears, sending shivers down my body.

“Well, we did meet on the plane,” I joke, smiling as I rise up on the tips of my toes to kiss him. As our mouths welcome each other, my world explodes. His arms circle me tightly as I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing myself against the hard planes of his body.

As our kisses become more frantic, he walks me towards the bed, my knees collapsing as I fall backwards onto it. When he pauses to remove his shirt, I watch in awe, gasping at the sight of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, earning myself a chuckle as I push up on my elbows, reaching out and running my hands over his chest that I can only describe as amazing. My mouth waters, as my fingertips rise and fall, exploring each hard-muscular bump. Leaning forward, I press a kiss in the space between his abs and his pecs, delighting as he slides his fingers into my hair and tips my head back to lean down, kissing me once more.

He supports his weight as he joins me on the bed, his hands roaming underneath my clothes and setting my skin ablaze. Completely lost in his mouth and touch, I wish for this moment to never end and pray silently that this isn’t some dream that will be over the moment I wake up.

Cupping my breast in his hand, he kisses my neck, causing me to moan as my pleasure flows like waves inside me, crashing with each kiss against my skin.

Sliding down my body, he lifts my shirt, his fingertips brushing my already heated skin and setting it ablaze once more. When he starts to kiss his way toward my bust, I gasp and moan, coming undone as he releases my breasts, swirling his tongue around each nipple until they’re so hard I think I might explode with each suck.

Gasping as each sensation shoots straight down between my legs, I writhe—oh god do I writhe—as I urge him forward, wanting him to touch me more.

“Can we take it off?” he asks breathlessly, holding the shirt that’s now bunched up to my armpits. I hesitate momentarily, realising that this will be the first time anyone has seen me naked in a very long time. I’m talking years long.

Reaching up I touch his face, his eyes close as he turns his head to kiss my hand. My heart soars at the tenderness. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nod my head, trusting him as I sit up and remove the shirt myself.

Elliot

I practically hold my breath as I watch her remove her shirt along with her bra. She's so beautiful as her hair falls down over her shoulders and rests like silken curtains just above the two most perfect breasts I've ever seen. Round and firm, they’re just the right size to fill my large hands.

As my eyes travel over her upper body, I notice that her tattoo curls over her shoulders and her sides.

“Will you let me see it?” I ask, knowing that I’m risking ending this moment between us if she clams up, but I can’t help myself. I want to drink in every inch of her with my eyes.

A look of hesitation flits across her face before she nods and turns her body to show me. My eyes grow wide as I see it for the first time. Her back is like one big canvas for the most remarkable tattoo I’ve ever seen. Flames start at her waist as the phoenix rises, its beak open as it calls out over her right shoulder with wings outstretched. They reach up over her left shoulder, spanning diagonally to her ribs on her right side as if it’s hugging itself around her. The phoenix's tail feathers fan out near the flames, curving around her body until they reach her hip bone in swirls of yellow, orange and red.

I run my fingers lightly over it, tracing this mythical creature’s body.  “It’s beautiful, Paige,” I whisper, caught up in admiration, not only for the art but for the time and pain she would have invested in getting it.

“Really?” she asks, turning back to face me.

“Yes, really.” I reach up and thread my fingers through her hair, pulling her face toward mine, kissing her with everything I have. Her arms circle around me, her fingers pressing firmly into my back, compacting our bare chests closer together until there’s no more space. We’re merged almost as one, her skin so soft against my own, melding into me, beckoning me forward.

Paige

Pressed together, our tongues slide in a lavish dance of passion, our teeth clashing as our urgency increases and we fall back on the bed. Travelling down my neck and across my chest, his kisses cause the rest of my skin to feel chill in comparison to the heat his mouth evokes. My mind swirls as I pull desperately at his body, drawing him closer with my overwhelming need to feel him inside me.

Reaching down, I unbutton his jeans, urging him to move forward. “Take them off,” I pant out.

He breaks away and removes his pants, stepping out of them and sweeping them to the side of the room. With my eyes glued to him, I unbutton my own jeans and wriggle out of them. Swiftly reaching out, he grabs them for me, pulling them off my legs and flinging them over his shoulder, grinning wickedly as he climbs back over me, planting gentle kisses over my body until we’re once again face to face.

As the silken feel of his body slides on top of mine, I’m overcome with wanting, rocking my hips upward, urging him to push inside of me. Moaning, he shifts slightly to the side and captures my mouth in his, kissing me, sliding his hand down the length of my chest and over my mound as erotic sounds escape his throat and ripple through me causing my insides to contract.

Finding its way between my legs, his touch is exquisite as his fingers slide through the slickness of my arousal. Gasping upon contact, I reflexively rock my hips against his hand, moaning as I feel his fingers enter me, curling forward and working my tender insides, already desperate to burst. As we moan into each others mouths, he works his fingers in rhythm to my rocking, circling his thumb around my swollen nub and causing a flood of glorious warmth that spreads out quickly and explodes from my body as I call out, thrusting my hips and clamping my thighs around his hand.

Gasping out, I clutch his hand. “Please, I want you inside me so badly. I need you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” he whispers, his nose brushing lightly against my neck.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I want to be beneath you,” I whisper, reaching between us to guide his tip to my entrance. “I feel safe with you.”

A guttural moan comes from deep in his chest and fills my tingling body as he pushes his length into me, both of us gasping and moaning as he moves inside my body, gliding in and out with forceful perfection, filling me to my core, his rhythm heating me from within once again, radiating outward until I burst yet again.

“Shit. Condom,” I cry out as my body is wracked with an orgasm so powerful, I can’t stop myself from convulsing as I clench myself around him.

Stopping suddenly, he holds himself on straight arms, dropping his head until his forehead rests on my shoulder. “Fuck. It's too late,” he whispers through laboured breaths. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.” The glory of our love making ends abruptly as I realise what we’ve done. How could we forget a fucking condom? I’ve been too lax in my past, and I know how important they are now. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Annoyed with myself for getting carried away, for losing my mind with yet another man, I push at his shoulder to get him to roll off me.

Lying on his back, he presses his hands to his forehead, forcing out a loaded breath. As I sit up, I reach out, grabbing the sheet from his bed, wrapping it around myself as I rise off the mattress to visit the bathroom. I need to clean this up.

“Paige,” Elliot pleads, as he sits and reaches for my arm.

A painful ache forms in the pit of my belly as I pause and turn towards him, touching his face and brushing my hand over his course stubble. I don’t want to ruin this. “I’m just going to take a shower, OK?” My voice is barely above a whisper as I try to appear unaffected.

“Are you alright? Listen, you need to know I’m clean, OK?” he says, looking genuinely worried as he rests his hands firmly on my hips and pulls me towards him. “I’ve been tested recently, and I promise you I’m clean.”

“I’m fine, Elliot,” I lie. I’m not fine at all. “And I’m clean too. I just need a shower to clean…. I'll come back afterward, alright? Don’t worry, we’re all good…But I want us to use one in the future, OK?”

“We will, Paige. I just got carried away. I'm sorry I—”

Leaning forward, quickly pressing my lips against his, I silence him. I’m the one who urged him inside me. I’m the one who wasn’t thinking. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t be sorry,” I whisper, before stepping toward the door, the sheet trailing along the floor behind me as I make my way to the shower to clean it all away…

Fourteen

Elliot

Sighing heavily, I feel like such a fucking idiot as I lie here, listening to the sounds of Paige showering. I can’t believe I did that. I fucked up.

Rising from the bed, I pull on a pair of boxer shorts as I pick up our discarded clothing and fold it in a pile on top of the suitcase I keep at the foot of my bed. When the door cracks open, I turn to see Paige, looking like an apparition, bathed in the light from the hallway as it filters around her and into the room. She’s wearing an oversized white t-shirt, her slender legs, long and tan in contrast as I watch her move towards me, holding out a clean sheet.

“Thought we might need this.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her and dropping it still folded on the bed.

We stand together for an awkward moment before I sit in front of her and pull her towards me, sliding my hands up her legs and under the hem of her shirt. My intension is to hold her to me, to talk about what just happened. But, a grin creeps over my face as my hands continue up, never meeting any resistance from underwear. Her eyes sparkle mischievously, as her hands slide over my hair and down the side of my face affectionately.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I say, as I lift her shirt over her head and pull her onto the bed with me.

“Thank god you set me straight.”

“Hmm,” I say, my hand sliding down the length of her body as her breathing changes. “Maybe we should try that again—properly this time?” I want to put the whole ‘no condom’ thing behind us.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she whispers. “But this time I get to be on top.”

* * *

“Do you want to tell me the story behind this tattoo?” I ask, running my hands down her back as we lie together afterward.

“Not really,” she whispers, her body stiffening slightly as she speaks. Not wanting to push her any further, I move my hand from her back to caress her arm instead. Feeling even more curious but knowing that now isn’t the time to push it.

A silence settles over us. It's not one of those uncomfortable ones that makes you feel like you’ve made a mistake after sleeping with someone. It’s one of those silences, filled with questions and answers that remain unspoken, but at some point will need to be said.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” she asks me suddenly.

“Um, no, do you?”

“I do actually,” she says carefully, sitting up to look at me. Her mass of dark hair falling over her shoulders as she leans forward to talk to me. I raise my eyebrows in question, trying to keep my focus on her face and not her body. “I’d like you to come with me actually. For moral support. I’m… I’m going to meet my father.”

I sit up quickly, frowning in confusion. “Your father? But…”

I thought her family was dead?

Paige

“I know. You thought he was dead,” I say, reaching down to the floor to pick up the shirt lying there. It’s not mine, but it will do. I don’t want to have this conversation naked.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, post-coitus probably isn’t the best time to be doing this, but I feel the need to open up to him. I need to give him something about me. I feel so guilty, like I’m leading him astray and tricking him into caring about me. He needs to know something about what he’s getting into.

“I’m listening,” he says, his eyes boring into me.

“My family isn’t dead, Elliot. They're all alive and well—as far as I know, anyway. They kicked me out when I was fifteen, and I’ve been lying and saying that they’re dead so people don’t question me.” I let it all out in a rush of breath, and then hold it, waiting for him to react.

“They what?” he asks looking down at me, deep furrows between his brows.

“They’re not dead,” I repeat.

“No, no; I got that. I’m asking about the other part—they kicked you out?” His face screws up in disbelief. “At fifteen?”

“Yes, Elliot. They kicked me out at fifteen.”

“Who the fuck does that?” he mutters.

While at the same time I say, “You’re not angry with me?”

He knits his brow. “Angry with you? Why the hell would I be angry with you?”

“Because I lied, Elliot. I made you think I was an orphan.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders, holding me firmly as he peers into my face intently. “Your parents kicked you out of home when you were still a child. If my parents did that, I’d probably say they were dead too.”

I blink rapidly as tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I can’t believe he's reacting this way. I expected him to yell at me, to tell me he needed time to think. What I didn’t expect was complete understanding.

“I’ve been lying about my past for years now,” I admit. “When I got my life sorted out, I found it was easier to say they were dead. When I was honest, people looked at me strangely, wondering what I did to deserve it, and I didn’t want to answer their questions anymore. Especially when I didn’t do anything. They just didn’t like me.”

His strong arms encircle me and drag me closer so I’m sitting on his lap. This huge relief fills me as he tilts my face upward to meet my eyes. “I would never send you away,” he whispers, bringing his lips to mine. As our mouths move together, my threatened tears slide quietly from my closed eyes as my emotions take over and my fears fall away, cracking my heart open just enough so hope blossoms inside of me. I find myself doing something that’s been so difficult for me before now—I’m letting him in, just a little.

I pause our kissing and rest my forehead on his shoulder. Perhaps one day he’ll understand everything about me, but telling him my full story is a risk I can’t take yet. I can only afford to show him the first chapter. I want to tell him about my life before I was sent out on my own.

Breathing deep as I close my eyes, I revel in the feel of his skin against my cheek as I keep my head tucked and speak quietly against his chest.

“My Mother worked—probably still works—for one of the big multinational accounting firms in Sydney. When she was in her early thirties, she got sent here, to London, for some sort of business trip. When she came back, she found out she was pregnant with me.”

“She had an affair?”

I nod. “She tried to pass me off as one of them. But as I grew, people would comment on how my brother and sister look so different from me with their blond hair and fair skin. They would ask my mother, ‘where did she get those eyes?’, ‘where did she get that olive skin?’” I bite at my lip as I look off into the distance, re-living unsettling memories of a time I couldn’t understand. “I look nothing like my family, Elliot. And I got treated that way.”

“My beautiful, Paige,” he whispers, his eyes sad and gentle as he runs a hand over my hair. “How could anyone treat you poorly?”

His words cause a swell of emotion to clog my throat. “I spent a lot of time wondering if I was really Cinderella. They always gave my older brother and younger sister everything they wanted while my own possessions were meagre in comparison. They assigned me every chore, and if something went wrong, I was the first to be blamed for it.

“As I got older, I noticed the way my parents looked at me. I always felt like I was such a disappointment. I wasn’t good at school like my siblings, nor was I good at sports. I was just me.

“It didn’t matter what I did to try to fit in, I knew I wasn’t wanted, so I did what I could to stay out of the way. Then one day, I was walking up my driveway, and I noticed a bag with an envelope on top. I opened it, and along with two-hundred dollars was a note in my mother’s handwriting. It said ‘This isn’t your home anymore.’ Stupidly, I tried the door. They’d changed the locks.”

“What?” he spits. “Who the hell does that?”

Pressing my lips together, I shrug. “I went to a friend’s house and stayed there for as long as I could then couch hopped for a while... I never understood why I was so different, and I hated them for not loving me. But when I was sixteen, I ordered a copy of my birth certificate to get my license. That’s when I found out why. The man I believed was my father, wasn’t my father. My mother had an affair when she was in London. My real father lives here.”

“She put his name on your birth certificate?”

I nod.

“But that means—”

“That my dad always knew I wasn’t his? Yeah. I know. Explains why he could never stand the sight of me. I remember him yelling at her for hugging me when I was little. He wanted me as miserable as he was, and for whatever fucked-up reason, my mum went along with it.”

Elliot is quiet for a moment, his expression deep in thought. I close my eyes tightly while I wait for his response, hoping he won’t ask for any more information. That’s all I can handle sharing.

“So, this guy—your real father—you want to meet him?” Elliot asks finally, his voice soft as he speaks into my hair. He’s been gently stroking my back while he listened to me.

“Yes. But I’m too nervous to go alone. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” he whispers, lifting my head so he can look into my eyes.

“ I was so worried you’d say no.”

“Understand me when I say this, Paige—I would do anything for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

That admission from him, spoken so softly, has so much power that it causes a physical reaction. It starts in my chest and swirls outwards until it intensifies to a point where I grab his face on either side and bring our mouths together. I hold him so tightly as I kiss him, my arms wrapping around his head and neck as we pull each other closer, not willing to let each other go for a frantic second. Lying back on the single bed, we wrap ourselves around each other, absorbed in a passion that keeps us joined for the rest of the night. For the first time in my life, I start to believe in the existence of true love.

Fifteen

Elliot

Shane was good enough to let us use his car for the day so I can drive Paige out to Cambridge to meet her father. I’m still in shock that Paige’s mother would do something so horrible to her. She was just a kid. She didn’t ask her mother to have an affair. Why punish her for the actions of the adults around her?

“Are you OK?” she asks, her hand resting on my leg as I drive.

I glance at her momentarily, nodding to show her I’m fine before turning back to the road and my thoughts.

“So, does this guy—your father—know you’re coming?” I ask eventually.

“Yeah he does. I contacted him yesterday, and I spoke to him before I left Australia. He knows who I am, and he’s willing to meet me. But I’ve been too scared to do anything about it until now. I mean, what if he’s awful? I feel like this is my one and only chance to have a real family. What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me beyond just meeting me?” She shakes her head and slides her hands over her face and through her hair, sighing heavily as she drops them in her lap.

Resting her head back into the seat, she sits and watches me as I drive, her stress and worry radiating off her. I reach over and grab her hand again and give it a reassuring squeeze, lending her as much of my strength as I can. Although, I have to admit I feel nervous about this too. If this guy’s name was on her birth certificate, it means he knew about her when she was born. Where the hell was he all this time? Where was he when her mother tossed her out of home? I’m just glad she asked me to come with her as emotional support. No matter how this turns out, she will need someone in her corner, keeping a close eye on her.

“Thank you, Paige,” I tell her suddenly.

“Thank you for what?” she asks, sounding surprised.

“For trusting me. For wanting me to come today.”

“Oh… OK,” she says, her voice small as she looks out the window at the passing scenery. I leave our hands connected to comfort her as we drive in silence, listening to the ‘Jebediah’ disc that is the only music Shane’s car plays since the CD player was jammed when he bought it.

“It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” she asks, as we enter the town her father lives in. She’s focused on the world outside as it flits past us, so I don’t think she’s expecting an answer, instead I check the readout on the GPS. It says that we’re only ten minutes away from his home address.

“What’s his name?” I ask, as we pull up outside his house. It’s a two-storey, light brown brick home with a chimney on top of a charcoal tiled roof. It has a large brick driveway leading to a single garage. A path flows from there to the house where there’s a bay window and a navy blue front door with white edging.

“Daniel Ashdown,” she tells me, her voice vacant as she sits, staring toward the house. I can feel her nerves in the pit of my stomach through the connection of our hands. After a while, she has made no attempt to move. I watch her quietly as she continues to look at the house, her eyes wide and fearful. Suddenly, her breath catches and she speaks. “Drive away, Elliot. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Paige… Paige, look at me.” I wait until she drags her eyes from the house and fixes them on mine. Reaching out, I hold her face in my hands, moving my thumbs against her cheeks to calm her. “You are probably one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I know you can do this. You haven’t told me a lot about your life, but from the snippets you’ve given me, it’s been a shit storm. Not many people could go through what you have and come out the other side of it as a functioning human being. Meeting your biological father will be easy in comparison.”

“How do you know I did?”

“Become a functioning human being?” I ask, watching her head as she attempts to nod in response. “Because I know you in my heart, Paige. You’re a fighter.”

Paige

How does he see me with such purity when I've told him I've done horrible things? Is it because I’ve spared him the gory details of everything except my beginning? Would he still see me the same if he knew my end? He couldn’t. Oh god, I wish I could keep him. I don’t think I've ever had a man be this kind to me. It aches inside and I can’t decide if the feeling is good or bad—it just aches.

The ache inside me intensifies, and I feel like I need to confess everything before we get too deep. I open my mouth, but movement outside the car draws my attention away from his beautiful face.

A man with short dark hair sprinkled with greys and eyes a duller version of mine is peering into the car. Elliot turns to where I'm looking and clicks the button to lower his window.

“Are you Paige?” he asks in a voice I recognise from our brief phone calls. I’m speechless at the sight of him, my nerves boiling up and rolling around in turmoil through my stomach, I can do little more than nod my head. “Won’t you come in? We’ve been expecting you.”

I look briefly at Elliot, whose face is etched with concern for me, and get out of the car. In this moment, I feel like I’m apart from myself, drifting along behind the man who is my biological father. Elliot’s arm comes around me, and I suddenly feel grounded and so grateful that he accompanied me. I feel a strength around him that no matter how hard I try, I just don’t have on my own.

Daniel—my father—leads us inside his home, taking our coats and hanging them up on a stand in his entryway.

“I’m Daniel,” he says, holding his hand out to Elliot, who quickly takes it in greeting.

“Sorry mate, I’m Elliot. I’m here for Paige,” he states simply.

“Of course you are. I trust you had a pleasant drive?” Daniel enquires politely.

“We did, thank you,” Elliot answers for us both. I’m still yet to find my voice.

Silence descends on us for a moment as we all stand in the entryway looking at each other, feeling unsure what to say.

“Paige,” Daniel says turning towards me and taking my hands in his. I panic slightly when he touches me and flick my eyes to Elliot, who is watching calmly. He gives me a look that tells me it’s OK, and I take comfort from that, letting out my breath and focusing once again on Daniel. “This is a wonderful day for me, finally meeting you. I had hoped you would eventually track me down. Come, we have much to talk about and there’s someone else waiting to see you.”

“Really? Who?” I ask, imagining I may have another relative in the UK. Perhaps I have half siblings, an uncle, an aunt?

Daniel beckons for us to follow, leading us further inside, the light touch of Elliot’s hand on the small of my back keeping me strong as I move along the hall to pass through the set of double doors where Daniel is waiting.

Just inside the doorway, I freeze as my eyes land on a woman, so much older and smaller than I remember. Shock and disbelief take over as my eyes widen, watching as she rises from the couch to greet us.

Elliot

Paige’s body stiffens by my side. I don’t know what’s just happened but there’s a woman here that she doesn’t look comfortable seeing.

“Paige,” the woman says. Sorrow is written all over her face and comes out in the sound of her voice.

“Take me home, Elliot, please take me home.” Paige’s face turns toward me, grief stricken as she grabs at my arm and tries to pull me to the door.

“What’s going on?” I ask, worried. I want to give her what she’s asking for, but I know what it took her to come here. I don’t want her to leave without getting any answers.

“Please, Paige, stay,” the woman implores her. “I just want to talk, nothing more.”

Paige stands unmoving, still turned toward me, gripping at my arm. Her eyes are closed and her voice waivers, her body quivering against me as she speaks. “Why are you here?”

“Because I live here, Paige. I divorced your father, not long after I… after you left, and I came back here,” the woman, who I’m now guessing is Paige’s mother says.

Paige shakes her head frantically. Her eyes closed as if she’s trying to force her feelings out of her head. I circle my arms firmly around her, trying to give her as much strength as I can.

“I felt so guilty for what I did. I tried, Paige, I tried to find you. But no one knew where you were, you just disappeared.” Her mother’s tone is low as she approaches us.

Paige’s body suddenly snaps to life as she turns to face her mother. “I had nowhere to go, mother! Nowhere. You have no idea what I went through; what you forced me to become. I will never forgive you for what you did. Never!” She’s yelling, her body shaking and her face bright red with anger. I touch my hand to her shoulder, and she spins back into me, throwing her body against mine.

I can feel her trembling as she buries her face in my chest and tries to breathe. Her mother looks at me beseechingly, but I shake my head. “You could have told her you were here. You didn’t have to ambush her like that,” I say as calmly as I can.

“Paige,” her mother implores, reaching out for her daughter.

“Don’t,” I say, warning her, knowing Paige wouldn’t welcome her mother’s touch. I watch as hurt flits across her mother’s features as she closes her hand in on itself, reluctantly lowering her arm to her side.

“Paige, will you please talk to us,” Daniel pleads. “There’s so much you need to understand.”

Turning in my arms, Paige faces them, levelling her gaze on both of them as what can only be described as hatred seethes out of her. “Oh, I understand plenty. You two had an affair, destroyed one child’s life and abandoned the lives of two others, and now you’re living your happily ever after together. Am I close?” She glares at them as their eyes flit to each other, then drop to the floor. “You know what? Fuck you, fuck both of you.”

I take this as our cue to leave and guide a very shaky Paige out of the house and back to the car. We drive for a few minutes in silence as Paige’s eyes pour out buckets of tears. I pull over to the side of the road and take out my phone, Googling the location of the nearest motel.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking over at me.

“Taking you somewhere so you can calm down,” I say as I set my phone to navigate and pull the car back onto the road. As we drive along, my chest aches with my need to comfort her. I feel like I’ve handled this all wrong, and I don’t want to take her back to a flat full of people while she’s this upset. This is the best I can think to do.

Sixteen

Paige

“I can’t believe this. After all she did to me. She gets to have her happily ever after. This is bullshit!” I screech, shaking with the rage I feel at seeing my mother again after so many years. “I hate her Elliot, I hate her so much that I can’t even breathe through it.” I pace up and down the room as he sits on the edge of the bed watching me rant. “She looked for me? Bullshit she looked for me. It’s been twelve years. You’re telling me she couldn’t have gone through every Paige Larsen in the phone book a thousand times by now? Who the fuck does she think she is? Everything that happened to me is her fault. She was my mother! She was supposed to care about me.”

I stop pacing and shut my eyes, placing my hands on either side of my head and gripping handfuls of my hair. My mouth opens, and a wretched cry unrecognisable as my own, comes from deep within me. Two firm strong arms slip around my waist as Elliot pulls my body against his rock-hard chest.  I collapse, literally. My knees give way and my body sags against him. I’m hanging off him, sobbing wildly against his chest. He holds me steadily while I cry, kissing me in my hair and shushing me.

“It’s OK. I'm here. You're not alone anymore. Everything will be OK,” he repeats like a mantra, slowly calming me down.

Scooping me up as though I’m a child and weigh next to nothing, he carries me over to the bed and places me gently down, smoothing my hair out of my face. Lying next to me, he curls his body around mine and holds me tightly, protectively. My heart aches so much, and I just want it to stop. But I don’t think it ever will.

At some point, I fall asleep in his arms, overcome with the exhaustion but filled with a comfort that only he can give me. No one else makes me feel this way. No one else gives me hope. I’ll miss him when he goes.

Elliot

I lie on the bed, holding Paige tightly as she sleeps, all the while replaying the morning over and over in my mind, mentally kicking myself each time. I feel like I let her down. I should have taken her home when she asked me to the first time. I was supposed to protect her, and now I feel like all I did was put her in a position to get her heart broken.

I run my free hand over my face as I stare up at the ceiling. I’m a little out of my depth here, and I don’t know what to do or say to help her. I’ve been harbouring so much hate towards my own father for using his money to control me for so many years, but at least my mother has always been supportive of me. And really, my father cares about me too—he just wants things for me I don’t. I feel selfish and spoilt. I was given everything while Paige had everything torn from her when she was cast out into the world on her own. I dread the thought of what her life must have been like since then. How the hell did she even survive?

When I feel Paige stir, I reach over to smooth her hair away from her face. She wore it out in her natural curl today, and it’s not keen on being tamed. After a few attempts, her face is free, and we’re looking at each other.

Her hand scrunches tightly as she pulls at my shirt, urging me toward her. I slide down the bed a little so our faces are level, touching her face softly, trying so hard to be what she needs right now.

“Kiss me, Elliot,” she whispers, her eyes swimming with more tears she has yet to shed.

I brush my lips lightly on hers and slowly deepen the kiss as she responds fervently. Our tongues slide against each other as we moan softly into each other’s mouths, pulling at each other’s clothes, repositioning ourselves, so she is on top of me, her legs straddling me either side.

She moves her hips against me, rubbing herself up and down my already hard shaft. Watching her as she works, I’m lost in the sensations of what she’s doing to me as my fingers ache to feel her skin underneath them. Sliding my hands under her shirt, I massage her breasts, tweaking her nipples gently as they stand erect between my fingers.

Erotic whimpers escape her throat as she leans down, kissing me and rocking over me. I feel close to bursting and try desperately to keep myself calm. Removing my hands from underneath her shirt, I thread my fingers through her hair, holding her head steady as I trail kisses down her delicious neck.

She has a look of pure ecstasy on her face as she rocks. I don’t think I have ever been this turned on fully clothed. Placing her hands on my chest she sits up and continues her movement, gasping and moaning, causing my head to swim and my body to scream with my need for her, until finally she opens her eyes and cries out, her hips stilling to a gentle pulse before she collapses in a heap on my chest. I breathe steadily, amazed by what I just witnessed. The throbbing in my own pants threatening to explode each time her body moves as she’s heaving against me.

“Do you have anything with you?” she whispers breathlessly in my ear.

“In my wallet,” I say, reaching over to the bedside table where I’d placed my phone, wallet and keys when we arrived.

She sits up to undo the top button of my jeans and then pulls at the button fly to pop the rest, releasing my erection. I lift my hips as she works my jeans off my legs and drops them at the end of the bed, removing her own jeans at the same time.

Tearing the foil open I pull out the condom and move to apply it. “No, I want to do it,” she says, climbing on top of me and reaching out to take the circle of rubber from my fingers.

She pinches the bubble and places it on top of my shaft, rolling it down to the base in long languid motions. As she positions herself on top of me, I hold my breath, waiting for her to take me inside.

Looking at me wickedly she uses my tip to tease her opening, flinching slightly as she moves it over her clit and back again before slowly sliding down my length. She does this little grind when she hits our deepest point, and I moan, placing my hands on her hips as she rides me.

She squeezes herself around me, and I’m excruciatingly close to coming, but I don’t want this to end. Her face is perfect as she focuses on her movement, grinding against me each time she takes me in.

“Are you sure about this, Elliot?” she whispers in between her moans.

Gripping her firmly, I hold her hips still, stopping her movement and getting her full attention. Her eyes focus clearly on mine and a slight look of panic flits across her face.

“Sure about what?”

Her eyes close and I can see she’s on the verge of getting upset again. “About me… about us…”

Reaching up, I take her face in my hands, keeping her steady so she can’t look away. “Paige, open your eyes.”

For a moment she squeezes them tighter, but I wait, gently stroking her cheeks with my thumb, until they flutter open, focusing again on me.

“I want you, Paige. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I have wanted you. So yes, I’m sure. I’m fucking positive.”

Her eyes close again as she sucks in her breath, and I draw her face towards mine, crashing our lips together as we continue our movement, pressing our bodies together until there isn’t even a millimetre’s worth of space between us.

She’s still wearing her shirt, so I pull it up, urging her to take it off. She complies, removing her bra, dropping them down the side of the bed before reaching down to lift my shirt.

I crunch up and remove it, dropping it with hers before I lie back and pull her toward me, kissing her passionately. My chest aches from the intensity of my feelings for this woman. I want to possess her, to know everything there is to know about her, to spend every living moment with her. But I know that, emotionally, she’s holding back, keeping herself just outside of my grasp, and I wonder whether she'll ever surrender fully to becoming ‘us’. I deepen my kiss, wanting to hold on so badly, knowing this could all be too fleeting.

She makes noises while she kisses me. I can tell she’s about to come again. I try not to move too much more than a small pulse as we fully connect, letting her guide the rhythm. When she cries out, I finally let go as well, pushed over the edge by the pleasure from her moans.

She lies down on my chest again, breathing hard, and I roll us both so I’m on top now, kissing her face, her neck. I run my fingers over her body and enjoy the smoothness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Placing her hands either side of my face, she guides me so I’m looking at her. There is such adoration in her eyes as she gazes up at me, tears still threatening to spill I lean down and kiss each one, tasting a slight saltiness on my lips when I do. Her hips rock up against me and I'm hard again, moving inside her, setting aside my worries and losing myself in our blissful connection.

Paige

Being with Elliot is a heaven I never thought was possible for me to experience. I don’t think I ever want to go back out into the real world again. I don’t want to face the things I have to face, or speak of the truths I have to tell. I just want to be right here, right now, connected with him, forever.

Seventeen

Elliot

As we lie together, naked and wrapped around each other, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. I feel like I’ve found myself in her arms, and I don’t want to let her go.

“I’m so sorry for making you go in there. I should have taken you home,” I say to her as she lies on my chest, tracing her fingers in between my abs as I twirl her hair around my fingers, enjoying the way it coils around each one like a spring.

“You didn’t make me do anything, Elliot,” she answers.

She sits up to talk to me, and my eyes fall to her breasts—I don’t think I’d be a guy if they didn’t. She doesn’t speak, so I drag my eyes back up to hers, and she’s smiling at me. But it doesn’t touch her eyes or display any happiness; it's thoughtful and a little sad.

“Are you going to be OK?” I ask out of concern, smoothing my hand against the skin of her arm.

She looks over at the closed curtains of the hotel room window and sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting her to be there. I barely even got to say two words to him. It feels like we wasted the trip out here.”

“There isn’t a moment of time around you I consider a waste, Paige.”

She turns her attention back to me and looks slightly pained as she smooths her hand down the side of my face. “You have such a beautiful heart, Elliot.”

Paige

He’s looking up at me, and my chest hurts from caring about him so much. Why did this man have to come into my life? I was surviving fine without him, and now I don’t feel like I can even breathe without him near me.

We’ve gone from meeting on a plane to being a constant in each other’s lives in a little more than six weeks. I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye when he leaves. All I know is that I need to be with him, perfect like we are now, for as long as we can. I don’t want to tell him any more about my past. I don’t want to ruin what little time we have together with the evil I used to be. I want to be new. I want to be with him.

He takes my hand from his face and kisses my palm, pulling me down to lie beside him. His fingers trail up and down my back as he leans up on his arm, studying my tattoo. It feels strange having someone look at it after keeping it covered for so many years, kind of like my soul is exposed.

His voice is low and intimate when he speaks. “Is this how you see yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you see yourself as a phoenix, rising out of the ashes?”

“Not really,” I answer, rolling over to face him.

“Well then… what does it mean? You said it’s to remind you of everything you don’t want to be anymore. What don’t you want to be, Paige?” He sits himself up, so he’s leaning against the headboard as he waits for my answer.

I look away from him as a tear spills from my left eye and try to discreetly wipe it on my pillow. Taking a deep breath, I sit up, clearing my throat.

“I just… don’t want to be who I was. It… um, it’s kind of like my cross to bear—if that makes sense. That’s why it covers my back, and the phoenix means… that I hope something good can come out of all the wrong… that’s all.” I glance at him as he studies me intently. I can see he isn’t happy with my answer, but that’s all he’s getting for now. I just want the next six weeks with him and then I’ll tell him everything. Then I’ll let him go.

In an obvious move to shift his focus, I swing my leg over to straddle him, grinning wickedly as I lean in to kiss him. He’s a little slow to respond, but when I use my hand to stroke his shaft back to life, his kiss becomes much deeper.

His hands move up into my hair as he pulls me toward him, delving into my mouth with his tongue. He breaks free and holds my face away for a moment. “We can’t go all the way this time,” he informs me. “I don’t carry multiple condoms around in my wallet.”

“That’s fine,” I say, kissing him between my words. “We just won’t penetrate.”

He lets out a moan as he dives back into the kiss, his fingers in my hair and his chest pressed against my own. I can feel his shaft hard between my legs and slide myself up the length of him, careful to avoid the tip.

“Oh, you’re like silk,” he says into my neck as he nips at my ear, then flips me onto my back. I laugh in surprise at the suddenness of his movement but quickly slip into oblivion as he slides down my body and settles his mouth between my legs.

Elliot

After doing everything we possibly could to each other without having actual sex, we both fall asleep, exhausted, and curled around each other. It’s dark when I open my eyes to the sudden music. At first I don’t realise where I am, but I quickly remember when I look at my phone and see Shane’s number on the screen. “Ah, crap!” I say, grabbing at it and answering before it rings out.

“Where the fuck are you?” he complains immediately in my ear.

“I’m sorry, man. We're on our way,” I lie, flipping on the bedside light as I get up and hunt down our clothes. “It just took longer than we expected. We’ll be about an hour.”

Shane sighs on his end. “Fine,” he says flatly. “Just hurry, I’m supposed to be at Coral’s before then. She’s gonna be pissed at me.”

He disconnects without saying any more, and I get my jeans on as I move over to Paige’s side of the bed. “Paige, honey, wake up,” I whisper, gently rocking her shoulder to rouse her.

She blinks a few times before her eyes focus on me properly. “What? What’s wrong?” she asks, sitting up and taking the clothes I’m handing to her.

“We need to get back. Shane needs his car.”

“Oh shit. I forgot about him,” she says, suddenly throwing her clothes on and stuffing her feet into her shoes.

“I know, me too,” I say, as I grab my jacket and hold out hers. She slips her arms in, and I pause our rush for a moment to kiss her. “I don’t want to go.”

“Me either, but we can’t keep his car forever,” she returns, kissing me again. I cup her arse in my hand and pull her body against mine, savouring these last few moments of our time alone. As we pull apart, she sighs and picks up her bag. Then I take her hand, and we walk over to reception to return the key before getting back into the car for the drive back to the flat.

In the hour it takes to get back to Waterloo, talk is hard to come by. I’m lost in my head, ruminating over the limited time I have left with her, and she’s curled in on herself, lost in her own thoughts. It takes everything I have not to drive back to her parents’ place and give them both a rather large chunk of my mind. I managed to take her mind off her pain for a short while, but sex doesn’t fix things, it simply masks them.

“You OK?” I ask once we’re home and inside the flat. Shane practically jumped in the car before I was out of the driver's seat to race his way to Coral.

Paige leans against the wall in the entrance and sighs. “I don’t know what I am,” she says, then she pulls her hand from mine and slips away, both mentally and physically. How do I help her?

Eighteen

Paige

“Maybe you should take a few days off,” Andrea suggests, as I send yet another customer on their way, making no conversation with them that wasn’t related to their hairstyle.

“I need to work at the moment, Andrea.” I busy myself cleaning up the fallen hair from the floor.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

I pause my sweeping and look up at Andrea’s concerned face. We're experiencing one of the rare quiet times in the salon when we have no clients waiting, and our next appointment isn’t for another hour. So it’s safe to talk. My problem is, do I want to?

Sighing, I fall into the salon chair, leaning my upper body weight on the broom in my hand. “I just…” I start, having trouble working out what to say. I’m trying to let people into my life, but it’s still hard to share my worries when I’m so used to dealing with them on my own.

“Just what, Paige? Talk to me. You’ve been moping around the salon for over a week now,” she prods, wheeling a stool over so she's sitting directly in front of me.

“I went to meet a um… relative, the weekend before last, and it just brought up a lot of… well, shit from my past. Stuff I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of, and I’m just trying to work through it all in my head. I’m sorry I’ve been out of sorts, but I don’t want to take time off. I’d just spend it thinking, and I don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t have to take time off if you don’t want to, Paige. Your work is fantastic as always. My concern is that you’re not your usual bubbly self. I’m worried about you as a friend here, not a boss.” A friend. I’m making friends.

“Thank you, Andrea, but I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me, OK?” she offers, and I nod, appreciating her concern.

I return to sweep my pile of hair while Andrea moves about the salon cleaning up and preparing for her next client by collecting the supplies she’ll need for a keratin treatment.

“Why don’t you tell me about that boy of yours while we’re quiet? Thinking about him sure puts a smile on my face.” She laughs.

Returning her laughter half-heartedly, I sigh again. “Elliot is wonderful, as always. He’s being so patient with me, Andrea. I’m afraid I’ve been distant with him too since he took me out to Cambridge—that’s where my relative lives—and he was so supportive and amazing while we were there. But I feel like we were in this cocoon that broke once we got back to the flat and around everyone else. We’re still together, but we haven’t been together since then, if you know what I mean,” I say, sharing as much as I’m willing to about the details of our relationship.

“Sounds like you two need some time on your own. Maybe you should book the weekend somewhere, just the two of you?”

The bell rings above the door as a walk-in client enters, so I nod, agreeing with Andrea’s comment. “That might be exactly what we need,” I say before moving to greet our new customer with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

Elliot

Ever since we came back from Cambridge, Paige has distanced herself from everyone and everything. It’s a little hard for me to handle because our time together was amazing, and I want nothing more than to be with her again. But, during the drive back to the flat this melancholy descended upon her, and I don’t know how to help her out of it.

We’re still together, but not much more besides hand holding, hugging and a bit of kissing is going on—which is fine, of course. I'm not some arsehole who will throw a tantrum over sex. I’m just concerned. Those walls of hers seem to be fortifying their defences, and I’m afraid she'll shut down completely. There’s this sadness in her now, greater than the one before. I think she’d gotten her hopes up, thinking when she met her real dad, she’d finally have a parent who gave a shit. But seeing her mother ruined it for her.

I want to fix it for her, but I know I can't. She won’t talk about it, even though I can see her troubles constantly playing on her mind. It’s shit, because I thought we turned a corner when she told me about her family. But now, I think she only shared a tiny piece of herself and is keeping the rest locked away. Perhaps it’s all buried underneath that tattoo?

“Elliot, I think that weights bench is clean enough now,” one of my co-workers, Natasha says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I'm supposed to be preparing for my next client but I’m in a daze, thinking about Paige. Big shock there.

I check my appointments to see I’m supposed to be training Agy. Suddenly, my day is a little brighter. Taking a walk into reception, I see her standing around chatting to a couple of other women.

“Oh, here he is!” she exclaims happily as I approach. “The light of my life. Isn’t he lovely, girls?” The ladies she’s with all make agreeable noises.

I smile, not really paying attention to their response and lean down to kiss her cheek. “Let’s get started, hey?”

She waves to her friends and follows me to the treadmills where I get her to warm up. Once I have her walking at a comfortable pace, I hop on the treadmill next to her and start to run. I take the speed higher and higher as I lengthen my stride, running as fast as I can without the risk of falling off, a gentle hum from my pumping blood fills my head and makes me feel calmer.

“A little tense today, are we?” Agy asks, her eyebrows rising as she watches me run.

Glancing at her, I nod. “You could say that,” I reply.

“Girl trouble,” she comments, knowingly. “It always is.”

Slowing the treadmill, I look over at Agy with her wavy grey hair cut close to her head, blue eyes that have lost a lot of their light, and slightly weathered skin. She’s probably the kindest person I have met in the UK, and right now; I need an understanding ear.

I slow to a stop and hop off the machine, wiping my face with a towel as I move closer. Agy watches me with her gentle eyes. You can tell she’s expecting me to spill my guts, and she’s right. That’s exactly what I'm going to do.

“It’s Paige,” I start. “We had this amazing week together. She opened up to me, told me a little about her past, and I thought we were getting closer but now she’s back to pushing me away. It’s like we take one step forward and two steps back. I’m trying to be patient with her, but time is running out for me. I want to be with her, Agy. I want our relationship to keep moving forward. I’m planning to come back here to be with her, but I'm petrified that when I get back, she’ll be gone.”

“Have you asked her to go back with you?” Agy asks. We’ve moved on to stretching now, so we’re sitting on mats as I help her limber up.

“No, she’s already said she’s staying here indefinitely. I don’t think there’s anything for her back home.”

“And is she aware you’re coming back for her?”

“Ahhh…”

“Goodness me. No wonder you’re having troubles. You’re a shit communicator.”

I laugh a little at her jibe. “I’m trying not to scare her off.”

“And yet she’s drifting, anyway.”

“What do I do?”

“Talk to her. Sitting around talking to me isn’t helping. You have a few weeks left with her. Figure out what you want and go for it. Sometimes you have to take a risk for the sake of yourself.”

“To be honest, I really want her to come back with me, just until I can get a longer visa and we can come back to live here together. I have a feeling she’s viewing this as a short-term thing but I don’t want to let her go for the months it’ll take to reapply. I don’t want to lose her. I want to see her every day. I want her to be my forever.”

Agy grins. “You’re such a sweet boy, Elliot. Tell her that. You can’t leave things unsaid. Believe me, at my age, I’m an expert on things left unsaid.”

“Your age? I thought you were only twenty-one,” I say, lightening up the mood.

Laughing, she taps me on the arm in good humour. “Oh Elliot, what am I going to do when you leave? I’ll have to train with one of the boring ones.”

I hold out my hand and help her up off the mats. “Good thing I’m coming back then.”

Paige

My heart skips a beat when I walk out of work and spot Elliot in his usual waiting place. Even though I’ve been less than forthcoming since Cambridge, he’s always right there, ready to walk me home and hold my hand. I feel both frightened and elated upon seeing him. He’s so beautiful and special that it makes me feel like I'm dreaming him up. But I can touch him, so he has to be real.

As if I need to prove it to myself, I place my palms on his chest as I lean into him and tilt my head up for a kiss. He smiles down at me and wraps me in his arms before bringing his head towards mine to greet me with his mouth.

Under normal circumstances, I’m a decent height. But, with Elliot being well over six feet, I feel fairly small around him. I like that.

“Mmm, I missed you today,” he says, smiling as he takes me by the hand. Then he leads me to the station entry instead of the exit.

I look up at him, confused. “What’s going on?” I ask, trotting along after him.

“I’m taking you out. I want you to myself tonight,” he says, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“OK… well are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

“Something touristy.”

I lean into him and go with it. We’ve barely had a moment alone together since the motel, and truthfully, I haven’t made much of an effort to be alone with him. I’ve been selfishly brooding, keeping him at bay, while secretly afraid of what he means to me.

The motel room seems so long ago—nine days to be exact—and the intensity of what I felt while we were there scares me. It’s like my life was dependent upon being with him. I’ve experienced intense attraction, but I've never felt that before. That’s new.

Sitting together on the train, I rest my head on his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut as he plants a kiss on the top of my head. It’s such a small and loving gesture, but it feels like everything to me.

I only have less than five weeks until Elliot goes. I’ve just wasted precious days focusing on my own problems. I’ve been taking his comfort, but I haven’t been giving him anything in return. I’m determined to make this few weeks the best possible. I don’t want to live my life knowing I wasted my time when I could have been with him.

“Elliot,” I say to get his attention. I hear his voice hum through his chest in response. Lifting my head to meet his face, I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

I shake my head like I’m trying to rid myself of my worries. “Can we pretend like none of that happened and focus on now? Let all that ‘past’ crap fall away and just be together? We don’t have very much time left, and I want to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

He presses his lips together in a tender smile and reaches up to caress my face with his thumb. “I think that's a perfect idea,” he says. “I want every day to focus on us from now on.”

“I’ve been thinking; Shane and Gavin are going next week, and they haven’t found roommates yet. I was thinking that maybe… we, could share a room? We could just change the listing and get another girl to room in with Naomi and another guy can room with Brian.” I sit up and take a breath, suddenly gripped by the fear that he might refuse me. “What do you think?”

Elliot’s smile takes over his face as he pulls me toward him and kisses me. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he whispers. “I would love nothing more than to room with you.” Relief washes over me as we kiss again.

Elliot

“All right, it’s time to tell me where we're going,” Paige says, as we exit the train station at St Paul’s and start up the street.

“I’m taking you on a ghost walk,” I tell her, opening my eyes wide for added emphasis.

She laughs, clutching tighter onto my arm. “Is this a ploy to get me so scared I can’t sleep alone tonight?”

“It might be.”

This ghost walk only runs on Tuesday nights. It might be fun. It might be lame, but a lot of haunted places are actually pubs, so we can always beg off and go to dinner instead if we’ve had enough. At the very least, I figure it might be a good way to learn more about London. Besides the bus tour I did on my first day here, I really haven’t done any sightseeing, and I’m sure Paige hasn’t done any at all.

There’s maybe a handful of other people waiting for the tour when we arrive. Paige is pretty excited about doing this and has been talking about what we might see while we walk. Neither of us believes in ghosts, but we’re keen to see what passes for haunted and are willing to have an open mind in case we’re wrong.

Paige grins up at me and clutches my arm as our tour begins. After our chat on the train, she seems much more relaxed around me. I’m so relieved because I was worried that maybe I had messed things up between us somehow after Cambridge. I just didn’t know how to get us back to how things were in that motel room, despite desperately wanting to feel like that with her again.

The first place we go to is Highgate High Level Station. It doesn’t really look haunted though. The guide, a short, squat man in his late forties, tells us tales of ghost trains and a worker who killed himself here jumping in front of a train. The station has been closed for decades, and the tracks have long since been ripped up, so nature has overgrown. I guess it’s kind of spooky.

“I suppose it looks kind of spooky,” Paige says, echoing my thoughts while she’s looking around.

“Let’s capture the moment, maybe we’ll find an orb in the photo or something,” I suggest, readying the camera on my phone. We stand in front of the entrance, and I hold my phone in front of us to take our picture there. We lean our heads together and smile as I tap the screen. The weather is getting warmer than it was when we first came here, but it’s still cool enough to flush our cheeks and turn our noses red. Paige looks radiant in the image.

“That’s a keeper,” I say to her.

She smiles at me and tugs my arm so we can catch up to the rest of the group who are moving on to a pub called The Gatehouse. It’s a pretty cool looking place, but they have modernised the interior, so it isn’t very creepy either.

We take some photos of the outside and happily accept when a German gentleman from our tour group offers to take one of the two of us together. I do the same for him and his wife before we have to move on to our next ‘spooky’ setting.

“This is pretty fun,” Paige declares as we walk along with the group.

“It is?” I ask, feeling sure this was a complete failure.

“Yes,” she confirms laughing. “We’re being tourists, Elliot! I've never done something like this before. It’s awesome.”

We’re led to the Highgate Cemetery where we’re handed off to another guide who takes us around. The cemetery is actually very creepy. Not creepy in the paranormal sense; creepy because it’s a graveyard and there are these great headstones looming over you, reminding you that people are buried here.

“Oh my god,” a woman shrieks, covering her mouth as the guide’s eyes roll back and he collapses on the ground having what looks like an epileptic fit. Whispers go around the group. ‘It’s a ghost!’ ‘Lord, save us.’

“He’s having a fit,” I yell, rushing to the man’s aid while disbelieving that so many people are just standing by watching him. Paige kneels down beside me as I pull my jacket off and slide it under the man's head.

“What do you want me to do?” she asks.

“Just call an ambulance, I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself,” I say, as I watch our guide foam at the mouth, his body shaking and convulsing uncontrollably.

Paige

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I say to Elliot as we’re leaving the cemetery. We decide that after the guide collapsed that maybe we should call this tour quits and get some food. We got our fright—it may not have been from the supernatural, but it was scary none the less—so we’re ending the tour and declaring it a success.

I have to admit I’m pretty turned on by the way Elliot took control of the situation. I had no idea what to do, but he just went right on in there the second the guide dropped and took care of everything. I’m very impressed.

“Hang on a sec,” I say as we exit the gates to the cemetery. “I’ll find a pub for us to go and get dinner.” I use my phone to Google a nearby pub and get directions to a place called Flask.

“I think that was supposed to be on the tour,” Elliot points out.

I shrug and put my phone back in my bag. “Maybe we’ll see a ghost there,” I say.

“Maybe… All right, one more photo before this un-ghostly tour is officially over,” he says, readying the camera on his phone.

We lean in together and he turns and kisses my cheek, so I turn my head and kiss him properly on the mouth before the camera app makes its clicking sound to signal the photo is done. He’s laughing as he checks that the photo worked. “That one’s great,” he says, showing it to me.

“You’ll have to send them all to my phone so I have them too,” I say as we start walking toward the pub.

He nods, a thoughtful expression on his face, “So you want to remember me then? You aren’t planning on forgetting me when I go?”

I stop walking and kiss him with as much passion and feeling as I have in me. The world slips away from around us as we stand together, ignoring the traffic and the passers-by as we meld with each other, tasting each other, breathing each other in shamelessly. When we pull away, I can feel us both shaking from the intensity.

“I will dream about you every night for the rest of my life.”

He threads his fingers through my hair and kisses me back, slowly and tenderly. I reach my arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling our bodies tighter together. My body hums with longing for him. I can’t seem to get enough. I don’t want to ever have enough.

When he pulls away, he looks at me, adoration on his face. “Why couldn’t we have met in Sydney? I feel so rushed, like I’ll have to pack you up with my luggage or I’ll never have my fill.”

“Because sometimes all you get is a tiny flower in the bull crap that is life,” I say matter-of-factly. He gives me a wry smile before we continue on our way and try to enjoy what’s left of the night, but our imminent separation is a constant in the back of my mind. Now I understand what Coral is always upset about.

Nineteen

Elliot

“How would you all feel about me and Paige sharing a room together after Shane and Gav go back home?” I ask the group of curious faces in front of me. Paige and I have called a house meeting to see if everyone is comfortable living with a couple who get to sleep with each other in the flat.

“Relieved actually,” Brian states. “I’m always worried I’ll open the bedroom door and find you two going at it.”

“I’m relieved too.” Naomi laughs. “I thought you were going to tell us you knocked her up or something.”

“Definitely not.” I laugh shaking my head at her reaction. “We haven’t even been dating long enough to have an announcement like that.”

“I don’t know exactly when you two started sleeping together. Paige isn’t very forthcoming with the details,” she says, looking pointedly at Paige, who just shrugs at her.

“Well, obviously we don’t care,” Gavin says looking at Shane, who nods his head in agreement.

“So it’s fine?” Paige asks.

“Sure,” they all say at varying times. I also hear a ‘doesn’t bother me’ in there too.

“Well, that was easier than I thought,” I say looking at Paige.

“Thanks guys,” she says to the group.

Once they’ve dispersed, she takes my hand and leads me out onto the balcony which is the only place where you can be alone in this place.

“Are you happy?” I ask as I wrap my arms around her waist trapping her against the railing.

“Very,” she states, tucking her head into the crook of my neck as she sighs contentedly. “I’ve missed having you inside me,” she whispers, tilting her head up and nipping at my Adam's apple, causing me to go instantly hard.

“Oh god, Paige, don’t talk like that. You’re killing me,” I groan, pressing myself against her.

“Are you sure about this, Elliot?” she asks in a whisper, planting soft kisses on my throat. “It won’t be too hard on you when you go? The closer we get, the more difficult goodbye will be.”

“Nothing could change my mind,” I say, as I capture her mouth with mine in a kiss that feels like it tugs at my soul, feeding pieces of it to her, as I draw pieces of hers into me.

* * *

Paige

“How come you don’t talk to me about Elliot?” Naomi asks as I attempt to slip quietly into our room after saying good night to the rest of the guys who are all happily playing cards around the dining room table.

Sighing, I sit down on my bed. She’s normally asleep when I come in this late, so our before bed chats have been few and far between.

“Does it upset you that I don’t?”

“Well, yeah. We’re supposed to be friends, and we’re the only two girls in the house. It’d be nice to have some girl talk, you know?”

I release a slow breath through my nose. Girl talk is one thing I’ve never really gotten into. The few friends I had were lost when I was kicked out of home, and the friends after that were fleeting or untrustworthy. I learned quickly not to share.

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

Slipping her bookmark in place, Naomi places her book on the bedside table and sits up in her bed.

“I want to know how you feel. I want to know if he’s good to you, how he treats you.”

“Can’t you see those things just by looking at us?”

She shrugs. “I guess. But I just want to talk…like we used to.” Her eyes lower as she stares at her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Naomi,” I tell her honestly. “I do consider you my friend. I’m just… I’m not very good at talking to people, you know? Back in Australia I didn’t have anyone to lean on, so I’m kind of used to dealing with all my shit on my own. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll fill you in on as much as I can?”

“Yeah,” she says, offering me a small smile. “I’d like that.”

“I think you already know he’s wonderful. But I can tell you just how wonderful he is. You see, I asked him to come with me to meet a relative of mine for the first time…” I launch into a recount of everything that’s happened since Cambridge. I give her the same story I gave Andrea about meeting a relative. I'm not willing to share the sordid deals of my conception with her, but I do tell her about how patient Elliot has been toward me and that I care for him deeply. “I’m really dreading the day he has to go home. I don’t want our time together to end. But I guess it has to,” I murmur, my voice trailing off as I finish.

Naomi sighs, a whimsical look in her eyes. “He sounds so amazing, Paige. Why don’t you just go back with him?”

“Nomes, I can’t do that to him. He can’t pin all of his hopes on me.”

“Why? What’s so wrong with your relationship that it can’t continue back in Australia?”

“There’s nothing wrong with our relationship, Naomi, I just can’t keep him—it’s as simple as that,” I tell her firmly. Her mouth opens to say something more, but I’m quick to silence it. “Drop it Naomi, please.”

Holding her hands up in surrender, she pushes her feet off the floor and slides back into her bed, reaching for her book.

“I’m glad you two will be sharing a room then,” she says quietly as she reopens the book and settles against her pillows.

“You are?” Does she want to get me out of her room since I won’t talk more?

“Yes. It might make you come to your senses. You shouldn’t put a time limit on love.”

“No one said anything about love, Naomi,” I shoot over my shoulder as I brush out my hair.

“No one has to,” she says. “I can see it.”

Elliot

“I guess this means Paige is well and truly off the market,” Shane says, as he deals the cards out.

Scooping up my hand, I fan it out, scrutinising it with what I consider to be a straight face before throwing three cards back in the middle of the table, keeping only the pair of kings I was originally dealt.

“As far as you lot are concerned, she was never on the market,” I say, watching as Shane deals out the second round of cards.

“I don’t know about that.” Shane smirks.

“Shane, quit ribbing him. You should know by now you don’t talk about Paige to him,” Brian says, throwing a handful of chips in the middle of the table to kick off his betting.

“You can talk about Paige with me just fine. It's talking about her like she’s a piece of arse you want to tap that bothers me,” I point out, flicking my own chips in the middle of the table. I still only have the pair of kings, but I’m happy to continue playing. We're betting for the last few packets of Tim Tams and a bag of Minties. We desperately need a parcel to arrive from someone at home before we run out completely and are reduced to paying the exorbitant prices they charge for them online.

“Well, you’re a lucky man, Elliot. She’s a real stunner,” Gavin puts in, evening out the mood a little. “What’s the plan when you go back home? Is it over? Or is she going with you?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” I reply, taking a swig of my beer.

“Geez mate, don’t leave it like I did with Coral. She’s all over the place these days, ‘cause I won’t commit to coming back for her. Her moods kind of shitting all over everything these days,” Shane says, folding his hand and dropping his cards in the middle of the table. “I’ve got nothin’.” he rakes his hands through his dirty blonde hair as he indicates his mismatched cards on the table.

“Why don’t you want to come back for Coral? You not really into it?” I ask, continuing to bet on my hand.

“I dunno. Things were great before she started freaking out about me going. But it’ll take me three months before I can even get back here, and it’s just so much money. It took me a year to save up for this trip, so…” He shrugs, swigging on his drink and leaving his sentence unfinished but understood.

I guess if he really cared about Coral, then he’d come back as soon as he could regardless of how much it costs. I know without a doubt that if I can’t get Paige to come home with me, then I will move heaven and earth to get back to her. Now that I have her. I never want to let her go.

Twenty

Paige

I’m a bundle of nerves tonight because Shane is all packed and ready to go. He’s spending his last night with his girlfriend, and Gavin has shifted his stuff into Elliot’s old room for a couple of days before he goes back home to give us the room earlier.

Elliot’s and my stuff are already in our room, but it’s only just happened, and we’re expected to leave to go to some nightclub tonight to give Shane and Gavin a big sendoff.

I’d prefer it if we didn’t go though. All I want is time alone with Elliot. We are always around others and now we have our own space, we can take our time. I’m aroused just thinking about it.

Elliot walks into the room, dressed for a night out in fitted dark jeans, a white jersey knit shirt with a line of buttons at the neckline that moulds to his muscular torso, and a black leather biker jacket.

He looks me up and down, his eyes so dark with desire that I just want to jump into his arms and wrap my legs tightly around him.

“You look stunning,” he says in a husky voice that sends erotic chills through my body. I’m wearing a dress that is a deep red colour, in a stretchy material so it's fitted to my curves. It’s fairly plain besides a cowl neckline, and it ends at my mid-thigh. I haven’t put my shoes on yet, but I’m planning on wearing heels that will bring me a couple of inches closer to Elliot’s face; perfect for kissing him.

“Do you think we could be late,” I ask, my voice deep and sultry as my eyes devour him.

He responds by closing the door and locking it. I almost come from the anticipation from hearing that sound. In one stride he's on me, kissing me frantically as we pull at each other’s clothes.

In seconds we’re naked and on the bed in a desperate tangled heap.

“Quick, please,” I beg, desperate for him to be inside me. We haven’t had sex since Cambridge and kissing just isn’t enough for me anymore. I don’t need foreplay. I just need him, inside me. Now.

He quickly applies a condom and slides himself inside me. A blissful connection. My breathing shakes as he fills me, sliding back and forth, increasing his rhythm. It’s wonderful, and I’ve been so on edge all day that my body is already set to explode.

“Oh god,” I call out. “Yes. Yes!” Tiny fragments of pleasure ripple through me and burst as I come, clenching myself around him.

“Shhh.” He laughs while he continues to pump into me.

“But it feels too good.” I gasp as silently as I can as his thrusts fill me and my orgasm continues. Holding himself up on his arms, he stills his hips, and I can feel his pulsing inside me. He dips his head down and kisses me leisurely, our release found before he rolls off me and lies beside me, chuckling to himself.

“I think they’re going to regret letting us have this room,” he says, smiling at me.

“I don’t care,” I respond, rolling into him and trailing my fingertips in between his pecs and down in between his abs, stopping just above his pubic hair line.

“I don’t either,” he says as he rolls back on top of me kissing me softly and trailing gentle kisses over my body, massaging my breasts with his hands, and twirling at my nipple with his tongue.

I gasp out and arch my back in response, so ready for him again. As he trails his kisses down my stomach, he slides his fingers between my legs and circles around my now hypersensitive clit.

My chest heaves and my eyes roll back in my head as his fingers curl inside me, massaging my depths as his mouth presses kisses all over my body as he edges his way down.

Just as his tongue brushes my clit there is a loud banging on our door. “We’re just about to leave,” Brian calls from the other side.

“We’re coming,” I call back breathlessly. Elliot's shoulders start bouncing up and down in laughter from where he’s situated between my legs.

“Literally,” he whispers to me. He dips his head and sucks gently on my clit, swirling his tongue around it. He moans softly and plants a chaste kiss there before sliding back up the bed and kissing me on my neck behind my ear. “To be continued.” He withdraws his fingers.

I whimper my disappointment and turn my head to kiss him passionately, clinging to him. He sits up and pulls me toward him, helping me up off the bed as our mouths stay connected, refusing to waste any more time.

Quickly, we put our clothes back on, and I do my best to straighten up my hair and makeup. I wasn’t wearing much makeup in the first place, so I just run my powder brush over my face and reapply some lip gloss. I'm so flushed and red-lipped from Elliot’s attentions that I look like I’ve gone to a lot of trouble.

Elliot

When I step out of the room, I'm met with a group of people with, ‘I know what you just did,’ expressions on their faces. Paige comes out behind me and notices the same thing.

“Thank you, and you’re welcome,” she says with a curtsey.

The guys find this hilarious and Naomi just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “You two will make me regret agreeing to this, I’m sure,” she says, standing up and grabbing her purse.

After a short tube ride, we get to the nightclub. It’s almost 11pm, so the place is already starting to fill up. Shane’s girlfriend has gotten us all put on the door list, so we don’t have to wait in line. Inside there is a sectioned off area for private parties. There we find Coral and a few other people I’m guessing are friends of hers or workmates of Shane or Gavin.

A waiter comes over with a tray of jaeger bombs to get us started. They're passed around, and everyone quickly drops their shot in the glass and starts drinking and cheering each other on.

I look over at Paige and notice that she isn’t drinking. “You’re not a big fan of alcohol, are you?” I ask in her ear. The club is so loud you can barely hear yourself swallow.

She shakes her head. “I like to be present in my life.”

Paige

Elliot looks at me quizzically and asks in my ear. “Have you ever been drunk?”

I laugh. If only he knew. I lean up to his ear and yell over the music, “Of course I have. I just don’t like it.”

He gives me a look that says fair enough and takes a small sip of his drink.

I lean back up to him. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t drink.”

He gives me a wicked grin that sends bolts of desire through my body. “I want to be sober when we get back. I want to be with you every moment,” he says into my ear. I have to let out a steady breath to calm myself. “Do you want to dance?”

I lock eyes with him and shake my head slowly. He raises his eyebrows as if he's reading my mind. Looking around at everyone else in the party group, I can see that they’re all having fun. No one’s paying attention to us. I incline my head towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here,” I suggest.

Without missing a beat, he grabs my hand and drags me out of there. In the twenty minutes we spend on the train, barely a moment is spent not kissing or touching each other like we’re teenagers.

We literally run from the station back to the flat, so eager to have the place to ourselves. This is one night that we know no one will be home any time soon. We're all alone.

As we get to the outside door, I slip my shoes off my feet while Elliot uses his keys to let us in. He turns to me, holding the door with his foot and kisses me quickly before sweeping me up in his arms and carrying me effortlessly up the four flights of stairs to our flat.

I don’t think I’ve stopped laughing for a moment. I feel like a feather in his arms, and he’s barely out of breath.

“Are you even from this planet?” I ask, amazed by his strength and stamina. Amazed by him.

Elliot

As soon as I get us through the door, I put Paige down and take her mouth in mine, moaning as she responds by wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body into mine. I feel possessed by her as I run my hands through her hair, over her body, and under her dress. I can’t stop touching her. I need to feel her everywhere. Kissing along her jaw and down her neck, her skin tastes divine, and I want more.

Leaning up against the front door, we slowly undress each other. My jacket and shirt are the first to go as she pushes and pulls, kissing me and gasping in between until she drops them on the floor at our feet and runs her fingertips over my chest, and down toward my jeans. For safety’s sake, I slip the chain bolt to give us a little warning in case someone else has the same idea we did.

“My turn,” I murmur into her ear, halting her progress as I peel off her fitted dress. It clings to her delicious curves and has been driving me wild as well making me a little territorial whenever I noticed the appraising looks from others. Dropping her dress on the floor with my shirt, I run my hands down over her soft skin, loving the way my hands curve in and out over her waist and hips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I growl in her ear as I clutch her behind, urging her closer to me. She lifts her leg and wraps it around my waist before I pick her up and carry her over to the closest surface.

I bury my face in her neck and make my way down to her breasts as her hands roam all over my bare skin.

“I want you, Elliot. I need you,” she gasps out, her hands slipping between us to undo my pants and grab a hold of my shaft.

“Oh god,” I moan as she slides her hand up and down my erection, tightening her legs around me, urging me to enter her.

Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket, I place it on the bench top next to her as I kick my pants and shoes off before hooking my fingers into the waistband of her underwear. Sliding them off onto the floor, Paige removes the condom from my wallet, tearing the packet open with her teeth and holding it out for me.

Taking the foil packet from between her fingers, I remove the condom and roll it down my shaft while she watches, desire burning behind her eyes as she bites her lip, waiting for me to return to her.

The second it’s on, she reaches out with her arms and legs pulling me towards her, gripping me tightly as she devours my mouth, biting gently on my bottom lip. Shifting her hips, she guides me inside her, gasping as she takes in my full length. Pushing all the way in to my base, I need to pause. She’s gripping so tight and my mind feels like it’s about to explode along with my self-control. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, reminding myself that we have time. We can take things slow.

Feeling slightly calmer, I lift her again while we’re still attached, walking her into our new bedroom until we’re on the bed. Sitting back on my knees, I push in deeply, using my thumb to massage her swollen clit. She is so wet and silky that the pad of my thumb glides effortlessly over her nub. God, she feels amazing. I don’t know how long I can last like this.

Paige

Elliot shifts his hips slightly as he grinds our pelvises together, circling his thumb over my clit, sending me off into a blissful delirium as the pressure builds inside my body. I’m trying not to call out too loudly as my orgasm mounts. But when I remember there’s no one else here, I relax.

“Elliot,” I shriek, my hips twitching as my body threatens to explode. “Oh god, it’s so fucking good!”

I gasp out in disappointment as he withdraws from me, but I’m quickly reabsorbed in my pleasure when he buries his face between my legs and sucks at my clit, swirling his tongue over my most sensitive part.

“Oh, yes. That’s it. I can’t hold on much longer,” I pant out as he pushes his fingers inside me. I’m in heaven, grabbing onto his lengthening hair as my hips buck, my orgasm exploding through me.

He holds onto me tightly as he withdraws his fingers and laps at my folds, flicking his tongue lightly over my clit as I continue to call out until it’s so sensitive that I sit up and push his face away. Then I keep pushing until he sits, and I climb onto his lap.

“You are the best person I’ve ever known,” I whisper, hugging his face to my chest. I take him inside me, riding him slowly and sensuously, experiencing his full length before I drive us back together, impaling myself on his shaft. Slowing things down, we lock eyes, gasping and moaning as we luxuriate in our time together, rocking as one, our bodies’ slick with sweat as our skin slides against each other, gloriously, perfectly. I shudder as I feel him climax, breathing out slowly as I settle him deep inside me, kissing him softly, losing myself in the splendour of his mouth and his arms.

Twenty-One

Elliot

“Good morning,” I whisper as Paige’s eyes open and focus on me. We’re lying face to face, not giving a shit about morning breath. She looks so happy right now. I think this is the first time I’ve seen her when she doesn’t have that lingering sadness that seems ever-present in her eyes. Perhaps she just hasn’t remembered to be sad yet.

She moves her warm body closer to mine and kisses me while I breathe in her raw scent, sliding her beneath me.

“Good morning,” she whispers, reaching her hand down, wrapping her fingers around my morning erection.

“Mmmm,” I moan into her neck, kissing and nibbling at her skin. “I never want to leave this room.”

She laughs quietly, wrapping her legs around my waist and rocking her hips against mine. I can feel how wet she is against my shaft and all I want to do is plunge myself inside her. I moan, kissing her as I reach beside the bed and grab a condom.

Her hand joins with mine as she takes the packet. “Roll over,” she whispers in my ear as she sits up and grins wickedly at me. Complying, I watch as she tears the packet open and slips the condom in her mouth, lowering her mouth until she’s poised at my tip. “Are you ready for this?” she asks, not waiting for my answer before she applies the condom with her mouth, rolling it down with her tongue in a delicious movement, her breathing careful as she continues to roll it on all. the. way. to. the. base.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, almost coming as I feel the tightness of her throat around me as she sucks and slides her tongue against my shaft. I’m losing control as my mind reels with the sensation. “I can’t hold it, Paige,” I say as I explode embarrassingly fast, gasping for breath while my hands fly into her hair. She withdraws her mouth from around me as she climbs up my torso, gently licking and kissing her way until we’re eye to eye.

“Nice?” she asks, grinning at me.

“Unbelievable,” I breathe, grabbing her face and crashing our mouths together. I need to have my way with this woman now. Flipping her on her back, I drive myself inside her, pumping her hard as she gasps silently with each thrust. Her hands fly up to the iron bedhead as she holds herself firmly, increasing the pressure of my thrusts.

Grabbing her leg, I twist her on her side, altering the angle as I bring her home. She grabs for me and I feel her internal muscles contracting, a small yell escaping her mouth. “Oh Elliot. Yes, just like that. oh god, I’m coming,” she calls, not giving a shit that our housemates can probably hear her.

Her body spasms, and her moans grow louder with each thrust as I drive myself inside her. Clamping my hand over her mouth, I can’t help but laugh a little as she grips my hand tightly, pressing it firmly against her mouth as she yells her orgasm into my palm.

I let out a steady breath as I slam into her one last time, bursting again but still wanting more of her.

Withdrawing, I lie beside her and pull her onto my chest, leisurely stroking her back as we both breathe deeply to recuperate.

“You will have to get a handle on that yelling.” I chuckle, knowing that anyone else in the flat has full knowledge of what just went on in here.

“If you want me to stop yelling, you’ll need to stop making me come.” She giggles, nipping her teeth against my chin.

“I don’t want that,” I say, bringing our lips together and sliding my tongue over hers as I explore her mouth once more, trying to squash the nagging thought in my mind reminding me that each kiss is one less I’ll get before I have to go home. Just ask her.

We laugh into each other’s mouths as my stomach growls loudly. “I think it’s time for you to eat, big boy,” she murmurs against me smiling. I get up, kissing her on the forehead and pull on my jeans from last night. I was sure to unlatch the door and collect all of our clothes from the entryway. So besides skipping out on the party, there shouldn’t be too much for anyone to be annoyed about—besides the noise we just made....

I open my wardrobe and pull out a warm jumper, looking over as I see Paige watching me.

“Shame the weather isn’t warmer,” she comments.

“Oh, yeah?” I say pulling her out of bed and hugging her to me.  She slides her hands up under my clothes and over my chest.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind watching you walk around without a shirt on all day,” she purrs, kissing me on my neck.

I laugh and kiss her forehead again. “Well, I would prefer that you just walked around naked all day, but I wouldn’t be happy with the other guys ogling your body, so cover-up and come and have breakfast with me.”

Paige

“Fine,” I grumble, half in jest, half serious. Elliot watches as I pull on a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved forest green dress that has a fitted bodice and flows down to my knees. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “What?” I say laughing at his expression. He looks concerned.

“You just look…”

“I just look what?”

“Busty.”

I laugh. “Busty?” I look down at the neckline of my dress. It's a simple V that admittedly, shows off my cleavage. I’m a C cup. It’s not like they’re double D’s flowing all over the place. “And that’s a problem, why?”

He steps towards me and runs his hands down the curve of my body and rests his hands on my hips. “It’s a problem because I don’t want any of the guys out there looking at you and thinking the same things I do.”

“Elliot, they’ve seen me in sexier things than this.”

“Yeah, and each time they make comments about you that really piss me off,” he points out.

Tilting my head to the side, I sigh as I look at him in all of his constant gorgeousness. “Elliot, it doesn’t matter what you wear, you turn every woman’s head that you pass. If I can cope with that, you can cope with me wearing a dress that shows a little cleavage.”

He lets out his breath. “Fine,” he says, as I move away from him and open the door.

When we walk out to the living area, Naomi and Gavin are sitting on the floor either side of the coffee table playing a game of cards.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning lovebirds. Sounds like you two were having fun this morning,” Gavin comments, grinning wildly. Naomi looks from me to Elliot and gives us an amused smile.

“We missed you two at the party last night,” she says.

“We were there,” Elliot replies.

Gavin and Naomi laugh. “Yeah for two seconds,” Gavin points out.

Elliot tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders a little. “Well, the flat was lonely. We came back to keep it company.”

“Yeah, whatever man,” Gavin laughs. “You missed a fun party though. Shane got totally hammered and started dancing on the tables. It was so funny.”

“Ah well, sorry we missed it. Where’s Brian?” asks Elliot.

“He’s gone to pick up the new girl from the airport. Jolene, I think her name is,” Naomi answers.

“Is he in Shane’s car?” I ask. I meant to ask Shane what he was doing with it before he left.

“Yeah, Shane said he can use it until it sells,” Gavin informs me.

“How much does he want for it?” I ask.

“Couple of grand. Talk to Brian if you’re interested.”

“I will, thanks,” I say as I go into the kitchen and slide bread for Elliot and I into the toaster.

He follows me in, collects two cups to prepare our instant coffee. “Are you thinking of buying a car?”

“Yeah. It’d be handy don’t you think? We could take a drive to the country, see some other parts of the UK. Besides, I can’t stay here forever. After you go home, I think I should find somewhere on my own.”

Elliot

After you go home. The words echo in my ears and constrict my chest. I don’t want to go, and the fact she’s making plans regarding what she’s going to do when I leave bothers me.

“Where will you live?” I ask, trying to keep my aggravation out of my voice.

She shrugs as she concentrates on buttering our toast. “I haven’t decided yet,” she replies, turning slightly to look at me. When she sees my face, she does a double take, sighs and turns to face me.

“You’re annoyed,” she states.

“I’m fine,” I say, totally not meaning it.

She takes a step toward me and places her hands on my chest, leaning into me as she speaks quietly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. We both knew we only had a short time together.”

“I know, but—”

“How about we don’t talk about what happens when you leave? We can deal with it when the time comes.” But I want you to come back with me…

I sigh and wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her hair. I have three weeks and two days left. I've never felt so powerless over my own destiny before. Not even when my father made me choose between Katrina and his financial support. Back then, that seemed horrible, and although I probably made the wrong choice at the time, I still had one. This time, I have to go home. I have to leave her, or I risk not being allowed to come back.

Twenty-Two

Paige

After breakfast, Elliot excuses himself to go and have a shower. I can tell he’s still a little upset with me for mentioning my plans for when he goes home. I guess that was a little insensitive of me. I’m happy to leave the subject alone, but we can’t pretend like it isn’t going to happen. He needs to leave, and I need to stay.

Knocking on the bathroom door, I call to him that I’m going out for a while. I don’t wait to hear his response, but the others know I’m leaving so they can tell him for me.

I’ve told them all that I’ll pick up some milk while I’m out. But, my true reason for going is to take some time to think on my own. I feel so guilty about what’s happening between Elliot and me. He’s so beautiful and kind, and I seriously wonder why in the world, he would choose me. Was it just that I was there when he was looking, or was it some higher power that pushes people together and takes away their good sense and reasoning?

My stomach churns as I think about him leaving because let’s face it, I’m falling for him—hard. All we have left in this world is three more perfect weeks together, and it’s more than I could hope for. Long term, there’s simply no way we could make it. Once I tell him everything about my past, it would be virtually impossible for him to look at me the same way he does now. As much as I’d like to keep it all a secret, I can’t. I mean, things would be fine for a while but eventually my secrets would push him away. I just can’t pin all of my hopes on him.

I find a bench to sit on and scroll through the messages on my phone. There are at least ten notifications telling me I have voice messages waiting. I know they’re from my parents, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to listen to them. Their ever-increasing number keeps staring at me though, taunting my curiosity.

I select one and my thumb hovers over the screen, just above the voicemail number. Nerves and foreboding fill my body, and I can’t seem to force myself to touch the button to make the call.

I don’t think you should listen, Phoenix says.

What if they can help me understand?

What’s to understand? They left you in the streets to rot.

Blowing out my breath, I squeeze the emotion from my eyes and hit the home button, selecting my gallery instead. I tap the most recent photo I have of Elliot and me on the train when we were riding to Shane’s party last night. I touch his face on the screen and flick to the next one. It’s the one of us kissing outside the cemetery on that ghost walk he took me on.

Deciding to focus on Elliot and deal with my family issues another time, I delete my voicemail notifications and place my phone back in my bag on a sigh.

“I can do this,” I say to myself, tucking my fingers beneath the collar on my dress as I rise from the bench, stroking Phoenix for comfort.

You’re happy with him, she says.

Yes. He makes me very happy.

Will you keep him?

No. I can’t. Once he finds out about you, he’ll hate me.

I don’t hate you.

You should.

Elliot

Paige has been gone for ages, and I’m getting worried. Our new housemate, Jolene, has been here for nearly an hour already, and she’s still not back from getting milk.

Fingering my phone in my pocket, I contemplate sending her a text or calling. I don’t want to seem overbearing, but my protectiveness is warring with my mind. An hour away feels too long when she’s the only reason my body allows me to take a breath.

“I’m sure I’ve met you before,” Jolene says from beside me on the floor, placing her hand on my arm and giving it a squeeze. She's a Bondi girl; same as me. “What high school did you go to? Rose Bay?”

I shake my head. “Sydney Grammar.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, my God. Do you know Brad? Rae, I think his last name is. He’s a chef now.”

“I know Brad,” I say, he was on the same squad as me during my kayaking days. I probably have met her before, but she would have been like every other girl I knew back then and overlooked me because of my weight. I was a big guy.

“I used to date Brad.” She keeps touching me on the arm, and I can see Naomi giving me a sympathetic smile. She knows me well enough now to read my discomfort levels.

“Gee,” she says. “I wonder where Paige is with the milk for coffee. She should be back by now.”

“Who’s Paige?” Jolene asks, looking between us. Why is her hand still on my arm?

“Elliot’s girlfriend,” Brian says, a smug look on his face as Jolene’s eyes go wide.

“Speak of the devil,” Gavin says, grinning as the front door opens and I jump to my feet. Thank god, she’s back.

Paige

As soon as I open the door, I see everyone sitting on the floor talking around the coffee table. What’s the deal with the floor today? Is there a broken spring on the couch or something? Then I notice the new girl—Jocelyn, or something—paying a lot of attention to Elliot; as in, her hand is on his arm.

Gavin announces my arrival then suddenly Elliot’s on his feet and that girl is holding her hand in the air like a balloon just popped in her grip. What the fuck is going on?

My chest hurts, and I feel immediately sick. I was just out agonising over my feelings, and he’s back here flirting with the new girl?

“Having fun?” I ask straight away, accusation in my tone. The new girl gets up and follows him over.

“Hi, I’m Jolene. You must be Paige,” she says, holding her hand out to shake mine. I look at it for a moment before I decide to give it a quick shake. She looks at me with uncertainty. “Um, Elliot and I were just catching up; turns out we have a mutual acquaintance.”

“I see.” I set my jaw, place the milk in the fridge then walk to my room, locking the door behind me. Maybe I can’t do this.

Elliot

What the hell just happened?

For a moment, I’m standing there dumbfounded. She seems pissed. She was short with Jolene and didn’t even say hi to anyone else. Something is obviously wrong.

I glance at Jolene, who’s looking around the room awkwardly. “I need to go and see what’s wrong with her,” I say.

“Oh,” she says, seeming a little confused before it clicks. “Of course you do. She’s your girlfriend.”

“Not just my girlfriend. She’s…my lobster.” It’s so corny to say out loud, but it makes me smile.

“Lobster?” She frowns. “Oh! Like in Friends? I love that show. And aww.” She places her hand on her chest. “I want to be someone’s lobster.”

“Don’t we all,” Naomi says as she enters the kitchen, rescuing me again as she grabs Jolene’s attention. “Milo, tea or coffee?”

I leave them to their decision as I head off down the hallway to the room I share with Paige. It’s locked. “Paige,” I call through it. “Can you open the door, please?”

She doesn’t answer.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, twisting the door handle even though it’s not moving. “Can you let me in?”

Still without response, I press my teeth together and stalk back to the entryway to get my keys and open it myself. This is just childish fucking bullshit. As I pass the lounge room, all eyes are on me, but the look on my face must tell them I’m not in the mood for talking, because they quickly look away and pretend to be talking about something else.

Paige

We pushed the two beds together last night, so I’m lying across the middle of both of them, listening to Radiohead’s OK Computer, my headphones blasting the track Lucky into my ears to block out any sounds around me. I just overreacted big time. I’ve never done the jealous girlfriend thing before, although I’ve never cared so much about someone before either. In the past, the men I was with were a means to an end. I chose them for reasons other than attraction.

When the breeze from the door opening hits me, I sit up on my elbows and pull the buds from my ears. He looks pissed.

“Didn’t you hear me knock?”

I shake my head as I shut the music off. “It was too loud,” I say, sliding myself up, so I am sitting on the bed against the wall.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up?” He folds his arms, watching me intently as he waits for my response.

“I walked in and saw you flirting with the new girl. I hated it.”

He raises his eyebrows and then shifts his hands to his hips. “You think I was flirting with her?”

“Uh, yeah. You were all smiling and laughing while she was touching you. Then you jumped up all guilty the second you saw me.”

He chuckles. I'm having a jealous hissy fit, and he's chuckling at me.

“Have you considered that I was jumping up because I was relieved you were home? You were gone for over an hour to get milk. I was worried. Jolene was going on and on in my ear, and I was trying to be polite and listen. But all I could think about was you. I jumped up because I was glad you were back and nothing bad had happened. We had literally just told her I had a girlfriend because she was the one flirting with me.”

“I’m your girlfriend now?” I ask, feeling ridiculous at how my heart just did cartwheels through my chest when he said it.

He climbs on the bed and kneels in front of me. “Paige, we live together; you are way more than just my girlfriend. I have zero interest in anyone but you.”

“Why were you letting her touch you?”

“I wasn’t. I hate girls being all over me. I find it incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Yeah right, you hate pretty girls flirting with you and touching you?”

“Paige, I was overweight when I was a kid, right up until my late teens. Girls like Jolene dated my friends, but they didn’t give me the time of day. When I got into sports, lost a bunch of weight and started to bulk up with muscle, suddenly these girls were looking at me like I was this new guy they’d never met before. They made their interest obvious—just like Jolene was now. I admit, I went with it more than a few times—because I’m a guy, not a saint—but it was all hollow. Those girls, they didn’t like me, or we would have been dating when I was overweight. They only liked what I looked like and what being with me did for them. I’m not stupid. I know how I look, and I know I attract women, but I don’t want them. The only woman I care about touching me or flirting with me is you. Never doubt that.”

“You were chubby?” I ask, disbelieving, trying not to smile.

“Why are you laughing? I’m pouring my heart out here.” He laughs back.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that the image of you as a chubby kid is so adorable!”

He pulls me toward him and rolls on top of me, biting on my neck so it tickles like hell. I’m laughing so hard that I slap at his back and yell, “Stop. Stop!”

Slowing his mouth to a gentle kiss, he pulls away and looks down into my face as he holds himself over me.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask, touching his face.

“Anything,” he replies.

“I haven’t had a man in my life for six years.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Six years?”

“I didn’t think I could care about anyone again.” I didn’t think I could ever trust a man again either.

A smile spreads over his mouth as he leans closer, lowering his voice to a low deep gravel that hums through my body when he speaks. “You care about me?”

“Very much,” I whisper. I care so much that I'm riddled with guilt over my deception. He deserves the truth, and he'll get it. But I need more time. We only have a few weeks. When his mouth meets mine, my body responds immediately, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, writhing against him, pushing away the voices fighting over keeping him and chasing him away

Breaking away for a moment, he looks down at me, eyes sparkling. “That was some trick you showed me this morning,” he growls, pressing his erection against me, nipping me on my neck and driving me wild.

“Do you want me to show you again?” I whisper, gasping as he pushes himself against me once more.

“Hell yeah.” He grins, eyes twinkling as he rolls onto his back, still holding me against him. I make a big show of sliding down his body, undoing his pants slowly before releasing his erection, gliding my hand up and down his smooth shaft before lowering my mouth.

“No yelling,” I tease, before taking him in my mouth and slowly drawing him in.

Twenty-Three

Paige

“You seem much happier these past couple of weeks,” Andrea comments during the afternoon lull in the salon. “You and Elliot must be getting along well then?”

“Are we ever,” I reply, attempting to keep the ear to ear grin to myself as I put the kettle on to make us both a tea. I can’t help but gush a little about how great things have been since we moved into the room in the flat together.

“Oh, I want an Elliot too,” she sighs, accepting the mug as I hand it to her. “Are you doing anything special this weekend?” she asks. “It’s not long until he has to go home is it?”

My mood plummets as I’m reminded that our time is almost over. “He’s going home in a week, actually. So, I’ve planned a great weekend at a B and B in Lyme Regis. It looks amazing,” I tell her as brightly as I can.

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t realise he’s leaving that soon,” she sympathises, sipping her tea and watching me with interest.

“It’s fine, Andrea. We both knew this was coming. We’ve been trying to have fun while we can, instead of worrying about what will happen when he goes. I’ve been refusing to talk about it.”

“But you have to face it soon. There’s only one week.”

“Maybe we’ll discuss it on Monday. But for this weekend—our last weekend—I need to keep it fun.”

“If you’re going to a B and B, I can bet it’ll be a whole lot of fun.” She laughs, winking at me suggestively.

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as I return her laughter while images of Elliot in bed flick through my mind, warming my core. Out of all the men I’ve slept with in my time, he's by far the best. I don’t know if it’s his technique or if it’s because of our connection. But, I crave him.

Our last weekend together is going to be amazing, I won’t accept anything less.

* * *

Elliot

After leaving the flat early Saturday morning, I drive Paige’s newly acquired car to the bed-and-breakfast she picked out for us to spend a night at. It takes us nearly three hours to get there, and after listening to the Jebediah disc for the second time through, Paige switches to the radio and tunes it into her phone so we spend the rest of the trip listening to 90s alternative rock. She’s got a great voice as she sings along, knowing the lyrics to every song. I’m surprised at how many songs I also know the lyrics to, like Radiohead’s Creep and Powderfinger’s Passenger.

“Almost there,” I say, as I turn onto the road that leads up to where we’re staying.

“I can’t wait.” Paige grins, wriggling happily in her seat. “My arse is so numb, I can’t wait to stretch my legs.”

“We could have stopped, you know,” I point out.

“I know, but I want to spend all of our time here. It's beautiful isn’t it?” she gushes.

And as I pull the car into a parking space outside the bed-and-breakfast, I’m inclined to agree.

“Wow.” I look up at the grand building, rendered a sandy colour and set in the most idyllic coastal setting. We climb out of the car and stretch as we look around at the storybook English gardens, and the view that continues uninterrupted over rolling hills and all the way to the sea.

Taking a deep breath, I fill my lungs. I don’t think I have ever had such clean air in my chest in my entire life.

“This is amazing.” Paige smiles as she spins in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings.

I open the boot and take out our suitcase, waiting for her to join me so I can wrap my arm around her waist and walk inside together.

There’s a small woman with brown curly hair waiting for us when we enter. She introduces herself as Beattie and shows us upstairs to our room. Walking ahead, she chats away about what time breakfast is served, and where they get all of their produce from. I stop listening when she opens the door to our room, and I’m faced with this giant iron bed, covered in white pillows and a pale green quilt. I want nothing more than to flop down on top of it. Sleeping on two single beds pushed together hasn’t been the most comfortable experience of my adult life, so paying as much as we are for this weekend seems totally worth it for the bed alone.

Paige

I can’t help but smile as I see the way Elliot is looking at the bed. I half expect him to lift off the floor and float toward it on a cloud of desire. I can’t wait to lie on it either. It looks like heaven.

“I’ll just leave you both to get settled then,” Beattie says, as she lays some pamphlets on a little table by the door and closes it softly behind her.

Elliot looks at me and grins then drops our bag and somehow manages to go from standing next to me to lying on the bed before I’ve had the chance to blink twice.

“Oh my god. This is amazing,” he moans. “I have missed having a decent mattress sooooo much.”

“I’ve never had a great mattress, but I agree. This bed is divine,” I say as I climb on the bed and lie next to him.

Resting my head on his chest, we lie together quietly. I run my fingers gently up and down his side while he plays with my hair. It feels so nice that my hand slowly stills, and I drift off to sleep.

Elliot

“Thanks so much for organising this weekend,” I say after a while. No response. “Paige?” When I lift my head, she stirs a little, shifting even closer to me in her sleep.

I'm filled with so much emotion that it takes extra long for me to exhale. I want to tell her I love her this weekend. But, I don’t want her to think I’m only doing it because I’m about to go and there’s no real consequence to me saying it. I want her to know that I want to be with her. I want her to know that if she doesn’t want to return to Australia, then I want to come back to her as soon as I can get a new working Visa.

There’s so much we need to say, but it’s hard finding the right time to say it. We both agreed not to talk about what will happen when I leave, but my leaving is just around the corner. We have to face it sometime.

After a while, I close my eyes too, drifting off with her in my arms. I’m fully aware that this is one less time I’ll get to do it. Unless she agrees to come home with me.

Paige

It’s almost dark when I wake up, still wrapped around Elliot. I love having my head on his chest, listening to his deep rhythmic breathing as he sleeps. I tilt my head up and kiss his jawline. He never shaves on the weekends and after a full day, he almost has a beard.

“Hey, baby,” I coo at him to rouse him awake.

His eyes flutter open, and he looks down at me smiling. “Hey, what time is it?” he croaks, taking a deep breath as he stretches his body out to wake himself fully.

“Almost 5:30,” I tell him softly. “You want to get some dinner?”

Springing to life, he rolls on top of me, sending excited butterflies dancing through my body as he kisses me passionately. “I’d rather stay here and feed off you,” he murmurs, slowly undoing the buttons on my shirt as he trails kisses down my chest until he reaches the apex of my cleavage. He flicks his tongue against my skin while his hand cups my breast, squeezing it as I gasp, arching myself beneath him. Pulling the lace of my bra to the side, he kneads my flesh and swirls his tongue over my already erect nipple. I pull at his shirt as he works me into a frenzy while he worships my breasts, crying out in loss when he moves his mouth back up to my neck and buttons up my shirt one handed.

“But I think we’ll need food,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’m planning on keeping you up all night.”

Shivers run through me as I think about what’s in store later. Then I watch him stand and lie there immobile, a quivering mess after being worked up moments before. Holding out his hand, he pulls me up off the bed, kissing me once more before tugging me towards the door to go in search of somewhere to eat.

He holds the door of the car open for me, his eyes dark and seductive as he watches my movement. A groan escapes his mouth as I slide my hand down his body as I enter the car—I may or may not have let my hand trail over what felt like a very firm rod in his pants—grinning wickedly at him.

“Cheeky.” He chuckles as he adjusts himself slightly and closes the door, walking calmly over to the driver’s side to slide behind the wheel. “Do you know what you want to eat?” he asks, reversing us out of our parking space and pulling onto the road.

“Well, I did, but you put a stop to that.” I pout, earning myself a beautiful grin in response.

“We’ll just see what we find then, huh?”

“Can’t we skip dinner and just go back? Finish what you started?”

“What I started? Paige, you started this whole thing the moment you laid those gorgeous amber eyes on me in the plane. I haven't stopped wanting you for a moment since.”

“Amber eyes, huh? I’ve never thought of them like that. You were pretty hot on the plane yourself, you know,” I admit.

“Yeah? Well, you were pretty indifferent for a girl who thought I was hot.”

“Indifference and disinterest are two very different things, Elliot.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” He flicks me a glance as he concentrates on the road. I feel like saying ‘not really’, but I find myself answering his question instead.

“I’d been on my own for a long-time, and I’d given up on men way before then. I didn’t think I could ever have something like this, someone like you.” I smile as I study his profile. “I guess I wasn’t letting myself look at you like that.”

He pulls the car into a parking space outside a restaurant that’s overlooking the water, but we don’t get out. We sit and study each other for a moment instead. I can see the questions running through his mind and hold my breath while I wait to see what he says next. I think I just shared too much information, and I’m not sure what he picked up on.

“I’m glad you gave us a chance then,” he says finally, surprising me by not pushing for more answers. “Come on, let’s go eat.” He tilts his head towards the restaurant as he opens his door, unfolding his long lean body before walking around to my door to help me out.

“Thank you,” I say, taking his hand. I can see a small sparkle in his eyes as he smiles down at me, and I’m reminded of the plane when he held his hand out to steady me, but I refused to take it.

Slipping my arms around his neck, I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips against his, breathing him in deeply as his mouth responds to mine, kissing me fervently, his arms wrapping tightly around me as he pulls me against him.

Humming as I pull away, I run my fingers through his growing hair as I gaze into his eyes. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” I murmur softly.

“You’re worth it,” he says, smiling as he pulls me close to him and guides me into the restaurant. The moment the doors open, the smell of cooked fish and vegetables collide with my nose, and I'm suddenly starving.

We both select the catch of the day, served on a bed of steamed vegetables, drizzled with a lemon and dill sauce. Each mouthful is amazing as we talk easily with each other about anything and everything, being careful to avoid any more relationship talk, both knowing we were straying a little too close to talking about his leaving. We can’t let his imminent departure ruin what little time we have left.

After dinner, we take a walk along The Cobb; this big brick ocean wall that stretches out into the sea like a pier. Huddling together as the cold wind comes off the water. It whips my hair about so it attacks us both in the face.

Laughing I twist it with my hand and try to hold it to one side. “Don’t look in my eyes. I think I just became Medusa,” I joke as wisps break free and blow straight back into Elliot’s face.

He takes hold of my shoulders and guides me so I’m standing with the wind blowing towards me. “Then I’ll turn to stone,” he says seriously, as he stares into my eyes. Then he captures my mouth in his, sliding his tongue against my own as my toes curl from the electricity that courses through my body each time we connect.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” I ask, filled with complete wonder over the man who compliments me so thoroughly.

“Just lucky I guess.” He smiles. “We need photos,” he tells me, pulling his phone from his pocket and readying the camera.

We lean into each other, smiling as he holds the phone out, snapping picture after picture as we smile, kiss and laugh. As he scrolls through the photos, and we admire his handiwork, it’s hard to ignore that voice inside that’s telling me these photos are to remember our last weekend together. This is it. There won’t be any more.

Elliot

Returning to the B&B, our car trip is virtually silent as we both become lost in our own thoughts. Gone is the playfulness we started with before dinner. Instead, there’s this elephant hanging around, refusing to be spoken about.

As soon as we shut the door to the room, Paige flings herself against me and wraps her arms tightly around me as she buries her face in my chest, her breath shaky as she sighs against me. I wrap my arms around her body and plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, letting out a long sigh myself.

“What are we going to do, Paige?” I venture.

Lifting her head, her eyes swim with tears and worry she’s refusing to let go of. “Make love,” she answers, stepping away from me and slowly undoing the buttons of her shirt while at the same time kicking off her shoes.

“All right.” Who could refuse a beautiful girl asking you to love her with your body?

“Sit down,” she instructs, indicating the bed with a nod of her head. I do as I’m told and sit there watching as she shimmies out of her three-quarter pants and steps towards me, still wearing her unbuttoned shirt but giving me glimpses of a matching set of purple lingerie.

“Is this new?” I ask, as she lets her shirt drop down her arms, stepping within my grasp. Reaching out, I hook my finger in the middle of her bra, pulling her towards me and sliding my hands over the purple, lace edged, silk that’s cupping her breasts.

“You like it?” she rests her hands on my shoulders as I bury my face in the soft flesh of her chest.

“I do,” I say, reaching my hands behind her back to unhook her bra. “Now I want you to take them off.”

Paige

A bolt of arousal shoots down my body and straight between my legs at his gruff tone. His eyes darken, like a turbulent sea, as he watches me slowly peel the lace-edged silk away from my body, leaving them by my feet on the floor.

Catching me by the hand, he pulls me swiftly towards him, flipping me on the bed and holding himself over me, trailing his fingers along my curves as he brushes his lips against mine, his tongue embarking on a slow languid exploration of my mouth.

When his hand reaches my hip, he pulls my body closer to his, fitting me up against him as his fingers continue to trail down the length of my leg, resting behind my knee and guiding me so I’m wrapped around him.

“God, I’m going to miss touching you,” he breathes as his kisses stray along my jaw and down the curve of my neck.

“Don’t talk about it please,” I stress on a gasp as his hand finds my breasts, kneading at my tender flesh as his mouth closes over the nipple of the other, sucking it to a point as I moan, pulling at his shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin against my own. “Take it all off.” I undo the button on his fly as he sits back to remove his shirt.

Dropping his clothes at the foot of the bed, he reaches out and grabs my legs, dragging my body down the bed until I’m open and exposed, quivering as I wait for his touch as he settles himself between my legs.

His breath is warm and feathery as his mouth nears my most sensitive spot. I whimper in anticipation, rolling my hips up towards him. He’s teasing me.

“Please,” I beg, aching for his touch.

“Give me your hand,” he says, sliding his fingers around my opening as he distributes my wetness around me, dancing around my clit with his fingertips, causing it to throb even more.

I give him my hand, and he guides me between my legs. “Together,” he says, inserting his fingers between my folds as I circle my clit, moaning and rocking my hips upward as we work. He plants soft kisses on my inner thighs as he watches, humming his pleasure as his fingers curl inside me, massaging my core and bringing me ever closer to bursting point.

“You want more?” he asks, gently easing a third finger into my opening.

“Oh yes,” I cry, rocking my hips harder against his hand. The sensation is too much for me to bear, and I cry out trying to keep my own hand moving as I spasm around his hand. Nudging my hand out of the way, he takes my clit into his mouth, sucking at it and swirling his tongue as I writhe underneath him, screaming out and pulling on his hair.

Suddenly, it all becomes too much, and I lock my foot against his shoulder pushing him hard as I scoot up the bed and away from his grasp. He’s back up on the bed in seconds, holding himself above and grinning as he looks down at me, nudging between my legs with his erection.

“Had enough?” he asks, his eyes dark and playful.

“Never,” I pant out as he crashes his mouth into mine and reaches his hand out for a condom from the bedside drawer. Separating briefly to apply it, he returns immediately, reconnecting our mouths before slamming into me, filling me with his intensity as we beat our hips together, kissing and moaning, pulling at each other’s bodies in a sweaty dance filled with all the feelings unspoken between us. We pound into each other again and again until we’re both calling out, shuddering together, before collapsing in each other’s arms, gasping for breath but refusing to let go.

Twenty-Four

Elliot

“Did you see the size of that bath in there?” I say to Paige the next morning.

She raises her eyebrows, “I did. Do you think you’ll fit?”

“I think we’ll both fit.”

A smile creeps over Paige’s face. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go and turn it on.”

I get up and stride over to the en-suite and turn on the massive bath, waiting for the water to get nice and warm before I return to Paige. She’s lying on the bed, smiling to herself while she’s looking at her phone. I flop down beside her. “What are you grinning about?” I ask.

“Us,” she says, showing me one of the photos of us on the Cobb last night. “Although, I do need one more very important one to make my collection complete.”

I fold my arms up behind my head as she climbs on top of me. My arousal stirs because she’s straddling me and we’re both naked. She grins and wriggles her hips making me harder. “You’re not taking a photo of that are you?” I ask, unsure of where this is going.

“No,” she says, leaning down to kiss me before sitting back and aiming her phone at me. “I want a photo of you lying there, naked beneath me.”

I’m grinning as she taps her screen, and it makes a clicking sound. She turns her phone around for me to see, and it is just me, waist up.

“See, you can’t see anything, but I’ll always know what was going on.” She moves her hips over my shaft again, and I pull her face towards me to kiss her, sliding my tongue in her mouth as we take turns tasting each other.

She reaches over to the nightstand and picks up a condom then breaks away from me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask when she slides off me, but I quickly jump up and follow her as she heads to the en-suite and beckons for me to follow her.

Paige

Tearing the foil off the packet with my teeth, I take the condom out and roll it down the length of his shaft as I plant feather light kisses over his chest and neck, taking my time, sliding my hand up and down his rock-hard shaft as I finish.

He moans as he leans down to kiss me, pulling me towards him so we’re pressing firmly against each other. He’s all hard muscle and smooth skin to my soft tissue and curves. We press together like our bodies were made to absorb each other. It’s amazing.

“Get in,” I say as I push him back a touch and lean over to shut off the tap.

He does as he’s told, and I climb in on top of him, taking him inside me before the water washes away my natural lubrication.

Moaning slightly as I connect us to the base of his shaft he leans back and closes his eyes. “I told you it was a big tub,” he says in this low sensual voice that never fails to set my body on fire.

Rocking my hips, I lean in, gently brushing my lips over the stubble on his chin before grazing his lips with mine, leisurely sliding my tongue along with his so I can savour every piece of him. I want to remember his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. I want to make love to him for every possible moment I can until he goes. I need enough of these moments to last me my lifetime, because when he goes, he’s gone, and there’ll never be another man for me. Not as long as I live.

Elliot

The water sloshes slightly as she slides up and down my shaft. My hands roam over every part of her body, touching and squeezing as my mouth connects with hers in a kiss I never want to end.

I feel my orgasm building and reach in between us to circle her clit. She moans in my mouth, and I almost explode right then and there. She feels so amazing, as she clenches herself around me and whimpers in my mouth, grinding on top of me, moving closer and closer to her climax.

A fresh bout of arousal washes over me as her hips spasm, but she refuses to break our kiss, moaning her orgasm into me as she struggles to keep her mouth moving. Shuddering along with her, unable to hold on any longer, I continue to kiss her, refusing to let her go even for a second. We don’t stop touching and kissing until the water turns cold, and we start to shiver, deciding that then would be a great time to get some breakfast.

Paige

“Here, put this on,” Elliot offers, holding out a white fluffy robe for me to wear. I’m still shivering after our extended bath and the thickness of the robe is welcome against my skin. He hugs me to him, rubbing my back and arms to create some friction until finally I heat up again.

Looking over the menu, we call down to reception and ask if we can have our breakfast brought up to us. We don’t want to waste time getting dressed and eating in the dining room. We’re perfectly happy right here.

No more than twenty minutes later there’s a knock on the door and a tray is brought in sporting coffee, orange juice, warm croissants, scrambled eggs, bacon and a selection of fruits. It smells divine, and my stomach grumbles loudly in reaction.

“Hungry?” Elliot asks, grinning as he thanks the staff member and turns the lock on the door.

“Famished,” I say, sitting down at the small table and pouring us both a coffee from the pewter pot. I feel a little goofy with the grin that’s plastered across my face. But, we can’t stop smiling and touching each other while we eat.

Elliot has become snap happy and keeps taking photos of me with food in my mouth. I'm laughing because my face looks funny when I’m chewing. But, then he takes a photo of me laughing with food showing in my mouth, and that makes me laugh more because it’s gross.

“Delete it!” I say to him, grabbing for his phone.

“No, it’s mine,” he teases as he holds his phone away from me. He looks at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, I don’t think it’s fair that you have a topless photo of me and I don’t have one of you.”

I shake my head laughing. I'm not about to let him take a photo of me topless. “No way, mister. You’re not getting a titty shot of me.”

“Not of your breasts, Paige, of your back.”

I take a deep breath to steady the sudden nerves I feel at him mentioning it. I’ve become used to him tracing Phoenix's wings, tail and claws when we’re in bed together; showing it around him doesn’t seem so scary anymore. But, he still doesn’t understand the true meaning behind it. I'm not sure how I feel about doing this.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just think you’re so beautiful, and your tattoo is breathtaking. I want to look at it while we aren’t together.”

I sit and stare for a moment, studying his hopeful face. “All right,” I concede.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” I stand up and move over to the bed before I can change my mind.  Undoing my robe so it falls to my waist, I sit with my back to him. I twist my hair and hold it up on top of my head with one arm and look over my shoulder at him to check if he's ready.

It’s then he takes the photo. He smiles fondly at it as he brings it over to me to look at. It almost looks like a professional photo; the lighting is perfect, and my face has a mixture of trepidation and adoration on it.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, looking at it and kissing my neck.

He sighs heavily as he puts his phone to the side and meets my eyes. I can tell he wants to say something, but he’s warring with himself before he begins.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I just… I want you to know that I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. I want you to know that I—”

“Don’t, Elliot,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “Don’t say anything to make this harder. I’m staying and you’re going. Please don’t try and change that.”

“It doesn’t have to end when I go, Paige. You could come with me. Or I could come back. Or you could come with me and then we both come back,” he argues regardless. “Don’t end this. You know how I feel about you, even if you don’t want to hear it. And I’m sure you feel the same way about me. We can do this. We can do this anywhere you want, any country you want. I just want you.”

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I pull my robe back over my shoulders and close it tightly around me. “Elliot, you can do so much better than me. Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I love you, damn it!” he yells suddenly, his outburst scaring the shit out of me as he jumps off the bed and paces the room. I sit there, trying not to cry as I watch him work through his emotions. When he stops and looks at me his eyes are shining as well. “Why won’t you tell me what makes you so sad? Why don’t you trust me enough to love you no matter what you may have done?”

“Because you wouldn’t, Elliot. You couldn’t love me if I told you everything about me,” I cry, tears flowing freely as I stand up and try to move towards him.

“Why won’t you just tell me, Paige?” he yells, exasperation written all over his face as his eyes plead with me. “Let me make my own fucking choices.”

I place my now shaking hands on his chest and look into his eyes, imploring him to stop. “Please Elliot, can you just accept that the time we have left is it? I can’t go back with you. I need to stay here and deal with my mother, and you need to go back to your life.”

“Paige, you are my life, can’t you understand that? I don’t want to go back without you.”

He circles his arms around me and kisses me as the tears continue to flow from my eyes. Pressing his forehead against mine, he breathes in deeply and speaks in a strained voice. “Come back with me, Paige.”

I step back from him, our eyes locked as he waits for me to answer. But I won’t answer. What would be the point? I’m not going back, and I’m not telling him why. I’m not strong enough to watch his love slip away.

His eyes widen as the realisation hits him that I’m not planning to answer him. Pressing his palms to his eyes before he rakes his hands through his hair, he blows out a charged breath and steps back from me.

“This is fucked.” Moving quickly, he pulls on a pair of pants, dropping his robe on the floor where he stands and picks up his shirt and shoes then looks at me, pain behind his eyes as he shakes his head then makes his way to the door, walking out and closing it quietly behind him.

It feels worse than if he slammed it. At least I’d know he was angry and going off to calm down. Right now, I don’t know what he is, and not knowing scares me even more.

You lost him.

He’s going to leave and never come back.

He’s abandoning you. Just like everyone else.

You’re unloveable.

Panic overwhelms me, and I drop to the floor, crying into my hands. Oh god, I thought I could handle this. I thought I could cope with him leaving. But, I’m falling apart and all he’s done is walked out the door.

You’re not unloveable, Phoenix whispers.

Then why did he go?

Because he does love you. You hurt him.

My emotions churn in my stomach as I think about the strain our separation will cause over the next five days. I don’t want to spend them fighting. But, I know I can’t go with him. It wouldn’t be right.

I’ll hurt him more if I go with him.

The acid in my stomach rises as the image of him boarding a plane and leaving me hits home, running to the bathroom, I heave over the toilet until the entire contents of my stomach is gone, and I’m left with nothing but my tears as I cry into the bowl, wishing I’d never started this.

Elliot

Dropping my shoes on the floor, I stuff my feet into them as I pull my shirt over my head. I can’t go far because I’ve left my wallet, phone and the car keys in the room with Paige. I just need to get out of there before I beg her and make a total fool of myself.

A cold blast of air hits me when I step outside, but I couldn’t care less. I need some fresh air and a chance to calm down. I walk through the gardens until walking isn’t good enough anymore, and I break into a run. When I reach the edge of the garden, I keep going, pushing myself harder and faster until my legs burn, and my chest hurts from sucking in the chill air. I drop on the ground and stare up at the bright blue sky, watching as cumulus clouds float slowly across its expanse, mocking me with their perfection as my insides rage on in turmoil.

I have five days to go. That’s it. I don’t want to spend them fighting. I simply wish she’d come with me. I don’t want to leave her behind.

Paige

I took a shower to calm down, and now I’m attacking my hair with a comb to try to detangle my curls. I forgot to pack conditioner, but it serves me right for letting Elliot love me. A head full of knots is the least I deserve.

After getting a hold of myself, I realised he had to come back to the room. His wallet and keys are here so he can’t go far. He’ll be back, and then I can take it all back. I can tell him I didn’t mean it. I can say whatever he needs to hear. Just give me five more days.

When the handle of the door finally turns, my breath catches at the sight of him. He looks distraught, and I feel terrible that I’m the one causing his beautiful heart so much pain. I stand, watching him carefully as he walks towards me with grace and speed. His arms reach out, and he pulls me to him, our mouths crashing together in desperate need.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, holding me to him. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I shouldn’t have yelled.” He kisses me again, more softly this time and presses our foreheads together. “Forgive me, Paige, I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t let this end.”

Don’t let this end.

I close my eyes tightly as a single tear leaves my right eye and slides down my cheek. Elliot holds my face and kisses it away, capturing my mouth and sliding his hands under my shirt and over my bare skin.

“Please, Paige. Don’t give up on us.”

“OK. I’ll come back with you,” I whisper, even though I know full well I’m not going to. I’m a terrible person.

Elliot

I think my heart just exploded in my chest. Did I hear that right? She’s coming back with me?

“You will?” I ask, not quite believing my ears.

“I will,” she whispers, tears falling freely from her eyes.

Wiping her cheeks with my hands, I draw her mouth to mine, slowly sliding my tongue in unison with hers. I have completely lost my mind, and I’ve lost it in her. Lifting her shirt over her head, I throw it on the floor, picking her up, so she’s wrapped around me, her body quivering as we kiss.

“I love you, Paige.” I carry her over to the bed and lay her out in front of me, kissing every part of her as I try to convey everything I’m feeling in the way I’m touching her and loving her with my body.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back,” she whispers, as her nails drag along my back and she presses herself against me.

“I’ll never leave you, Paige,” I whisper back, sliding against her body as we rub our arousal against each other.

“I need you, Elliot. I don’t think I can breathe without you,” she murmurs as she tilts her hips, guiding my tip inside her. I freeze momentarily, locking my eyes with hers as she thrusts her hips upwards, urging me to enter her. “Just you, I need you,” she repeats, and I slide myself inside her, moaning at her hot wetness as she clenches herself around me.

“God, you feel amazing,” I moan as we move rhythmically together in a sensual dance I’ll never have enough of. I’m crazy about her. I'll do anything to be with her.

Clinging to each other, our mouths connect along with our bodies. We moan and whimper as we slide together, our climax building until we release it as one, gasping for air but refusing to part. If only we could stay just like this, unmoving forever. This is sheer bliss.

As we lie together afterwards, I trace over her tattoo with my fingers while she rests her body over my chest. I can’t help but notice that out of everything she said just now, she avoided saying those three words that would mean the next five days would be filled with hope instead of trepidation. She never said she loves me, even though I fucking well know she does.

Twenty-Five

Paige

“I can’t believe you’re quitting on me,” Andrea moans as I tell her my news. “And in a week? How am I supposed to replace you that quickly?”

“I’m sorry, Andrea, really I am, but I told Elliot that I’ll go back with him,” I explain. “Don’t hate me.”

Andrea laughs as she comes towards me and gives me a friendly hug. “I could never hate you, Paige. I'll really miss working with you. To be honest, I was pretty sure this would happen when you and Elliot got your act together, and I’m so happy for you both. Do you think you’ll ever come back? Because I could always use you if you do,” she asks hopefully.

“I don’t know what’s happening right now. I’m still kind of shocked I agreed to go.”

“Well, you want to go don’t you?” she asks.

“I want him. I just kind of wanted to stay here longer. There are things I wanted to do, but now I’ll have to put them off.”

“Well then, that settles it. You must come back and when you do, you’ll work for me again.”

I laugh at her boldness. It’s nice to be wanted. “All right, I’ll come back as soon as I can,” I concede.

“Excellent, now get to work, missy. You still have to finish up all of your booked clients before Thursday.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I say, saluting her on a laugh as I move towards the front of the salon and flip the sign on the door to open. Looking around, I let out a sigh. I’m really going to miss it here.

Elliot

“Good morning, Elliot,” Celsey sings out as I enter the gym for my last few days of work. “You’ve got a busy client list today. Everyone wants to get one final session in before you leave. Are you counting down?” She hands me a sheet of paper with my client print out on it.

“Kind of. I’m happy to be going home, but I’ll miss being here. How much longer do you have?” I ask, knowing her time to leave must be soon. She started at the gym not much longer after I did.

“A week and a half. I’m feeling the same way. I don’t want to go, but I miss everyone from home.”

“Are you coming to my going away bash?” I ask, as I pick up a clipboard and pen, sliding my printout under the clip.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She smiles, before I move through to the staff room to put my bag in my locker.

The first client on my list is a guy around my age called Tony. He's here to bulk up after being as skinny as a rake for most of his life. I’ve been training him for the last two months, and he’s made some great progress doing heavy weights and supplementing his diet with some heavy-duty protein powders.

I find him warming up on the treadmills and wander over to him. “Ready for our last session?”

“Not really. They’re giving me the guy who's replacing you. I have no idea if he’s any good,” he comments, as he hops off the machine.

“They don’t hire just anyone here, mate. I’m sure you’ll be in good hands. Come on, let’s get started,” I say, as I clap him on the back and lead him over to the free weights area.

Paige

“Naomi, I really don’t think you should go messing with your hair colour. It’s beautiful the way it is,” I tell her, as she sits on the salon chair discussing her style options with me.

“Paige, I want a change. My hair’s always been like this, and I love that two-toned look that some girls do. You know how they have brown underneath and the blonde on top with those feathered styles that kind of flick out?” she explains.

“Well, it’s your hair, Nomes. I just don’t want you to regret changing it because we won’t be able to change it back once it’s done,” I point out.

“Come on, Paige, do it. I want you to be the one to give me a new style. It'll be a way for me to remember you when you go.”

“Couldn’t you just take a picture to remember me by?” I ask with raised eyebrows as I talk to her via the mirror.

“Paige,” she pleads, her voice slightly whiney.

“All right, all right, I’ll do it for you,” I submit. I get the need for a change, but when people come in with beautiful naturally coloured hair, it always stabs at my heart to alter it.

I leave Naomi flicking through a magazine, while I go into the back room and mix her colour before returning to start her transformation.

“Are you happy about going home?” she asks, as I pin the top half of her hair up.

“I’m happy I’m going with Elliot but I kind of wanted to stay here,” I admit.

“It’s very romantic.” She sighs. “Meeting on a plane and falling in love.” She stares off, smiling dreamily as god only knows what plays through her mind.

“You read too many romance novels, Naomi.” I laugh, as I paint the bottom half of her hair with her new colour choice.

“Leave me alone,” she pouts. “I like to see people happy, that's all.”

I smile at her in the mirror briefly before I focus my attention on applying her colour evenly.

“It must have been some night away though to make you change your mind,” she prods, trying to get me to divulge some details. When I don’t respond, she pushes further. “Did he tell you he loves you?” she bites her lip as she waits for the answer.

“He did,” I admit carefully.

“Was it romantic? Did you say it back?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you and that guy from the Salsa club? You’ve seen him a few times haven’t you?” I ask, trying to steer this conversation in a new direction. I can’t really tell her he yelled it at me because I refused to hear it.

“Oh no, Paige. You didn’t say it back, did you?”

When I don’t reply, She takes it as a silent admission.

“But you do love him. I know you do.”

I can’t answer that. I can’t say that in my thoughts let alone out loud. Knowing it and admitting it are two very different things. And I won’t be able to do what I need to do if I let myself fall that far into him.

“Wait. You are going back with him aren’t you?” Why would she ask that?

“Of course, I am. You know I am,” I assure her, hiding my eyes by focusing on her hair.

“Please don’t break his heart, Paige.”

I freeze at her words before turning away to place the bowl of dye on the trolley for cleaning. I take an extra few moments with my back turned away from her, squeezing my eyes shut as I breathe through the emotion swelling inside of me. This is a bad plan, Phoenix says.

“Why do you think I would?” I ask, focusing my eyes ahead so she can’t see my face.

“I just have this terrible feeling that you’re not being honest with him, or yourself. He’s bared his soul to you, and you’re still holding back. Just be good to him, OK? You could ruin him forever if you’re not careful. I’ve seen it happen too many times to count.”

“Where have you seen this destruction, Naomi? In your books?” I demand, not appreciating her reading me so well. It’s like she’s figured out exactly what I’m thinking and I can’t look at the truth.

“I’m not just a bookworm. I have a life, you know. I’ve fallen for the wrong guy,” she says, looking wounded from my words.

“I’m sorry, Nomes. I shouldn’t have snapped.” Fuck, I’m a shitty person.

A single tear slides from my eye and I wipe it away secretly as I pretend to brush back my hair. I think of the beauty that’s inside Elliot’s heart, and I’m riddled with guilt at the thought of being the one to rob him of that. What if I ruin him forever? What if he never finds love again just because I was the one who was too selfish to say no to him? I never should’ve let this happen. I should have been strong enough to stay away from the beginning. What if I ruin his life too?

Elliot

“Agy!” I embrace her where I find her in the reception area.

“Elliot, I’m so sad today. Why do you have to leave me? Who am I going to ogle now?” she jokes, hugging me back.

“You’ll find someone, I'm sure.” I laugh, offering my arm and leading her into the gym.

“What would you like to do for our last session?” I ask.

“Fancy taking an old lady out for a coffee?” she asks hopefully.

“Sure, let me grab my wallet, and you’re so far from being old, Agy. Don’t put yourself down.” I jog into the staff room and grab my wallet from my locker, leading Agy out and letting Celsey know that I’m leaving the gym for an hour in case anyone is looking for me.

“I like that little American girl,” Agy says to me as we leave the reception area and head outside. “She’s always so friendly.”

“I like her too, although she’s going home soon,” I say.

“Oh, all the good ones are going. I'll be left with boring English people again,” she moans, although I know she’s joking. “I want you to have a beautiful life with your girl, Elliot. Promise me you’ll email me regularly? I want to keep up with your life.”

“Only if you promise to keep giving me advice.”

“It’s a deal,” she says. And we shake on it. I’ve had such a wonderful time in the UK. I’m sad it's ending. But I’m more than keen to continue my life with Paige in it. That's literally all I care about.

Twenty-Six

Paige

When a person is rotten inside, it's easy to infect other’s with your blight. It's not that you want to spread your pervasiveness. It's just that it's so engrained you can't stop it from happening. There was a time when I could reason away my decisions and actions because I did them out of need, out of survival. But this—what I'm doing to Elliot—is just plain selfish. I’m doing it because I want more time with him. Time. Not forever. Forever is an impossibility. Now is all we have.

Please don’t break his heart, Paige. I’m sorry, Naomi. I was always going to.

“You ready, gorgeous?” Elliot asks from the door of our room. Happiness radiates off him. Our going-away bash is tonight. His flight leaves tomorrow at 2pm and he’s expecting me to be on it too. I’ve sold it so well, going through all the motions: I ordered my ticket, I've packed my bags, and I’ve quit my job. Maybe I thought I could convince myself to go, maybe I thought I could cancel before now, cause a big fight and end us spectacularly. But neither of those are my true reasons. I’m being a coward and a cunt, taking every moment of joy I can before blindsiding him at the last second.

You’re mean, Phoenix sulks.

I always told you I was. I don’t know why you never believed me.

“Ready,” I reply, collecting my purse and moving close to him so I can breathe him in and kiss him. I’m counting them down. I only have a handful left.

I look at the faces of our flatmates gathered in the living area waiting for us. I don’t feel like I have really spent that much time with them. I’ve been firmly attached to Elliot’s side from the moment I arrived. Only Naomi and Brian remain from the original group I moved in with, so I kind of feel like we are going through the motions of a going-away party. There is a new guy staying at the flat now called Adam. He replaced Gavin when he left, and this is the first time he's coming out with all of us. He and Jolene seem fairly interested in each other, so perhaps they’ll take our room when we leave. Who knows? Maybe they’ll get the happily ever after instead?

Elliot

When we arrive at the restaurant, there are a couple of the other trainers I know from work already waiting as well as Paige’s boss, Andrea. We’ve hired a function room for the evening, so we can all sit, eat, chat and linger for as long as we do or don’t want to.

I’m worried about Paige. She’s acting a little strange tonight. She’s smiling and saying all the right things, but there’s something about her that isn’t quite right. I’m putting it down to nerves about going back to Australia, but I’m not entirely sure it isn’t something else. Please don’t be cold feet.

“You’re not drinking,” Brian admonishes Paige, as he places a new round of drinks on the table. “Come on, Paige, it’s a celebration. You're letting down the team.”

Laughing Paige picks up her drink and takes a fake sip for Brian’s benefit. Although, I notice the level of her drink doesn’t alter at all.

“Good girl!” Brian calls out, much louder than he needed to. He already seems half cut, and it’s only nine o’clock.

“Do you want me to drink that for you?” I ask Paige quietly as I lean toward her ear.

“You might have to. They keep appearing in front of me.” She smiles, handing me her drink on the sly and replacing her glass with my empty.

I lose count of how many I have. Everyone wants to buy us both a drink to say goodbye, so they just keep coming. Drinking for two was a bad idea because now, I’m completely off my face, leaning all over Paige as she laughs at me while we farewell our guests.

“Are you going to be all right? I can drive you if you like,” Celsey offers as the group waves us off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You go and have fun with everyone else. I’ll get this guy home. The fresh air and the walk will do him good,” I hear Paige say, although it’s all starting to sound very far away to me.

“All right then, well safe trip home you two, and it was nice to meet you, Paige,” Celsey says.

“You too.” Paige smiles.

“Goodbye, my loves! I’ll miss you so much!” a drunken Naomi yells, leaning all over both of us and causing us to stumble.

“You’ll probably see us in the morning, Naomi. The plane isn’t until the afternoon.” Paige laughs, trying to keep us all upright.

“Everybody! We’re leaving, thank you so much for coming. We’re both thankful for such a great send off, and we’ll miss you all,” I call out, slurring slightly but still not drunk enough to forget my manners. My mother taught me well.

We burst out of the door to the restaurant as a noisy group, still calling out our goodbyes as Paige steadies me on the short walk back to the flat.

“You didn’t have to drink all of my drinks, you know.” Paige laughs again. She’s really happy now. Maybe I was wrong before, and there’s nothing going on with her.

“I told you, I’ll do anything for you, Paige. Even get rolling drunk so people don’t sulk when you won’t drink with them,” I slur as we make it to the front door of our building, and I force my feet to climb the stairs.

Paige

God, he’s so heavy. I feel like I’m getting drunk just from the fumes coming off him. I somehow get him over to the bed and drag his shoes off. He sits up as I’m trying to take his belt off, and pulls me toward him, kissing me passionately in a clumsy drunken way. His mouth tastes sweet from all the bourbon they plied him with tonight.

Breaking away, I lean up on his chest and look down at him, trying to keep my hair out of his face. He lifts his hands and starts to clumsily twirl my curls around his fingers, pulling at it so it hurts a little.

“You are so drunk,” I point out, laughing.

His words come out all slurred as he speaks. “I love you so fucking much, Paige,” he says with as much feeling as he can muster.

My heart jumps a little from his drunken outburst. He hasn’t said it again since last weekend. “I know you do, Elliot.”

He shakes his head vigorously. “Noooo, you don’t know, I haven’t said it properly.” He grabs my face with both his hands and looks me dead in the eye, suddenly sounding very sober. “I love you, Paige Larsen. I think I have I loved you since before I even met you.”

I smile down at him, tears emerging from my eyes because I know it’s time to end this.

“Are you crying? No, don’t cry, you’re always so sad. But whenever you smile, I feel like I won something amazing,” he breathes, using his hands to emphasise the last word.

“Elliot, you are so smashed right now. You need to sleep,” I tell him through my tears, smiling at his openness and doubting he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning.

“All right,” he says, closing his eyes. “But you have to stay right next to me.”

I nod my head and lie down beside him, resting my head on his chest and hugging him tightly, breathing in his scent and listening to the sounds of his life through his chest. I want to savour our last moments together so I can hold them in my heart and think of him always.

When I’m sure he is asleep, I kiss his neck and whisper in his ear. “I love you, too. So much.” Tears roll down my face as I sit up and touch his sleeping face tenderly. It’s time to tell him everything. I’ve been too gutless before now, but now that it’s time for him to leave, he needs to hate me enough to go alone. And he will. No one can forgive the thing I’ve done.

I forgive you, Phoenix says in her tiny voice.

Of course you do. You have an innocent heart.

Didn’t you once?

Yes. But I turned it black with bad decisions. It’s why you got hurt. It’s why I need to be alone.

I’m sorry, Mummy.

So am I, my beautiful girl.

With my fingers on my shoulder, I rise off the bed and walk out of our room, leaving Elliot asleep as I close the door quietly behind me. Grabbing a notepad and pen, I sit down and write the words I’ve been too afraid to say. My confession.

When I’m done, I fold the paper, put it in an envelope with Elliot’s name on it and tuck it inside his wallet, placing his phone on top. Then I get up and take one last look at my love, snoring softly. Then I leave.

Twenty-Seven

Elliot

Moving my tongue around my mouth to distribute some moisture, I open my eyes, acutely aware of the fact that Paige is no longer on the bed with me. Swinging my legs to the floor, I wince as the pain in my head hits me. I don’t think I have ever drunk so much alcohol in my life. This is horrible. It will make the flight home intolerable.

I shuffle out to the kitchen and grab some ibuprofen and a large glass of water, downing it as fast as I can.

Leaning on the edge of the sink, I wait, hoping the water is going to stay down. The moment I’m safe, I move again, looking for signs of Paige’s whereabouts. Instead, I notice my phone and wallet on the shelf with some paper sticking out of it.

“Paige?” I call out to no answer.

Dread fills my already queasy stomach as I walk over and take it out. It’s an envelope with my name on it in Paige’s handwriting. “What?” I move to the table and take a seat before opening it. Actually, I’m just sitting here staring at it. I don’t want to know what’s inside.

Letting out a huge steadying breath, I slide my thumb under the seal and tear it open. Forcing my eyes to read.

My dear, beautiful Elliot,

I am so sorry. I didn’t have the courage to stick around and go back to Australia with you. I wanted to. I truly did. But I know in my heart that you and I can never be. Not long term, anyway. I never said it to you Elliot, but you need to know that I love you too. I love you so much that I selfishly let you love me back, knowing that I would always drive you away. They say the truth hurts. But my truth, it destroys lives.

Do you remember that game we played? We asked each other rapid-fire questions, and it ended in us laughing and eating Tim-tams? Well, you asked me a question then. And when I gave you the truth, you didn’t believe me. You asked what my first job was, and I told you I was a sex toy and a drug dealer. I have never admitted those things before. But when you looked at me like I was joking, I knew my truth was too much for you to hear. So I kept it to myself. I know it doesn’t sound like much of an excuse, but I couldn’t bring myself to witness the love leave your face when you found out what I really am, what I’ve done.

I’m a coward for doing it this way, and I’m sorry. I kept us going until the last second because I wanted you so much. I wanted to share as many precious moments with you as I could, because I will carry you in my heart as the only man I'll ever love. I need you to fully understand that before you read on. Know that above everything else, I love you, and try to remember that for a short time, you loved me too. Please keep that in your heart when you look at the pictures of our time together. Focus on the good. Focus on our love. I know I will.

Now it’s time for my confession. I’ve already told you about my home life and how I was kicked out at 15, but it's after that that my life became an unforgivable disaster.

I didn’t go to foster care, Elliot. I couch hopped for as long as I could but eventually I was forced onto the street.

I’m ashamed to say this, but I fell in with the wrong people. I took drugs, and I sold even more. When dealing wasn’t an option anymore, I went home with different men, doing what I had to do to get a bed and some food for the night. I used people. I made one guy fall in love with me then cheated with his best friend. Then I did it all again, and again. I lost track of how many men there were. I was rarely sober enough to remember their names.

That’s when I met the man who destroyed my trust in men. He wasn’t good. But at that point, neither was I. I was a thief. I was an addict. I was a whore. He simply saw what I was and took advantage of it. He gave me away and my life stopped. I did things. Terrible, disgusting, sick and twisted things for the sake of a hit. And when I was all used up, when my skin was sucked against my bones and my veins collapsed, I was cast out again. But this time, I wasn’t alone.

There was a child in my womb. I didn’t even know until it was too late. I was in an ambulance, half out of my mind, bleeding and in pain when they told me. My baby was coming. Something was wrong.

Later that day, I realised the monster I had become when I delivered a baby girl. She was so tiny, Elliot, and she was all blue. Not even a single breath of life in her because I’d killed her in my body. The drugs. The drugs. The fucking drugs. What kind of person doesn’t realise a life is growing inside her? What kind of person kills her baby without offering it a shred of love during its moment of existence? My heart died when I held her in my arms, horrified by what I’d done. I promised then and there that I would never abuse another substance again. I promised to never trust a man, never give into attraction, never go looking for love. I didn’t deserve it. Not when my little baby never knew a moment of comfort.

Phoenix. That’s her name. I called her that because I had to believe she’d be born again to another mother who would be far better to her than I could ever have been.

My tattoo is for her. It gives me comfort to imagine she's with me, to talk to her in my mind, to touch her when I’m stressed, or alone, or sad. It’s also a constant reminder of what I did, and why I need to leave you.

I killed my baby, Elliot. Let that sink in. I was a drug-addled whore who was so bent on destroying my life that I destroyed the life of a tiny girl who’s only failing was choosing my womb to carry her. I’m a monster. And you deserve so much more than I can give you.

So I’m saying goodbye. I’m letting you go. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m so sorry I let our relationship get to this point, and I’m so sorry I had to tell you in a letter. I simply wasn’t strong enough to tell you to your face.

I love you, Elliot Roberts. I will hold the time we had together close to my heart for the rest of my life. It was absolutely perfect to me. Every moment was. You need to know that even if you can’t look at my pictures anymore. Maybe it would be best if you delete them and forget about me all together.

You deserve love; you deserve a life that is so much more wonderful than anything we could have had together. If you do anything for me, please let it be that. And please don’t look for me. I won’t be here.

Goodbye, Elliot.

Yours forever,

Paige xxx

I cover my face with my hands as my tears flow freely. I haven’t cried since I was a kid but these great wracking sobs are escaping my body. Frantically, I grab for my phone. I need to speak to her. I need to tell her that the past is the past. I need to tell her it wasn’t her fault—drugs do shit things to people—and most of all, I need to tell her I love her. I don’t care what she did to survive. I don’t care. I love her no matter what. Why didn’t she trust me to love her?

I call and I call, and I get her voice mail over and over again. I plead with her. I beg her to come back and see me. I promise her I’ll come back for her, that she doesn’t have to be alone. “Everyone deserves a second chance at life, Paige. Everyone deserves love. I’m not leaving you.”

When I look at the clock and realise I need to leave for the airport, I pitch my phone as hard as I can against the floor, smashing the screen and rendering it unusable.

“How is she going to call you back if your phone is broken?” Naomi asks quietly from the doorway. She's been watching me all day. I think I’ve scared her.

I crouch on the ground to pick up the remains of my phone and shake my head. “She’s not calling me back,” I say, completely defeated.

She comes over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly. “I’m so sorry, Elliot, I could tell how much you loved her.”

“Love her, Naomi. I love her.”

Paige

I haven’t stopped crying since I left the flat. I sit in my car on the side of the road, howling against the steering wheel because my heart won't quit tearing at my chest. Even imaginary conversations with my daughter don't ease this pain. There is nothing that eases a shattering heart. Nothing. I know this because my heart has broken so many times I’m surprised there was anything left. In time, and the pain will numb. But in this moment I can do nothing but feel.

Elliot keeps calling. Why would he want to speak to me? Is it to yell at me? To have his say so he can walk away knowing he called me a piece of shit? No. He’s not that kind of person. Then why? Surely, he can’t still want me after reading my confession. How could he possibly want someone so selfish that they killed their own baby? Not to mention how I’ve treated him. It’s just not possible.

With shaking hands, I take my phone and dial my voicemail, desperate to hear his voice. When I hold my phone to my ear, my mother’s voice filters out. “Paige. Please talk to me. There are things you don’t know.” I skip her message. Frowning because I can’t focus on her right now. But her voice keeps coming, over and over. Skip, skip, skip. Then I stop breathing when Elliot’s strained voice fills my ears.

“Paige, please come back, we can work this out. I don’t care what you did, I love you, Paige. Please Paige, please come back with me.”

Tears stream down my face as I listen, he sounds so tormented, and by his final message, I hate myself even more than I thought I possibly could.

“Everyone deserves a second chance at life, Paige. Everyone deserves love. I’m not leaving you.”

I place my hand over my screaming heart and claw at my skin. God, what have I done?

Elliot

“You need to go, Elliot,” Naomi says while placing a gentle hand on my back.

“I’m not leaving,” I insist.

She squats down on the floor next to me, placing her hands on my knees as she looks into my eyes. “I know you don’t want to. But if you overstay your visa, they won’t let you back.”

“What if she comes back? What if she changes her mind and I’m not here?”

“She’s not coming back, Elliot. You and I both know that. If she was anywhere waiting, she’d be at the airport expecting you to be there too.”

“What if she isn’t there either?”

“Then we wait as long as we can, and we hope. But you have to be on that plane.”

“I can’t leave.”

“You can come back. I will track her down, and I will make her talk to you. She’s not lost, OK? She’s just… I don’t know, she’s freaking out right now. We can get through to her. But we can’t get through to her if you get kicked out of the country. Be smart, Elliot. Play the long game.”

“Fuck.” I take a deep breath and blow it out through my teeth, pissed that this is where we are. “You’re right. Fuck it, you’re right.”

She gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll help you with your bags.”

She drives me to the airport and stays silently by my side as I check in. We scan the crowd, waiting for as long as we can before I have to line up for my security check.

“Maybe she’s already at the gate?” she says.

I shake my head as I lean down to kiss her cheek. “She’s not here, Nomes. She left me.”

“I’ll find her, OK? I promise you I will find her for you. This can’t be over.” A tear falls down her cheek. “It can’t be over. You love each other too much.”

Pulling her into my arms, I take a deep breath as I squeeze her in comfort, dropping a final kiss on the top of her head. “Goodbye, Naomi. And thank you. You’re an amazing friend.”

“You too,” she says, sobbing as I let her go and walk away, numb. What else is there to do?

Paige

I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I’m sending him home without saying goodbye. I can’t believe I’m not going with him. Shit. I race through the airport, searching for his face above the crowd, frantically weaving through people I don’t even really see.

But when someone stands in front of me, blocking my path, I‘m forced to pause my search and focus on the face in front of me.

“Paige!” Naomi grabs me by my arms and holds me still. “Where are your bags? Are you checked in?”

“Where is he?” I gasp, my voice frantic. “I need to say goodbye, I need to say I’m sorry.”

Her eyes flash. “You’re still not going back with him? What is wrong with you?” Aggravation flares inside me. She’s not answering my question.

“Naomi! Where is he?” Please. Please be here.

“He’s already gone through,” she says. “You’re too late. Unless you’re getting on that plane.”

“Shit. Shit.” I glance up at the flight board. I don’t have any luggage but my passport and ticket are in my purse. Maybe I can make it? “Fuck.” Rushing for the check in, I rummage through my bag, hands shaking too hard to function.

“Let me,” Naomi says, taking my bag and getting my passport out. “Where’s your ticket?” She digs about, frowning.

“What?”

“Your ticket. It’s not here.”

I grab for my bag, about to dump the contents on the ground before the realisation hits me. “Elliot has it.”

“Oh crap. Well… Maybe you can talk to someone at the counter? They have your name. Surely they can help you.”

I nod. “OK.”

I feel close to puking as we wind our way to the service desk, and tell the clerk about my plight, handing over my passport and the email confirmation on my phone. “I’m sorry, miss. This flight has closed.”

“But I don’t have luggage. You can just put me on there and I’ll go straight through.”

“I’m sorry. Boarding has already commenced. Perhaps I can book you on the next flight? There’s one leaving at eleven tonight. It’s fully booked, but I can put you on standby?”

Water blocks my vision as I stare at the woman, eyes swimming. “You mean, I’m too late?”

“I’m sorry. But I can book you on—”

“No,” I whisper, blinking tears. “No, thank you.”

I walk away in a daze, my blood pumping so hard through my ears that the airport noise is muffled. I’m too late.

“What are you doing?” Naomi yells after me, grabbing my arm and tugging me to a stop. “Get the ticket. Get any ticket. Just get through security and go find him.”

“Didn’t you hear her, Naomi? They’re already boarding. Even if I get in there, I can’t get to him in time.”

“Then wait for the next flight. Go back to Sydney. Find him. Don’t let this go, Paige. I’ve watched you fall in love with each other. You are literally the embodiment of every romantic couple I’ve ever read about. You’re soulmates. I know you are. And if you can’t make it work then what hope is there for the rest of us?” She wipes a tear from her cheek with an angry swipe.

I shake my head, frowning because I should never have come here. “You read too many books. Real life doesn’t work that way.” Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I turned to walk away.

“Don’t do this,” she says and I stop.

“Do you believe in fate?”

Her eyes light up a touch. “Of course.”

“This is it. This is fate telling me I was right to let him go.”

“No, Paige. This isn’t fate at all. You’re just not trying hard enough.”

“If fate wanted us to be together, I would’ve made it here on time. I would’ve gotten that ticket and made it through security just in time to see him go through the door. Then he would’ve looked back and seen me in that last second, and I’d run into his arms and he’d catch me, and we be together. Credits rolling. But that’s not real life. That’s not what this is. I left him. I left him because I’m a shitty person, and all of this—” I gesture around me “—is a sign that he’s better off without me. He’s better off. I promise you.”

“Paige,” she calls after me when I turn away. But I don’t stop this time. I keep going, and I don’t look back.

Twenty-Eight

Elliot

Life is so shit sometimes. Being trapped on a plane with nothing but your thoughts for company causes you to run through every emotion possible. I can’t sleep. So I spend a full day flying and staring at the vacant seat beside me, hoping she’ll somehow materialise next to me and tell me I was dreaming.

But I’m not dreaming.

At first, I was upset that she wasn’t with me. Then I was angry she didn’t trust me to understand, and then I tried to put myself in her life, so I could understand why she’d think that way.

One thing was very clear to me when I got off that plane. Paige needs me to go back there for her. She might not realise it because no one has ever stuck around for her before, but I know in my heart it’s true. I need to go back. I don’t care what she did in her past. I only care about what she does in her future, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that future is with me.

I’m not giving up.

When I exit the terminal, Mum is waiting for me, tears of joy in her eyes because she’s so happy to see me. I wave back, smiling at her excitement. But I’m almost fucking crying because it hits me real hard that Paige has never had this, she’s never had someone miss her so much they cry at the airport. Fuck. I’m grieving just thinking about it.

“Where is she?” Mum asks as I get closer. She was expecting Paige to come home as well.

I shake my head. “She didn’t come.”

She immediately pulls me to her, hugging me tightly. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she says, before she holds me at arm’s length and looks into my face, searching my expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shaking my head, I let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m angry, and hurt, and exhausted. But I need to go back. I turn around and go back right now if they’d let me through customs.”

My mother sighs as she reaches up and cups my face in her hands. “My boy. Did you have a fight?”

I shake my head. “Everything was perfect up until the last moment. Then she left. It’s complicated, but I keep trying to figure out a way back and I’m caught in red tape. I couldn’t stay because I’d ruin my chances of getting another visa, and I can’t fly straight back as a tourist because customs will refuse me entry since my visa just expired. I feel so fucking powerless,” I say. “Pardon my French.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you’re hurting. You were so excited about her on the phone. But I know you’ll get through this. We’ll help you any way we can.” Trying to keep my breathing steady, I hug my mother and draw as much comfort from her as I can. It doesn’t matter how old you get. A hug from your mother always helps.

“Thanks, Mum.”

She drives me back to my place and walks me inside, trying to make some small talk about things that happened while I’ve been gone. I know I’m not listening to her properly. I just can’t right now. I feel so helpless in my own destiny. The woman I love is on the other side of the world, and there’s nothing I can do but fucking wait.

I collapse in exhaustion on my couch as Mum brings me a cup of coffee and some cake she’s brought around.

“I put some meals in the fridge for you, just to try to help you get through the jet lag. So you don’t have to worry about cooking or shopping,” she tells me.

I reach over to her and give her arm a gentle squeeze as thanks. “You’re the best.”

“Do you have any idea why she left?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a breath before I answer. “She’s scared.”

“Of what?”

Sitting up, I place my mug on the coffee table in front of me. “Of being loved. She's just had a really shitty life and has got it in her head that no one could love her once they know her whole story.”

My mother regards me quietly, taking a sip of her tea before speaking. “But you obviously do.”

“Yeah, I know it. I suspected something bad. But I wasn’t expecting it to be as bad as it was. No one has ever loved her, Mum. No one. I need to prove to her she’s worth fighting for.”

“It sounds like you really love her.”

“I do. I love her so much it hurts me. It hurts so much.” And I don’t feel a tiny bit weird telling my mum about it.

She comes over and sits beside me, taking my hand in hers. “You do what you need to do, my love. You have a wonderful heart, and she’s lucky to have it. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get back to her.”

I nod and stare at her hand on mine. Everything just hurts so much, like there’s this hollow pit inside of me that is tearing at my soul. It’s horrible.

“Perhaps I should stay with you tonight? I’ll give Steve a ring and let him know I won’t be home.” She releases my hand as she searches through her bag for her phone.

“No Mum, I’m fine. I just need to sleep. You can go. Tell Steve I said hi, and I’ll call you tomorrow OK?”

Looking at me with worried eyes, my mother withdraws her hand from her bag, letting out a heavy sigh. “All right sweetheart. But, if you haven’t called me by midday, I’ll come hunting for you,” she threatens half-heartedly.

I thank her for everything and kiss her goodbye before I collapse onto the couch, my feet hanging over the end. I can’t even be bothered making it to the bedroom.

Despite my exhaustion, I lie there for almost an hour, unable to sleep. Grabbing my keys, I get into my car and head to the bottle shop where I pick up some wild turkey, take it home and drink it straight from the bottle. What the fuck to I care about a glass right now?

I obviously need to punish myself, because I pull my damaged phone out of my bag and plug it into my laptop, downloading all the data off it. I spend the rest of the night sitting on the couch, getting thoroughly smashed as I flick through the images of Paige and me in London. When I land on the one of her in our room at the B&B, when she let me take a picture of her back, I stare at it for a long time. It’s the last one I took when everything between us was perfect. I fucking knew something was up all week. I thought it was nerves, but I should have pushed her to talk to me. We could have sorted this out.

I pull the sim card for my Australian service out of my wallet and put it inside an old handset, charging it while I transfer the backup file from my damaged phone. Within twenty minutes, all of my photos, messages and contacts are back in my hand. Thank god.

Scrolling through the contacts, I stop when I come to her number. Everyone knows you shouldn’t drunk dial, but when you’re drunk, you really don’t give a shit about stuff like that. I tap the screen and dial. It takes a little while to connect but when her voice fills my ears, I can hardly speak.

Paige

My phone flashes the word ‘international’ as it rings, causing my heart to lodge itself firmly in my chest. I grab for it, needing to hear his voice. Who else could it possibly be? “Hello?” I say down the line, “Elliot? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” he says back, his voice sounds strange; it's slurred.

“Have you been drinking?”

He sighs. “What does it matter, Paige?”

He’s right. I feel instantly bad for questioning him. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I'm so so sorry. Are you OK?”

“How could I possibly be OK?”

Tears sting my eyes as I start to cry. It feels like his pain is pouring into me over the telephone. “I’m sorry,” is all I can say.

“Just tell me you love me. Don’t give me any bullshit about how you’re bad for me or undeserving of love. Just fucking say how you feel. I need to hear you say it.”

Closing my eyes, pain stabs through my heart as I fight for the words I need to say. “I-I love you, Elliot,” I force out. “With every fibre of my being, I love you.”

I can hear him sigh. I can hear breathing, thick with emotion. He’s so far away. My chest hurts. “I’m sorry I ruined us.”

“You didn’t. I’m coming back for you.”

“What? Don’t Elliot, please don’t. This can’t work. I know you think it can, but it can’t. I’m too messed up. Please, just let me go.”

“Fuck you, Paige, you don’t get to decide this. I’m coming back. Deal with it.”

My mouth drops open as the line disconnects, and I burst into tears all over again. He’s coming back? He can’t come back. Our relationship was supposed to be a beautiful moment in time. It’s not supposed to be forever. I can’t be his forever. I spent my past prostituting myself for accommodation, for food, for alcohol and drugs. It cost a baby girl her life. People like me don’t get happy endings. I shouldn’t even have a life at all.

Elliot

A loud banging on my front door wakes me from my alcohol-induced sleep. I sit up slowly and eye the almost empty bottle sitting open on the coffee table, screwing the lid back on and pushing it away.

My laptop is sitting open, so I hit the space bar to wake it up, expecting to find pictures of Paige. I need to set eyes on her, even if it’s just a photo. Instead, the website for the UK Border Agency is on the screen. I've applied for a new Visa.

Bang bang bang! “Come on, Elliot! We know you’re home!” I hear on the other side of the door.

I drag my eyes away from the computer screen and go and open the door. Standing on the other side is my old uni friend, Gary, and his wife, Stephanie.

“You look like shit,” Gary says as he takes in my appearance.

“Oh my god, Elliot. Did you bathe in bourbon? You reek.” Stephanie fans her hand in front of her nose.

“Nice to see you too,” I deadpan.

“Sorry, sweetheart, we just weren’t expecting…well…this,” Stephanie says, gesturing at my appearance.

“It’s been a shitty couple of days. Come on in,” I say standing to the side.

Stephanie goes straight into my kitchen and tells me she’s going to make a strong pot of coffee. I don’t complain because I really need to check what I did last night. I can’t believe I applied for a visa while I was off my face. I go into my email and check all the confirmations. I’ve set up my biometric interview and everything. Shit.

Stephanie walks back into the lounge room balancing the three coffees. Gary—who’s been sitting on the other couch watching me curse myself repeatedly—jumps up to help her.

I nod thanks as she places my coffee beside me on the table, and I continue to wildly scan my application, checking that all the details I gave were correct.

“Elliot,” she starts. “Is there something wrong? Is there something we can do?”

“No, just… ” I click through to the last page of my application and let out a steady breath. It’s fine. I didn’t fuck it up. I sit back on the couch and put my hands on either side of my head, suddenly laughing.

Gary and Stephanie look at me wide-eyed, “Everything OK, mate?” Gary ventures.

“More than OK, everything is great,” I tell him, smiling like an idiot.

“Well, how was your trip? Oh! What did you think of Naomi? She’s cute, huh?” Stephanie asks.

“The trip was… life changing.” I turn my laptop around to face them. “I’m going back there to live.”

“What!” they both spit in unison.

“I met someone on the way over there—not Naomi. She’s a nice girl though—her name is Paige, and she’s staying there indefinitely, so I'm going back there for her.”

“Paige, huh?” Stephanie leans in with a curious expression. “I’ll need more info than that if I’m going to forgive you for not fawning over Naomi. I had dreams of couples holidays and same aged kids.”

Releasing the first chuckle I’ve managed since Paige walked away, I take a mouthful of coffee before I begin. “She’s a goddess,” I start. “Well, she’s my goddess.” Then I tell them everything wonderful about her, show them a couple of photos but avoid talking about all the bullshit that kept her there. I don’t want to focus on any of that right now. I just need to focus on getting back to her. The whole process will take around three months, and I need to be patient until then.

As I sit back I drink my coffee, listening to Stephanie and Gary as they catch me up on their lives while I’ve been away. The memory of talking to Paige last night filters back to me. She said she loves me with every fibre of her being, and still, she was fighting with me to let her go. I have to convince her to stop trying to force me away, because I don’t want a life without her. I won’t let her ruin us because she’s scared. I’m strong enough for the both of us.

Twenty-Nine

Paige

Applying the handbrake as I pull up outside the house, I take a slow and steady breath before opening the car door and striding up the driveway. I drag my suitcase behind me and knock on the door. I won’t be turned away.

When the door swings open, I’m confronted with my mother’s surprised face as she drags her eyes over me, pausing when she reaches my luggage. Her eyes fly back up to mine in question. I’m sure I’m the last person she expected to be opening her door to.

“I need a place to stay. I think it’s the least you can do for me considering.” I stare at her boldly, refusing to be polite as I step past her and into her home.

“Of…of course,” she stutters, scrambling down the hallway and opening a door for me. “Y-you can stay i-in here.” She flicks on the light and stands aside so I can enter her guest room. There’s a single bed with a mustard-coloured quilt and a three-legged bedside table featuring a crappy retro lamp, and an alarm clock that tells the wrong time. “You can put your things in the cupboard. There should be enough space.” Her eyes drift to the single door of the built-in wardrobe then back to me, clearing her throat. “Uh, the bathroom’s just around the corner, and the kitchen is at the end of the hall. Can I get you anything? Food? A drink?”

“No,” I answer, stepping into the room with my suitcase in hand. I turn around to look at her expectant face, an unfriendly glare on mine as I reach out and close the door. Before it’s almost clicked shut, I open it slightly, meeting her eyes once again. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” I don’t want her getting any ideas that we’ll be playing happy families anytime soon.

“Of course,” she whispers, her eyes swimming with tears. I click the door closed and spin the lock on the other side.

Pulling the covers back on the bed, I remove my shoes and climb in, curling myself into the foetal position as I close my eyes, thinking about everything that has happened this past week.

After the airport, Naomi took me back to the flat where I spent every day since lying on the couch and refusing to move. I was offered my bed back, but I couldn’t bring myself to live there again, not when being there reminds me so much of him. She keeps telling me to call him. “He’s coming back for you,” she’d say, like that was supposed to lift my spirits. She doesn’t understand that I don’t want him to come back. How am I supposed to face him now? How am I supposed to behave now that he knows what I’ve done, what I was? Do I give him the details, or does it become this dirty grey cloud we keep trying to ignore while we sit in the sunlight? I’ve felt constantly sick with anxiety, and I can’t seem to eat or keep anything down. My world feels so uncertain, and despite missing him terribly, I wish I’d never met him. The only world I’ve ever known was absent of love. It’s really hard living in one where it’s a possibility. I don’t know how to be here, especially now that I can’t wear my mask.

Eventually, I had to get out of the flat to escape his memory. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving or where I was going, because I’m an arsehole. I just waited until they were all out of the flat and wrote a thank-you note before leaving and driving here. That’s right, I left a note again. They’re always easier than official goodbyes. I had a whole weekend to farewell a close friend once, and it was awful. I prefer the ones that are short and sweet. Or better yet, no goodbye at all.

It didn’t take much for me to come my parents. Perhaps I’m still trying to punish myself, or perhaps I’m trying to punish them. Either way, I feel like this is the last place Elliot would think to look for me.

I’m sure it seems like pure insanity to keep refusing him. And maybe it is. He calls me every day, but I haven’t spoken to him since that night he called me drunk. When he calls, I watch the words ‘International Call’ blink on my screen and wait for it to go to voicemail then listen to it later. I don’t want to give him hope by answering and talking to him. It would be cruel. And I’ve already been cruel enough.

I’m ignoring him to be kind. I took a vow of celibacy and sobriety when Phoenix was born, and I broke it with him. I need to get back on track and focus on the memory of my little girl. She's more important than anything else in this world, and even though I never got to know her or watch her grow, I live my life for her. Taking her into consideration with every decision I make. My inability to control my impulses and walk away from a party is what got me in trouble. Sex and drugs ruled my life, and in her honour I gave them up.

I gave them up. For her. It was the very least I could do when she gave her life.

Am I making sense yet? Is anyone besides me able to understand?

This is my punishment. I won't allow myself happiness when all Phoenix ever experienced was drugs and death. Nothing will change how I feel about that. Not even Elliot Roberts.

When I lie on the bed, the springs creak. I close my eyes and drift off. Maybe if I stay like this for long enough, I’ll die. Then it can all be over.

What happens to me if you die? Phoenix asks.

We’ll be the same if I die. I'll get to hold you instead of you holding me.

OK then, she says. You can come to me.

I’d like that.

I don’t know how many days and nights pass, but I have vague memories of food being offered and refused, along with conversations between my parents as they hover about, not sure what to make of the wreck of a daughter who's returned to them. Just let me go.

Thirty

Paige

A cool hand touches my forehead.

“Is there something wrong with her?” That’s my mother’s voice.

“There’s no fever.” Another female says before something cool, possibly a stethoscope, touches my back. “Does she have a history of mental illness?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say she was your daughter?”

“Yes. But we’ve been…estranged. For quite some time.”

“I see.” Light flicks in my eyes. “And she’s been unresponsive like this for how long?”

“Almost a week. She won’t eat or drink. Sometimes she mutters like she’s talking to someone but she won’t respond to us.”

“Hmm.” The light goes away. “Paige,” the woman says rather loud. I hear her. But I have no desire to respond. “Can you sit up for me?” She tries to move me, but I don’t shift. I don’t want to. And I can’t.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing physically that I can tell. Mentally… I couldn’t say without knowing more about her history and running tests. It does look like a severe depressive episode. I think we need to take her in for observation. Even if it’s just to get her hydrated.”

They struggle to find a vein. The IV sticks out the side of my wrist as I lie on a white bed in a white room, grey clouds showing through the window. I stare and I stare. Day turns into night. Night turns into day. And I’m still here. I’m still alive.

Does this mean you won’t come and be with me, Mummy? Phoenix asks growing distant when a nurse injects something in my IV line.

Where are you going? It's like I can feel her withdraw from my mind. Phoenix!

“No drugs,” I gasp, my voice hurting from its lack of use. “I don’t want any drugs.”

The nurse smiles. “Is nice to hear your voice.” She hands me a cup of water and I drink before speaking again.

“I can’t take drugs. I’m an addict.”

“This is saline for hydration,” the nurse says, pointing to the bag hanging on the IV pole. “And what I just gave you was an antidepressant and an antipsychotic. It’s what’s bringing you back to us. How’re you feeling?”

“What? Why do I need those?”

She touches my knee and gives me a sweet smile. “I’ll get the doctor to explain things to you.”

Sitting up slightly, I look around the room. There are flowers all along the table. “How long have I been here?”

“A few days. Your Ma and Da have been sitting with you. They brought you the flowers.”

“Oh.”

As if on cue, my mother appears in the doorway with a shopping bag on her arm and pink lilies in her hand. “She's awake,” she gasps, looking at the nurse. “You’re awake.” This time it’s aimed at me.

“I’m awake,” I state as the nurse excuses herself to find the doctor.

“I’ve been worried you’d wake up and I wouldn’t be here. I didn’t want you to think I’d abandoned you again.”

Why can’t I feel Phoenix?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I was worried. You wouldn’t eat or drink. You were having an episode.”

“An episode? Is this a hospital, or a psych ward?”

She presses her lips together. “It’s both. It’s a private facility. You’re getting the very best care.”

“Why?” I whisper, eyes burning. Phoenix! “Why am I getting the very best care?”

“Because you’re my daughter, and I care about you. And because you’re carrying my grandchild. I care about your baby too.”

“But, I’m not,” I cry, touching my head. “I can’t feel her anymore. She’s gone. She was in my head, but now she’s gone.” I place my hands on my ribs. There’s no pressure anymore. “She’s not here. What did they do to her?”

“In your head?” Mum’s eyes shine with concern. “I don’t understand what you mean. The baby is in your stomach, Paige. You’re twelve weeks pregnant.”

My heart stops. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

I shake my head. I’m pregnant? “My cycle has been irregular ever since….”

She presses her lips together. “Since you lost your baby,” she finishes for me. When my eyes meet hers in alarm, she explains. “We saw your records.”

“What? How? Those are private.”

“Someone had to make your decisions for you. You weren’t able to yourself. They think that the drugs, and…the abuse you suffered—” she pauses to sniff and clear her throat when it clogs up with emotion. “—caused schizoaffective disorder to develop. You were talking to someone who wasn’t there, and you were deeply depressed. That’s what they’ve been treating you for.”

“Schizoaffective disorder?” I place my hand on my stomach. “But the baby?”

“Is perfectly healthy. The medication they’re giving you is safe during pregnancy. But you’ll need to be monitored throughout.”

“How?”

“Medication and counselling.”

I lie back against the pillows. “I hate counselling.” I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with Elliot’s baby. Holy crap. Did you hear that, Phoenix? You’re going to be a big sister. When silence echoes back, my breath hitches. She’s gone. “The drugs,” I cry, panic gripping my chest. “It’s the drugs. They took her away.”

“Took who away?”

“Phoenix. She was in my tattoo and I could talk to her. But she’s gone. I can’t hear her or feel her. They’ve sent her away.” I grab the IV line and tug it from my arm, clapping my hand over it to stem the flow of blood. “I can’t be here. I can’t lose her again.”

My mother gasps and the nurse returns, the doctor at her side. There’s a lot of ranting and yelling going on—mostly from me. And I'm told that if I don't calm down, they’ll be forced to medicate me.

I stop instantly, my eyes filled with tears. “That’s why I’m upset. The medicine sent my little girl away.” I feel like I'm losing her all over again.

* * *

“Do you think we could sit and talk?” my mother asks once I’ve been out of the hospital and back at her house for a week. I’m still not particularly forthcoming with her. On top of not trusting her because she dumped me in the street at fifteen, I’m also mourning the loss of Phoenix. Ever since I started taking the medication, I can’t hear her anymore. My counsellor tells me it was always my imagination, and that she wasn’t real. But I already knew that. I just miss being able to talk to her. I miss the feeling of carrying her on my back. It’s just a tattoo now. It’s just a tattoo.

“What is there to talk about?” I ask, putting my book down as I give her my attention. My therapist suggested a few sessions with mum could be beneficial to my healing. But I don’t know if I want to drag her shit along with mine. I can only handle one thing at a time. Schizoaffective disorder is something I’ll have to manage for the rest of my life. It’s a disorder that comes and goes depending on my stress levels and circumstances. They believe I developed it because of my drug use, and the trauma associated with my year as a drug whore. I fucking hate that they’re making me talk about that shit again. But Schizoaffective disorder is managed with medication and counselling, and if I don't participate, they can hospitalise me. I don’t want to be drugged up and trapped in a room ever again. So I'm cooperating. Especially since my parents have been granted medical custody of me. It’s pretty fucking hilarious if you ask me—the people who abandoned me are responsible for my medical decisions. It’s insanity of the highest order. And I'm supposed to be the crazy one. Right. The good news is, their custody is temporary. There'll be a hearing in a couple of months to assess my competency. So I’m focusing on being my best self for that. I also want to be my best self for this baby.

“You’ve been here for almost a week, and we’ve barely spoken at all.”

“That’s because I don’t want to be here, but I'm forced under your guardianship by law. The paperwork says I need to be here. It doesn’t say I need to talk to you or be your friend.”

“I’m not asking for you to be my friend. I’d just like us to come to an understanding.”

“Fine. Talk.” I say, sitting up to eye her as she fidgets with a loose thread on her sleeve.

“First, I wanted to give you this,” she says placing a small comb on the bed in front of me.

“Why?” Why would I want a comb?

“This is the comb I used to brush your hair when you were little. Before things got really bad with Oliver—”

“And you withdrew your love from me.” I remember her when I was small, singing to me, telling me stories while she sat with me before bed and untangled my curls. I craved those moments when they were gone. I cried for them.

“Yes,” she whispers. “He accused me of favouring you because you were Daniel’s. I went too far trying to prove it wasn’t true.”

“And that’s why you kicked me out? To prove I wasn’t your favourite?”

“I lost my mind.”

“It was well planned out for something done by a madwoman. You changed the locks and moved away. You left me with a bag of clothes and two hundred dollars. How did you expect me to survive?”

She’s crying now, the loose thread wrapped tightly around her finger as she continues to pull at it. “I thought you’d stay with a friend or go to a shelter. They could have helped.”

“You think a shelter is a good place for a fifteen year old girl?”

She sucks in her breath. “I thought social services would get involved. I kept expecting the police to turn up with you and make us take you back. I never expected…”

“That I’d be sold for two thousand dollars to a drug dealer who enjoyed keeping drug dependent girls in his home?” I frown and look at her. I can’t believe how naïve she’s being. “Yeah. I didn’t expect that when it happened either.”

“I’m so sorry, Paige. I hate myself for what I did to you.”

Pressing my lips together, I nod and wipe at my cheeks. “If it’s any consolation, I hate you too. You were supposed to love and protect me, but you fed me to the wolves instead. My baby died because of you. My brain is busted because of you. And I'll never be capable of having a real relationship because of you. Because you loved yourself more than you loved me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cries, breaking down, crying so loudly that Daniel comes barrelling in from another room, demanding to know what's happening.

“All I did was tell her the truth,” I say, my voice cool and calm as I level with him.

“Do you know how upset your mother has been this past month?” he starts, defending his wife. “She has lived and breathed your illness.”

“And that’s supposed to make everything better? I wouldn’t even have this fucking thing if she’d done her goddamned job and taken care of me as a child.”

“She didn’t make you take those drugs.”

“No. But she wasn't around to stop me either.”

“How dare—”

“Stop, Daniel!” my mother calls out, silencing him. “She has every right. I’ve been a horrible mother. And you’ve never been a father. We both have a lot to answer for.”

He stands there working his lips together as he looks between us, two women who look nothing alike bar our height and bone structure, but both of us his family. “Perhaps we should all try to talk this through together,” he says quietly.

I have no idea what they think this will achieve, but I follow behind them, taking a seat at the dining room table and waiting while they talk quietly to each other in the kitchen, making a tray with tea and biscuits. I’m not hungry or thirsty, but I accept it anyway.

Mum sits across from me with Daniel by her side. “Perhaps it will help if I explain how you came to be,” she says.

I doubt it but I would still like to hear it, so I sit back and nibble on the corner of a biscuit.

“I’d been travelling back and forth between Australia and the UK for about a year with work, and Daniel was a colleague. Every time I visited, he was so kind to me. I tried to resist my attraction because I was already married and had a son. But, eventually we both fell prey to temptation.” She looks at Daniel, her eyes so filled with adoration that it hurts my heart to watch them. I’m jealous and annoyed by their obvious happiness. “I was so in love with him, and he was with me too. However, I couldn’t stay with him. I had to go back and look after my son. I had to honour my marriage vows. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew you were Daniel's. But, I hid all of my dates from your father and pretended that I fell pregnant before I’d left. You were premature, so they kept you in an incubator, and your father couldn’t understand what went wrong because by what I told him, you should have been full term. That, coupled with your dark shock of hair made him realise you weren’t actually his.” She draws invisible circles on the table with her index finger as she goes on. “We had a lot to lose by separating, so we decided to stay together and tell the world you were his. Then another baby—your sister—got added to the mix and things went from bad to worse.

“Your father hated that I seemed to play favourites with you and would torment me over my affair. I started to resent you. I thought that if you weren’t around, my life would be better. So, I sent you out, I drove you away.

“We moved to Melbourne. Oliver had a new job and went ahead of us. It was supposed to be a fresh start. But when I turned up without you, he was livid. Despite his anger over my affair, he didn’t hate you. He just didn’t know how to love a child that wasn’t his.

“We reported you missing, but you were long gone by then. The police spoke to your friends and your school, but no one knew where you went. Slowly, Oliver’s and my relationship crumbled, and we separated. I couldn’t live with the guilt, and he, well, he couldn't live with me. I gave him custody of Adam and Sophie and came back here and…” She looks at Daniel again and smiles with quivering lips. He places his arm around her, resting his hand on hers and squeezing it gently. She left her life and children behind to be with the man she loves.

I’m crying. But I don't know if it's hurt, anger, or sorrow. My life has just been one horrible mistake after another. The first one being hers. I never had a chance.

“Did you know about me?” I ask Daniel. “I mean, before I contacted you. Did you know about me?”

“I did,” he says. “I had to sign as your father for your birth certificate.”

“And you just left me with them?” I stare at him, watching as he thinks through his answer.

“I thought it was best. I didn’t know you were being treated poorly.”

“But you married her, anyway?”

“I did. She made mistakes. Lord knows I've made mistakes too in my life, but those mistakes don’t change the fact that she’s the woman I love.”

I laugh humourlessly. “You’re very passionate for an Englishman,” I say flatly.

“Don’t believe everything you see on television, Paige. We English can be very passionate people. However, my mother, your grandmother, is Italian. She was a very passionate woman.”

I look at my mother. “What happened to Adam and Sophie? Where are they now?”

She looks down at her hands. “I don’t know, Paige. I left everyone,” she whispers. “I left, and I never looked back.”

Her words hit me square in the chest. Like mother, like daughter.

Thirty-One

Elliot

Time crawls when you’re waiting for a new visa to be approved. I went for my interview and produced all the necessary documents to prove my heritage so I can get a five-year visa. My grandmother is English, so I applied based on my ancestry which is an easier way to get approval. But now I’m in limbo while I wait. It’s already been well over a month. I'm hoping it doesn’t take much longer. Tick-tock.

I need to get back there fast. Naomi said that Paige took off from the flat a month ago. Neither of us have heard from her since. Although her phone service is still active. I'm still leaving messages.

I have no idea if she listens to them. But I just keep leaving them, telling her about my day and my progress in getting back to her. I told her how I’ve given up my flat, sold most of my furniture and moved in with my mother to save enough money to have a slush fund when I get back there. Maybe we’ll use it to set up our own place. Maybe we’ll spend it all on sordid weekends away. Or maybe we’ll just save it for a rainy day. You never know what the future holds for us.

I also tell her how I visited my father for the first time in over two years. He's married now to a girl who isn’t really that much older than me, but he seems happy. I realised when I was in the UK, that I had no business being angry with him. After hearing what Paige had gone through in her life, I felt I needed to be happy my dad cared enough to try to steer me in the direction he thought was best for me.

When I told him I was going back and explained why, he offered to help me out money-wise. I said no because I need to do this by myself. But it’s nice to know I can count on my parents in an emergency.

If I wasn’t so damn sure about our feelings for each other, I’d feel pathetic leaving message after message. But I don’t. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that we belong together. And I want her to know I’m not giving up on her.

And until I can get back to her, I work as much as I can to keep busy and add to my savings. I’m back at the same gym I was before I left. My boss knows I’m leaving again soon, but some of my old clients want to train with me while they can.

So right now, I’m in the Botanic Gardens in Sydney, the best outdoor training spot around here, packing up the resistance bands and mats I was using with my client while I contemplate calling Paige again, just to hear her voicemail recording.

“Elliot?” a familiar voice calls out. I turn around to face her, amazed that this time, I’m not plagued with the emotions I'd had last time we spoke. “How are you?” Katrina asks, smiling.

“Well, thanks,” I reply, returning her smile. It’s so surreal seeing her and not having a desperate need to touch her. I still can’t stop my hand itching, but it’s because I’m waiting to call Paige.

“I heard you were back. I figured I’d run into you here eventually,” she says.

“Um yeah, I’m not back for long though,” I tell her, as I pull the zip along the bag and sit on the ground.

She sits down next to me like we’re old friends. “Yeah, I heard. Our mothers have been gas bagging at tennis,” she says.

I shrug, not surprised they still talk. “Well, it’s good they’re still good friends. So…how’s work? How’s David?”

She leans back on her arms and stretches her long legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles.

“Good and good. What about you?”

“Well, works fine, but I haven’t seen David for years,” I joke.

“Har har, very funny,” she says. “I um… heard about the girl in London. I was kind of talking about her.”

I think of Paige and give a wry smile, wishing she wasn’t so far away, wishing she had just told me about her past early on so we could have talked properly instead of leaving it the way we did. I open the gallery on my phone, selecting a picture of Paige and me when we went away together the weekend before I left.

I hand her my phone to show her the image. “Her name is Paige. I’m just waiting on my visa so I can go back to her.”

Katrina studies the picture. “She’s beautiful, Elliot,” she says, as she swipes at the screen to move on to the next photo. I don’t want her going through my pictures and reach over, taking it from her hands as she says, “Wow. Is that a tattoo?”

All of a sudden, I bristle as my defences fly up and I switch off my phone, tucking it away. I know how some people look upon tattoos, especially massive ones like Paige's, and I don’t want anyone judging her when her tattoo represents so much for her.

Noticing a change in my demeanour Katrina shifts positions. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I shouldn’t have done that. The tattoo, well what I saw of it, is pretty amazing. It must have hurt.”

“Probably,” I say, looking up in the sky as I hear a bird call.

Appearing a little awkward, Katrina stands up and brushes the grass off her running pants. “I’d better leave you to it then.”

Nodding, I watch her take a couple of steps away. I feel bad for making her feel like she has to leave. “Katrina,” I start.

She pauses her retreat. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if I’m coming back, so in case I never see you again, have a great wedding. Tell David I said ‘hi’ and to have a fantastic life. I mean that.”

“I know you do, Elliot. Thank you, and I truly hope everything works out with Paige.”

“It will. It has to.”

Thirty-Two

Paige

“Your father and I noticed you’ve been looking at flats in the paper. Are you thinking of moving out?” my mother asks as we sit in the waiting room at the hospital so we can see my counsellor. I finally gave into her suggestion and let Mum accompany me to a session or two. Now that I passed my competency hearing, I feel more in control of my life and can handle taking steps to mend our relationship. Daniel is another story though. He’s my father, but he doesn’t feel that way. It’s weird. And it’s something I’ll probably have to focus on in future sessions.

“I think it’s time. I have a job now. My meds are keeping me stable. And I think we could all do with some space.” Moving out is something I’ve been talking to my counsellor about. She also agrees that it will be better for my mental health to have my own place.

“You know I’m happy for you to stay with us as long as you like. But if you must move out, we’d like to help you. I have money that I put aside for you in case I ever found you again. After the divorce, I sold my partnership in the firm and created a trust fund for you. It’s not a huge amount, but it’s enough to live off if you invest it wisely.”

Reaching into her handbag she pulls out an envelope that contains the paperwork for a fund in my name.

“I don’t know what to say…” I tell her, quietly scanning the documents.

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s the least I could do to make up for things. Not that I think it does. I just…I just wanted to make sure you had something.”

“Thank you,” I whisper noting the start date of the fund. She’s been holding it for me for almost nine and a half years. Maybe she did care…a little.

Elliot

“There’s some mail for you on your bed,” Mum informs me, as I walk through the front door of her house after work. I find her in the kitchen slicing up a bread stick to go with what smells like a beef casserole.

“Thanks Mum,” I say, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and pinching the crust the moment she butters it. “Is Steve home yet?”

“He is. He’s out in the garage checking the car engine. He said it’s making a funny noise. He’ll be in for dinner though,” she says, before she pulls the curtain to the side in the kitchen calling out the window. “Five minutes, Steve!”

“I’ll be down in a few,” I tell her, bounding up the stairs three at a time until I reach the landing and enter my room. On the bed, I find a small pile of mail with yellow redirection stickers indicating they were all forwarded from my flat to here.

Flicking through the pile, I find a mobile phone bill, my bank statement, some junk that I don’t care about and finally, an envelope with the UK Border Agency logo printed on it.

My breath catches as I stare at it, knowing that this is my answer.

“Please be yes,” I whisper to it, praying they approved me.

When I pull out the documents familiar to me after the last time I was granted a visa, I can’t contain myself. “Yes!” I yell out, racing back downstairs to share my news.

“What was all that about?” Steve asks from the back sliding door.

“I got approved!” I rush over and hug my mother, picking her up and spinning her around as she laughs at my behaviour.

“That’s fantastic, Elliot,” Mum says, smiling up at me as I set her down.

Offering me his hand in congratulations, Steve shakes mine as he beams at me. “I’m gonna miss seeing you, mate,” he says.

“Me too. I'm going to miss both of you,” I tell him honestly.

“Don’t go all soppy you two. That’s my job,” Mum cuts in. “Let’s have dinner. I’ll open a bottle of wine to celebrate.”

“Is the computer on?” I ask as they move towards the kitchen.

“Yes it is, sweetheart. Let me guess, you can’t wait to book your flight?”

Grinning at her, I wink and disappear into the study to buy my ticket. Suddenly, the whole world is so much more wonderful to me. I'm going back, in only two weeks. I’m going back.

Thirty-Three

Paige

“Are you ready?” my mother says as soon as I open the front door of my newly rented flat. It’s not that far away from where she and Daniel live, and it isn’t anything exciting, but it’s my own space. A place for me to rebuild my life in preparation for this tiny bundle growing in my belly.

It’s one bedroom, one living area, a small kitchen and bathroom, and it suits my budget. I can afford it on my own with my hairdresser’s salary without having to touch the money from the trust fund my mother gave me. I'd prefer not to touch it unless I absolutely need to. Perhaps I’ll save it for my retirement or something?

My mother and Daniel have helped me buy furniture for it, doing their best to be a part of my life. We’ve come to an understanding now, and we’ve been continuing to work with a counsellor to put our respective pasts behind us and have the best opportunity for a family that we can. It’s still weird though. I don’t know that I’ll ever come to view them as my ‘parents’ in the sense that they are the first people I want to share my world with. I just can’t see us being a family like that, but it does feel good to let go of some of my anger.

“Come on, Paige, we’ll be late for your appointment,” my mother chides me gently, still waiting in the doorway.

“All right, I’m coming. You don’t need to be at every antenatal appointment, you know,” I point out, reaching for a lightweight cardigan as I sling my handbag over my shoulder and step out the door, locking it behind me.

“You’re entering your third trimester. I need to make sure you’re OK,” she reminds me, walking ahead of me down the stairs until we reach her car.

I hop into the passenger seat, and she drives us to the clinic for my appointment. We sit in the waiting area and chat briefly about an article in a magazine before we’re called into the doctor’s office. My mother sits supportively beside me as the doctor asks me a barrage of questions, checks my health and sends me on my way, happy with my progress.

“I told you it would all be fine,” my mother says as we leave.

“Did you?” I laugh, before I take a nervous breath as butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Well, I worry,” I say, rubbing my hand over my stomach. I’m petrified of losing another baby. Especially when I’m convinced this will be a little girl as well, Phoenix, finally getting her chance to be reborn. It was no coincidence that I found out I was pregnant on the same day the voices stopped. Her spirit is growing inside me now. I have my second chance and so does she. I just need her to live this time.

Elliot

Today is the happiest day of my freaking life. I’m finally on the plane back to the UK, and this time, I have five years under my belt.

It gives me plenty of time to find Paige and convince her that her past doesn’t mean we can’t be together. I don’t care what it takes; I want to be with her. I need to be with her. She doesn’t get to push me away.

Paige

As I do every night before I go to sleep, I replay the last couple of voice messages from Elliot that tell me he misses me and still loves me. In this one, he’s talking about running into an old friend he never thought he’d see again. Then I look through the photos of our time together. I have printed a couple—OK, all of them—and have them framed around my house. I’m a little worried because this is the third day in a row that he hasn’t called. He hasn’t left it this long before, and I’m having jealous moments thinking about this 'old friend’ of his. Is it a boy friend? Or a girl friend? That part was left out. My mother thinks I should just call him back and tell him about the baby. But now, more than ever, he needs to choose his own path. I can’t let my changed circumstances be the deciding factor in what’s best for him. He’s the kind of guy who will stick it out with me until the bitter end just because it’s the right thing to do, and I don’t want that for him. I want him to be happy. Even if it isn't with me.

I need to be strong. I can’t let my love for Elliot be the only thing I focus on or my life will fall apart. I’ve spent the last three months trying too hard to put it back together, and I’m finally at a point where I don’t feel like my past is chasing me around. I feel like I can move forward with my life, and I hope that Elliot manages to as well.

As I drift off to sleep, my dreams are filled with him. Nights are my favourite time of the day now, because I can indulge in him while I sleep. I can love him there without fear of messing things up. Because even if he does come back. How is he going to react to having a pregnant girlfriend with mental problems? That could be his deal breaker.

Elliot

Waking with a start, I take a moment to realise where I am. I was just having the most vivid dream where I was searching for Paige but every time I found her, she’d turn around, and it would be someone else. I slide my fingers through my hair. I haven’t had it cut since Paige did it nearly six months ago. I can’t believe it’s been so long. It feels like it only happened yesterday.

I only have a couple of hours left on this flight before I’m there. Jolene has agreed to pick me up from the airport, so I don’t have to catch a cab this time. They don’t have a spare bed, but everyone is fine with me taking the couch for a couple of days until I sort something else out.

My leg bounces in anticipation. I’m almost in the same country as her.

Paige

My alarm sounds and I roll out of bed, yawning and stretching the kinks out of my back. It’s time to get ready for work. I don’t feel much like using a lot of product, so I twist my hair up in a bun and pull some curls down to frame my face before I apply some moisturiser, mascara and lip gloss. The baby kicks rhythmically the whole time.

I rub my hand against her foot. “Only a few more weeks on our feet then we’ll be resting up, ready for you to be born. I can’t wait to meet you, baby girl.”

I smile when she kicks in response. Then I pull on my black work pants, a white fitted singlet top and a grey asymmetrical cardigan that hangs long in the front and short in the back. Grabbing my keys and the salon keys, I get in my car and head off to work. It’s my morning to open and prep the salon today, so I pick up some breakfast on the way to eat it there.

Elliot

“Well, hello stranger,” Jolene calls out to me as I wheel my bags towards her.

“Hi, Jolene. Thanks a lot for coming to collect me,” I say, as she leans up and gives me a friendly hug hello and kisses my cheek.

“It’s no trouble. I got picked up when I arrived, so it’s kind of a karmic thing to pay it forward,” she explains.

Driving to the flat is kind of surreal after being back in Sydney, but it feels like I’m going home. The big letdown is that Paige won’t be there, but I feel so sure I’ll find her. I realised on the plane she would have needed to find another job, and that means she would most likely have used Andrea as a reference. So the first thing I do after setting down my bags and saying a quick hello to all the housemates, is hand over the bag of Tim Tams I brought with me then take a walk to Stylz.

Paige

It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m so close to finishing the extensions in my client’s hair. This has been a very labour intensive morning, and I’m looking forward to the half hour I get to eat and sit down. My feet are killing me.

Finally finished, I style my client’s hair to blend in the new hair in with the old. The sound of the blow dryer muffles the voice of Brooke, one of the other stylists, as she speaks to me.

“Paige,” she calls over the top of it.

I shut the dryer off so I can hear her. “Sorry,” I say turning to face her. “What’s u– ”  I don’t need her to tell me because he’s the only thing I can see when I look up. I shove the dryer into Brooke’s hand and mumble something about needing to do something incredibly vague.

Wrapping my cardigan around my middle, I walk toward him, not entirely certain this isn’t some sort of dream.

“You’re here,” I gasp, tears filling my eyes. God, I’ve missed him so much. I want to jump into his arms and kiss him, but I don’t know if I can.

Elliot

Paige is standing in front of me, staring at me like I’m some kind of apparition. “I really thought you’d be harder to find,” I tell her with a smile. “One quick conversation with Andrea and here I am.”

“Here you are.” She looks me up and down, her arms wrapped around her waist defensively. Please don’t run from me again.

I hold out my hand to her, craving her touch. “Can we go and talk?” I ask gently. She looks at my hand like she did that time on the plane, like she’s unsure whether she should take it or not. Just like I did six months ago I make her a promise. “I’m not going to bite.”

She keeps one arm round her waist as she slips the other one in my hand. The moment we touch again, I get this charge travelling through my body that reignites the life I've felt lacking since I left her here. I’m home.

Paige

I've become all heady being near him, and I can’t really think straight. I'm just kind of following along blindly behind him, not questioning where we’re going.

“Stop,” I say suddenly snapping myself out of it.

“What? What’s the problem?”

“What are we doing? Why are you here?” I ask. The last thing I expected this morning was to see him. This is all so surreal. I don’t know how to act, or what to say.

He stops and takes a step toward me, hooking his finger under my chin and tilting my head up. “I’m here for you,” he whispers as he brushes his lips against mine. Shivers run through my body as I forget what I did to him, and my guard falls away. I whimper a little against his mouth as I part my lips and allow his tongue access. Oh, how I’ve missed the feel of him in my mouth. The taste of his tongue as it slides sensuously with mine. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against him as want takes over my senses.

Elliot

I’m lost in the sensation of her mouth as I pull her closer to me, our bodies meld together, and I can’t help but notice a … bump? My eyes pop open, and I immediately stop kissing.

Staring at Paige’s face as she slowly opens her eyes, I slide my hands around to her waist and over the firm mound that is now where her flat stomach used to be. Her eyes widen as she jumps away from me and wraps her cardigan back around her waist, trying to cover up.

I shake my head. “No, no, no, do not cover that up.”

She releases her cardigan, and it falls either side of her protruding bump. I look from it to her, pointing at it. “At what point, were you planning on telling me about that?”

Her lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears. “I…I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to come back. It doesn’t have to be your problem.”

“What? How can you say that? How could you keep this from me? This is my child, right?” I glare at her, still pointing at her stomach. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tears roll down her face as she nods quickly.

“Yes, it’s yours,” she barely even whispers.

I stand there and stare at her, trying to think of what to say without ruining everything completely, so hurt and angry I can hardly form a thought.

I close my eyes and press the pads of my thumb and index fingers against them. “What time do you finish work?” I say as calmly as I can.

“Six,” she answers.

“All right,” I say, nodding before I walk away from her. I need some time to deal with this. I need some time to calm down.

“Elliot,” she calls after me. I shake my head without turning around. “I’m sorry!”

Reaching up, I place my hands on my head. It seems to be the only thing I can do to stop it from exploding. I came here for her. She’s been my sole focus for the last three months. And I know she’s been dealing with shit. I know she’s got these messed up ideas in her head that tell her she’s not worthy of a good life. But, a baby? My baby. I’m going to be a father and she didn’t tell me? What the fuck?

Thirty-Four

Paige

Fuck. I’m caught between elation and fear. I’ve been both dreading and looking forward to this moment since I left him at the airport. I knew it would come. Even when I tried to convince myself he’d grow tired of waiting, I knew he’d come back. And I’ve managed this entire situation horribly.

There’s so much I need to explain to him before I let him in my life again. My therapist asked me if I’m testing him, and I think that maybe I have been. Every man I’ve ever known has either left me or thrown me away after using me. I think I needed to test the extent of his love for me. How hard can I push before he stops coming back?

He’s waiting for me when I walk out of the salon, standing up against the wall with a storm on his face. I don’t say anything when I reach him. I just stand in front of him then incline my head to tell him to come with me.

I didn’t tell him I was carrying his child. I think that’s where I fucked up most in this situation. He had a right to know, I’m aware of that. But you have to understand how frightening this pregnancy has been for me. Imagine I told him about the baby and then I lost it again? What if my mental health deteriorated to the point where they hospitalised me? He could take the baby and return to Australia with her, and I’d never see her again….

In a lot of his messages, he said that my past didn’t matter to him. It only matters what I do in my future. But he needs to understand that my past has affected my future. I’m a time bomb who’ll need to be forever watched. Does he really want that burden? And when he finds out what I have, will he trust me to raise his child? He’s a good man, and I feel sure that he loves me—the fact he’s here tells me that—but every love has a limit. And a woman with Schizoaffective disorder could be his.

He walks beside me with his hands in his pockets and his brows tightly knit together. I long for him to lace his fingers with mine the way we used to. I’ve missed him so much and having him here in real life fills my heart with such joy. But he’s hurt. I’ve caused him a great amount of hurt.

We get into my car. We still haven’t spoken and continue on that way until we arrive at my flat. I let us in through the front door and hang my bag and keys up before leading the way to the living area where he pauses, looking around quietly.

I move about the kitchen preparing some tea and sandwiches. I don’t drink coffee at the moment, and since it’s usually only my mother and Daniel visiting me, tea is all I have.

When I walk out holding the tray, he looks up, a framed photo of him and me together in his hand.

“Is it strange that I have them up?” I ask him as he places the frame back on the bookcase and moves quickly to take the tray from my hands.

Shaking his head, he says. “You should have seen the wall in my bedroom while I was home. I had this whole collage thing going on.” Giving me a sad smile, he carries the tray over to the coffee table in front of the couch and sets it down.

He clears his throat. “This is very English of you.” he points to the tray as we sit next to each other on the couch. I laugh a little through my nose and take a sip of tea, enjoying the warmth of the liquid as it slides down my throat. I don’t know what to say. I finally have him here with me, and I’m really not sure how to act. I want everything to be exactly how it was before. I want to touch him, kiss him, and be with him. But I’m just sitting here, sipping tea.

“When were you going to tell me?”

I place my mug back on the tray and turn towards him, meeting his eyes. “Soon, Elliot. I was going to tell you soon.”

“How soon? Tomorrow? When the baby was born? When it was twenty and came looking for me? When?”

“I understand that you’re upset with me. I’ve spent hours agonising over how to approach this with you, and in the end, I decided it was best to wait.”

“For what?”

“For you to come back on your own. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Returning needed to be a choice.”

“So you were testing me?”

“Yes. I suppose I was.”

He shakes his head “Why couldn’t you just trust me? Haven’t I made it clear how I feel about you?“

I lift my shoulder. “It’s just words. In my world, people say and do anything to get what they want. It’s what they do when they aren’t getting what they want that shows you who they really are.”

“And did I pass this test?”

I pick up half a sandwich and place a napkin on my knee. “You passed the first part.“

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “There’s more? What are we? Five?“

“No. This isn’t petty or childish. It’s…important. While you were gone I… I had a breakdown.“

“A breakdown?”

“Complete with hospitalisation. I’ve, ah, been hearing voices for a long time. Phoenix and I could talk.”

“I remember you mentioning that in your letter.”

“I wasn’t completely crazy. I knew she was in my head, but hearing her voice and feeling her alive in my tattoo gave me comfort, and I didn’t want to see it as a sign of a real problem.”

“Schizophrenia?” he asks. His voice soft and gentle.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “There’s depression involved as well. I have schizoaffective disorder. It’s kind of like a blend of schizophrenia and bipolar. I can suffer from delusions and manic highs and lows.”

He takes a breath and sits up straighter, looking like he’s trying to absorb the information without reacting. I don’t blame him if he’s freaking out.

“I did it to myself in a way. I took a lot of drugs, and that led to a lot of trauma, and that kind of thing leaves a mark.”

“Is there a treatment?” he asks before clearing his throat.

“Yes. It’s ongoing. Medication, regular counselling. You’re welcome to attend a session with my counsellor to talk through my illness and how it will affect my ability to mother your child. And of course, what it will be like to live with somebody with schizoaffective disorder, what you’ll need to look for. If that’s something you still want.”

He frowns. “Why wouldn’t I still want that?” he asks straight away, searching my eyes.

“Because I’m even more broken than we originally thought.” I struggle to keep my emotions in check.

Reaching over, he takes a hold of my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles, the contact bliss after months without him. “I knew you were broken the moment we met, and all I’ve ever wanted to do is love you and find a way to help you. I don’t want to fix you, that’s arrogant and impossible because that’s not how the human mind works. But I want to understand you, I want to support you, and I want to be the person you trust to take care of you no matter how hard your days, your life, or your moments are. I want to be the person you call out to in the night. And above all, I just want you. I’ll always want you.”

“Really?” I ask as tears fill my eyes.

“Yes, really.” Lifting a hand, he brushes his thumb lightly against my cheek. “I love you, Paige. Nothing is going to change that.” He touches two fingers against my temple. “Not even that.”

I release a gasp, my shoulders shaking as he says all the right things. I need to trust him. “I love you so much, Elliot.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “Promise me you won’t shut me out anymore,” he whispers into my hair. “I can do this with you. I can stand by you and be anyone you need me to be, but you have to let me into your world. You need to stop making decisions for me. I need you to let me in, to trust me. I have chosen you, and nothing is going to change my mind.” He pulls back and lets his eyes travel down to the roundness of my belly. “The fact we made a baby together blows my mind. But I’m angry with you for hiding it because we would have gone through this entire pregnancy together. But, as it is, I have already missed so much. That’s so unfair, Paige. I get that you needed time. But, this is our baby we’re talking about here. I want us both to share in this.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you. When I went to the airport to find you, I was too late. I missed our flight—”

“Wait. You came to the airport?” Naomi never told me that part. Did she know?

I nod. “I was too late though, and then everything spiralled out of control. I couldn’t even get out of bed. It’s only been this past few weeks that I’ve been capable of being around people again.”

“Jesus,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“You were. Your messages really helped to pull me through some very dark moments.”

“What was it like?”

“Horrible. I wanted to die. Phoenix was in my head, asking me to come to her. It was my mother who finally intervened. She’s actually been really good to me.”

“You’re talking?”

“Somewhat. It’s strained, but she’s come to counselling with me too. I’ve got a good care team here.”

“And what about your father?”

“Daniel? He’s…around. He’s a nice enough man, but I don’t know. It’s weird meeting your dad for the first time at twenty-six. He’s just a guy.”

“Makes sense.”

I smile. “I don’t think any of this makes sense. Except for you. You make sense to me.”

He slides his hand into my hair. “You make sense to me too.” Then he brings his mouth to mine.

Elliot

The moment our lips meet, I’m overwhelmed with need and longing. I want this reconnection to be slow and meaningful, but then she moans into my mouth and the months of longing collide into a single desperate need. I pull her closer to me, dragging until she's in my lap, straddling me.

Our mouths move zealously together, and I’m right back where I’ve always been, hopelessly in love with her. I need this woman. I need her like I need air to breathe, and I’ll be damned if I ever let her go again.

I stand up, carrying her with her legs wrapped around my middle. “Bedroom,” I say, breathless between kisses. She points to a door next to the kitchen, and I carry her in there, kissing her all the way. I don’t want to lose the connection our bodies have right now.

She lowers her legs once I cross the threshold of her room and slides my shirt up, urging me to take it off. I comply and lift it over my head, dropping it on the floor where we stand. Running her hands over my torso, she plants soft kisses over my pecs and along my jaw.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispers.

I reach up and pull the clip from her hair, my chest constricting as I watch it fall around her shoulders in a mass of twisted curls.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I breathe, before I crash my mouth into hers, devouring her, breathing her in. I slide her cardigan down her arms until it drops at her feet and then lift her singlet. She raises her arms as I slide it up her body, delighting in the feel of her skin as my hands brush against her.

Paige

His eyes travel over my torso and land on my swollen breasts. “Whoa,” he says, reaching around me to unhook my bra with deft fingers. I let it slide down my arms to the floor and watch Elliot’s face as he takes in my changed body.

Starting at my waist, he slides his hands gently over each breast, kissing me lightly as he travels down my body, dropping to his knees. With feather light fingers he touches the swell of my belly and peppers my bump with kisses.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asks, worshipping my bump.

“A girl,” I whisper.

His eyes shine as he presses his lips against my tight skin. “A little girl. Have you already picked a name?”

I shake my head. “I thought that could be something we do together.”

He sniffs back his tears. “I’d really like that.”

My heart aches with the love I have for this man. I marvel that the fates saw fit to bring him to me, twice. I never, not even for a moment, thought I would ever have this level of devotion from another human being. But, here it is right in front of me, hooking his fingers into the waist of my pants as he slides them down my legs and guides me so I’m lying on the bed in front of him.

“Are you comfortable?” he checks, running his hands over my skin.

I nod. “I’m desperate for you.”

“It’s been too long,” he says before dipping his head, flicking his tongue over my clit, causing me to gasp out. “God, I’ve missed you.” He moans and dives between my legs, sucking and swirling his tongue around my clit, filling my body with a flood of orgasmic energy. I’m already on the edge when his fingers enter me, the sensations sliding over my tender flesh cause me to burst, my body automatically thrusts my hips around his mouth, and I clutch at his hair, gripping tighter than I should as I yell out, over and over.

He stills his movement and I slowly release the grip of my thighs and hands so he can sit up. He wipes at his mouth and kisses his way back up my body, swirling his tongue around my nipples when he reaches my breasts. All I have the energy to produce are short, shallow gasps as he touches and teases me.

Kissing at my neck he asks in a whisper, “Are you still allowed to…move on?”

“What? Oh, because of the baby? Yes… yes, keep going, please keep going,” I beg, desperately wanting him inside me.

Elliot

Getting the go ahead, I stand up and take my wallet out of my jeans before removing them as I take out a condom. Paige is lying on the bed positioned, and waiting, watching me as I move. “What’s the point?” she says with a laugh when she spots the condom then gestures to her belly.

“You’re right.” I flick the foil package aside before I climb on top of her, kissing her as I enter her warm, wet body. It feels amazing as she envelops me, and I move inside her. I have missed her so much, and I don’t have the restraint in me after three months to hold on much longer. I want this to last, but it’s too good.

“Oh god, Elliot. It’s too good!” she echoes as she’s wracked with another orgasm, her clenching insides milking me of mine as I pulse inside her, moving slowly to drag out every glorious feeling. I sit back, still inside her as I run my fingers down her body and over the bump that holds our baby.

“So when do you think we made this? At the bed-and-breakfast?” I ask.

“No, it would have been that first time we were together, when we got carried away and forgot the condom, remember?”

“I remember,” I whisper, meeting her eyes. She’s smiling at me with trembling lips as tears tumble from her eyes. I reach back and grab the towel she has hanging over the end of her bed and place it between her legs as I withdraw so I can lie next to her and take her in my arms.

“I’m so sorry, Elliot. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through,” she cries as I hug her to my chest.

A tear escapes my eye and slides toward my ear as I hold her. “Don’t be sorry, Paige. Just don’t leave me again, OK?”

“I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

Thirty-Five

Paige

Sitting in the waiting area of the hospital a few days later, I watch as Elliot nervously bounces his leg and skims through a magazine. He flicks it back on the table and huffs out his breath. “How long is this going to take?” he asks impatiently.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t know, but I hope we’re called through soon. Baby is kicking up a storm in these seats.”

“Yeah?” He grins, placing his hand on my stomach, childlike wonder in his eyes when he feels the gentle thump through my skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

A woman comes into the waiting area with a clipboard and a file in her hand. “Paige Larsen?” she calls out.

“Thank god,” we say in unison.

The ultrasound technician leads us to a room and gestures for me to lie on the chair in the middle of the room. Elliot stands by me, looking fretful and expectant. As soon as I’ve lifted my shirt to expose my belly, he captures my hand in his and holds it tightly, his eyes darting around taking in everything in the room.

“So we're doing a general health scan?” the technician asks.

“She’s thirty weeks,” Elliot blurts, even though the technical can see that on my chart. He has grilled me thoroughly for every detail about this pregnancy and is beyond excited about this ultrasound.

“Thirty plus two if our earlier measurements were correct.” She wheels the machine a little closer. “Let’s get this baby on screen,” she suggests.

The gel is surprisingly warm as she squeezes it over my stomach and uses the transducer to slide it around. An image looks like it’s zooming in and out on the screen at first, until she slows her movement, and the picture becomes something discernible.

“There you are little one,” she says, as my eyes fill with tears while I’m watching the screen. Because of my previous stillbirth, and medical history, I’ve had a couple of ultrasounds to monitor growth and placenta health. Seeing her on screen never gets old.

“Wow,” Elliot breathes from beside me. “That’s our baby, Paige.”

I nod, beaming. “She’s beautiful.”

The technician moves the transducer around my stomach and shows us different parts of our baby's body. She’s moving around so much, and I can feel each squirm of her body as she tries to escape the transducer. “She’s a cheeky one,” the tech says, trying different angles so she can take her measurements. “But it looks like everything is moving along nicely.”

Elliot and I look at each other, breathing a sigh of relief. “Look at what we made,” he says, kissing me on the head. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Just like you,” I say.

Elliot

I'm on a complete high after seeing my baby on the screen. She’s perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes. All organs functioning as expected. Baby’s healthy. Paige is healthy. I’m on cloud nine. We’re walking out of the ultrasound area together with our printed strip of photos in hand. You can see the baby’s face, hands, and feet. It’s so amazing to me that the baby in this picture is inside Paige’s body right now.

We walk arm in arm to the elevator bay and travel down to another floor to meet with Paige’s counsellor. They talk me through the ins and outs of her illness, telling me what to look out for—hyperactivity, listlessness, delusions as well as hallucinations. This could present at any time. But they’re mostly concerned about the effect her hormone changes will have on her leading up to the birth and in the weeks following. “We’ve done a lot of work with Paige so that she can recognise changes in herself. But as her primary caregiver you’ll need to be on the lookout as well. Don’t be afraid to bring your concerns up with myself or her doctor. We all need to work together on this,” she says.

I ask a few questions of my own. And when I’m feeling like I have an understanding of her illness, I move into the waiting room to fill out some paperwork that nominates me as her medical advocate if she’s deemed unfit to advocate for herself. This responsibility was automatically given to her parents during her hospitalisation, but both of us are more comfortable with me making these decisions. Paige’s parents don’t have the best history in making great choices.

It isn’t lost on me that a week ago I was in Australia, pining away for Paige and praying she’d still be in love with me when I returned. And this week, I have a baby on the way and the legal responsibility for my girlfriends health. It’s more than I was expecting, but I’m more than ready for the commitment. Paige is my forever.

As I sign the bottom of the forms, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m so glad she’s getting the help she needs now. I hate that her life was so awful it affected her mind, but recognising these things is half the battle. You wouldn’t ignore a strange lump on your body, so why ignore the voices in your head? While I'm not so glad her mother is back in her life, I am grateful to her for getting Paige the help she needed. I harbour more than a bit of resentment toward Susan over the way she treated her daughter, but if Paige wants to have a relationship with her, then I’m supportive of that. Especially considering they’re all in counselling together. I’m nervous about our future, but all of this talking gives me great hope that everything is going to work out for us. It has to. Because I’m not going anywhere.

Thirty-Six

Paige

“Elliot,” I whisper, rocking him by the shoulder to wake him. “Elliot. It’s time.”

Lifting his sleep laden head from the pillow, he looks over at the clock on the bedside table and scrunches up his face. “No, it’s not. I’ve got hours before I have to be at work,” he complains, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes again. I watch him as he runs his hands over the top of his head, over the short-clipped hair I cut only yesterday.

“Elliot,” I insist.

Suddenly, his eyes pop open, and he sits bolt upright in bed. “Wait. What? It’s time? It’s time time?” he rambles, throwing the quilt off him and jumping out of bed. He places his hands on either side of my enormous belly and looks at me intently. “Are you sure?”

“My waters broke and I’m having contractions. I've called the hospital, and they’re expecting us.”

“Oh my god. This is really happening, isn’t it?” He’s freaking out a little as he pulls on the pants and shirt I’m holding out to him. “Why are you so calm?”

“I’m not calm, Elliot. I'm about to have a giant baby come out of my vagina. I’m about as far from calm as I can be right now,” I answer tonelessly. I actually think I’m in shock.

Elliot

I carry Paige’s bag and hold her hand as we walk carefully down the two flights of stairs to get to the car. A contraction hits her when we’re only a few steps away, and she doubles over, clutching her belly and she moans. I have no idea what to do except rub her back and talk softly to her until the pain ebbs away.

“OK?” I ask, checking that she’s fine to continue to the car. She nods quickly, and I guide her to the passenger side, dropping her bag on the back seat before getting in and driving us to the hospital.

This isn’t like any other birth situation. Because of Paige’s past, and her mental health, there’s a real chance giving birth could trigger a depressive episode brought on from the trauma her mind associates with giving birth. I’m excited to meet our baby. But I'm fucking petrified of losing my love. It’s delicate.

Reaching out, she grabs my arm while I’m driving as another contraction hits. “Look at me, Paige. Keep your eyes open,” I instruct, my heart beating in my chest so hard it’s echoing through my ears. “Stay here with me.”

“Elliot,” she gasps. “It hurts. It fucking hurts.”

A tinge of relief hits me when she says my name. She’s still here.

Paige

Wave after wave of contractions take over my body as I’m ushered into the delivery suite. I hold on to Elliot for dear life. He’s keeping me grounded and in the moment. I refuse to slip away. I refuse.

The midwife informs us that the doctor should be in shortly to check on my progress, but she wants to check me over first. She presses her hands over my stomach, trying to feel which way the baby is lying.

“Are you getting a lot of back pain?”

I nod. “Yes. It feels like my contraction pain is radiating out of my spine.” I’m grimacing as I feel the start of another one.

“The baby’s posterior.”

“What? What does that even mean?” Elliot interrupts, worry etched in his face.

“Everything’s fine. It just means her pain is more concentrated. I’d offer you something for the pain, Paige—”

“No. No drugs,” I gasp.

“OK. I don’t think we’ll have time, anyway. You’re already grunting so the baby is probably coming soon OK?”

I nod quickly, trying desperately to breathe through the pain as it overwhelms my body. I roll onto my knees, trying to ease the pain in my back and scrunch my eyes closed, crying.

“You’re doing so well, Paige. Keep breathing for me. Can you look at me?”

I shake my head and whimper as Elliot rubs my back. “Then keep listening to my voice. Can you do that?” I nod. My counsellor told me the best way to avoid triggering the return of my symptoms is to stay present and clear-headed. If I lose myself to the pain, my brain could be an arsehole and give me flashbacks to Phoenix’s birth. I don’t want to get lost in that misery again. I want to be here in this new world where I have love and I'm starting a family. I need to be here to welcome my baby. I need to stay. Focus, Paige.

Elliot continues to coo at me softly, telling me I’m doing great. “It just hurts so much, Elliot. Where are the endorphins your body is supposed to produce? The books said there’d be endorphins to take the pain away.” I cry when a contraction starts again, squeezing his hand. “Oh god!” I grunt as my body bears down of its own accord. “Elli-oooooooooot!”

“Breathe, Paige, breathe as you push, we’re not far now,” the midwife coaches.

Panting, I try to catch my breath before another contraction comes. I can’t believe how fast this is all happening.

“She’s pushing? Shouldn’t she be on her back or something? She can’t give birth on all fours can she?” Elliot asks the midwife frantically.

“It’s fine, Dad. Just let nature take its course,” she soothes, turning back to me. “Now Paige, when the baby’s head is just about out, you’ll feel a burn. I want you to try not to push when that's happening, give your body time to stretch, so you don’t tear, OK?”

I nod, feeling like I'm a torture recipient. I’m so angry at nature right now. Why does this have to hurt so much?

Elliot

My eyes grow wide as Paige bears down and I see the baby’s head crowning. “Oh my god, Paige. I can see the baby. You’re doing it!”

She screams out, and I cheer her on, maintaining my hold on her hand as I watch our baby emerge from her body. “Elliot,” she cries, her voice like sandpaper as she fights with her body and her pain.

“You’re so strong, Paige. We’re almost there. It’s almost over.”

“Breathe through the burn, Paige,” the midwife coaches, preparing herself for the birth of our child.

“I can’t breathe. I can’t stop pushing!” Paige yells, grunting and groaning as she bears down again. Our baby’s head pops out, closely followed by her body.

I can hardly breathe, watching that little scrunched-up face as it gurgles out a loud cry is the most precious moment of my life. “She’s here, Paige. Our baby girl is here!”

“Let me see.” I help her roll over so the midwife can place the baby on her stomach. “Oh Elliot,” she breathes. “She’s beautiful, look at her. Look at our daughter.” I touch the face of our screaming little bundle and kiss Paige happily.

“And look at you. You were magnificent.”

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The midwife asks me, holding out a pair of surgical scissors. I nod, taking them from her before I work them to cut the cord that connected mother and baby for nearly nine months.

The door to the delivery suite opens, and the doctor walks in. He takes a couple of steps and freezes. “Oh, guess I’m a bit late,” he comments.

“Yes, this one couldn’t wait to meet her parents,” the midwife says.

“Well congratulations,” he says, moving over to the midwife to talk quietly with her for a moment about the delivery and Paige’s perceived health before congratulating us again and leaving.

Paige

Staring down at the child in my arms, I’m so overwhelmed with love that the pain of the delivery seems like a distant memory. Our midwife is helping me as I try to latch the baby onto my breast for her first feeding. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be and hurts a little when the baby suckles before she has her mouth open properly.

“So do you have a name for her?” she asks when she’s sure the baby is attached properly.

Elliot and I look at each other and smile. We had thought long and hard about what our baby’s name will be. We wanted it to be representative of the second chance at life and love we were all getting. “Grace,” I say, running my finger over her tiny cheek. “Her name is Grace.”

“Grace Roberts,” Elliot puts in.

I look at him and laugh. “Who says she gets your last name?”

“It will be your last name too,” he says as a matter of fact.

“Really?”

“Yes,” he says, wrapping his arms gently around both me, and our daughter as she feeds contentedly in my arms. He lowers his head and looks me in the eyes, a serious expression on his face. “Paige Larsen, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Tears spill from my eyes as I nod my head frantically. “Of course I will, Elliot,” I gasp. “Of course I will.”

He steps away from the bed and searches through my bag for a moment, returning with a small black ring box. He sits beside me and opens it, revealing a beautiful ring with a gold band that overlaps itself in two swirls around a single diamond suspended between the metal. I hold my shaking hand out as he places it on my finger, admiring it as it catches the light.

He leans in and kisses me, resting his other hand gently on our daughter’s tiny head. “I love you, Paige. Thank you so much for letting me into your heart and giving me a daughter.”

“I love you too. But, we made her together. She’s a gift for the both of us. And I think she’s the reason I’m still here.”

“You’re the reason, you’re here, Paige. Your strength and determination are your greatest characteristics. I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

As I take a moment to breathe in and absorb our little family, I can’t help but decide that I’m proud of me too. I have love. I have hope. I’m still here.

Epilogue

Six Months Later

Elliot

The delicate guitar intro to Jason Mraz’s I Won’t Give Up plays over the speakers set up either side of the flower-covered archway. My heart picks up, excited, nervous. This is the day I’ve been waiting for.

Fond and friendly faces look around, seated in chairs lined up either side of a bottle-blue strip of carpet. Low gasps go up as Naomi steps up with Grace in her arms. Pictures are taken while petals are thrown, and my beautiful girl gurgles and coos. The perfect little flower girl.

Paige’s foot touches the carpet just as the first chorus lifts the tone of our perfect song. We will never give up on each other. Tears fill my eyes when they meet hers, and she’s smiling. She’s so stunning in a simple lace dress that perfectly suits our garden setting. It’s cut high in the front and low in the back, proudly displaying her phoenix tattoo and the memory of a life she beat to get here. She’s come so far in the year since I first met her, and I find her more amazing with every passing day. I can't wait to officially call her my wife.

With our eyes on each other, she makes her way up the aisle, sparing a glance here and there for our audience. In the short time we’ve lived here, we’ve amassed quite a support system. Our English friends are here for us, along with a handful of friends and family from Australia. Our gathering is small and intimate. The perfect nuptials for our deeply private relationship. All that matters is our baby and each other.

Reaching out her hand, Paige places it on Grace's chest, making a happy face at our daughter as she gives Naomi her flowers. She’s a natural mother. Caring and compassionate. I love the joy our baby girl has brought into our life, and I’m so proud of Paige for working so hard on being the mother she can be. I take a mental picture of mother and daughter and hope to god someone else is taking an actual photo. I need that on the wall at home.

Just get over here and marry me already. I have to stop myself from grabbing her in my impatience. If I could have married her in the delivery room when I proposed, I would have. I want her to be mine in body and in name, and I don’t care how that happens. But for Paige, this ceremony is extra important. It’s something she never thought she’d experience, it’s another momentous step in what she likes to refer to as her rebirth. She’s shedding her old skin and becoming someone new. Someone who accepts the love she’s offered and is able to give love in return. Someone she couldn’t imagine being twelve months ago.

When she turns to me, my chest about explodes. I love her more than words. This is it. We’re getting married in five, four, three, two…

Paige

Elliot holds out his hand. My face hurts from smiling and my eyes burn from my tears. How did I get this happy? Twelve months ago, I boarded a plane to escape my old life. I’d convinced myself that solitude and suffering were the only things I deserved in this world. Then I met this man on the plane and he made me laugh, he made me see a better world; he made my heart come back to life. And now we’re a family, and in a few glorious minutes, I get to be his wife. We get to be forever.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers as I slip my hand in his. He still gives me tingles. It’s something I never want to go away. I want a lifetime of rapid beating hearts and secret smiles with this man.

“So do you,” I return, admiring the fawn-coloured pants and vest combo he wears over a crisp white shirt and blue tie. He looks like a breath of fresh air, and I love that he’s rolled his sleeves up to reveal his tan and muscular forearms along with the recently healed tattoo that travels up his arm. I have a matching one; a vine that travels from wrist to elbow with our names and our daughter’s etched into the leaves. We even added Phoenix to it, which means so much to me, because she didn’t belong to him, but he says he wants to remember her with love, anyway. How did I get so lucky? He’s perfect for me.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister starts, reciting time-honoured remarks as Elliot and I hold hands and grin like crazy. I love that we’re having a traditional service. There’s something about hearing the words we’ve always associated with weddings and feeling the weight and truth of them. Holy matrimony. An honourable estate that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. I couldn’t have chosen these words better myself.

“Repeat after me,” the minister instructs, and I inhale, filling my chest with the love in the air as I sink into the depth of Elliot’s beautiful blue eyes. This man is mine.

“I, Elliot Roberts, take you, Paige Larsen, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” He gives my hands a gentle squeeze. “Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you, with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with all my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life.”

And now I’m crying. I’m getting married. I never thought I’d have this. My voice shakes with emotion as I recite my vows. “I, Paige Larsen, take you, Elliot Roberts, to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you, with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with—” my voice catches with emotion, because Elliot is taking on so many more faults than I am. And he loves me anyway. All my broken pieces, he holds in his hands like tiny treasures.

“I love you,” he whispers, reaching up to wipe the tears from my cheeks as I gather my words again.

“With all my faults and strengths,” I continue. “I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help—” cue a new torrent of happy tears “—I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life.”

“You did good.” He smiles, touching my cheeks, his thumbs working like windscreen wipers against my tears. “I’m so proud of you.”

Elliot

The minister continues with the blessing of the rings, while we continue to grin and cry at each other. I’m such a sap that while I’m trying to wipe Paige’s cheeks, tears are falling down mine. Besides the birth of our daughter, this is the happiest moment of my life. I’m ridiculously and deeply in love, and this ceremony is reaffirming my emotions with every uttered word.

“If you’ll exchange the rings,” the minister says, prompting me to release Paige’s cheeks while Gary—who flew over to be my best man—hands me the ring.

“Thanks, mate,” I whisper. He nods, looking a little choked up on emotion himself.

Positioning the gold band on Paige’s left ring finger, I gaze into her eyes. “Paige, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows. With all that I am, and all that I have, I honour you.” My voice waivers, and I have to sniff as I slide the ring all the way down her finger, trying to get through this without turning into a complete blubbering mess. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Paige and I laugh at each other’s tears as Naomi hands her my ring. “I should have brought tissues,” she whispers as she positions it on my finger.

“Me too.” I sniff and smile.

“Elliot,” Paige says, holding my hand with both of hers. “I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honour you. With this ring, I thee wed.” As she pushes my ring down my finger, the minister announces that we may now share a kiss.

With the biggest grin I’ve ever known, I place my hands on either side of Paige’s face. “I will gladly kiss my bride,” I say, planting a soulful kiss against her pretty pink lips while thanking the gods for sending this goddess into my life.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr and Mrs Roberts.”

The glory of a thousand happy endings settles in my heart at the sound of those words.

“I love you, Elliot Roberts” she whispers.

“I love you too, Paige Roberts.”

With our hearts full and our lives connected, we turn to our gathered group of loved ones, drinking in their applause and combined happiness as a married couple. When I think about our journey to this point, I can’t find a single moment I’m regretful for. Each moment we shared and every hurdle we overcame was filled with purpose and direction. It all led us to this moment of purity and joy. While we know the future isn’t always going to be perfect, we know that we’ll always have each other. Because like the lyrics in our wedding song, we’ll never give up. Our love is forever.

Keep reading for more of Paige in her backstory novella, Phoenix. But get your tissues. It isn’t an easy read.

The Backstory

Paige: Phoenix

Phoenix - Prologue

Paige – 5 years old

“Mummy!” It’s dark, and the dream feels like spiderwebs against my face.

Light fills my room when the door opens and Mummy comes in. She’ll save me. “What is it, baby? Did you have a nightmare?” She smoothes my hair back and kisses my head as she scoops me up in her arms and rocks me.

It’s nice here. I don’t get to cuddle Mummy a lot. Daddy gets cranky, and he doesn’t want to cuddle me anymore either. I must have been bad.

“It’s OK. Just a bad dream. You’ll go back to sleep and everything will be fine.”

I press myself to her chest, listening to the vibration of her voice. It was just a dream.

“What are you doing in here?” Daddy is cranky again. That means my cuddle is going to end.

I hold Mummy tighter.

“She had a nightmare, Oliver.”

Don’t let me go, Mummy.

“You need to stop coddling her. You have two other children who need you more than that bastard does.”

I don’t know what a bastard is. But he calls me that a lot. Once when we were driving in the car, Daddy tooted his horn and yelled, ‘fucking bastard,’ at a man in another car. I’m not allowed to say those words. They’re bad words. That’s how I know I must be bad. He keeps calling me a bad word.

Mummy presses her hands over my ears and says stuff to Daddy. It’s all muffly so I don’t know what they’re saying. It feels unhappy.

Then Daddy walks away, and she lets go of my ears then puts me back in bed. “It’s time to go back to sleep.”

“OK, Mummy.”

She kisses my forehead and leaves my room. But I don’t go to sleep. The yelling keeps me awake. I think it’s about me and how bad I am. They fight about me a lot. I don’t think Daddy likes me anymore. It makes me sad.

One

Paige: 15 years old

“I’d better go home,” I say, standing from the side of the pool. I’ve been hanging out at my friend, Ramona’s house with her and two others. She has this big heated pool we all love sitting by and dangling our feet into while we talk about the boys we like to look at, girls who annoy us, and parents who just don’t understand.

“Don’t go. It’s not even five yet,” Jess says. She cocks her head to look up at me and shields her blue eyes against the sun. Her straight, shoulder-length blonde hair falls to the side as she regards me. “Surely your curfew isn’t this early.”

“It’s now 5:30 on a Sunday, and 9:30 on Friday and Saturday. The rest of the time, I'm not even allowed out. If I’m a minute late, I’ll be grounded. You know how strict my parents are,” I remind her, feeling like the only teenager in the Shire who isn’t allowed to have a life.

“You’re fifteen. I say just go home when you’re ready. It’s not like they can do anything horrible to you right?” Ramona says from beside Jess. “What’s grounding? They say you can’t go anywhere, and you sneak out anyway. I wouldn’t let them push me around if I was you.”

Easier said than done. If I dared disobey my parents, I’d be screamed at for hours. My mother has this habit of rephrasing herself a thousand different ways. It amazes me how many times she can say I'm a fuck up and a disappointment without saying the same words twice. She's a walking thesaurus.

“Guys get off her back,” my best friend, Maddison puts in. “Neither of you has heard the way her mother goes off when she does something wrong.” Maddison was on the phone with me once when my mum started in on me. I don’t really think she fully believed how nasty she could get before that point, but she does now.

“But her brother stays out as long as he likes. He’s always at parties and things. Why is it so different for Paige?” Jess asks.

I really don’t want to answer probing questions about the double standards in my house. So, I let out a sigh and check my watch. “It’s just the way it is.” I thumb over my shoulder towards the gate. “I need to go, OK?”

Maddison pushes up on her hands, sliding back from the pool. “I think I might head off too. I’m pretty sure I have some homework left to do before tomorrow.” She shakes the water off her feet and stuffs them into her flip-flops. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Homework, schomework! You guys are no fun,” Ramona complains as we call out goodbye.

“Don’t worry about those girls,” Maddison says when we hit the footpath. “You do what you need to do. I don’t want to get you in trouble. It sucked when you were grounded last time.”

“Thanks Mads,” I tell her, giving her a quick hug before heading in the opposite direction towards home.

When I'm grounded, it doesn’t just suck because I’m not allowed out. It sucks because I’m given a list of chores a mile long, and if they aren’t done to Mum’s satisfaction, they need to be done all over again. Im not allowed to sleep until they’re all complete.

I remember a time when Mum would be kind to me. When Dad wasn’t around, she’d sit and tell me stories while she detangled my dark curly hair. My favourite was the one about a princess from a faraway land. She lived with an ogre who hated the sight of her because when he looked at her, it burned his eyes. The girl had to hide in shadows and be very, very quiet to avoid his wrath. It went on to have a happy ending where the Ogre fell asleep and she escaped to her family, but I loved to pretend my dad was the ogre and I was the princess. That all ended when he caught me hiding under the table once and I yelled, “Away with you, ogre!” I had to brush my own hair after that.

Just before I reach my driveway, I check the time, breathing a sigh of relief when I see I made it home by 5:20. Ten minutes to spare. Thank God. No grounding for me today.

With a slight bounce to my step, I head for the front door, wondering what I’m cooking everyone for dinner tonight. But something on the pathway stops me dead in my tracks as an uncomfortable awareness skitters through my veins. What is that doing there?

My eyes drift over the house. Everything seems so quiet. Too quiet. Where is everyone? With careful steps, I move towards the black gym bag. I recognise it as the bag I took to camp in year six. It’s lived on the bottom of my wardrobe ever since. Now it's here, and it’s full. And there's an envelope on top of it. An envelope with my name written on it.

Frowning, I reach out and take it. Dread sitting heavy in my stomach as I stare at it. I’m afraid of what’s inside.

As my heart beats faster and my breathing quickens, I force myself to turn the envelope over. Sliding my thumb into the small gap, I tear along the top and slip the contents into my hand. It’s cash wrapped in a piece of paper.

My hands shake as I pull the paper away from the cash and read the single line of handwriting. “What?” My eyes burn, and my throat tightens. I can barely stand.

What the hell is going on?

Two

This isn’t your home anymore. That’s it. One measly line. This isn’t your home anymore.

I can't keep my hands from shaking as I count out the money. Four notes: two hundred dollars. Is this some kind of joke?

Shaking my head, I pull my house keys from my pocket. This can’t be real. I slip as I attempt to insert my key in the lock. I blame it on my quivering and clumsy fingers. But after several attempts, it’s still not working.

“Just slide in.” I press my head against the wood and cry, jabbing my key futilely at the lock.

Blowing out a steady breath, I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt. The key doesn’t fit anymore.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I sob. “Mum? Dad?” I knock on the door and hit the doorbell, trying to stay calm.

Footfalls sound from within the house, flooding my body with relief when they stop on the other side. It’s OK. It’s just a prank.

“Hello?” The door doesn’t open. “Adam? Is that you?" There’s a shuffle and I can hear breathing. “Why won't you let me inside? Sophie?”

When there’s no further movement, I pound my fists against the door. “I know you’re here,” I yell. “Open the door! This isn’t funny.”

I thump harder, screaming and kicking at the door, demanding to be let in. But I don’t get a single response. No one even peeks out the curtains. Are they seriously kicking me out?

Stepping back from the house, I look up to the second story. I can’t see anyone.

“Mum. Dad,” I scream. “Don’t do this. Please! I’m sorry, OK? Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” I slide my hands up the side of my head and clutch at my temples. My stomach twists. “I don’t even know what I did.” I mumble to myself, trying to sift through my interactions with them over the last few days. I did all my chores, my homework; I didn’t leave my room unless I had to… There must be a reason for this.

“What did I do?” I screech.

Nothing. No response. No sound.

I'm alone.

Dropping on the ground, my shoulders shake along with the huge sobs that tear from my throat. After years of being the black sheep of the family, of bending and breaking and taking every piece of shit slung my way, I’ve been tossed out on my arse. Why do they hate me so much?

Why is the damn sun shining? My life is falling apart, and the weather is perfect. It should be raining.

This isn’t happening. Surely, this isn’t happening.

Reaching inside my bag, I pull out my phone and unlock the cracked screen. It belonged to my older brother, Adam originally. But some kid knocked it out of his hand at school and the screen shattered. They were going to throw it out until I asked if it could be mine. I had to take on extra chores to pay for it. And its really hard to see the screen sometimes. But it’s better than no phone at all. At least I have it now so I can call the home number and beg them to let me in. I don’t want to live on the streets.

“You’ve reached the Larsen residence. We can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message at the tone.” Beep.

“It’s Paige. I’m outside. Please let me in. I promise to never even go out with my friends again. Please. Don’t kick me out. I have nowhere to go… Mum? Dad? Please pick up. Please!” I wipe at my cheeks. “Adam? Sophie? Someone? Let me in, don’t do this to me.” As the machine clicks over to the engaged signal, I drop my phone on the grass and rest my face in my hands.

“OK,” I whisper in a moment of calm. “Try their mobiles.”

I start with Sophie. She’s younger than me and always has her phone in her pocket. She won’t wear an outfit unless it has a slot for her phone. Surely she’ll answer.

Engaged signal.

I try Adam. He seems to hate me as much as Dad does, but he might answer just to tell me that.

Engaged signal.

Mum and Dad are the same.

They blocked my number?

I look at the money, scrunched up and sweaty in my palm. What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to live?

“This isn’t right.” I sit on the front lawn crying for… I don’t know how long. But eventually, I run out of tears and drag myself to my feet, walking over to the gym bag.

As I read over the note again, the words: This isn’t your home anymore, work like tiny knives in my mind. My life is over.

“You’re arseholes,” I shriek “You’re all arseholes!”

Scrunching the note in my hands, I drop it on the ground and pocket the cash while hefting my bag over my shoulder. Then I turn my back to the house, focusing on my breathing so I calm down enough to make another call.

“Mads,” I say, making my voice as cheery as possible.

“Didn’t I just see you?” she teases.

“Yeah, but I forgot my keys. The parentals won’t home be home until late. Do you think I could crash at your place tonight?”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I’m already in shit. But Mum doesn’t want to cut their evening short because I messed up. If I can come to you, it’ll be a little less trouble,” I lie. Normally, I tell Maddison everything. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten when someone got paint on my school uniform. I freaked out because I knew I’d be in trouble when I got home. Maddison swapped uniforms with me because her mum wouldn’t care about a little paint. She’s always had my back, but this is beyond her ability to fix. I can’t bring myself to say the truth out loud.

“Hang on, I’ll check with Mum,” she says. I listen down the line as she calls out to her mother and relays the story. Her mum yells something back then Maddison is back on the line. “Mum says it’s cool.”

Relief tingles beneath my skin. “Awesome. I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” I tell her, disconnecting the call.

Sliding my phone back in my bag, I walk over to the garden tap and switch it on to splash cool water over my face. I don’t know why the hell this is happening. But I do know that I can’t show up on Maddison’s doorstep looking like I’ve been crying if I don’t want her asking questions. I just need to act normal, pretend everything is fine. And maybe tomorrow they’ll change their minds.

Three

When I arrive at Maddison’s, I hide my bag behind a bush at the side of the house. I can’t really sell my story if I’m packed for an extended stay.

“Hi, Paige.” Maddison’s mum opens the door. “What's going on with your parents? Aren’t they home?”

“Ah, no. They had to go out, and I forgot my key. It was really silly of me. I knew they wouldn’t be there, though. I just had a bit of a brain malfunction,” I tell her, my nerves tightening my guts.

Her eyes search my face as I hold my breath, praying she’ll stop there. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to be OK. “All right,” she says finally. “Just make sure you give them a call to let them know where you are.”

“Thanks, Mrs Bier. I’ll do that,” I say, as she moves to the side and grants me entry.

“Mum. Give her a break.” Maddison emerges from the mouth of the hallways and walks towards me. “She just needs a place to crash so she doesn’t have to wait around in the cold all night.” Grabbing me by the hand, she pulls me down the hall and away from her mother. “Sorry about her. She’s a bit pissy ‘cause I asked for a sleepover on a school night.”

“It’s cool. I don’t mind,” I say as she clicks the door of her bedroom shut behind us and leans against it.

“So, what's really going on with your parents?”

“Nothing, I really did forget my keys,” I assure her.

Her left eye narrows as she looks at me. “Come on, Pay. I’ve known you since kindergarten. You have a look on your face that tells me that something else is going on.”

“Mads, I’m fine OK. I’m just tired, and I want to crash. I'll go home in the morning. I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

“Paige, don’t be like that. If I had my way, we’d be sisters. I’m only trying to talk to you. You seem upset. Did you and your mum have another fight or something?”

“She doesn’t talk to me long enough to fight these days. Listen, I’m sorry to be such a drag, but I really just want to go to sleep. Is that OK?”

Her brow narrows as she pushes herself back off the door and nods her head. “I’ll go get you some blankets.” She exits her room then returns with some spare bedding and a camping mattress, which I relieve her of immediately and help her set up my temporary bed.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” she asks, holding the remote for her TV in her hand as she watches me collapse on the bed and fold my arms across my chest.

“I just want to sleep.”

“OK.” She flicks on the TV and sits on her own bed while I pretend to sleep. I don’t want to talk. I don't want to re-live any part of this night. I want to sleep and wake up and have this all be some stupid dream.

* * *

“Mum! Dad!” I shout through a crowd of people. They’re blocking my way, and I can’t get through. I dig my elbows into ribs, shoving and pushing people aside. I manage to make it within an arm's length. “Mum!” I reach out to touch her.

Hearing my voice, she looks over her shoulder and frowns before tapping my father on the shoulder to let him know I’m there.

“Dad.” I stretch my fingers towards him but there’s nothing recognisable in his eyes. He looks at me like I’m something you’d pick out of your shoe with a stick.

“Go away. We don’t want you.”

I stop walking. My heart clenching, tugging at my throat as the crowd engulfs me, a sea of people moving in different directions. They knock against me and swear because I’m in their way.

No one wants me.

I can’t move. I’m stuck, plastered to this spot, watching my parents move farther and farther away. My eyes burn and I can’t breathe. How could they do this to me?

The heaving of my own sobs wake me up. I sit upright, breathing heavily as I look around the room to get my bearings. Maddison is still sleeping soundly. She’s always been hard to wake up once she was out. Thank God.

Sitting in the quiet dark, I can’t escape my thoughts. I lie back down with my pillow over my head and let my sorrow wash over me. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t have infinite sleepovers. Where do kids even go when they don’t have homes?

By 6am, my tears have dried up, and I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. Throwing my covers back, I get up and move over to the desk, writing a note for Maddison that says I'm going home to get ready for school. Its only a partial lie.

After I slip quietly out of the house, I retrieve my bag from the bushes and really do head home. I figure my parents will still be home at this hour, and I want to try to talk to them. Surely, they can’t be serious. Isn’t it illegal to throw your kid to the streets?

When I arrive, the lights are all out and it looks like no one is there. I walk around the perimeter of the house and try all the windows. I even try my keys again. When that doesn’t get me inside, I search under mats and pot plants, hunt around the garden for a fake rock or something, hoping to happen upon a key I didn’t know existed. But there’s nothing.

Eventually, the frustration gets too much for me. I pick up a rock from the garden and throw it through the window. The loud smash of the glass echoes through the quiet of the morning, even louder still is the wailing of the alarm.

An alarm we didn’t have 24 hours ago.

Do they really want me gone that much? My blood goes cold with disbelief as I hitch my bag on my shoulder and get the hell out of there. Soon after, a car from the security company is driving up our street, so I keep walking and keep my head down. I don’t want to risk being arrested right now. I’m pretty sure my parents wouldn’t bother coming to get me if I was.

For the rest of the day, I walk. There’s nowhere else to go. I can’t visit a friend because they’re all at school, there are no relatives close by—no one who’d give me the time of day, anyway. So, I end up sitting in a park, rocking back and forth on a swing.

It’s when it finally hits me.

I’m homeless.

Four

Six months earlier

“What do you mean you can’t trust me?” My mother’s raised voice floats through to the family room. “Haven’t I proven myself enough for you?”

They’re fighting again. I stiffen in my seat, hugging a couch cushion to my chest as though it will somehow act as a shield.

“You ruined that trust years ago, Susan!” Dad bellows back.

Shallowing my breath, I try to keep very quiet. If I try to go upstairs and hide, they’ll see me, and I’ll get dragged into this fight too. I don’t know why she does it. But when she’s angry at Dad, she’s angry at me too.

Adam and Sophie meet my eyes. “I don’t think they can see you,” my brother whispers. They know it happens, but they don’t try to save me. They don’t try to stop her. No one does. And I can’t really blame them. They’re probably scared of going against her and becoming a target like me. If I was in their situation, I’d probably keep my mouth shut too.

Trying to ignore the racing of my heart as their yells grow louder, I focus on the television. I can see the characters moving. However, I can’t hear anything besides noise in our home and my short quick breaths.

When the door bursts open, I stop breathing completely. Adam and Sophie keep their focus on the television, not daring to look my way.

“You’re an arsehole, Oliver. I'm sick and tired of this,” my mother yells before coming to a stop beside me. I think she actually came looking for me this time. Dad mustn’t be fighting hard enough. “And you,” she says, pointing her finger in my face, her lip curled in a snarl. “You’re no better.”

“I haven’t done anything. I’ve just been sitting here. I wasn’t even listening,” I ramble, trying to get her to realise how unreasonable she’s being before this gets out of hand. When my mother gets into these moods, her tirades can go on for hours. It doesn’t matter how hard I cry, or plead, or beg for her to stop. She yells until she’s run out of steam, or until she’s satisfied I’m sorry enough. But she’s never really satisfied. It’s like living with a ticking time bomb. Please don’t do this, I beg her internally. Not again.

Her hand draws back, and my brother and sister take it as their cue to leave the room. Then her hand connects with my face, a loud slap filling the room.

Tears sting my eyes as heat radiates off my face, but I refuse to cry. For a while, I actually fight back, trying to convince her that I haven’t done anything. That she doesn’t need to keep yelling at me.

But she doesn’t listen, and I run out of fight.

Eventually, I have nothing left to do but cry and listen as she tells me every single thing she finds wrong or insulting about me. It’s an endless list because I’m an ungrateful child who can’t stop getting in the way.

As I look at her twisted, angry face, I can only imagine she hates me. I don’t know why. Although I wish I did. I could fix it if I knew. I could be a better daughter. A better person. I keep trying. But it’s never enough….

Hours later, her voice grows hoarse. She’s repeated herself at least ten times, I’ve apologised at least a hundred. Her shoulders slump and she touches her head. “You’re grounded,” she says. Then she walks away, and all I feel is cold.

Five

“Where were you at school today?” Maddison asks over the phone. “Your note said you were going home to get ready. What happened?”

I’m sitting on the front step of my house, waiting to see if a member of my family is going to come home. They must be here somewhere. The window I broke earlier is already fixed, so they can’t be far.

I figure that if I can just make them talk to me, they’ll have to let me back in. I don’t care if they ignore me. I just want somewhere to live until I’m old enough to go to university. I know that if they let me, then I can stay out of their way. I can make it work.

The thought of having to survive on my own scares the living shit out of me. I don’t want to be a homeless teen. I don’t know how to be a homeless teen.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I lie as I keep my eyes focused on the street and watch for some sign of their return.

She tries to move on with the conversation by telling me about how one of our friends was trying to get the attention of a boy two years ahead of us. I’m only half listening. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.

“Listen, Mads?” I interrupt. “Do you think your mum would let me stay over again tonight?”

“Um… I doubt it. We were lucky she said yes last night. But I can ask. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing really. I’m just locked out again.”

“Pay. Something’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice.”

My phone signals a low battery. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” I say, and end the call.

Diligently, I wait until the sky grows dark over my head, and the street lights turn on. I decide to make another phone call, this time to Ramona. I use the same story I used last night—I forgot my keys, can I stay over since my parents won’t be home until late; Yes, they know I’m here; No, it won’t happen again.

I use this as the excuse until I run out of friends. Then I go back to the beginning and make up a new one. Each night, I’m afraid they won’t believe me. I don’t know how long I can do this before they start comparing stories. Or worse, saying ‘no’.

Six

As time moves on, I spend a lot of it reflecting on my life so far. Looking back, I can’t really think of a time when both of my parents seemed happy to have me around.

Mum did for a time. But it all stopped when I was old enough to go to school. Since then, I've lived on tenterhooks, a constant source of annoyance. Things my siblings were allowed to do compared to me became a vast divide, a glaring beacon of injustice, a giant sign on the wall that said, "Nobody likes you." Sometimes I wonder if the memories of my mother hugging me are actually a fabrication of my desperate and lonely mind. They feel real but I wonder if I created them after witnessing her care for my siblings and wishing it was me they treated like that.

My father was no better. Our interactions were practically non-existent. I stayed out of his way because if he complained to my mother about me, I’d be subjected to one of her tirades in his honour. When he did speak to me, it was only when absolutely necessary, and then it was mainly grunts and barked orders. Where is my dry cleaning? Why isn’t the car clean? Why are you here if you aren’t pulling your weight?

Adam and Sophie didn’t have to pull their weight. They were also sent to fancy city private schools while I was in the public system. I was the only child who seemed a heavy burden on the Larsen family.

When I questioned the difference in treatment during one of my bolder moments, I was told it was because I didn’t do as well at school or sports. But I’ve never been allowed to do a sport, and I had so many chores it was hard to study. How was I ever going to fix that? They set their standards for me impossibly high.

No matter what I did, I could never fit in. I mean, I don’t even look like them. I used to think that perhaps I was adopted. I hoped I was living in some real life Cinderella situation. But that was just wishful thinking, I’ve seen photos from when my mum gave birth to me. She and dad were both looking down at a tiny baby with masses of dark hair.

They were smiling in that photo too. So they must have loved me once.

Maybe it’s my personality they don’t like?

Maybe it’s the way I look? My entire family are fair haired, blue eyed, and fair skinned. My looks are more Mediterranean. I have olive skin, hazel eyes and dark curly hair. Mum reckons my colouring comes from her great-grandfather. So I’m some weird genetic throwback everyone wishes didn’t exist.

Perhaps that’s why it all started. Perhaps they treated me differently because I don’t look like them. I suppose it was embarrassing when people actually questioned my parentage. My insanely curly hair was always a source of interest.

With the obvious divide in our house, it was easy for my brother and sister to use me as their scapegoat. They would point their fingers and claim that I was the one who broke the vase, or dropped the mobile phone in the sink full of water. It didn’t matter how much I protested, I was always in the wrong.

Since I was forever grounded, I’d often get home from school to find the house empty because hey’d all gone to some dinner or family event without me. While it upset me, I eventually got used to it. I learned to revel in the quiet freedom their absence gave me.

I did try to fit in. I did everything I could to be a part of the family. Once, I even had my hair bleached to try to fit in more. But all that did was earn me a month’s grounding, another trip to the hair dresser and a very short haircut that caused my already curly hair to look like a frizzy ball of darkness surrounding my head.

I followed the rules, worked as hard as I could at school. I went above and beyond, hoping that somehow, my parents would notice me. That somehow, I could make them love me. A hope that crumpled the day I placed first in my art class.

I remember feeling worthy. For this fleeting moment, I thought I was finally good enough. On the day I was to receive my award at school, I actually thought my parents would attend the special assembly put on to honour the best students in my grade. When I looked out into the sea of delighted smiling faces, no one was there smiling for me. No one cared enough to be proud along with me.

After that, I stopped trying. I stopped caring. It didn’t matter if I came first or last. I wasn’t going to get a smile. I wasn’t going to get a kind word. I got what I always got—nothing.

Seven

Three months after the note

In that first two weeks, I tried to maintain a façade of normalcy. I went to school, I stayed with friends, and I sat on the doorstep of my family home, hoping to catch them on their way to or from work and school. I wanted to have them look me in the eye and realise this was just a terrible mistake. Some ridiculous joke gone awry. But it was never a joke. They were never there, and on the last day I visited, a ‘For Sale’ sign had been erected.

I smashed every window on the ground floor, watching my last shreds of hope shattering before my eyes. Then I ran as fast and as far as I could, needing to escape my pain as much as I needed to run from those sirens. What kind of family kicks their fifteen year old daughter to the street then leaves town?

It took about a month before the school called me into the office.

“It’s come to our attention that you might be having some trouble at home,” the principal said, her expression soft and empathetic. I raced through my recent conversations with friends and interactions with their parents. Someone turned me in. “I want you to know that we’re here for you if you need to talk. We can help.”

I sat with my arms folded across my chest, not trusting myself to speak. I’d either cry, or blab about everything. And then I’d be in shit. The way I saw it, if my parents had gone to that much effort to get rid of me, having me returned to them by social services would just make my life with them even worse. And I didn’t think I could trust myself to fall in line anymore. I was too hurt. Too furious and angry at everyone and everything around me. Someone turned me in. Even my friends couldn’t be trusted.

“I’ve been trying to contact your parents, Paige. I heard a rumour they moved and you aren’t living with them anymore. Is that true?”

Angry tears burned like fire behind my eyes.

“I’m staying with my aunt,” I forced out.

“OK. I was worried you didn’t have anywhere because you’ve been having a lot of sleepovers.”

“My aunt lets me.”

“That’s great.” She smiled. “I just need her number so we can get some details from her. Do you know it?”

“Not by heart,” I said, my chest getting tight because I knew she wasn’t buying it. “But I can bring it to you tomorrow.”

She gave me a nod. “I’d really appreciate that. Especially if you can get her to contact me. I’ll be in the office until five.”

“OK.” I sat forward in my chair. “Can I go?”

“Yes. But if you need to talk, Paige—about anything—we’re here to help, OK?”

“Sure.” I forced a smile. Then I walked out of her office and never went back to the school again. In fact, I left the area entirely. There was nothing left for me there.

The first night I slept outside, was the worst night of my life. Winter was just around the corner and while Sydney isn’t the coldest place in the world, night time without a blanket is fucking freezing. I ended up sleeping in the tunnel section of children's play equipment in a park in Jamisontown.

Every sound I heard sent my heart racing. I felt that any moment, the wrong kind of person would come along, and do unspeakable things to me. I cursed myself for heading out west. Everyone knew Western Sydney was a dangerous place. But I had travelled there, hoping to, somehow, make my own way—something I wasn’t able to do in the Sutherland Shire.

When I woke from what little sleep I had managed to get, I thanked my lucky stars. But I was hungry. A feeling that was becoming all too familiar to me. The two hundred dollars my family left me, was practically gone. All I could afford were instant noodles, and maybe a can of baked beans. I visited shopping centres and used their parents rooms for hot water and microwave facilities. I even took a nap in their breastfeeding areas occasionally. But then my money ran out and security started moving me along. I needed another plan.

With no money in my pocket, I resorted to taking what I needed. Although sometimes, I could order food during a busy period and claim I’d lost my wallet. If I became visibly upset, sometimes someone would either pay for me, or the clerk would tell me not to worry.

I bathed in cold water from sinks in public bathrooms, and I reduced my clothing to what would fit into a small backpack, so I didn’t look quite so conspicuous walking around with a large sports bag.

I was getting by. I was surviving. I stole an old sleeping bag from an overflowing charity bin and used it to keep warm at night, my favourite spot that tunnel in the park. There I slept, undisturbed, until one night a group turned up, noisy and possibly intoxicated.

At first, I was petrified. I held my breath as I listened to them talking and laughing. They sounded like any group of teens hanging out, but with no idea how they’d react to finding a homeless girl, I prayed they wouldn’t find me.

“Come in the tunnel with me,” a guy said to a giggling girl.

No. No. No. The sound of a shoe hitting the metal step nearest me set off my alarm bells. I yelped.

“What the hell?” I could hear the shifting of his feet as he crouched down to peer inside my tunnel.

“Is someone in there?” the giggling girl asked.

“I think so. It’s dark though. Chuck us your phone.”

The phone made a slapping sound as it landed in his hands, and I scrunched my body up tighter, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing it would make me disappear.

“Hello?” he called out.

“What if it’s an axe murderer?” the girl asked in a hushed tone.

“Why would an axe murderer be hiding in a playground? It might be a lost kid or something,” another voice responded.

I felt trapped and started to make my way out the other side, hoping I could make a run for it. The only way I could go was towards an area that was a makeshift lookout point with one of those pretend telescopes and metal steering wheels. It led to a yellow plastic side, which would be my sole route of escape.

Moving as quietly as I could, I crab walked toward the slide and placed my hands on the safety bars beside it. Feeling slightly panicked, I leapt off the side with the plan to run until my legs gave out.

My plans were short lived however because my first step led into the chest of another person. Arms grabbed hold of me. I screamed, thrashing my body to try to make them let me go.

A hand clamped over my mouth, my eyes opened wide, suddenly terrified that all my worst nightmares were about to come true.

“Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you,” he told me. It was too dark to properly make out his features, but his voice was calm and kind. I relaxed… slightly.

As my eyes darted from side to side, the others gathered around to see what was going on.

“Were you sleeping in there?” the girl asked.

My eyes moved from her to the guy covering my mouth, and I nodded. “Are you going to scream if I take my hand away?”

I shook my head ‘no’. I was starting to calm down. They all seemed to be around the same age as me, and I didn’t feel as though I was in danger anymore.

Slowly, he took his hand away. “No one’s going to hurt you,” he repeated. “We were just here to hang out for a bit.”

Nodding, I scanned the faces of the group huddled around me. One guy took a drag from what smelled like a joint, and passed it to the person next to him. As he blew out the smoke, he asked, “Did you take a bad trip or something?”

“No. I just don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Well that sucks,” he commented.

I was still a little concerned by them. But, they were more inquisitive than anything. We sat around the play equipment, passing the joint, while they asked me a lot of questions about who I was, and what I was doing curled up in a tunnel.

With nothing to lose, I told them about my situation. The girl, Tahlia ended up offering me the couch in her garage.

“You can crash there as long as you like. My parents won't give a shit,” she said, her voice muted as she held in a drag. I don’t know if it was the wisest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I found myself nodding and thanking her.

So, that’s where I‘ve been for the past month, living in a garage that smells like oil and car fumes, sleeping on an old couch with scratchy material and broken springs. But I have a comfortable pillow and a blanket to keep me warm, access to a bathroom with hot water and three meals a day. So, I can’t really complain. It’s better than the park. Anything is better than the park.

Eight

Tahlia is probably the most outlandish person I’ve ever met. She’s a little older than me at seventeen, with long straight blonde hair that ends in the middle of her back. She’s taller than me, has blue eyes and is as curvaceous as a cartoon character.

She has this great confidence about her that I can’t imagine I’ll ever have. Her hips sway from side to side when she walks, and everything she says seems bold and untethered.

Her dad used to be a biker and still wanders around looking like he’s in a gang—black leather jacket, old band shirt and a bandana covering his long and slightly greying hair that is always secured into a pony tail by a rubber band. Not the hair ties; those thick rubber ones they wrap your newspaper in.

He fascinates me when I watch him talk as he constantly has a cigarette hanging from his lips that bounces around while he speaks in his gravelly voice. Somehow, it never falls and never seems to burn out.

Her mum looks like a hippy. She always wears long flowing dresses with no shoes. She has long dark, dead straight hair and speaks delicately, like she’s always in a state of bliss. Which she probably is because hidden in their laundry is a row of well-tended cannabis plants.

No one seems to care that I’m staying in the garage, or else they haven’t even realised I’m in there. So, whatever this arrangement we have going on is working. I’ve kind of just merged with their world like the rest of the people who hang around their house. No questions asked.

“Why don’t you go to school?” I ask Tahlia once while we’re passing a bong between us and watching daytime television. I’ve never been into drugs but getting baked on the regular has become our thing. It helps take the edge off the shittiness of my life, and I think I would quite literally do anything to forget the family who left me.

“Quit in year ten,” she says, holding the lighter to the bowl. “I hated that place. Couldn’t wait to get out.”

“What are you gonna do instead?”

She sucks on the mouthpiece as the water bubbles, holding it in for a beat before she speaks in a billow of smoke. “I’m doin’ it.” She cackles then hands the bong to me while she flops on the couch, still laughing.

Staying here isn’t a completely free ride. We have to help her parents dry, cut and bag up the pot for those who visit with the intent to purchase. It seems to be a very lucrative business, as they have every mod-con you can imagine. No one wants for anything here. Even me.

“I was thinking, Paige,” Tahlia says while we’re in her bedroom, flicking through fashion magazines and styling our hair to match the models. “You’re almost sixteen. I should take you to get your learner’s permit.”

“Why? Who’s going to teach me to drive?”

“Me. I can drive.”

“Yeah, but you’re still on your provisional license. You can’t teach me until you’re on a full license.”

“So?” She laughs, focusing on her image in the mirror as she twists up her hair and pulls at strands around her face. “We’ll drive somewhere quiet. And if we get pulled over, I’ll offer to suck dick to get us out of it.”

I giggle. “What if it’s a woman?”

She shrugs. “I’ll give her a good clit rub. We’ll all end up happy.”

I laugh at her craziness and end up agreeing because it’s hard to argue with Tahlia’s logic. She has an answer for everything.

“I’ll need to get my birth certificate first, though,” I say.

She stands up and grabs her bag. “All right. Let’s go.”

“What? Now?”

“Sure. What the fuck else are we gonna do?”

Catching a train, we head to the city to find the building that houses the office for Births, Deaths and Marriages.

As with every government office, the line is huge, and we wait for nearly an hour. When I get to the front of the line, I hand over my form, and empty out all the cards I have with my name and old address on them to prove who I am.

“Don’t you have a copy of your parent’s ID? It’s a lot easier with that,” the lady behind the counter says as I offer her the entire contents of my wallet.

“I don’t have any parents to ask,” I tell her flatly. Her expression softens immediately, and she apologises to me like I just told her they were dead, and I'm an orphan.

Thinking over what I said, I guess it kind of sounded that way. I don’t bother correcting her. I actually prefer her thinking that.

She goes through all of my cards and counts up the point value of each one. I need a hundred points of ID to obtain my birth certificate, and I’m lucky to have just enough. God only knows how I’d get my birth certificate without it.

Tahlia pays for the printout, and I’m handed my birth certificate, folded up in an envelope.

Tahlia takes it out of my hands and looks over it.

“Let’s find out about Paige Larsen,” she says as she reads over the document. “Why does your dad have a different surname to your mum?”

“What are you talking about? They’re both Larsen.”

“No,” she says, pointing at the paper and showing it to me. “Your mother has Larsen as her surname and Collins as her maiden name, but your dad’s surname is Ashdown.”

“What?” I snatch the paper from her hands to look at it myself. “Who the hell is Daniel Ashdown?” I ask, more to myself than anyone else.

“He’s your dad. It says right there,” Tahlia says, pointing to the paper again.

“No. My dad is Oliver Larsen. This guy doesn’t even live in Australia. Look. His address is in the UK.” I jab at the page, indicating his address at the time of my birth. “There’s some sort of a mistake. I’m lining up again,” I tell her, heading back to join the queue

She grabs my arm to stop me. “Paige. They don’t make those kinds of mistakes. Has your mum ever been to the UK?”

I think back to a time when my mother was being unusually talkative towards me. There were these rare moments when we were alone when she forgot to hate me. She told me how she learned she was pregnant with me. She’d gone to London for work and her morning sickness was at its worst on her on the flight back to Australia. Not trusting the conversation, I thought she was going to tell me she should have taken it as a sign that I was going to be trouble. But she didn’t do that. She smiled, her eyes lost in some distant memory as she said, “It was the worst 24 hours of my life. I should have stayed in London. Had you over there.” Then she touched my hair, sighed and walked away.

I remember feeling so confused as to what it was about.

“Yeah, she has,” I tell Tahlia. “She was there for a couple of months or something, and she was pregnant with me while she was there.”

“She was already pregnant? Or did she get pregnant while she was there?”

I frown, trying to recall the details about the conversation. “I don’t know. I think she said she didn’t realise she was pregnant before she went. She was suffering from morning sickness on the flight home.”

“Huh. Explains why she was always such a cunt to you. Mumsy was guilty ‘cause she bumped uglies with this Daniel dude and got herself knocked up.”

“I don’t know why she didn’t just abort me then,” I mumble.

“I dunno. Maybe she thought she could keep you like a souvenir. Pass you off as your dad’s—well, your fake dad’s—kid.”

“I don’t know how. They’re all blonde like you and I’m…” I gesture to my face. “Not.”

“People lie about stupid shit and they get real angry when they get found out. I mean, who is stupid enough to put the secret baby daddy’s name on the paperwork?” She pokes at the paper again.

“My mum, obviously.”

“I reckon you were born and this blond dad realised you weren’t his straight away.”

“So why pretend to be my real dad all my life?”

She shrugs. “I don’t fucken know.”

I mull over this information as we make our way to the train station. Suddenly, it all makes sense. I have a different father. No wonder I don’t look like them. I must look like this Daniel guy.

“Oh my god,” I exclaim, slapping myself on the forehead and stopping where we are on the footpath.

“What’s wrong?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“What are you going on about?”

“The reason they kicked me out. It had nothing to do with me. It never mattered what I did, they would never be able to love me because I didn’t fit. I’m another man’s daughter. I wasn’t the problem. They were.”

“I could’ve told you that. Nice people don’t kick their daughters out of home. Simple as that.”

Nine

Eight months after the note

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, looking at my new learner’s permit and scrutinising the odd expression on my face in the picture printed on it.

“Happy 16th Birthday!” Tahlia sings as she walks over to the table with a chocolate cake she’s made.

It’s a little lopsided, and the icing is dripping down the sides. I love it. I’ve never had someone make me a cake. It’s always just been a dried-out sponge cake brought on clearance from the grocery store. A real, freshly-baked cake is a gift all of its own.

I can't keep the grin from my face as she places the cake in front of me. A few months ago, I thought I’d be spending this birthday on the streets. Wondering how I was going to eat, and what I was going to do if I needed to pee in the middle of the night. The fact I have a roof over my head, and someone who cares enough to make me a cake is phenomenal.

“All right. Make your wish,” she says.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wishing to always have a place to stay. When I blow out the candles, she claps her hands before presenting me with a small black jewellery box.

“You got me a present?” I squeal, opening it slowly to see what’s inside. Surprised, when I see it contains a small white pill with red lips printed on it. “What’s this?”

“Molly,” she tells me, grinning.

“As in ecstasy?” I roll the box around and watch the tiny pill tumble about inside. Nerves bubble the contents of my stomach as I think about whether or not I want to go down this road. I mean, people die from taking these kinds of drugs.

“You’ll love it, Paige. I promise. I thought it was a great gift to celebrate you being legal and all.”

I laugh. “I’m legally allowed to have sex. So, you present me with an illegal drug to celebrate. Isn’t that what they call irony?”

“It’s what they call symbolic,” she grins, taking the pill from the box and holding it out to me between her thumb and index finger. “Take it. I’ll have one too. Take it and we’ll go and sneak into a night club. Then we can dance, make out with boys—maybe do a little more—until we can’t stand up anymore. It’ll be wonderful. Trust me.”

Letting out my breath, I look from the tablet to her smiling face. What the hell? I shut my eyes and open my mouth, inviting her to drop the tablet inside. The moment I feel it touch my tongue, I swallow, not giving myself a chance to change my mind.

“Nothing’s happening.” I frown after waiting a few seconds and feeling nothing.

“Give it time.” She laughs, taking her own pill from the little baggy in her pocket and placing it on her tongue.

“How many of those things do you have?” I ask, frowning at the bag of pills. I can’t count them because of the way she’s holding it, but there’s more than a couple in there.

“I did have six, but now I have four. Two more each if we need them. Come on,” she says, standing up. “Let’s get ready while we wait for these to kick in. I asked my uncle if he’d take us, and he’ll be here soon.”

“Nice uncle,” I deadpan, following her into her room. I wonder what kind of uncle would agree to this sort of thing.

“He’s not a real uncle. Just a friend of my dad’s. He’s the one who hooked us up tonight too. He’s only 27, hot as all hell, and can get you in anywhere. He’s really well connected.” She fills me in while flinging clothing around her room as she tries to find the right outfits for us to wear. “Here, this one will be good for you.” She throws a gold sparkly top at me that has only one shoulder. I won’t be able to wear a bra with it, which sucks because I’m fairly busty.

“Do you have something with sleeves or shoulder straps? My boobs will fall out of this one.”

“No! That one will look awesome. We’ll leave your hair out and make the curls all glossy. Just tuck your strap in on one side. You’ll be fine.”

With a bounce of my shoulders, I do as she says and put the top on, wearing it with my dark jeans and a black pair of Tahlia’s wedge heels.

Half an hour later, we have our hair and makeup done, and we’re waiting for Tahlia’s ‘uncle’ to come and pick us up.

“Should I be feeling something by now?” I ask her, realising that the little pill has made no difference at all.

“Yeah, you should. Here take another one.” She hands me another pill, and I drop it down my throat, not anywhere near as nervous as I was the first time.

Within seconds, we hear a horn beep out the front of her house and race outside.

“So, how is your uncle going to get us into a night club?” I ask as we make our way towards the gunmetal grey VF Commodore that is still running in the driveway.

“I told you, he’s connected. He’ll either have an arrangement with the bouncer, or he’ll have fake IDs for us.”

Nerves skitter through my belly as she opens the car door.

“Go on, get in,” she urges. I slide into the back seat of the car, and I’m greeted by one of the most attractive men I think I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

“How’s it goin’?” he asks, twisting in his seat. His deep-blue eyes sparkle like sapphires as he looks at me appraisingly. “You must be Paige. I hear a ‘happy birthday’ is in order.”

“Ah, yeah. It is,” I say timidly.

“Well then, happy birthday.” He grins, winking at me. “I’m Jeff.” I nod in response, feeling my face burning under his gaze. I imagine I look nowhere near as grown up as I felt a few moments ago.

“Just a little girl playing dress up,” I mumble to myself.

“What did you say?” Tahlia asks as she slides into the seat next to me.

“Oh nothing. Just talking to myself.”

“You know that’s the first sign of madness, right?” Jeff points out with a grin as he focuses on reversing the car. I blush again.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Tahlia says.

“Are we ready to dance?” Jeff hollers as we take off down the street.

“Hell yeah!” calls out Tahlia, leaning her head out the open window to let out a loud whoop as we round the corner.

The excitement in the car is infectious, and I find myself joining in with their yells and singing along with the songs blaring out of the radio.

I'm beginning to feel as though I’m floating on air as this warmth builds inside me, and the music seems to entwine itself around my body like a wonderful warm blanket. The lyrics of the songs are clearer and feel as though they're filled with a meaning that's directed only at me.

This intense bundle of emotions flows through my body and overwhelms me, making it difficult to breathe. I let my head drop against the back of the seat as my eyes roll back and I press a hand to my chest. Calm down. I force a deep breath, my fingers moving against my silky soft skin as my entire body relaxes and buzzes. “Oh my god.” I run my hand down my arm. Never, in my entire life have I ever felt this good. Every bit of pain, every bit of hurt, every bit of longing, has drifted away, and I’m smiling. Smiling genuinely for the first time in my living memory.

“I’m fucken off my face,” Tahlia stage whispers at me like it’s some massive secret.

“Is that what this feeling is?” I wonder, suddenly understanding that it’s those little pills making me feel this good. “It’s wonderful. I could live like this.”

“Touch my shirt,” Tahlia says. “It’s so soft.”

“Touch my hair. It feels like clouds.”

“Oh my god,” she says. “You’re so pretty.”

Before I know it, we’re making out, but it doesn’t feel like kissing. It feels like we’re discovering a whole new world of texture. My mouth doesn’t even feel like my mouth.

“Jeez, you two are lucky I’m babysitting tonight,” Jeff says from outside the car. He has the back door open and we’re somehow in a parking lot outside a club. When did we get here?

I scrunch up my face in a frown as he helps us out of the car. “Babysitting? I’m not a baby,” I tell him, feeling genuinely confused.

“Relax sweetheart,” he says, draping his long lean arm across my shoulders. “I can see you’re all grown up.” He takes a long index finger and runs it along my collarbone and down my chest, stopping just before my cleavage.

I gasp, the physical contact doing something to me I can’t explain. And I can’t help myself, I turn towards him, wrapping my arms tightly around his slim waist. We stay like that for what seems like an eternity, and I feel a great rush of energy surging through my body. I don’t want to let go.

Through his chest, I hear Jeff say something. But I can’t understand a word of it. I’m lost in the embrace. It’s been so long since someone has held me.

Eventually, he gently pushes me away and peers into my face smiling. His hand grazes my cheek as he brushes my hair back with his fingers.

“Let’s go inside,” he suggests in a low intimate voice. “You can dance all night, and you’ll feel amazing. I promise.”

Nodding, I follow Jeff and Tahlia up to the back entrance to the club. There, Jeff claps hands with the bouncer, who immediately lets us in.

“Told you he was connected,” Tahlia murmurs in my ear. “And I told you he was hot too. He’s got his eye on you.” She giggles as she nudges my side playfully.

The sound is deafening when we walk through the main doors of the club. Some sort of indiscernible music plays, and I can’t help but move along as the beat takes over my body. When the song nears its end, the DJ starts to splice a new one in. It’s a familiar beat, and the room starts to cheer and move more excitedly as Silento’s Watch Me plays.

Euphoria replaces the blood in my veins as my molecules dance for me. Or with me. I can’t really tell. I just know it’s amazing, the song feels like it’s a part of me.

In unison, the room bounces together, our hands in the air as we gyrate and shout the lyrics, performing the moves at the right times.

Some guy, indistinguishable to me in the dark of the room, comes and starts to dance against Tahlia. She breaks off with him, leaving me to dance on my own. I’m feeling so wonderful that I couldn’t care less. I just keep bouncing along with everyone else, swaying my body and feeling the music vibrate along with my cells. Every piece of me seems to want to be a part of the beat, and I feel as though I have no control. I can’t do anything but dance.

After a while, Jeff appears in front of me and starts to sway along with me. He is truly the most beautiful man. With his dark-brown hair, clipped close to his head and designer stubble sprinkled along his jaw line. I’m in awe.

I can’t help myself, I reach out to run my hand over his head. I have this great desire to touch it, to feel the short spikes prickling into the palm of my hand. He grins as I do, and takes me by the wrist, pulling me closer to him. Our dancing slows, and he leans down to speak into my ear.

“Have you ever been fucked, Paige?”

He pulls back from my ear and stands in front of me, his eyes searching mine as he waits for my answer. I don’t give it to him. I don’t want him to know how inexperienced I am.

His mouth curls in a half smile as he places his index finger onto his tongue, and then slips it inside his pocket. When he holds it in front of me, there is a small white pill stuck to the end of it.

He holds it to my lips, and I open my mouth obligingly. But he pulls it back and shakes his head slowly from side to side, his eyes dancing as he watches me.

“This one is going to cost you,” he murmurs in my ear.

“I…I don’t have any money,” I stammer. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your money,” he says, placing the pill on the end of his tongue as he leans in close to me and brushes his lips against mine. “I want to touch you.”

“Touch me where?”

“In places you’ll love. I want to make you my girl.”

“Your girl?”

He nods. “Would you like to be my girl, Paige?”

My urge to be important to him is so great that I don’t even think before parting my lips. I let his tongue—and the pill—into my mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pausing long enough for me to swallow before he reclaims my lips with his.

His mouth moves over mine, claiming me. The sensations rippling through me are amazing, the slick texture of his gliding tongue, the smoothness of his teeth as I run the tip of my tongue over them, and the softness of his lips.

We sway together again, locked at the lips as our hands roam. I’m loving the feel of the fabric of his shirt under my fingertips, and the firm build of his chest as it presses against my soft one. Then his hand slides between us, his fingers tucking in the waist of my jeans.

“This is the part where I touch you.” He locks eyes with me, and I nod, knowing I agreed to this, and wanting it as well. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or him. But the aching between my legs demands to be satisfied, and when his fingers find their way there, I almost lose consciousness from the contact. It feels so fucking good.

He doesn’t enter me. He simply keeps his eyes on me as he teases my entrance, pulling his hand back out of my jeans then sucking his finger into his mouth. “Sweet,” he says. “Sweet sixteen.”

Holy fuck.

He pulls me back against him, hugging me against his chest as we slow dance to fast music. We stay like this for, I don’t know how long, but eventually the music cuts out, and the lights are turned on.

Abruptly, he breaks away from me and calls out. My ears are buzzing in the absence of the music. But when Tahlia appears, leaning up against the guy she was dancing with, I realise he was calling to her.

We all head out to Jeff’s car. I’m still feeling so wonderful that I don’t even think about the guy getting in there with us. I don’t even think about the fact that the house we arrive at isn’t Tahlia’s house at all. I just go along with it.

I’m Jeff’s girl.

Tahlia leads the guy she’s with into a room as soon as we get inside, leaving Jeff and I on our own.

“You still feeling a little buzzed?” he asks, sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to him.

“A little,” I reply as I lower myself to sit where he indicated. I’m still smiling. My face hurts, but I can’t seem to stop.

“I should probably apologise to you,” Jeff starts, creasing his brow as he looks down at his hands, and twists the gold band that adorns his thumb with his long fingers.

“Oh, really. Why?”

“Because I kissed you. A lot. I touched you too. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why? Because you’re older than me?”

“Well, yeah, and I was supposed to be looking out for you and Tahlia. I wasn’t supposed to be hooking up with a beautiful girl who is almost half my age.”

Blushing, I shake my head, letting my curls fall over my face. “You’re not that old.”

“I am, Paige. In five years’ time, our age difference won’t matter. But right now, it seems quite vast, don’t you think?”

I bounce one of my shoulders as I chew my lip. “Does that mean you don’t want me to be your girl anymore?” I ask, disappointment blooming in my overwhelmed mind.

He rubs his hand over his face and head, then leans against the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “God, I still want that. But I bet if your father had any idea what happened tonight, he’d hunt me down and hang me.”

“I doubt that,” I deadpan. “The man I thought was my father couldn’t care less what I do. And I’ve never met my real one.”

He sits up, leaning a little closer. “What about your mother? Does she care?”

“No. She kicked me out months ago.” My eyes lower to my hands, clasped in my lap.

His brow furrows as he hooks a finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to meet his. “Are you serious? They just kicked you out?” I nod. “What for?”

“For being me, I guess. I figure my mum had an affair, and I’m the result of it. I’ve always been treated differently from my brother and sister. I never felt wanted. Eventually, they just sent me away.” For some reason, I feel comfortable with Jeff and tell him everything I’ve been through so far. He sits quietly, listening to me as I unload.

“That’s pretty messed up. Where are you staying now?”

“On the couch in Tahlia’s garage.”

“Are you serious? No, no, no. That’s not cool.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t have any other family to stay with, and I’ve stayed with every friend I can. I’m not entering the system either. I don’t want to go into foster care, or a home, or whatever-the-fuck they do with girls my age.”

“Paige, you have other options.”

“Oh yeah. Like what?”

He shifts where he sits and turns to face me, taking my hand into his before he meets my eyes. “You might not want to hear this. But, a girl who’s good in bed will never be wanting for a place to sleep.”

“What? No…I don’t know about that.” I laugh, feeling slightly uncomfortable with that idea. “I mean I’ve never…”

He closes his other hand over mine and says, “I know. I can teach you if you’d like. I always take care of my girls.”

His girls. My heart thuds solidly as I think about what it is he’s offering me. Not his girl. One of his girls. “Oh, um. Is that what being your girl means? Like being a prostitute?” I practically whisper.

Jeff laughs. “No.” Thank God. “If you’re my girl, I’ll be the one who looks after you. You’ll ever have to sleep on an old couch in a dirty garage again.” He reaches forward and touches my face gently with the back of his hand.

“You want to look after me?” This sounds too good to be true. “Here?” I look around the spacious lounge room.

He nods. “You’re so beautiful, Paige. You should have seen the way other men were watching you tonight. It made me feel like I had to have you. You have a quality that draws men in, and I’d love to be the man who teaches you how to use this gorgeous body of yours to your benefit. A woman like you could use her beauty to have the world at her feet.” He chews on his lip as his eyes travel up and down my body. The expression on his face seems as though it hurts for him to look at me and not touch me.

“Really?” Strangely, I don’t want to run. I’m not at all scared. I want him to touch me. I want him to teach me. I’m tired of sleeping on a couch. I’m tired of sleeping in a garage. I’m tired of silently begging, tired of feeling dependent on others. I’m tired of being a burden.

I don’t know if it’s the drugs in my system, or if I just don’t want to feel like a kid anymore, but something makes me move towards him. I want him. Badly.

My breathing becomes shaky as I close the distance between us and pause just before my lips connect with his. I touch them lightly at first, testing to see if he really does want me, or if it’s all talk. Even after all he’s done and said tonight, I still feel unsure of his attraction towards me. I’ve never really felt as beautiful as he’s saying I am.

However, my worries go unfounded. I’m rewarded with a primal growl as his arms wrap around me, and he pulls me to him, deepening the kiss as I climb onto his lap.

Exploring his mouth with mine, I rock my body against his, marvelling in the sensation of him beneath me as my senses come alive.

A slight bout of nerves starts to bounce around inside my body when I feel the hardness between his legs as it presses against me. I don’t have much time to dwell on it though, because with one swift movement, he lifts me up and carries me to the bedroom, dropping me on the bed and holding himself above me.

His kisses make their way along my jawline and down my neck, while his hand kneads my breasts. Sensations I’ve never felt before shoot through my body, zinging between my legs like some sort of electrical charge. All my nerves vanish. I’m in a state of pure ecstasy.

Jeff slides down the bed slightly and lifts my top, kissing me softly next to my bellybutton before rimming it with his tongue. As his fingers skirt the edge of my waistband, I suck in my breath, feeling unsure of what will come next.

“You will stay with me, Paige,” he murmurs as his fingers work to get the button of my jeans undone. “I want to teach you something new every night, every pleasure I can think of.” He undoes my zip and slides my jeans down my legs, revealing my white cotton panties. The burst of cool air against my skin causes my flesh to prickle with goose bumps. “When I’m finished with you, you will be an absolute master. No man will be able to resist you.”

I gasp as he pulls my panties back slightly and kisses just above my mound, his fingers teasing me as they trace the elastic that runs around my legs. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down, dropping them to the floor and revealing me completely, giving me nowhere to hide.

I feel a mixture of nerves and desire as he sits back and studies me. “Open your legs for me,” he commands. I close my eyes, suddenly a little unsure of myself. “It’s OK. We can stop whenever you want to. Tonight will be all about you. I want to look at you. I want to taste you. I want to show you the best part about being a woman.”

“The best part?”

“Yes. When your legs are wrapped around a man’s head and your hips are bucking wildly because you can’t take it anymore.”

My stomach jumps up as my heart thuds loudly against my chest. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. Relax, my girl,” he coos, his voice so soft and gentle that I find myself letting out a slow steady breath before doing what he asked and opening my legs for him to see.

“That is one very nice pussy,” he growls, rubbing his hands gently up and down my legs. “Hmmm. I’m going to kiss it now, Paige. OK?”

“OK,” I whisper, the sound barely making its way over my lips.

When I feel his breath, warm between my legs, I jolt involuntarily. The anticipation of his touch is just too much.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“No,” I gasp, as his tongue darts out and touches me lightly, right on a very sensitive spot that makes me quiver.

“You should. It will help you know your body. Men want to please a woman, Paige. Just as much as they want to be pleased themselves. This,” he says as he kisses the sensitive spot again, “is your clit, and if I suck on it, and swirl my tongue around it, it gets harder and more sensitive. See?” He demonstrates, and I writhe beneath him, gasping for air as he shows me sensations I never knew I was capable of experiencing.

“Ohhh!” I call out, as he sucks more firmly on my clit, sliding his tongue up and down so it enters me for a moment, before sliding it back up and circling my clit once more.

The rhythm causes a sensation to build between my legs. It travels up into my stomach and sends tendrils of ecstasy swirling through my body, all the way to my fingertips and down to my toes.

As the pressure builds between my legs, I find myself calling out more and more. My hands clench against the sheets on the bed, needing something, anything to grab on to as the feeling takes over me.

My ragged breathing causes my throat to go dry. I move my tongue around my mouth and try to swallow. I don’t know what to do with this pressure, it’s more than I can handle right now. It feels amazing, but at the same time it’s scaring me. I don’t know what’s going to happen.

“Jeff,” I gasp. “I feel… oh god!” I yell as the pressure explodes out of me. Colours flash before my eyes as my body jars in spasm. He grips onto my thighs and drives his tongue inside me, moaning into me as I continue to gasp and cry out until I can’t take it anymore and push on his head. “It’s too much. I’m sorry. You need to stop.”

Lifting himself up, he wipes his mouth and moves up the bed so his body is covering mine while he takes his weight on his hands.

“You taste amazing,” he whispers, before dipping his head to gently kiss me. I can taste myself in his mouth. It's something I thought would be strange to do, but it’s not as bad as I was expecting.

When he breaks away, I can’t help but ask, “Um, is there something I need to do for you now?”

He chuckles as he pushes himself up from the bed. “No, not tonight. Having you come in my mouth was all I needed tonight.”

Once again, I blush. Having him talk the way he does is both intimidating and a turn on. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me want to be around him. When I thought he wanted to teach me to be a prostitute I had an internal freak out, but when he explained he just wants to take care of me and teach me about my body, I couldn’t really see a downside. He’s gorgeous. He’s clearly loaded. And he just rocked my world in the most amazing way. And even better, he makes me feel wanted—seen. It’s something that has been severely lacking in my life, and I didn’t realise how badly I wanted to feel something, until now…

Ten

“So, Jeff tells me you’re staying with him for a while. Sick of the old couch are you?” Tahlia asks me the next morning after she’s said goodbye to the guy she took to bed last night.

I shrug and press my lips together. Feeling as though I must seem a little ungrateful when Tahlia and her family have been nothing but welcoming to me.

“I don’t have to stay. I can come back if you want.”

She moves closer and sits beside me on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she leans her head against the back of it facing me.

“Don’t be silly. I’d take the offer of a bed over that uncomfortable thing any day. I’ll miss you though. I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around.”

The corner of my mouth turns up in a slight smile. “Yeah, we’ve had fun, haven’t we?”

“The best. But don’t worry, we’ll still see each other heaps. It just won’t be every day.”

Nodding, I sigh contentedly as I sit back against the couch. Quietly, I contemplate my life’s direction as I watch Jeff walk from the bedroom to the kitchen. The private grin he gives me starts my heart beating wildly in my chest.

In my mind, l can actually see a way out of this state of homelessness I’ve found myself in. I can feel a sense of hope blossom inside me. A hope I might have some sort of normal future after all. With Jeff.

Tahlia leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Don’t get too attached, OK? Just have fun. He’ll help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Jeff asks as he wanders into the lounge room carrying a mug of coffee for each of us.

“I was just telling her to watch out for the likes of you. You’re a known heartbreaker,” Tahlia informs him.

He laughs as he sets the mugs on the side tables and takes the single seat to my right.

“I’m not going to break her heart, Tahlia. Because I’m never going to lie to her. Paige will always know where she stands with me. I give you my word on that.”

“Hmmm” is the only response she gives him.

We all sit together and sip our coffees quietly until Jeff suggests that he drive me and Tahlia home so we can pick up my things.

“I don’t really have much,” I tell him. “I got rid of a lot of stuff months ago. It was easier to travel light. I didn’t look so much like a teenage runaway with just a backpack.”

He reaches over and tucks some of my hair behind my ear, causing my eyes to flutter closed. “That’s no problem. I’ll take care of my girl.”

“All right, Jeff. Stop filling her head with fairytales. It’s not good for her.”

Jeff’s response is to wink at me and kiss me on top of the head as he stands to collect our now empty mugs.

Despite Tahlia’s warnings, I still feel giddy about coming to stay with Jeff. Even if my time staying with him doesn’t last long. I feel as though now that I’m sixteen, I can finally take my life into my own hands. I can get a job, and in a year I can get my provisional license. I won’t be dependent upon the kindness of others for much longer. How can I not have hope?

* * *

We stay at Tahlia’s house until after lunch while Jeff and Tahlia’s dad, Ron, catch up and have a laugh.

I thank them all profusely for helping me and giving me somewhere to stay, and they tell me it was no trouble. Although, I’m still not convinced that they actually realised I was living there.

“Just remember, you can come back anytime, and I’ll see you soon,” Tahlia tells me as I leave with Jeff. She hugs me tightly before I get into the car then stands in her front yard, waving as we drive off.

Jeff reaches over and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips before returning it to my lap. “Are you ready?” he asks, glancing at me briefly as he focuses on the road.

“Yes. I think I am,” I tell him confidently. In that moment, I farewell any innocence I have left in me. I’m not naïve. I damn well know I’m being taken as his play thing. But I struggle to have a problem with that. I’m doing it willingly.

Perhaps when I’m older, I’ll look back on this moment and wonder why the hell I put my trust in this guy. But right now, he’s the only person who makes me feel like more than a homeless teen. He make me feel wanted. And I want that so badly. I crave it.

Eleven

Last night, I lost my virginity. I don’t know how to feel about it. I thought it would be better than it actually was. Especially after orgasming the night before. But it was just…OK.

The whole thing didn’t take very long. Jeff took me back to his house, and we sat and talked for a while. He made me some dinner, and afterwards, he took me by the hand and led me to his room.

Slowly, he undressed me, unwrapping me like a birthday present. Touching me gently, kissing me. Tasting me, preparing me.

Without the ecstasy in my system like it was the night before, I was nervous. My breathing was shaky and my mind was racing, telling me all the reasons I shouldn’t be doing this.

Your virginity is a gift, it told me. Don’t just give it away to a man you’ve only known for a day.

I mentally told my mind to shut up. I needed to do this. Jeff could make my life better. My mind tried to tell me that he could make it much worse, but I wasn’t willing to listen. He was already poised between my legs.

“Are you ready?” he asked, nudging his tip at my opening.

I didn’t trust my voice to come out with the right answer, so I nodded instead and took a deep breath as I readied myself for his intrusion.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Relax.”

He pushed in. Little bit, by little bit. I felt myself stretching around him. Tearing. Stinging. Burning.

It hurt.

“Stop. Stop,” I told him breathlessly. “I just need a minute.”

“It’s OK. We’re going slow,” he whispered, kissing my forehead, my cheek, and then my mouth. “I’m going to push just a little, OK?”

I nodded again. I wanted to say ‘No. Get out’, but I knew that I’d gone too far. I needed to see it through.

“Tell me when to stop,” he instructed as he pressed himself deeper. I could feel a warmth, like it was burning. But I breathed through it, and let him move on.

Eventually, he paused. “I’m all the way in. Are you OK?” he asked, concern in his voice and in his eyes.

“It hurts. But, I’m OK,” I told him, my voice quiet and shaky as I wished for this all to be over.

“Can I move?”

“Just a little,” I whispered. I was trying so hard to relax, but the burning sensation between my legs was starting to control my senses.

“I won’t last long,” he assured me. “You are so, so tight.” He clenched his jaw and moved inside me. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to focus more on my breathing.

Within a few strokes, he shuddered, emptying himself inside me. “Mmmm,” he hummed, pressing his forehead against mine as he calmed himself, whispering, “It will be better next time. I promise,” as he kissed me softly.

Slowly, he withdrew from me, and I felt red-raw as he vacated my depths. I’m having trouble believing that this will feel better in time. It was uncomfortable, painful, and well, just not nice.

I don’t think it was anything Jeff did. He took time to make sure I was more than ready before he pushed inside me. However, it just didn’t feel anywhere near as nice as the touching and fondling did beforehand.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, holding his hand out to me. I looked between my legs, and while I knew it was possible, I'm ashamed to say I freaked out when I saw the blood.

“It’s OK,” Jeff told me soothingly. He wrapped me in his arms and brushed my hair back gently, whispering to me that it was all normal. Everything was all right.

Scooping me up in his arms, he carried me into the bathroom where he sat me down and ran a bath for me. Lifting me again, he lowered me into the water and carefully washed my skin, planting soft kisses over my face and shoulders as he did.

Suddenly, my eyes pricked with tears. “I’m sorry I wasn’t any good. I didn’t expect it to hurt so much,” I whispered to him, overcome with everything that had just happened. I was scared he was disappointed and would send me away, and then I'd be back where I was, sleeping on a old couch with no one to love me.

He shushed me gently. “Don’t talk like that. You were perfect. Tomorrow, it will be so much nicer for you. I promise you that. It’s only the first time that it hurts.”

His words filled me with relief. But, I still feel doubtful that could ever feel nice. People talk like sex is amazing, so I’m willing to give it another shot. And he tells me there’s a lot more things we can do that will feel even better. I suppose I just have to trust him. He knows a lot more about this stuff than I do.

After a full night’s sleep, I feel a little sore, but I’m OK. I actually feel better than I have in a long time after spending my second night in a real bed. And Jeff told me to make myself at home while he ran same errands, so I’ve been sitting watching television all morning. I don’t know exactly what he does for a job but judging by his lifestyle and the company he keeps, I’m willing to bet he’s in a similar game to Tahlia’s parents.

I don’t think he deals pot though. I’m pretty sure he deals ecstasy and maybe some other things. I don’t know. I haven’t seen anything lying around, and he hasn’t told me about his work yet.

As I sit, I wonder how long his usual playthings last. He's very sure of himself, and based on Tahlia’s warnings to keep my feelings out of it, I'm assuming this is something he does on the regular. Am I just here to fuck until he gets bored of one? Or will I be expected to pull my weight like I did at Tahlia’s?

There are a lot of questions I probably should have asked before jumping in the car with him. I mean, maybe I should have stayed put. Maybe I’m in over my head here. I made the decision to be Jeff’s ‘girl’ while still feeling the effects of ecstasy. Maybe if I was sober, I would have chosen Tahlia’s couch.

Sitting on my own with an aching vagina, all I can do is question myself. I’m starting to worry that I’m walking down a road I never imagined I’d travel, and that I might never find my way back. No matter how hard I try.

Twelve

When Jeff gets home, he’s smiling brightly. “There’s my girl. Wait there. I’ll be back in a minute” he says, disappearing into his room briefly before returning with a small package in his hand.

“What’ve you got there?”

“A gift,” he says, grinning with only half of his mouth, his eyes darkening slightly as he moves towards me.

“What kind of gift?” I sit up straighter and look at his hand intently, as if my eyes have the power to open it.

He sits next to me. “It’s something to make you feel amazing,” he tells me, opening his hand to reveal a small bag of white powder.

I suck my breath back sharply. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Uh huh.” He opens the draw from the table next to the couch, pulls out a leather binder and places it on the coffee table in front of us. I sit by quietly, curiosity getting the better of me as I chew my lip and watch him prepare our lines.

The old me, the girl who used to try hard at school and did everything she could to be accepted, would be horrified at what I’m becoming, at what I’m sitting here ready to do. But the current me wants this. I know it’s going to make me feel something more than the desolation that’s constantly lurking beneath the surface of my mind, constantly telling me I’m not wanted, no one cares. If I do these things with Jeff; if I please him and show him I can be good, then maybe I can make him care.

Jeff leans forward. With his finger pressed against one side of his nose, and a small glass tube held up to the other, he lets out a loud sniff as the line of white powder shoots up into his nostril. He sits back and continues to inhale, his eyes closed slightly as he shakes his head, quickly, from side to side.

“Oh, that’s good,” he says as he blows out a long steady whoosh and hands me the tube. “Your turn.”

I can’t pretend I’m not nervous right now. I’ve never done coke before, and I don’t feel very confident about it. I reach out and take the tube, holding on to it firmly, afraid I might drop it and break the glass on the hard wood floors.

“OK, so what do I do? I just…” I hold the tube and my nose as he did and sniff back, watching to see if he approves of the way I’m demonstrating it.

“Yes. That’s exactly how,” he says quietly, watching me intently, the lights of room dancing in his eyes as he seems to take great delight in introducing me to more of his world. “Here.” He takes my hair in his hands, holding it back for me. “You don’t want powder in your pretty hair.”

I smile at his kind gesture and lean forward, pausing slightly as I look at the neat rows laid out in front of me. Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to become the kind of girl who just takes whatever she‘s offered? Do I even have a choice right now?

Deciding, once again, to tell my mind to shut up. I place the tube in my nose and press my other nostril shut.

Then I sniff. Hard.

The powder shoots up my nostril and into my sinuses. “Holy shit,” I breathe.

“Good girl.” Jeff releases my hair, and presses a kiss in the hollow of my neck.

Then it hits me. I drop my head against the back of the couch and breathe. I’m alive. A few moments ago, I wasn’t. But now, I’m alive.

“Feels great, right?” Jeff sits up, taking the tube off me before leaning forward to sniff another line himself.

“It feels…it feels like joy, like bliss, like everything you hear Heaven is.” I look around the room, so vivid and bright. Oh, wow.

Jeff laughs. This huge belly laugh erupts out of him as he lays back next to me, staring up at the ceiling. “Come into the bedroom. I’ll show you what Heaven is.”

As we stand he takes me in his arms and pulls me towards him, grasping my face on either side with both his hands. For a moment, he just stares at me. My tongue snakes out to wet my lips. I want nothing more right now than to feel his mouth on mine.

In this moment, I feel like I’ve won. I don’t know what I’ve won. But it feels like it’s something wonderful, something amazing. My heart feels full to bursting, and I want Jeff. I want Jeff so much it hurts my heart.

The moment his lips touch mine. I wrap my body around his, clinging to him, pressing myself against him in a wonton move I never imagined myself doing. Surprisingly, I have this need to feel him inside me. It’s a desire, screaming from within, as my body takes over my mind, crying to be filled. This morning, I would have been happy if I never tried to have sex again. But now, I feel like Jeff’s cock is the only thing that can sate the aching in my core. I even find myself wanting to show him how much pleasure he’s given me.

I break my lips away and whisper with great abandon in his ear. “I want to know what your cock feels like inside my mouth. I want to know what your semen tastes like. I want to make you come like you made me come the first night.”

I lower to the ground and slide down his body, dragging my hands along his torso and down to his waist in what I imagine is a very sexy movement. I glance up at him and see him watching me, a playful grin on his face as he winds his fingers through my hair and nods at me, letting me know I’m doing the right thing. He's such a good teacher.

With confident fingers, I undo the buttons of his jeans and slide them down to just below his waist. I can see the firmness of his cock protruding through his boxers and waste no time releasing it, marvelling at the spring as it bounces from its confines.

Jeff is still holding my head, and he nudges his tip against my lips. I snake my tongue out and lick the end, tasting a slick saltiness. Suddenly, I’m hungry. I want him inside my mouth. I want to run my tongue up and down his length. I want to drink him.

As I open my mouth, he pushes inside. I slide my tongue around his shaft and suck hard. Once my school went on an excursion to a working farm. We were taught how to milk cows, and it’s that technique I apply when I wrap my hand around his base, working my head back and forth and taking as much of him in as I can.

He pushes in further, and it’s a little more than I can take so I pull back, using my hand to guide his depth.

“More, Paige,” he pants, moaning as I suck and lick. “Take it in more.”

He hits the back of my throat, and my eyes prick with water. I let out a strangled noise as he pushes in again. It’s too far.

“You can do it, baby. I know you can, just breathe. Breathe for me, baby. I want to feel myself go all the way in. I want to see myself, thick in your throat.”

Thanks to the coke, I feel like I’m capable of doing anything, and I have such a great desire to please him that I push further and resist the urge to gag. It’s hard, and it takes more than a few goes. But, when he fits all the way in, the moan he releases is enough to make me feel like I’m about to come. I hum with pleasure around him, and he grips my hair harder as the vibration of my voice causes him to explode down my throat.

“Oh, yes,” he hisses. “Fuck that’s good.” Removing himself from my mouth, he drags me up from the floor and crashes our lips together, his tongue driving forcefully into my mouth. The kiss is so hard, it’s almost hurting, but it’s filled with such unbridled, fierce passion, that I don’t care if he makes me bleed. “I am going to fuck you all damn day. I’m going to lick every inch of your body, and you’re going to come, Paige. All fucking day.”

He works quickly to remove my pants, which I’m more than happy to be gone right now. My clit is throbbing so hard, I think the moment he touches it; I'm going to start screaming.

He lifts me off the ground and presses his cock against my crotch. I grind myself into him, the slickness of my arousal helping me to glide over his taught bare skin.

“I need to get in there, Paige. Do you want me? Deep inside your pussy?” he growls in my ear, biting on my lobe as he presses us more firmly together.

“Yes,” I gasp, the discomfort of the night before now far from my mind as my insides throb, crying out desperately for him to enter me.

I grip him either side with my thighs and move against him until I can feel his tip at my entrance and cry out ecstatically as he pushes inside me, filling me to my very core. He takes a couple of steps so we’re against the wall, and drives himself in deeply, pulling back slowly before slamming himself in again. With each push, my breath escapes in ragged pants.

This is so much more wonderful than it was last night. I don’t know if it’s the position or the cocaine, or if it’s just that this is my second time and it feels better. But that feeling is building inside of me.

With each deep push, his pelvic bone presses against my clit, and I moan. I moan so loud. His head bows at my neck as he kisses and licks and breathes his warm breath against my skin, grunting, moaning.

Suddenly, the pressure inside me is so huge I explode. My eyes roll back as I let out a guttural scream. I yell. I scream, and he keeps pushing inside me. Pounding against me, it’s like this orgasm has no end.

My head shakes from side to side as he keeps going, somehow the feeling inside me intensifies, and I explode again.

Eventually, he groans, long and low, as he comes inside me and presses himself against me, using his weight to hold me up as he lifts my hands above my head and captures my mouth.

His movements becomes slow and languid. Our urgency wearing off along with our high. He lowers me down as he pulls out of me and tucks himself back inside his pants. “Clean yourself up then get back out here. I’m not done with you yet.”

I do as he instructs then stand, leaning against the wall, half naked, watching as he sets up lines for us again.

He pauses and looks up at me. “More?” he asks. His eyebrows raised as he sits with the tube poised mid-air. He holds it out to me.

“More,” I agree, moving towards him before kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Good girl,” he says approvingly, pulling my hair back again and kissing me behind my ear as I lean forward to sniff up the line of powder. “Good girl.”

Thirteen

10 months since the note

3 months as Jeff’s girl

I think I might be in love with Jeff. He makes me feel like I matter and takes care of me without asking for much in return. So, it feels like maybe he's in love with me too.

I know I don’t have much to compare it to, but he makes me feel special. I’m so lucky he took a liking to me, and so grateful to Tahlia for introducing us. We’ve been together an entire three months, and each day just gets better and better. And he’s an amazing lover. Once again, I don’t have a comparison, but seriously, I can’t imagine anyone could know more about pleasing a woman than he does. I love being his girl.

At first, I was really concerned he was going to get me pregnant. I mean, he wasn’t using any protection, and we were sleeping together daily. Then he told me if I got pregnant, it couldn’t be his because he’d been in some sort of accident when he was younger that means he can’t have children.

I think that’s kind of sad, but I guess it’s for the best. I don’t feel like I’m old enough to have kids, and I really don’t think that drugs and kids go together. It’s one thing we don’t have to worry about. So in a way, I’m thankful.

We don’t always use drugs while we make love, but it’s best when we do. A chemical high and an emotional high mixed together is mind blowing. My orgasm is more intense and longer lasting, and I feel like I want to keep going forever.

Jeff has a rule with drugs. He doesn’t do what he deals. He also never deals out of his house. His supplier gives him ecstasy and ice to sell, and he gets coke for recreational use. He gets his pot from Ron, which is a great way to come down if we’ve had a bit too much coke.

I always enjoy the pot runs because I can visit with Tahlia, who is amazed that Jeff and I are still together. I haven’t said anything to her about how I’m feeling towards him. But hearing her say those things makes me very happy.

To try to earn my keep, I’ve been helping Jeff sell. He says that because I’m young and a girl, I’m not going to get questioned as much as he would be approaching groups of young people.

I have to admit that it does look pretty suss, having an almost thirty-year-old man hang around a group of youths and hand them things. Even when it’s done as a hug or a handshake, it’s still really obvious.

But with me, it’s easy. There are certain places where local bands play all age gigs regularly, as well as the local rave circuit and a chain of nightclubs with bouncers on Jeff’s payroll. On top of that we have regulars who call up asking for a drop off. Most of the time supply doesn’t meet demand.

Tonight we’re in a night club and Jeff is sitting on a stool up against a mirrored wall with a small ledge running the length of it that you put your drinks on. He’s holding a JD and coke, but he’s not drinking. He only buys it for show. What he’s doing is watching me to make sure I’m safe as I move through the crowd, collecting money and distributing pills. I love having his eyes on me. Sometimes I make out with a random guy so he can watch and pretend to get all jealous. It’s kind of our thing, and the sex is super hot afterwards.

I move through the crowd, greeting buyers like we’re old friends. Most nights, I sell everything I have, but tonight I’m left with a stash of Es.

“What’s going on?” Jeff demands when I return to him after doing yet another lap of the crowd.

“I don’t know. Hardly anyone’s buying. Maybe they’d prefer something else?”

“No way. Someone else is here selling.” He stands up straight and scans the crowd, eyes narrowed. This is his turf.

“You know, we’ve already made a lot of cash. We could always take a break. Do a mollie or two ourselves? We could re-live that first night when we kissed for hours.” I press myself against him and run my fingers up and down his chest, hoping he’ll forget work for a while and give in to having fun.

His eyes flash as he turns his attention towards me and grabs me roughly by the arm. “What are the rules, Paige? You never take while you’re working. You’ll get hooked on your own stash and fuck shit up. Never do what you deal—understand?” I nod. His fingers digging painfully into my flesh as he holds me too tight. “You must have a clear head at all times, or you’ll get caught. I’ll get caught.” He jams his fingers into my pocket and removes the pills I have left along with the money. Using my body as a shield, he checks that everything adds up. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again. Don’t make me find someone to replace you. I like you, and I don’t want to do that. But I will if you make me.” His eyes move from side to side as he looks into mine.

I nod vigorously, and he hooks his finger in the waistband of my jeans. Pulling me up against him, he leans close to my ear and speaks in a low intimate voice. “That’s my girl. I’m not anywhere near finished with you yet.”

My knees quiver slightly as my insides dance around at the thought of what else he wants to do to me. “You can trust me,” I whisper. “I won’t ask again.”

He nods slightly and grabs the back of my head with his hand, kissing me roughly in a display of pure manhood. “Take me home,” I beg, wanting to be alone with him.

His hand clenches in my hair, and he pulls, jerking my head back, and licking up my neck, biting firmly, almost painfully on my ear. “I think I’ll take you here,” he growls. “Show you who’s boss.”

Fear and desire mix uncomfortably as he leads me out the back door to where we parked the car, not loosening the grip he has on my arm for a moment.

I’ve never had him be so rough with me before. I feel stupid for being so bold and angering him. I wish now, that I could take it all back. I forgot myself for a moment. I should always do as I’m told.

“Fucking bastard,” Jeff grumbles as he stops dead in his tracks and releases my arm. “Stay here.”

Confused, I look to see where he’s going and notice a scrawny looking guy, a little older than me, leaning up against the wall of the club. A cigarette hangs between his lips as he blatantly exchanges drugs for money.

I shake my head at his lack of discretion and fold my arms over my chest. “Idiot,” I say to myself.

Jeff moves over to stand beside him, and the guy turns to him with a self-confident grin, obviously assuming Jeff is a new customer.

He turns to Jeff and shows him his stash, asking how many he wants.

Jeff gives him one of his most charming smiles before his arm shoots out, and he clasps his hand around the guy’s throat, slamming him against the wall. All I can hear is a low threatening growl as Jeff speaks into his ear. The pills fall to the ground and scatter around the pavement, causing the group of buyers to drop to the concrete, grab what they want and take off for the club.

I start to edge my way closer, my eyes wide as I watch the panicked look on the guy’s face while his eyes bug out, and he struggles to breathe.

“Don’t ever let me catch you dealing around here again,” Jeff spits, digging around in the guy’s pockets and taking out the wad of cash. “This is mine. You stole from me tonight.”

He tries to shake his head and voice his protest, but Jeff’s grip is too strong. Only strangled sounds come out.

A moment later, Jeff releases him. The kid sucks at the air, trying to get his breath back while he rubs at his throat.

“If you ever see my face again. You’d better run,” Jeff growls, pulling his fist back then landing a punch in the guy’s guts. I hear a loud ‘oomph’ sound as he doubles over and slides down the wall.

Whoa. I take a step forward, expecting that to be the end of it. But it’s not. Jeff grabs the guy’s head and slams it into the wall.

Bile rises in my throat as I watch Jeff kick him repeatedly, continuing even though the guy is on the ground, curled up in the foetal position.

He seems too still, and I hope to god that he’s just passed out. “Jeff,” I call out, trying to grab his attention and make him stop. “Jeff!”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me, his face dark and stormy. It scares the living shit out of me.

The young guy moans, covered in blood and lying still on the concrete at his feet. At least he’s still breathing.

“I need you,” I say, trying to appeal to his softer side. The side he shows when we’re alone.

With one last kick to the kidneys, Jeff spits on him then turns towards me.

“He’s all yours,” he says calmly. Mine? What am I supposed to do with him? But then I notice the bouncer from the back door standing not far from us.

The bouncer nods once and moves to check on the half dead drug dealer while Jeff strides towards me and ushers me into his car as if this is a normal occurrence. “Let’s get out of here.”

My limbs feel heavy and I stumble as my feet refuse to move at the speed Jeff drags me; it only seems to make him more furious. He opens the passenger door and deposits me roughly inside. I just manage to get my feet tucked safely inside when he slams the door and stalks his way over to his side of the car.

We drive home in complete silence. I have no idea what I should do or say; if he’s angry with me or at that kid for selling on his turf. I don’t think he’s capable of hurting me, but at the same time I can’t be sure. My mother is a well respected accountant, no one would have picked her as abusive, yet she did it all the time.

The moment we arrive home. I reach for my door handle to get out. “Wait,” he commands. So I do, an all too familiar fear snaking up my spine.

And you’re no better.

My mother’s words shout inside my head while Jeff gets out of the car and locks me inside, standing a few metres away with his phone pressed to his ear. I don't dare move. I've been in this kind of situation enough times to know that obedience is my best bet. So I wait quietly, watching as he runs his hand back and forward over his head when he speaks. He’s agitated, and as much as he is scaring me, I can’t help but admire how strong and attractive he is. It saddens me that someone I’ve only known to be kind and giving can have such a dark side to them. But it doesn’t surprise me. Am I destined to attract these people?

After almost half an hour, he puts his phone away and opens my door, holding his hand out for me to take. He still isn’t smiling. His anger is rolling off him in waves, but he seems in quiet control.

I take my cue from him and place my hand in his without speaking, without smiling. I make eye contact and try to silently tell him that everything will be OK. But I don’t really know that do I? I mean, what if he’s really hurt that guy?

Once inside, he closes and locks the front door, still holding my hand as he does. I simply stand by, waiting and watching, unsure of what I should do right now. When my mother was like this, I would go to my room and stay as quiet as I could, hoping to avoid her wrath. But he’s holding too tight for that, and we share a room. So there isn’t really anywhere for me to go.

I’m standing between him and the door, and he edges closer, pinning me between him and the cool wood. He reaches up and wraps his hand around my jaw so his thumb is on one cheek, and his fingers are on the other. He tilts my head up and meets my eyes.

We say nothing. His are searching, challenging, but I hold his gaze and keep my breath steady. After what seems like an age, he crushes his mouth against mine, kissing me fiercely as if he’s trying to somehow absorb me.

One hand snakes around my waist and pulls me tightly against him, while the other grabs tufts of my hair at the base of my skull and tugs. It hurts. Still holding me tightly, he walks us over to the dining room table then spins me around so he’s behind me. His kisses and heavy breathing move along my jaw and neck, turn into firm sucks, then painful bites.

I close my eyes tightly and breathe. I just need to keep calm.

He pulls my shirt over my head and drops it on the floor, his hands curling around me to knead at my breasts. There is nothing gentle about what he is doing, but even though I’m afraid, I’m walking that fine line between wanting to stay and wanting to run.

I suck my breath involuntarily when he pinches my nipple, the pain more than I’m comfortable with. He removes his hands from my front and pushes me forward so I’m bent over the table, my hot breath making fog circles on the smooth surface.

Still, he hasn’t said a word. It’s strange because he normally talks a lot when we’re together, always telling me how much he wants me and what he’s about to do. The silence and not knowing what he’s planning is driving me crazy, but I’m not sure if it’s in a good way. I think the best word to describe how I feel right now is unsure.

He pulls my pants roughly down my legs, and I obligingly step out, making sure I stay glued to the tabletop. Something tells me he wants me a very specific way, and I’m not willing to risk having his desire turned against me in rage. Compliance is key in these situations.

He moves my feet apart with a push of his and for a few moments, he does nothing. I hear him crouching down, then he places his hands at the very top of my thighs and pushes my legs wider.

It’s the first time I can hear something from him; the deep breathing of arousal. A familiar throbbing starts between my legs as I wait, surprised when the anticipation begins to excite me.

I feel his breath first, and then his tongue as he starts at my clit and drags his tongue back, all the way to my anus, where he spends a bit of time rimming my hole. I’m shocked that it feels amazing, panting as I struggle to maintain focus.

He lets out a moan as his fingers reach up, and he teases the entrance of my now dripping pussy. He slides back and forwards before pushing them inside me, pulsing them in and out while he continues to work my arse with his tongue.

I’m close to exploding when he pulls both his fingers and his mouth away from me and stands. I hear him removing his pants and the sound of crinkling foil. I whimper. Then it sounds as though he’s putting on a condom, which isn’t something he normally does.

When he steps between my legs, he reaches between them with his hand and inserts his fingers into my depths, dragging them out and up over my anus, where he circles me with a little pressure, probing at my tightness.

I hold my breath, feeling fairly certain about what he wants to do. I’m not sure I want this.

He presses his cock against my other hole, and I let out an unhappy whimper. It’s completely unintentional, and I wish to god it hadn’t escaped my lips. I hear him blow a short, hollow, laugh out his nose, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he pushes himself inside my pussy instead.

The relief floods through my body and makes the whole experience feel so much more intense. I moan as he plunges into my depths, over and over again. My fingers squeak against the table as I press against it, griping my insides tight around him. I’m so close to coming.

When he suddenly pulls out, I whimper again. I want to come. I was almost there.

He runs his hand between my legs, probing my insides with his fingers before moving again towards my back entrance. He presses his finger lightly at my opening, testing my resistance.

“Relax,” he whispers. The first sound of his voice throughout this whole encounter echoes throughout the quiet of the house. I let out another breath as he repeats himself. “Relax.”

He pushes his finger inside, and the sensation is a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. I do my best to stay calm and relax as he said. I can imagine that fighting it will cause the discomfort to win, and I don’t want that right now.

Removing his finger, he presses his tip up against it, parting my skin with his hands as he starts to push in. “I’m going slow. Breathe, Paige. Relax.”

I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to relax, but this doesn’t feel so great. Slowly, he pushes himself, in and out, farther and farther each time until suddenly, the discomfort turns into an overwhelming sense of pleasure.

“Ohhhhh!” I moan as he moves back and forth. My core is throbbing, threatening to explode at any moment.

“Play with yourself,” he commands in a whisper.

I feel too frozen to move right now. I'm scared that the moment I do, this won’t feel so good anymore.

“Play with yourself,” he demands, his voice an explosion.

I force myself to move my arm, adjusting myself slightly so I can get my hand between my legs. The moment I touch myself, I’m catapulted into a state of pure ecstasy that causes me to explode, a burst of warm liquid surprises me as it flows out over my hand.

I call out my orgasm and go to remove my hand, but Jeff stops me.

“Keep going. I want to feel your fingers inside you,” he growls. His voice ragged and thick with his own need to come.

I push my fingers inside myself as he continues to move inside me. I can actually feel him there through the thin wall between the two holes.

Finally, he pushes in hard and deep and holds himself there, a strangled moan escaping his throat as I feel him pulse inside me. His fingers dig painfully into my hips as he holds me there, frozen, with my own hand halfway inside me.

When he pulls out, I’m not sure if I should move from the table, but I do remove my hand and wait to see what he’s going to do next. As he walks towards the garbage bin and removes the condom, I push myself up and turn to face him.

“Go and take a shower,” he orders, his voice completely devoid of feeling as he walks over to the sink and washes his hands. “I’ve got some more calls to make.”

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes as I nod quickly before I pick up my things, taking them with me to the bathroom. Once the shower is on, and I’m standing under the warm stream, I lean my head up against the tiles and cry. I’m confused and don’t know how to feel about what just happened. Even though I came, I don’t think I ever want to repeat that sexual experience again.

Fourteen

Jeff is on edge. I don’t know if it’s me, or if it’s because of that guy he beat up at the club the other night. But he’s not his usual self. I miss his usual self.

His phone keeps ringing, and he leaves the room to talk quietly to whoever’s on the other end. He’s snappy and moody, and I feel like I’m in the way. Just like I was at home.

I try to be available for him whenever he needs me, which is a lot. But we seem to have lost that deep sexual connection we once shared. Our love making has turned into fucking, and I don’t know how to get it back.

Tonight we’re going to an alcohol-free band night. It’s for under 18s, so Jeff will need to wait for me outside. We’ve done this before, it’s a fairly easy place to sell. It’s held at a scout hall, and the crowd gets so big that it spills outside and surrounds the premises.

It shuts down at midnight, so we arrive around nine. It’s dark and teenagers are starting to get bored without alcohol giving them a buzz.

There’s security milling about, and it’s their job to find and remove anyone found to be drinking or concealing alcohol. Taking an E is the perfect solution to a fun night without alcohol. So when I arrive, they’re more than ready to part with their money.

After doing a lap through the premises as well as one outside, word is getting around that I’m here and ecstasy is available. This is normally when I get going, because teenagers can’t always be trusted to be discreet.

I’m on my way out to Jeff, when I get pulled into the bathroom and bailed up by a few giggly girls who want to buy some tabs. Problem is, they want more than they can afford, and I’m not willing to bargain with them.

“I can’t help you then,” I say, turning around, ready to walk away. Instead of finding an empty doorway, I’m faced with the instantly recognisable blue shirt of a police officer.

His hands are on his hips as he looks down at me disapprovingly. “You wouldn’t be the girl with wild curly brown hair and light coloured eyes whose supplying kids with happy pills are you?”

I shake my head from side to side quickly and try to step around him. “No officer. There must be someone else,” I say as confidently as I can.

He steps to block my path. “Well then, you won’t mind showing me what’s in your pockets then.”

“I don’t have to do that.”

“And I don’t have to move if I don’t want to. I can arrest you on suspicion alone.”

We stand staring at each other for a few moments. My mind is racing as I try to think of a way to get out of this.

“Fine,” I say eventually. “I’ll empty my pockets.”

A crowd has formed outside the door of the bathroom, and the girls who wanted to buy from me are trapped behind me. I fake reaching into my pocket before kicking out at his knee. Hard.

He stumbles back, and I take the opportunity to run past him. When I reach the door, I slam right into the female officer who was accompanying him and send her sprawling on the floor. Her head snaps back, and even over the din of the music, I can hear the loud thud.

I pause momentarily, worried I’ve severely hurt her. But my need to escape is greater, and I take off. The crowd instantly parts but a hand shoots out and grabs me by the hair. I kick back, connecting with the shin of the first officer.

“Stop kicking me,” he demands, his voice strained as he yanks on my hair.

In the small space I have to move, I don’t have many options. I twist my body towards him, feeling as though my hair is coming out by the roots, and bring my knee up, landing the blow square in his crotch.

He makes a sound like ooff as his face turns red, his eyes bug out and water forms around their edges. He releases my hair.

I run.

The crowd is thick, but I make it through. I push and bump against bodies who know I’m running, and bodies who have no idea and are still dancing and laughing with their friends.

When I make it outside, I make a beeline for the car, walking as fast as I can without calling any extra attention to myself by running.

“We have to leave,” I tell Jeff the moment I get into the car.

Without questioning me, he starts the engine, and we drive off at a normal speed with me crouched down low and Jeff carefully watching our surrounds.

“What happened?”

“Cops.”

“Did they see you?”

“Yeah. One grabbed me, and I accidentally knocked the other one out.”

“Shit, Paige. How could you be so careless?”

“I wasn’t. I was on my way out.”

He slams the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Did they get the stash? The money?”

“No.” I slide up into my seat. “I still have everything.”

“Fucking stay down.”

I slide back onto the floor. “I’m sorry,” I tell him again, trying my best to stay strong and not start crying.

“Just… Just stay down and be quiet. I need to make sure we’ve gotten out of this.”

For the next hour, we drive around aimlessly while Jeff listens to the police scanner and makes sure we aren’t being followed by anyone. Once he feels safe, he heads home.

My legs are cramping, and my back is aching from being curled up in such a small space for so long. I’m in pain, and I feel like a complete failure. I wish I could close my eyes and have the world swallow me whole.

When we pull up outside the house, Jeff cuts the engine and sits there for a moment bouncing his leg in agitation.

“Get out,” he demands.

I struggle out of the cramped space and make my way out of the car. Jeff is standing at the front door, glaring at me while he waits for me to go inside.

The moment he shuts the door, he locks it tight and makes sure all the drapes are pulled. “Sit,” he tells me, pointing at the chairs surrounding the dining room table. I do as he says and watch him, biting my lip in worry as he paces the room in front of me, running his hands over his head and not saying a word.

Finally, he pauses in front of me, his hands on his hips and his face set in anger.

“I’m sorry!” I blurt out. I don’t know what else to say right now.

He readjusts his stance slightly, and before I know what’s happening, light explodes behind my eyes as he strikes me across the face with the back of his hand.

The force is enough to tip me off the chair. Sprawled on the floor, I clutch at my face protectively as pain radiates heat through my skin.

“Get up,” he growls. In a panic, I do as he says and climb back onto the chair in front of him, my whole body shaking in fear as I do. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

I take a deep breath and relay everything that went on in the bathroom and how I escaped the cop. I can’t meet his eyes while I’m talking. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see there.

When I finish, he’s still standing in front of me, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head from side to side.

“What are the rules at those things, Paige?”

“Sell until they know I’m there and leave before I’m found out,” I rattle off immediately.

“You stayed too long,” he accuses me.

“I got held up,” I protest in a whisper.

He grabs my face roughly in his hand and squeezes my cheeks together. “You don’t get held up,” he yells into my face, pushing my head back forcefully as he takes a step away from me.

“I’m sorry!” I cry out pleadingly. Tears burn hot in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

“So am I, Paige. I’m fucking sorry too. The cops know what you look like. I can’t take you out anymore. You’re no good to me. Do you understand that? You’re fucking no good.”

“Jeff, no! It was only one cop. Just one. The other one didn’t even get the chance to see me.”

“And you knocked her out, then kneed him in the fucking balls. He’s not likely to forget you anytime soon.”

“We can change my hair. I can still sell, I promise you. It won’t ever happen again.”

“Just. Just get out.”

“What?”

“Get the fuck out, Paige.”

My mouth falls open as I realise he’s serious.

“No. Please don’t do this to me. I can still sell. Just give me another chance,” I beg.

“Get. Out.” he growls through clenched teeth.

“Please, Jeff. I…I love you!”

Suddenly he starts laughing. “You love me? Oh my god. You love me? Really? Wow. You are far more stupid than I gave you credit for.”

“Why are you laughing?” I screech.

“Because, Paige, you’re just a little girl, and not a very bright one at that. Actually, I’m stunned you didn’t get found out sooner than this. And it’s been good. It’s been fun. You’ve got a sweet cunt and a tight little arse. I’ve enjoyed you. But if you can’t sell. You’re a liability, and I don’t do charity.”

I just sit there staring at him, shaking my head from side to side in disbelief.

Suddenly he holds his finger up, and starts walking backwards, away from me. “You know what. You made me smile just now, so let me help you out.” He disappears into the bedroom and returns with a back pack, stuffing handfuls of my clothing inside it and shoves it at my chest. “Now get out.”

“No please, we’re good together. Don’t do this, Jeff. Where will I go?”

“I don’t care. I really couldn’t care less.”

He pushes me roughly towards the door, and I fight against it the whole way. I’m petrified of being on my own again. I drop my bag as we reach the door and put my arms and legs out against the frame so he can’t push me through as I beg him not to throw me out.

But he’s stronger than me and pins my arms and legs to my body, then physically throws me on the front lawn outside. I land with a thud that knocks the air painfully from my chest. In the time it takes to get back on my feet, my bag has come sailing out and he’s locked the door.

“Shit,” I say to myself, slapping and kicking my heel on the damp grass beneath me. “Fuck.” I get up to my knees and pick up my bag, pushing everything inside it so I can at least close the zip.

I can’t believe this just happened. I can’t believe someone I cared so much about could do this to me. We’ve shared our lives together. How can this be over so suddenly? How is this happening again?

My mind does its usual thing, and reminds me that my parents were supposed to love me, and they threw me out for a lot less than this. Why wouldn’t Jeff do the same thing? I’m a liability.

I stand and look at the house that had come to be my home, breathing heavily as I fight to keep my emotions in check.

I want to go to the door and ask him to reconsider. But I don’t. I don’t bother fighting this. I don’t bother trying to get back in. I’ve been through this all before. Instead, I hitch my bag up on my shoulder and start walking, trying my best to hold it together so I can figure out what to do.

I reach my hand into my pocket and pull out the wad of cash I have from the night of selling and count it. There’s over a thousand dollars.

“Well, at least I have a decent amount of cash this time,” I say to myself, pushing it back inside my pocket. I also have a decent amount of ecstasy tablets left too, so at least I have a bit of happiness left in my life. Even if it’s only chemical.

Fifteen

“You can stay tonight," Tahlia says after I’ve cried on her shoulder. “But you can’t move back in.”

My already broken heart quits beating. "What do you mean? Why?" I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“The cops know who you are, Paige” She at least looks pained while she says this. "We can’t risk the business. They'll be looking for you now."

Shit. Now I’m right back where I started. Homeless with nowhere to go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, running a hand over my hair. "I wish I could help."

“OK,” I sniff. Because what else am I going to do? Beg? Plead? My own family didn’t respond to that. Why would anyone else? “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Do you have money?”

I nod. “OK.” She hugs me. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

“Yeah,” I say, voice flat as I fake a smile. “Me too.”

She leaves me to my old couch, and I lie there staring at the ceiling, struggling to sleep. I have nowhere to go, no one to count on. And if I stay here too long, I not only risk bringing the cops to their door, I also risk incurring the wrath of Jeff because I have his drugs and his money. Fuck. God only knows what he’ll do to me when he realises I took them. I’ll have to get out of town.

Abandoning the uncomfortable couch and any chance of a bed tonight, I make my way to the train station and head for the city.

At close to one in the morning, the rocking of the train is attempting to lull me off to sleep. I would be stupid to sleep on the train on my own, so I force my eyes to stay open. Actually, it’s stupid to even be on the train on my own at this time of night. But I don’t have much of a choice.

I think my face must be bruising, because I get a few funny looks from some of the other passengers. I touch it gently and wince as my tender flesh cries out in pain. He obviously hit me harder than I thought.

I bow my head and let my hair fall over that side of my face in an attempt to hide it. That will have to do for now.

Watching the dark scenery as it travels by outside the train, I see a lit-up sign advertising motel rooms from $55 a night. I figure that’s as good a place as any and rise from my seat to disembark as the train slows down to pull into the station.

The motel is a short walk from the station, and I move fast and confidently, praying silently that no one stops me.

Thankfully, the worst I get is a few cat calls from party goers loitering outside a nearby club before I make it to the reception area and ask the exhausted and very disinterested looking clerk if I can have a room.

“You got ID?” he asks, sitting forward and eyeing me up and down, sucking his teeth as he takes in my appearance.

I hand him my ID and get ready to count out the money to pay for my room.”

“Can’t rent to minors,” he says immediately, and pushes my card across the counter back towards me.

“But… I need somewhere to sleep. I have cash. I can pay. Don’t send me back out there,” I plead, moving my hair a little so the side of my face is more visible to him, hoping it might sway his decision in my favour.

His eyes skim over my face, and he sits back in his chair, the back of it creaking under the strain of his cumbersome weight.

“It’ll cost you double.”

I blink my eyes rapidly as I realise that at double the price, I can’t stay here long. I need more money.

“Fine,” I say, pulling the money from my pocket and putting it on the counter in front of him.

He hands me a form to fill out as he takes the money and places a passkey on the counter next to the clipboard.

“You’ll be in room 25. It’s just down the end of the row to your left.”

“Thanks,” I say, handing over the form and taking the plastic card.

“Check out is at 10:30.”

I nod and walk back into the dark. The room isn’t far from reception, but anywhere, alone in the early hours of the morning is scary as fuck. I thought I’d moved past this. I hate being out on my own at night. I’ve hated it ever since I was forced to sleep out in the park. Every noise and every shadow puts me on high alert, even the sound of a door opening sends my heart racing so fast I feel as if I might scream. I’m not equipped for this life.

Without looking around me, I quicken my pace and locate my room, my shaking hand betraying me as it causes me to slip and miss the slot for the card.

Once I make it inside, I lean against the door and breathe heavily. Glad to be somewhere safe. After a few moments, I head straight for the bathroom so I can see what’s been causing the stares.

“Oh wow.” I breathe out as my reflection greets me. My cheek is all red and swollen, and my right eye is slightly smaller than my left. A purple tinge is already developing, and I realise I’m likely to get a good-sized bruise. A bruised face will limit my options even further.

“Fuck!” I cry and kick at the cupboard door. Tears burst from my eyes like the breaking of a dam, my sobs echoing off the tiles.

Why does this shit happen to me?

Is it really that hard to have me around?

Am I that hard to live with?

To love?

I thought I was in love with Jeff. I thought that maybe, he was in love with me too. You are far more stupid than I gave you credit for. It was all a lie, and I was so fucking stupid to get sucked in; to think that someone could actually care about someone like me.

You’re just a little girl, and not a very bright one at that. Actually, I’m stunned you didn’t get found out sooner than this. And it’s been good. It’s been fun. You’ve got a sweet cunt and a tight little arse. I’ve enjoyed you. But if you can’t sell. You’re a liability, and I don’t do charity.

I’ve probably had people laughing at me behind my back this entire time.

Nobody.

Wants.

Me.

Nobody cares.

I’m a liability.

With my bottom lip shaking, I pull the bag of molly out of my pocket and count the pills, sliding them around in the plastic as I wonder if I should just take them all. Surely that would do it. No one would even notice I was gone. I doubt anyone would even claim my body.

I empty the pills into my hand and study them. As I do, I imagine what it will be like to swallow them all and let them carry me away from this earth, never to return.

Blissful, I hope.

Staring at the pills in my palm, I’m frozen. “Just do it, Paige. End it.”

I take three quick breaths and then cup my hand to my mouth, tossing the pills inside.

Instantly, my throat closes, and I reflexively spit them into the sink. “I can’t,” I cry, spitting and heaving, trying to catch my breath. “Shit.” I kick again at the vanity in front of me.

Now the pills are ruined, and I can’t sell them. I’m even worse off than I was a few moments ago.

I turn on the tap and splash cool water over my face as I breathe in some sort of calm. If I can’t end it, I need to find a way to look after myself.

But what kind of skill set do I have? I’ve don’t nothing besides deal drugs. I can’t really put that on a resume. And how would I even create a resume? I have no computer. I can’t go to Centrelink and get government assistance; I have no home address. How the hell do I get ahead in this world?

I stare at myself in the mirror. You might not want to hear this. But, a girl who’s good in bed will never be wanting for a place to sleep.

Would I be able to make someone want to take me home with them? Could I make them want to keep me? I try to see in my reflection something men would find attractive. I’ve been called beautiful before, but I don’t see what it is that’s beautiful about me. My eyes are fairly light in colour and my hair is so wildly curly, I look slightly crazed.

I think I look a bit like a witch. But my lips are full, and my breasts are on the large side. If I wear makeup and clothes to show my body off, then I might be in with a chance.

Leaning close to the mirror, I huff out my breath and leave behind a circle of fog. Through it, my features are blurred. I can only see my body.

Slowly, I move, swinging my hips and focusing on my curves. I’m trying to look at myself as if I’m not me.

As the fog clears, my face becomes clear once more. The bruise and the swelling make me look horrible, but as soon as it’s healed. I’ll put my skills to the test. We’ll see if Jeff really did teach me anything.

Sixteen

One week in the overpriced motel

I rest long enough to let the swelling and bruising on my face clear up so it can be covered sufficiently by makeup.

Between the cost of the room, food, make up and an outfit to go clubbing in, I’m almost broke. I seriously contemplated stealing the clothes and food, but that’s something I hate doing unless I’m desperate. No one wants to be caught shoplifting. It seems like the lamest thing to be busted for after everything I’ve done so far.

I have a plan to get into a nightclub tonight and find a guy. One who has his own place and wants to take me home. I want to be careful about the guy I choose too. Someone unsuspecting who’ll think he’s lucky to land a girl—any girl. I don’t care if I’m attracted to him, I just care if he’s desperate. I need a nerd.

I’m trying not to think about the kind of person that decision makes me. I might not go through with it if I do.

The outfit I bought is a sleeveless, skin-tight black dress that barely hits the top of my thighs. It’s one of those dresses people make comments about. They say things like ‘That girl is asking for it', and I am. That’s exactly what I want.

My makeup is dark and smoky around my eyes, and my lips are painted a deep red. It’s the same red as my shoes. I look so much older than I am.

I put my denim jacket on and leave the motel room with my backpack hung over one shoulder. I haven’t settled my bill for today, but I’m not expecting to come back.

I walk to the train station and catch the train all the way to the city this time. There are pubs and clubs on every street in there. Surely, I’ll find one that will let me in as well as someone to let me share their bed.

Walking along, I notice a club with a long line up and move closer to get a look at the bouncer. He’s checking every person’s ID before he lets them in. God, I wish I had a fake ID. But they’re not easy to come by, not unless you have an older friend who looks enough like you.

After an hour of trying to find a club, I give up and go into a regular pub. It’s full of people, but no one is checking IDs at the door.

Moving slowly through the crowd, I suddenly feel really silly with all my makeup and shorter than short dress. The people inside look as though they’ve come straight from work. They look classy. Compared to them, I look like a hooker.

Embarrassed, I immediately head for the bathrooms to at least remove some of my eye makeup. I have to push through the long line of women waiting for the stalls to get in front of the mirror.

Staring at my reflection now, I roll my eyes. I look ridiculous. Pulling at the paper towel, I run it under some water and start blotting at the colour I had been so proud of applying earlier.

Beside me, a couple of women are chatting about the men they’re having drinks with as they fix their makeup and check their hair. They appear to be in their early twenties and the one closest to me has her dark brown hair braided tightly down her back. A few loose curls escape and frame her Mediterranean features perfectly.

I look from her face to mine and try to watch her without being caught.

There is no ledge to put our bags, so they are all sitting on the floor by our feet. I kneel down to look inside mine and glance over at hers. I can see her purse, but I don’t for the life of me know how I can get my hands on it without her noticing.

Someone stumbles in behind us and knocks us all forward. I fall on my hands and the girl I was watching turns around to yell at the person for being so careless. “I just smeared my lipstick. Fuck.”

Seeing my opportunity, I grab for her handbag and stand up quickly, hiding it behind my backpack as I make my way through the crowd and out the front door of the pub.

I don’t think my heart has ever beat so loudly. I walk to the end of the street and around the corner, never looking behind and never adjusting the bags. I need to keep it hidden until I can get somewhere safe.

The familiar golden arches glow up ahead, and I make a beeline to McDonalds and once again head straight for the bathroom.

This time I lock myself in the stall and put the seat of the toilet down, hang my backpack on the the door and sit down to search through the bag I just stole.

The bag I just stole.

Fuck.

My hands are shaking so bad I can barely undo the clasp, but when I do, I reach inside and take the phone out first, turning it off and removing the battery before dropping it into the sanitary bin next to me.

Next, I pull out her wallet and study the photo on her license. Linda Alessi is a twenty-two-year-old woman who lives in Castle Hill. In her photo, she’s wearing glasses and her hair is pulled back. I don’t know if we look enough alike. I pull out my own ID and hold them next to each other. My hazel eyes are quite light and almost piercing in my photo, and hers are brown. I’m not sure this will work.

My brother and sister’s taunts about my unusual looks float through my head. Compared to me, Linda Alessi looks normal. I hope that with my hair out and makeup on, I’ll get away with it. I guess I can claim to be wearing contacts…

I go through the rest of her wallet and find $227.75 as well as a gift card for David Jones. The original amount on it is $500, but upon further investigation, I find a receipt that tells me that after a purchase, the card still has just over a hundred left on it.

Resting my head against the side of the stall, the reality of what I’ve done isn’t lost on me. I feel guilty. I’ve just taken someone’s identity. I’ve taken things that are personal to them.

But I don’t know what else to do.

I take the wallet and put it in my bag then remove the lid of the sanitary disposal unit and put the handbag and the remainder of its contents inside. The smell of the bin wafts up to my nostrils and turns my stomach sour, so I replace the lid quickly and exit the stall.

In the mirror a wide-eyed girl, trying to look grown-up stares back at me. I’m sixteen, and I look like a frightened child. I have no idea if I’m going to be able to pull this off, but I can’t go back to sleeping in children’s parks, and I don’t have enough for another night at the motel. I’ll do anything to stay off the street.

After downing a value meal and memorising the details of Linda’s ID, I tuck it and some money inside my strapless bra. After one more check of my appearance, I head off in search of another nightclub.

It isn’t long before I find one with a short line and join in, standing up straight and trying to look confident.

“ID,” the bouncer at the door says when I reach the front of the line.

I reach into my bra and pull it out to hand to him, taking note of his eyes as they linger on my chest a little longer than they should. I don’t even really think he’s paying much attention to the ID. He hands it back and nods his head towards the door.

The moment I step inside, the smell of artificial smoke and stale liquor invades my nostrils. To my left is a desk manned by two blonde girls who smile at me and offer to check my jacket and bag after I pay my entry fee.

I’m handed a small plastic disc attached to a safety pin which I secure to the inside of my dress before heading towards the next set of doors. Beyond them, the muffled beat of loud music. When they open, the music bursts through as though trapped and desperate to break free.

Longingly, I wish I still had an E or two to help me through this, or better still, I wish I had some coke. I wouldn’t feel so nervous if I had a little help.

Wiping my sweaty hands against my dress, I make a beeline for the bar and order a vodka and orange juice. I’ve never really drank before and have no idea what to order. But I’m nervous and drink it so quickly that I don’t even taste it.

“Another one?” the woman behind the bar offers kindly.

Nodding, I turn my attention back towards the bar and watch her pour the drink.

“How do you even hear orders?” I ask out of curiosity. It’s something I’ve always wondered but never been able to ask. Jeff would have killed me if I’d approached the bar at any of the clubs we used to work.

“You get good at reading lips and following eyes,” she yells over the music, handing me the drink. I go to pay, but she shakes her head. “It’s on me. You look like you need it.” She gives me a reassuring smile.

“Thank you” I smile and sip my drink more slowly this time as I watch her moving around the bar, serving other people. Her nature surprises me. It’s unusual to come across someone who does something kind without reason.

Her tag tells me that her name is Kim. It’s hard to make out her features properly in the coloured flashing lights, but I can tell that her wavy shoulder-length hair is most likely red, and her eyes appear light, so I think they're blue. She’s older than me. Maybe she’s someone’s mother. She has a kind and friendly face, and I find myself wishing I was surrounded by people like her who did things to be nice instead of expecting something from me.

I watch her for a little longer, imagining what life would be like as a normal teen, with a mother who actually cared. When my drink runs dry, I snap out of my reverie. Hovering around the bar, isn’t going to get me what I want out of this night, so I turn away and push thoughts of a different life out of my mind. Then I scan the room.

Feeling slightly bolstered by two drinks, I move towards the dance floor, searching the crowd for a guy who could give me what I want.

My eyes land on a group who look in their early twenties. They’re standing around a pylon that features a small ledge for their drinks. They don’t seem like they’re here to dance so much as they’re here to watch girls dancing. I’ve seen this in play before. Guys standing on the outskirts, waiting for the girls to get drunk enough, loose with their decision making. Then they swoop in and try to get her to leave with them. Trawling, I think it’s called.

I move onto the dance floor, positioning myself in their line of sight as I move with the pulse of the music. Closing my eyes, I sway my body in a way I imagine would look enticing to anyone interested in me. I feel pretty stupid. I didn’t spend much time dancing in these places.

It doesn’t take long before some guy inches himself closer to me. He isn’t one of the guys from the group I wanted watching me. This guy is young. Too young. He looks like his mum still takes him shopping for his clothes, so I can’t imagine he has a place of his own. This won’t do. but the one who is watching me seems older. He’s my best bet.

I glance toward my target group of guys who seem older and are dressed like they came in here after work. One in particular is watching me. His expression dark and hungry as he catches my eye. It causes my insides to skitter about excitedly, and I move away from the gyrating mumma’s boy in front of me and escape towards the bar, shooting a longing look over my shoulder to my admirer as I do.

He’s good-looking. Possibly too good looking for what I need. He’ll probably fuck me until my eyes roll back in my head then slap my arse and send me on my way by morning. But at least it’d be a fun night in a warm bed, right?

I smile at the idea of it, my inner hussy coming out as I imagine him doing naughty things to my body. He grins back and says something to the guy beside him, a dark-haired guy with glasses and a straight-backed posture. He fits the description I came up with earlier and looks at me with the longing of a person who always finishes last. Maybe I should go after him?

Biting my lip, I decide that I’m better off using my head to make this decision. My clit doesn’t have the best judge of character. Taking a deep breath, I’d turn around and catch the hot guy’s eye again, motioning with my finger for him to come over. He grins, self-confidence dripping off him as he stands. But when I shake my head and point to the guy beside him, his grin gets even bigger. The nerdy guy looks like he’s about to pass out. He even shakes his head, disbelieving.

I laugh as he looks at me and points at his own chest. I nod and gesture with my whole hand. “Get over here,” I say, even though there’s no way he can hear me. His friend laughs and claps him on the back, congratulating him on his luck. Then he makes his way across the room, nervous steps, zero swagger.

“Ah, hi,” he says, sweating a little as he meets me eyes.

“Hi.” I smile brightly, kind of liking this nervousness in him.

“Can I buy, um, buy you a drink?” he asks, running a hand along his jaw, across the dark smattering of stubble that stops him from looking so much like a boy.

“I’d like that,” I reply, telling him I’ll have a vodka and OJ, not wanting to mix my drinks. I’ve heard it makes you sick and the last thing I want to do tonight is start throwing up.

“I’m Ed,” he says as we wait.

“P...Linda,” I say, correcting myself before saying the wrong name.

“Nice to meet you, Linda.”

“You too, Ed.”

We get our drinks and there’s a lot of smiling going on. He asks me a couple of questions about where I’m from and what I do. So, I make things up to fit Linda’s persona. Nothing I’ll have to prove later on. I’ve learnt that he’s twenty-three and lives with a friend in Petersham. He’s perfect.

“Will you dance with me, Ed?” I want to move this thing along, knowing that the dance floor is where the good stuff happens. I plan to shamelessly throw myself at him.

Before long, we’re locking lips. I can feel his erection pressing into me and wrap my arms around his body to pull myself closer to him.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. “God, you’re beautiful,” he comments, a smile on his face like he can’t believe his luck. I almost feel bad about this, but then I realise the guy is about to get laid. He’s not going to give a shit about my motives at all.

I slide my hands up into his thick hair. “Do you want to get out of here?” I ask boldly. My heart thuds nervously against my chest as I wait for his answer.

A smile curls the side of his lips as he brings his mouth back down to mine, kissing me briefly. “Yeah. I want to get out of here. Yours or mine?”

“Yours.”

Taking my hand, he leads me over to his friends. The guy I’d had a moment with claps Ed on the back and grins at me, shaking his head like he can’t believe I didn’t go for him. “You two have fun now.”

Ed nods then leans in to tell a blond guy that we’re leaving. He points over his shoulder at me and the friend leans around him to get a better look. His eyes drag up and down my body slowly, causing a shudder to travel down my spine. He gives Ed a curt nod but keeps his eyes on me. My heart stops for a moment. He’s intense. Even more intense than the first guy was when he was watching me. Although this one seems kind of annoyed. I’m getting a strange vibe from him. Have I sold him drugs before? He snatches his eyes away from me and smiles at Ed, giving him one of those congratulatory man handshakes before we leave.

“That was my housemate,” Ed explains as we pass the coat check, I’m about to stop and get my jacket and bag, but realise that if he sees me with a backpack full of clothing, it’s likely that he’ll figure out exactly what I’m doing with him.

“Oh? Do I need to be gone before he gets home?”

“No. Not at all. We just usually share a cab. I was letting him know I’m leaving early.” He reaches for me and we stop walking while he kisses me with passion. It feels nice, but I can’t help being worried about my things. I hope they’ll still be there when I come back for them.

Seventeen

The morning after the plan

I’m not completely naïve. I know that not every man is good in bed, and I always suspected that Jeff was the exception. But it wasn’t until last night that I actually understood why some women complain about sex.

Ed was all over me on the cab ride back to his place. The moment he brought me into his apartment, we got hot and heavy. His kissing is amazing. I have to give him that. He moves his tongue around my mouth harmoniously with mine, and he sucks gently on my lips as he comes up for air. It’s all very sensual and had me writhing under his touch.

But, once we were naked. Everything went downhill. We got in bed together, and kissed and touched some more. But when he moved his hand between my legs, his fingers entered me briefly, testing my level of wetness before he moaned a little, applied a condom and then entered me missionary style. He pumped for less than a minute before blowing with a shudder of his body and a hiss of his mouth. Then he collapsed in a sweaty heap on top of me.

I optimistically ran my fingers up and down his back and gripped him with my internal muscles, hoping to bring him back to life like I had with Jeff so many times before. But when he rolled onto his back suddenly, the guttural sound of his snoring made me realise it was all over. I was so disappointed, and for the first time since he threw me out. I missed Jeff. I missed what we had together before things turned sour.

It was incredibly hard to sleep as I was so close to tears. Hatred was too busy boiling around inside of me. I hate what I just did. I hate my reasons behind it. I hate my life, and even more, I hate myself.

‘Bad people’ don’t do bad things because they want to—well, not in the beginning, anyway—they do bad things out of necessity. Then it spirals out of control and they become bad people. I think that's the point where I am now. I've done a lot of bad shit. And it wasn’t until this morning when I woke up and realised I have to keep having crappy sex if I want to keep this roof over my head that it dawned on me—I’ve stepped over the line. I'm a bad person now. I'm a thief. I’m a liar. I'm a user. I'm the one who wants something now.

Looking over at the still sleeping Ed, I try not to disturb him as I slide out of the bed and pick up my clothes. I need to shower my shame away.

He wakes as I’m wriggling into my dress.

“Hey,” he says groggily. “Hope you’re not trying to sneak out on me.”

“No, I’d never do something like that,” I laugh uneasily, even though I was contemplating doing just that. But then where would I go? “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“Hurry back,” he says, smiling as he leans up on his elbow to look at me properly. In the light, he’s quite handsome with his dark hair messed up from sleep and his features soft for the same reason. I feel a slight affection for him and nod my head. Now I need to make him feel so special he never wants me to leave. Do I act like a hooker or a girlfriend for that? It’s something Jeff left out of my training. So, I'll have to play it by ear.

When I make it to the bathroom, I relieve myself and then check my reflection in the mirror. I wish now that I’d collected my bag from the night club because the bruise on my cheek is visible since my makeup has worn off.

In an attempt to look presentable, I brush my teeth with some paste on my finger and use some wet tissue and soap to clean my face, then rake my fingers through my hair to calm the wild curls.

“That’ll have to do,” I say to my reflection when I’m done, although I wish I had something to cover the bruise. It's yellow and faded, but still noticeable.

For a while, I just stare at myself, taking in the person that I am now. I’m looking at a girl, who last night, stole someone’s name and possessions, and then gave herself freely for the sake of a bed.

Is this the kind of person I want to be? I briefly wonder if maybe I should go and find a brothel that’ll hire me. At least then I’d get paid for what I just did. But the mere thought of selling my body for actual cash seems wrong to me.

As much as I hate what I just did, I can at least reason that I was attracted to Ed. That I chose to sleep with him. I still have a small amount of power in my life. It might not be much, but it’s still there.

Leaving the bathroom, I run almost headfirst into Ed’s housemate. I recognise him from the club. And he's even better looking this morning. Still uncomfortably intense though.

“Morning.” I nod as I peer up at his face. The hallway is narrow, and I need him to move so I can get past.

A frown creases his brow as his eyes move over me. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” I answer immediately, trying to hold his gaze steady so he can’t see the nerves shooting through my body, making me sweat.

“What happened to your face?”

I smile and try to play coy. “Well, that’s not what a girl wants to hear first thing in the morning.”

He lets a short laugh out of his nose and reaches up to move my hair. “Your face is bruised. What happened?”

The moment his fingers touch my skin, I suck in my breath. It’s…electric. And there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me feel like he can see right through me.

“N-nothing happened. Can I get past now, please?” I’m struggling to find my voice.

He stares at me and keeps me trapped for a moment longer, then he steps aside. Just enough to let me through, although I have to press against his body before I’m free.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s um… L-linda,” I stammer.

“Matthew.”

Fleetingly I look at him, avoiding his eyes before I nod and make my way back to Ed’s room. As I slide inside, I glance back. Mathew is still there, watching me as he casually leans against the wall. I drop my eyes and close the door, resting my hand against it for a moment as I gather my thoughts.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. That guy is intense.

“Hey you. Come over here.” Ed beckons, and I turn around to face him. He holds out his hand as I walk towards him then he pulls me onto the bed so I have to climb onto him and straddle his legs.

Immediately, I feel his arousal. He slides his hand either side of my face and pulls me towards him, touching our lips briefly before taking my mouth in his to give me one of his luxurious kisses.

The hooker it is.

“Lie back,” I whisper, taking my cue. As he does, I pull my dress over my head and drop it onto the floor beside us. “Condom?”

“Side drawer.”

I pull one out and slide it over his erection. Using his tip, I glide him against my opening and then my clit, rubbing it back and forth and moaning slightly as my own arousal builds.

He’s eager and pulses his hips up, trying to slide inside me.

“Not yet,” I whisper, my voice all breathy as I continue.

Groaning, his hands travel up to cup my breasts, and he pulses up again. This time, I slide down his shaft and grip him tightly before sliding back up.

“Oh wow,” he moans, his eyes rolling back as pleasure starts to steal away his focus.

I take his hand away from my breast and guide it between my legs, showing him how to rub at my swollen nub.

“Oh yeah, right there,” I whisper as he starts to get the hang of it, he tries to slide his finger back to rub closer to my opening, but I hold onto his hand and keep him circling my clit. “Oh!” I cry out as my orgasm starts to build. It’s as if the sexual frustration from the night before is sitting just below my surface, desperate to escape.

“God!” he calls out, pushing himself firmly into me as he orgasms before me. Again.

He pulls his hands back and grips me by the hips, grinding us both together while my orgasm evaporates into the ether.

Sitting up beneath me, he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. “Nice way to wake up,” he whispers.

“Hmmm,” I answer smiling. I climb off him and he removes his condom, shotting it into the wastepaper bin before turning towards me and pulling me into a spoon.

As he kisses me softly on my shoulder, I wonder if this is my punishment for using people. Perhaps now I’ll have a life without climax. I guess that will serve me right.

Eighteen

After spending most of the day in bed with Ed—still without orgasm—he drives me back to the nightclub to collect my things. He says he’ll wait for me outside and drive me home after, but I of course, decline. There’s no home to drive me to.

I guess I hoped he’d want me to stay longer. I hoped he wouldn’t even suggest that I go home. I hoped he’d see me for the willing body I am. I hoped he'd use me for his own gain the way I wanted to use him for mine.

Perhaps I’m not as good in bed as I thought I was.

As he pulls up to the curb outside the nightclub, he leans across the console and presses his lips to mine. “I had a really great time last night… and today of course.”

I run my fingers through the thickness of his stubble. It’s practically a beard this morning. “Me too, Ed. Thanks for everything.” Pressing my lips against his once more, I move away and get out of the car.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait and drive you home?”

I don’t have a home. Every time he says that word it stabs at me. I bite my lip and wonder if I should tell him.

“I um…”

He sees my hesitation and shakes his head slightly. “Listen, if you don’t want to see me again, then just say so OK? I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

“No, it’s not that at all,” I attempt to explain. He gets out of the car and moves to stand in front of me.

“Linda, last night was really unusual for me. I don’t normally pick up girls and take them home on the first night.”

I look down at my feet. “That’s actually the first time I’ve ever done that as well.”

“It doesn’t have to be one night. I feel wrong dropping you off in your clubbing clothes and then leaving you to make your way home on your own. Please let me drive you. I won’t try to come inside. But if you give me your number, I will call you to see you again next week.”

“I um…” God, just say it, Paige!

“You what?” My mouth opens, and I don’t know how to say the words. This is the first time I’ve actually needed to say it. Everyone else I’ve told my story to already knew I was homeless. I’ve never had to blurt it out before. It makes me feel like I’m begging.

When I don’t respond, he takes a step back and spins his car keys around his finger and catches them with a loud clink. “Just forget it then,” he says, looking away.

“No, Ed.” I grab his arm. “It’s because you can’t take me home.”

“Why? Why can’t I take you?”

“Because… because I don’t have one.”

“You what?”

“I don’t have a home. So you can’t take me there. I’m homeless. Are you happy now?” I cry, turning away and covering my face with my hands.

“I’m sorry, Linda.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “I had a feeling something was wrong. Don’t cry. Please.”

“It’s fine.” I wipe at my tears and turn back to him. “Just let me get my stuff, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

He works his lips together and it's like I can see his mind turning over, coming to the conclusion I hoped he would all along. “Don’t go off on your own. Come back with me. You can spend another night, and maybe… we can figure something out together?”

“Really?” Oh my God. It worked.

“Absolutely. I can’t leave you knowing you have nowhere to go. What kind of a man would that make me?”

I wrap my arms around his neck gratefully. “Thank you.”

With his hands on my waist, he pulls away from me a little and looks into my face, his eyes lingering on the bruise. I can tell he wants to ask me what happened, but he just nods toward the club entrance and tells me he’ll wait for me while I get my stuff.

When I go inside there’s a young guy manning the coat check. His name tag tells me he’s ‘Braden’.

“Hey.” He nods at me. When he smiles, his cheeks produce two sideways dimples. Which in turn makes me want to smile right back.

“Hi, I ah, left my bag and jacket here last night.”

“No worries. Do you still have your token?”

I hand him the little disc and pin, and he takes it from me then turns around to look through the shelving. I like watching him. He’s probably around the same height as me, but his movement is very fluid. It’s almost graceful.

He has light brown hair that’s shaved close to his scalp on one side and flops straight down to the base of his ear on the other side, which really suits his fine features and dark eyes.

“Here you go,” he says handing me my backpack and jacket. “Must have been a fun night last night if you forgot all this.”

I laugh. “It was all right. Thanks, Braden.”

“Anytime. See you next time you forget your stuff.”

Nodding and smiling, I walk towards the exit and wave good-bye. I overhear Ed on the phone. “Deal with it,” he snaps before realising I’m walking towards him. “Listen, I have to go.” He disconnects the call and stuffs the phone into his pocket. “You got everything?”

“Yeah. Thanks for waiting,” I say, as I walk around to the passenger side of the car. “Thanks for this as well, Ed. I know we just met. But this is huge.”

He nods, and we get into his car.

“So how long have you been on your own?”

“A little over a year now,” I tell him, explaining briefly that I didn’t get along with my parents, and they kicked me out because of it. I don’t want to tell him the whole story. He still thinks I’m Linda.

“Really? Where have you been staying?”

“Well, first it was friends, then it was wherever I could find, and then with more friends. When I have some money I stay in cheap motels.”

“What about that bruise on your face. Do you want to tell me who hit you?”

“Not really.”

“I wish you would.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

When we arrive back at his place, Matthew is sitting in front of the television and barely even glances in our direction. He doesn’t seem very happy to see me. The most he does is look at my backpack and roll his eyes.

I lean toward Ed and whisper. “If this is a problem, I can work something else out.”

“No. It’s fine. Isn’t is Matt?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

I excuse myself and go to shower. I’m thankful I have somewhere to stay for now. But I can’t allow myself to get comfortable again. I made that mistake last time. I need to view this as a temporary situation and make plans to do something to take care of myself. Especially considering Ed’s housemate seems to hate me.

Nineteen

Six months faking it with Ed

Happy birthday to me.

I’ve turned seventeen.

But nobody knows it.

They think I’m twenty-three.

Well, twenty-two actually. Linda's birthday isn’t for another couple of months, and since I'm still pretending to be her, the only birthday celebration I get is when I’m looking in the mirror, whispering my little song.

“Happy birthday, Paige,” I say to my reflection, keeping my voice low to I can't be overheard. It’s not easy becoming someone else. I've had to put Paige in the mirror and leave her there, learning to respond to a different name and come from a different background. I probably could have told Ed the truth about who I am on that first day. But if I told him my age, I doubt he would have been so willing to keep me around. I’m the only one who knows who Paige is anymore. And even that's a bit of a stretch. I think I've lost myself. Somewhere in the middle of all this deceit, I’ve lost sight of who I am, the girl in the mirror.

Life with Ed is… simple. He’s some sort of engineer and works in the city Monday to Friday. He’s gone from about seven-thirty every morning and doesn’t get home until after six at night. Then he’s exhausted and all he really cares about is eating and watching TV before taking me to bed so I can service him. I say it like that because he still hasn't shown any interest in learning about how to get me off. But since I’m his girl now, I don’t want to complain. Fights make relationships end. I can't afford for this to end. So it's easy enough for me to just get myself off when he falls asleep. I can be very discreet.

Outside the bedroom, Ed is as good as it gets. He’s a textbook perfect boyfriend. It seems as though he’s decided it’s his mission in life to take care of me. He likes having me at home waiting for him each day. He’s kind. He’s caring. He’s considerate. It pains me to understand that he cares more for me than I do for him. That’s how I know I’m a bad person now. Because I keep doing this anyway.

“Don’t you work?” Matthew asks when he walks into the lounge room where I’m sitting reading. It almost lunch time and he’s just waking up since he worked late last night. His dirty blonde hair is sticking up all over the place, and he’s wearing only a long pair of pale blue pyjama pants that tie with a drawstring and ride low on his hips.

As easy as things are between Ed and me, they're equally as tense between Matthew and me. He’s about a year into his residency at The Royal Prince Alfred Hospital and works obscenely long hours and different shifts. Sometimes, I barely see him. Sometimes he has a few days off in a row, and we’re in the house together all day.

He hardly speaks to me. I feel as though he’s either glaring at me or pretending I’m not here. I find him unsettling but not frightening. I try to be polite and talk to him when I can though, because if I’m going to stay with Ed, I need his friend to like me.

“Ed likes me home,” I reply, swallowing hard as my eyes travel over his well-defined chest involuntarily. He pauses in front of me, frowning like my answer left a sour taste in his mouth. Wow. He has great abs. My cheeks flame, and I drop my gaze, embarrassed about the thoughts flashing through my mind at the sight of his naked torso. He even has a sexy little snail trail going on. Shit. Look away.

When I shift my gaze to the window, he shakes his head. “If you had a job, it might fix that homeless problem you have. You wouldn't need to keep sponging off Ed.”

My mouth drops open. “I’m not a sponge. I just told you, he wants me at home."

“Home.” He sits next to me, and I move back slightly, afraid of having him so close since the last time we touched set my nerve endings on fire. “This is my home too.”

“I’m trying to stay out of your way.”

"I've noticed. I’ve also noticed Ed is blind when it comes to you. I don’t know what you’ve told him, but I’m not buying it. You’re not being honest.”

“What do you mean?” I ask warily.

“I watched you at the club that night. You preyed on him.”

“No… I didn’t.”

He sits back and laughs to himself. “You sought him out. I watched you. I watch you now. You’re using him.”

“I’m not using him,” I argue. My voice comes out small, and I’m having trouble maintaining eye contact.

“So you’re in love with him then? You want to build a life with him? Maybe get married? Have a couple of kids?”

I drop my face and close my eyes tightly to get some control before boldly saying, “What do you want from me?”

“The truth.”

“About what?”

“About what you’re doing with my friend.”

We sit and stare at each other for a moment. Me refusing to answer, and him refusing to look away. There’s a tension in the air between us, and it’s making me angry. It makes me nervous.

He wins. I’m the first to break the stare.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” I say as I stand up with the intent to go into Ed’s room and lock the door. But, I’m halted when Matt’s hand takes hold of my arm. Electricity floods my body. “Please let go,” I whisper.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“You don’t look twenty-two. I don’t believe you.”

He stands behind me. So close. I turn around and look into his eyes, my body shaking. “I’m twenty-two,” I repeat, my voice a little more convincing this time.

“Then why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not,” I whisper, snatching my hand out of his. Another staring competition ensues. I don’t like this. I turn on my heel and practically sprint for Ed’s room, locking the door behind me. “Shit!” I slide down to the floor and try to breathe. Fuck.

A soft tap makes its way through the door above me. “Linda? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” I say defiantly.

“Will you come out? I just want to talk to you.”

I sit in silence. He did scare me. I’m afraid to spend time with him. Somehow, without even knowing me, he manages to see right through me to find answers I don’t want to give. He’s dangerous to me.

After a while, I hear him let out his breath and shuffle his feet back from the door. “I’m sorry, OK? I’m not trying to mess up your life. I just want to understand. You don’t have to hide.”

He waits for a few moments. When I don’t respond, I hear a sigh before he retreats down the hall. I stand and open the door slightly, peering through the gap with one eye. He pauses and looks back at me. My chest tightens. He really does look concerned and sorry. This is so confusing.

“Why don’t you like me?” I ask through the gap in the door.

“I do like you. I like you a lot actually.”

“But you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

“But you think I’m lying to Ed.”

“I do.”

“What have you said to him?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you going to?”

“No. Like I said, I want to understand who you are. Why you need to be here.”

We lock eyes, and I study the sincerity in his. I have so many questions but instead of asking them, I close the door and lock it. Then I stay put, pretending not to listen to Matthew moving around the house all day while I wait for Ed to return.

Twenty

I wonder if I’m failing at this bad guy thing. If I was any good at it, I’d tell Ed that Matthew creeps me out, or that he tried to hit on me. I could come between them, get Ed to choose me over his friend. But I can't do that to them. They've been best friends since primary school. And since I know more than most that good friends are hard to come by, I do my best to avoid Matthew instead. His roster is pinned against the refrigerator door, so I can make sure I’m out when I know he’s home. No more confrontations.

I don’t have much money, and I hate asking Ed to give me more. So I spend a lot of time at the local library. I’ve even got a library card now by using Linda’s ID, so I can take books back home with me. Between reading and running errands for Ed, I’m kept fairly busy.

“What are you reading?” a soft voice asks from behind me a few weeks into my avoidance plan. I almost jump out of my seat.

“I thought you were at work.” My hand flies up in an attempt to still the thudding of my chest. Matthew stands in the doorway wearing his trademark sleepwear.

“I pulled a double shift and swapped with someone,” he explains. “Why? You trying to avoid me?”

“I’ll um… go and read in the bedroom,” I say instead of answering as I rise from the couch.

“You don’t have to. Please don’t hide from me.”

I stop where I am and turn toward him in a rare moment of honesty. “I have to. You ask too many questions.”

“Because I want to get to know you. We live in the same house, and I don’t know much about you.”

“Matthew, every interaction we’ve had has been super tense. I don’t know if you want to kill me or fuck me. But I think it’s best for both of us if I stay out of your way.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” he says, those blue eyes of his getting darker. “I don’t want you to keep avoiding me either.”

“Then what? You want to fuck me?”

He hesitates like he’s considering it before he looks away. “I want you to answer my questions.”

“You ask the wrong ones.”

“But they’re important.” He moves closer to me, and places his hands on my upper arms. That wonderful flood of electricity flows again and I have to close my eyes. What is this? “Will you answer just one?”

“Just one,” I whisper.

“Your name.”

“What?” I frown, meeting his searching eyes.

“I want to know your name.”

“You know my name.”

“No,” he says, pulling me closer. “When I first met you, you hesitated before telling me your name. I looked you up. You’re not Linda Alessi. And you aren’t twenty-two. I see patients all day and all night. I’m pretty good at picking ages. You couldn’t possibly be over eighteen.”

Tears prick behind my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

He moves even closer. So close I can feel his warm breath on my face. “Because. I have to know what you’re hiding from,” he whispers, a slight frown creasing his brow as he lifts his hand to move my hair back. “Just like I have to know why your face was bruised, who hurt you.” His deep blue eyes move side to side as he searches my face for answers, his hands moving to hold either side of face. I can't think when he's touching me like this. “Please tell me your name.” His eyes demand an answer from me and I feel like I’m trapped.

“Paige. My name is Paige,” I breathe out, squeezing my eyes shut so I can’t see his anymore.

He rests his forehead against mine and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

When he moves back, I’m shaking, confused. This man is so intense it’s scary. How can he act like he doesn’t even like me one minute, and the next he’s trying to get to know my soul just by staring at me?

Without another word, he leaves me standing in the lounge room and disappears into the kitchen. I blink rapidly, trying to stop myself from crying. The interaction has rattled me beyond measure.

I can’t stay here. I rush down the hall and shove my things into my backpack. That was a colossal mistake. Matthew is Ed’s best friend. As if he isn’t going to tell him who I am. This has all gone to shit. I’ve fucked up.

You are far more stupid than I gave you credit for.

Wiping at my angry tears, I sling my meagre possessions over my shoulder and head for the front door.

“What are you doing?” Matthew asks causing me to gasp. I can’t even escape without him busting me.

“I’m leaving.” I put my hand on the door knob and open it. “Tell Ed I’m sorry, OK?”

“Paige.” He rushes me and pushes it shut, blocking my exit. “I don’t want you to go.”

I press my forehead against the door, my head pounding from the stress. The sound of my real name, after months of pretending to be someone else affects me. Tears spring from my eyes, and I drop my bag before turning to face him.

“Please stop,” I cry. “You’re confusing the hell out of me.” He stands so close that it fogs my mind. “I can’t breathe around you.” I place my hands on his chest and push, but he doesn’t budge. Instead he places his hands either side of me so I’m caged against the door.

We’re breathing heavy, and we haven’t done anything except stare and be near each other. One of his hands moves and takes me by the base of my skull, bringing my face closer to his.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

But he does.

The moment our mouths connect, every orgasm I’ve missed out on with Ed bubbles to the surface, and I’m suddenly desperate. I wrap my arms tightly around Matthew as he pulls my body up against his and slides his hands underneath my shirt, his hands on my back.

I let go and remove my shirt hurriedly. Months of banal love making has made me greedy for this spark from my skin pressed against his. I want that electricity from his touch all over me.

The moment my shirt is over my head, he releases the clasp on my bra. I fling it off my arms, moaning when I feel his warm hard chest against mine.

“Paige. I want you,” he whispers, cupping my breast with his hand and kissing my neck. “Ever since I saw you dancing in that club, I wanted you.”

A slight whimper escapes my lips at the sound of my name. My name. Just the simple sound of me, makes me want him even more. My fingers thread through his hair as I pull him towards me, our attraction palpable in the air around us.

Attempting to move towards his room, we don’t make it far, our impatience getting the better of us. We’re against the wall, one hand holding my head steady as his mouth moves with mine in a heavy, devouring movement. He slides his other hand purposefully down, over my breasts and stomach until he reaches the waistband of my pants. His breathing quickens.

I gasp in anticipation when he pops the top button of my jeans. The zip slides down easily, and I rock my hips forwards as his hand travels south. The moment his finger slips underneath my panties and between my folds, my knees almost buckle.

“Oh.” I moan into his mouth as his fingers tease my throbbing clit then push into my depths. “Oh, God.” I shake in his arms, about to burst. I’ve missed this.

He pushes more of his hand inside me, filling me with his fingers and pulsing in and out, in time with my rocking hips.

“Holy fuck.”

“Come for me, Paige.”

Tilting my head back and breaking our kiss, I’m lost in the ecstasy of his touch and can’t seem to function beyond staying upright. His teeth graze along my chin as his hand moves, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against my clit. My fingers clench in his hair, my orgasm bursting out of me as I cling to him, moaning loudly while my eyes roll back and my body shudders against his.

Gripping my hair, he crashes his mouth against mine with a guttural moan as he slows down his movement and brings me back to earth.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come,” he growls, sucking on my lips. His kisses travel down, pausing slightly at my breasts as he swirls his tongue around my nipple and removes his hand from my pants. Gently, he drags my jeans and panties down my legs, lowering himself to his knees as he does so.

I feel his breath, hot on my mound as he slides his tongue between my folds. “And you taste good, too.” The moment his tongue flicks over my engorged nub, my hips jolt forward, causing him to look up and grin wickedly.

He stands, sliding his hands under my buttocks and lifting me against him. He looks into my eyes for a moment, and I feel like he and I are the only two people in the world, that destiny has had a hand in this, that we’re meant to me. It feels too good in his arms for it to be anything else.

When his lips reconnect with mine, I’m sure we are. This feels otherworldly to me. I’ve never felt such passion before.

Carrying me to his room, he drops me on the bed, raking his fingers down my body, sending erotic shivers racing over my skin, before he stands to remove his pants.

Climbing between my legs, he sits back on his knees and reaches into his drawer to get a condom. “Are you ready for me?”

I nod then he grabs my thighs and pulls my legs either side of him. My hips jolt as he uses his tip to slide around my opening and up over my clit to distribute my juices.

“Get inside me,” I gasp, so keyed up I feel like I might burst before he enters me.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted just that,” he says, gripping my hips. “Watching you bend to pull something out of the oven, curled up on the couch reading a book. It’s been driving me crazy.” He pushes his formidable length inside me as he talks. I gasp out at the size of him and grab at his arms, needing something to cling to. “I need this.”

“Fuck. So do I,” I say, losing my mind to his blissful intrusion. He pumps his hips back and forth as my orgasm builds and builds, and I moan, louder and louder.

“Jesus, Paige,” he yells, slamming his length into me. “You’re so tight.”

Every guy seems to say that.

Giving him more of what he wants, I clench my muscles around him, the pressure inside me building along with his thrusts until it bursts out, sending my hips jolting and my mind soaring. “Fuck,” I yell, my nails digging into his arms.

His thrusts become firmer, pushing his length in as far as it can go. With one last pump, he shudders against me before dropping his weight and kissing me again.

With slow purpose, our mouths move together. Gentle fingers explore each other’s bodies, touching lightly. The urgency of our passion draining away as our heartbeats and breathing calm.

Eventually, our kisses become smaller, slower. Until we stop and lock eyes, the gravity of what we’ve just done sinking in.

“Shit.” Sliding out of me, Matthew rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. Without his body heat, I’m cold. Cold and incredibly guilty.

“We can’t do this again,” I whisper, a tear sliding from my eye.

“And we can’t tell Ed,” he returns, his voice husky.

“Never.” I roll my head to the side on the pillow and find him looking right at me.

The moment our eyes re-connect, something passes between us. It only takes a beat before we roll into each other, wrapping our bodies together as we lock our lips, moving as one, touching each other, devouring each other. Uncontrollable.

After another round of mind-blowing sex, we lay together, still wrapped in each other’s arms, catching our breath.

“This needs to stop,” I whisper between kisses.

“It will.” He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Tell me who you are, Paige. I want to know everything about you,” he whispers, brushing his fingers through my hair as I rest my head on the pillow beside him.

Without hesitation, I relay my entire story to him—from the time I got kicked out, until the night I met them in the club—I didn’t bother hiding any of it. I had a feeling he’d see through any lie I told him. So, I was honest, and it felt good to say it all, to let it out after hiding for months behind a fake name, a fake personality.

It’s kind of like reclaiming the girl from the mirror and making her me again. My name is Paige.

“You’re only seventeen?”

I nod “Does that change anything for you?”

“No. I don’t see your age as a problem. I just want you.” He hooks his finger under my chin and pulls my mouth up to his. Slowly, our mouths move together, and I’m lost in his arms. Again. I'm lost in his mouth. Again. I’m lost in him. Again, and again, and again….

For the rest of the day, we explore each other’s bodies, forgetting the world, forgetting about consequences. We lose track of time. We get greedy—or we just don’t care—but, when Ed appears in the doorway and clears his throat, I almost die.

“Ed,” I gasp, my eyes locked with his.

Matthew pauses mid-pump. “Fuck,” he mutters, the colour draining from his face.

We scramble to separate and cover ourselves with the bed clothes, but it makes no difference.

It’s too late.

Ed knows. Ed’s seen. I’m supposed to be his girl and I’m in here fucking his best friend. Oh god.

Ed’s jaw clenches, his body shaking with barely controlled rage. I don’t know what to do. I’ve just hurt the kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever known. He took me off the street, gave me a home, and took care of me. I can never fix this. I really am a bad person.

Twenty-One

Zero days since my last fuck up

It would have been better if Ed had gone crazy and yelled, but he didn’t. He just picked up my backpack and all the clothing and shoes that led him to us and dropped them on the floor of Matthew’s bedroom as we babbled nonsense, trying to explain ourselves.

“Be gone by the time I get back,” he said, cold eyes turned on me.

“Ed. Mate. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over us,” Matthew pleaded.

“Fuck you,” he bellowed. The eruption of his voice reverberating in my ears, causing me to jump.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

He didn’t even look at me. He just walked away, leaving us with the aftermath of our lust induced and monumentally stupid decision. Fuck.

We didn’t speak as we got dressed. We didn’t make eye contact. We knew it was wrong when we started. But we did it anyway.

As I lifted my bag onto my shoulder, Matthew finally spoke. “I’m so sorry, Paige.”

I gave him a vacant smile. “Aren’t we all?”

“If it wasn’t for Ed. You and I could—”

“Please… just… don’t. Don’t talk like this was ever more than it was.” I shook my head. “It makes no difference now.”

“At least take this,” he said, pulling some money out of his bedside table and holding it out to me.

“So, now I’m a hooker?” Tears burned but I took it anyway, necessity being bigger than my pride.

“No. You’re amazing. And I hate myself right now.”

“Easy to say when you’re the one with a roof over your head,” I said, shoving the money in my pocket as I left. Matthew didn’t even try to stop me or do anything to save me. He simply sat on the end of his bed with his head in his hands, knowing our moment was a brief burst of fire, intense and destructive.

Now I’m on the bus, heading to yet another budget motel to spend some of my limited funds on a room for the night. At least I have an ID now. I won’t be charged double this time.

As I hug my bag to my chest, I curse myself for fucking up the first normal relationship I’ve ever had. Sex with Matthew was amazing. But it wasn’t worth the hurt I saw in Ed’s face when he caught us.

Ed was a good guy. He wanted to take care of me, and he didn’t ask for much in return. To repay him, I just fucked his best mate. Maybe I do have the hang of this bad guy thing after all.

Twenty-Two

Relationships aren’t for me. I failed with Jeff, and failed miserably again with Ed. I’m not made to be someone’s girl. Maybe Matthew was closer to the mark by offering me money. I’m made to be everyone’s whore.

Less emotions that way.

You know, that’s actually being disrespectful to whores. Really, I’m worse. I give it away for free, and I steal my money.

I go out to clubs and go home with guys, then I refuse to make plans to see them again. I hop from club to club, bed to bed, and I don’t care who it is, as long as I have somewhere to go, preferably somewhere with drugs.

Inhaling deeply, I snort a line of coke off the top of a toilet roll dispenser in the bathroom of a nightclub in Darling Harbour. When I exit the stall, I walk towards the mirror to fix my appearance. While I look at myself, the effects of the drug take hold. But not before I notice that the girl in my reflection is changed. She used to struggle to pass for twenty-two. But she looks even older now.

Her name keeps changing. I've taken to stealing handbags to get by. I’m good at it too. The initial remorse I felt is a distant memory now. I do whatever I have to do to survive.

Tonight, my name is Peyton. I like that name. It makes me feel like I’m a character of some sort. Although, I have to admit I’m having trouble keeping track of who I am on any given day. That moment with Matt, when I was finally me, was so fleeting. I haven’t been me for a long time. Somewhere inside, I guess I’m still there, but I’m having trouble finding myself.

I push my way out of the bathroom and stumble a little as my heel catches the floor. I’m flying now as I head towards some guy, my supplier and hopeful bedfellow for the night.

“Whoa there.” He laughs as he reaches out to catch me from my misstep. We cling to each other, laughing as we go to the dance floor and move to the beat. I slide my arms over his shoulders and swing my body against his, engaging in the usual, pulsing foreplay that comes with hooking up at clubs.

It’s all the same. Every day is the same. Only the drugs are slightly different.

Depending on how I feel each night is how I choose my men. I pick them based on what they’re using because I want to use as well. It makes this life I’m now leading more bearable.

Ecstasy users dance all night in fluid movements and want nothing more than to feel you pressed up against them, to touch and share their experience. As long as I’m right there, high with them, then sex is great that way. It doesn’t even matter what they’re doing to me. It all feels fantastic.

Tweakers dance in jerky movements and drink heavily while speaking a mile a minute. I try to avoid them at all costs because they fuck all night long and have trouble coming. The next morning leaves me with an overused feeling between my legs, and I end up springing for a hotel room to recover.

My drug of choice is coke. So when I find a man on a coke high, I aim straight for him. They generally have more on them to keep the high going. I long for the euphoria that coke gives me, it makes life seem worth living. Even though it really isn’t anymore.

Still riding my high, I continue to dance with this guy whose name I forgot the moment he told me. I’m feeling like the sexiest woman in the world as I sway my hips and shoulders along with him.

Eventually, he leads me outside. I cling to his hand, trotting along beside him in my ridiculously high heels until we make it to a parking garage.

“Where’s your car?” I ask, leaning against his chest and tilting my head up to look into his face. He brings his mouth down to mine, taking hold of my face on either side as he explores my mouth with his tongue.

It feels OK. But it’s all starting to feel the same now. Each kiss takes another piece of my self-respect with it. Without the drugs, I don’t think I could keep doing this.

“This one will do,” he says, taking me by the shoulders and spinning me around, so I’m pressed up against the back of the nearest car.

With quick hands, he lifts my dress and pushes me forward, working my panties to the side as he inserts himself inside me. Pumping and panting as he drives back and forth. I only hope he’s wearing a condom, because I didn’t notice him putting one on.

Unfeeling, I study the paint work of the car I’m lying on top of. It’s red, like a fire engine. Small lights reflect off it, and I wonder what the owner would think if they knew what was happening to their car right now. The only thing I can really care about, is the fact that it’s now unlikely I’ll get that free bed tonight.

Oh well, at least he gave me coke.

He grunts as he finishes and pulls out of me. Standing, I turn around, readjusting my clothing so I’m decent, feeling relieved as I watch him remove a condom and flick it on the concrete ground with a splat.

It’s then I notice the wedding ring. Inwardly, I roll my eyes, annoyed at my own stupidity. He was never going to take me home.

“Thanks for that. It was just what I needed,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few notes. “I’ll see you around.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, pressing the money in my hand before he wanders off whistling. At least I have money for a motel room now too.

Twenty-Three

Three months into the ho life

The city is a big place. And I’ve travelled around, trying not to pick up at the same club too close together. But I’m running out of decent places to go. Eventually, I head right back where I started. I’m at Planetary, the club where I met Ed.

I think about him a lot. I think about Matthew even more. When I'm sober, the guilt over what I did to Ed consumes me. When I’m high—and especially when I’m fucking—the memory of my connection with Matthew is at the forefront of my mind. My God. The sex with him was amazing.

Still, I have zero interest in running into either of them again, and hope to the heavens they aren’t here as I line up to check my bag.

“I remember you,” the guy says as he takes my bag. "You were here a few months back.” He taps his name tag. “Braden”

He was the guy here when I picked my bag up the next morning. "Oh yeah. How've you been?"

"'Great." He grins, the lone earring he wears shines in the pink and blue lighting. "I've seen you around. You like to party.”

That piques my interest. “Do you know who could help me with that?”

He leans closer. "That all depends on how you like to pay. With your body or your wallet?”

I laugh. He has been watching me. "What ever gets the job done.”

“I dig it, sweetheart. No judgment here. What’s your poison?”

I touch my finger to my nose and sniff. "But I'm not picky when it’s free.”

He laughs. “A girl after my own heart.” He gestures for me to come closer, so I do. “Keep an eye out for a guy with spiky hair and a floral shirt. His packing, and he's generous.”

“What’s he got?”

“Molly, I think.”

“Want some?”

“If you can get a spare.”

We grin at each other and bump fists before he hands over my coat check token, waiving the charge.

Heading inside, I find the guy I’m looking for. He’s dancing holding a drink of water. A sure tell he’s on something. I slide in near him and whisper in his ear. He grins and pulls me toward him, then drives his tongue halfway down my throat.

This one doesn’t waste any time.

“What are you on?” I ask when he gives me my mouth back.

“Open your mouth.”

I do as he says, swallowing when he drops a pill in my mouth. We dance for a while as I wait for the familiar feeling of bliss to take over me.

Then it hits me. And it’s not an E.

My eyes grow wide as the guy I’m dancing with grows before my eyes, looming above me. His facial features fall into his face and when he speaks, strange animalistic sounds come out. Fuck. I think I dropped acid.

As I look around, the room looks totally fucked up, nothing is as it was before. The music sounds distorted in my ears and dark shadowy creatures are hiding between the strobing lights. They’re roaring and clawing at me, trying to take me somewhere.

Panic takes hold and I push my way through the crowd. I don’t know which way is out, but I need to try and find it. I can’t breathe in here. It’s angry and I’m scared. Something is after me. Hands grab at me and my body shakes. I hear screaming.

It’s coming from me.

* * *

When I open my eyes, I’m on a couch and Braden is peering down at me. “Guess he wasn’t giving out molly?”

“I don’t know what the hell that was,” I croak, as I try to sit up.

“Lucky I was there to watch your back. And speaking of backs, I have your gross backpack here too. It’s heavy. Have you got nowhere to go?”

I lie back and roll my eyes, sighing. “If I had somewhere to go, do you think I’d fuck half the guys I go home with?”

“No. No I don’t. Although, if I had your gift for attracting men, I wouldn’t be here looking after you. I’d be off with a man of my own.”

“Congratulations. You’re gay,” I state, my voice an emotional void.

“Officially I’m bi, but I do tend to lean a little closer to the gay side, which is why I’ve noticed you. You have gone home with some very fine men lately.”

I sit up properly and clutch at my head as pain throbs behind my eyes. “Thanks, I guess,” I wince.

“Here,” he says, handing me two Nurofen and a glass of water. “I’m curious. Why do you keep going home with different drug-fucked meatheads? Why don’t you choose one of those geeky-looking guys who drool all over you and would do anything you asked just to be seen in your presence? You’re a fucking goddess.”

“Been there, done that. I can’t do relationships. I can’t stand the hurt look on their face when I screw it up. I go with the guys I do because they’re jerks. Hot guys are always jerks. They don’t give a fuck about me. They don’t ask questions. They just give me what I want, while taking what they want. It’s an easy trade.”

He takes the glass of water off me and places it on the coffee table. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a wad of cards and starts flipping through them.

“So which one of these are you? Linda? Erica? Peyton?... there’s more. What did you do? Rob every girl who looks remotely like to you take her ID?”

I reach out to snatch them back, but he pulls the cards out of my reach. “Give them back.”

“Maybe I should. I can write these girls a nice letter and tell them I found the girl who stole from them. I’m guessing she’s this girl right here,” he says waiving my own ID at me. “Paige Larsen. A seventeen-year-old runaway from where? Jamisontown? Where’s that?”

“I’m not from Jamisontown. It’s just where I was living when I got my learners permit,” I tell him, reaching out again to try to take my ID.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, moving them away from me again.

“What do you want from me? I don’t have any money, and I’m too sober to sleep with you.”

“Well, I did have something else in mind for you. But after seeing your skills, I think you can help us both out.”

“What kind of skills are you talking about?”

“The ones that help you survive my dear, Paige.”

“That’s not a skill. It’s called a pussy.”

He laughs. “Not your pussy, sweetheart. I’m talking about how you got your hands on all these IDs. There’s a lot of money in selling them because they’re too hard to counterfeit without the right machine.”

“So you want me to bag snatch for you?”

“I prefer to call it ‘acquiring stock’, but yes.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

“Well, you’d be doing me a slight favour in helping me change career paths. In return, since you seem to be lacking a permanent place to stay, you’ll have the use of my couch, and we’ll split the money from the sales, fifty-fifty.”

“That seems a little unfair. I’m taking all the risk, and you’re getting all the gain.”

“Believe me sweetheart, there’s plenty of risk in what I’m doing. The guy I’ll sell to is into a hell of a lot of shit, and if I get caught, I’ll be charged with more than just theft. I’m not a good boy.”

“And I’m not a good girl.”

“I know. It’s why I already love you.”

Looking around the room, I take in my surroundings. It looks like we’re in a studio apartment. There’s one of those tri-fold room dividers separating a bed from the rest of the room, and a small kitchenette off to the side. The walls are a bare red brick, and the floors are a grey concrete with rugs dotted about the furniture. There’s only one door, so I assume there must be a communal bathroom somewhere.

Sleeping here and actually making some money would be a nice change of pace. All the men are starting to look the same, and I’m getting sick of being a hole to fuck. I have no idea how prostitutes do it as an actual job.

“All right. As long as I don’t have to sleep with you, it’s a deal.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I like my dick too much to put it in the likes of you.”

“Fuck you. I don’t have anything. I always use protection.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s OK. I’m joking. But you won’t have to worry. I don’t want sleep with you. I just want to make lots of money with you.” He grins. “Are you in?”

“Fine. I’m in,” I concede, with a roll of my eyes.

Clapping his hands together, he rises from his seat. “I think this new business venture of ours calls for a little celebration. Care to chase the dragon with me?”

“The what?”

“You can’t be serious. You don’t know what I’m talking about?” He gets up and walks over to his kitchen.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well then, let me show you.”

He opens a drawer and pulls out a roll of foil and tears pieces off. He folds them into neat rectangles and sets them aside. He then takes a baggie of small irregular shaped crystals and adds one to the end of each bit of foil.

“Is that ice?” I ask, wondering what he’s doing with it.

“Heroine,” he replies, pulling out a funnelled tube and a lighter.

As I watch him heat the foil, the crystal starts to smoke. Using the funnel, he breathes in the vapour like he’s inhaling from a bong.

“You try,” he says, handing it to me.

I have a bit of trouble holding everything together, so he holds the lighter and the foil and I just hold the funnel. The burning crystal gives off a strange smell of chemicals mixed with caramel. It’s sickly sweet, but not terribly offensive.

It doesn’t take long before the buzz hits me. I’m deliriously happy, and this shitty world is once again a wonderful place.

“I like this dragon,” I say, my eyes heavy after we’ve smoked the crystal down.

“It’s my favourite,” he says, lying back on the couch. We collapse next to each other and just enjoy the high.

“You don’t even know my name,” he says after a while.

“Yes I do. It’s on your name tag,” I tell him, my mouth moving sluggishly around the words.

“Braden,” he says in reply.

“I know. I told you I know.”

He finds this really funny and chuckles to himself.

I think that maybe I say something else, but I’m not sure I do. My eyes open and close slowly. I’m just so… blissful.

Twenty-Four

18 years old. 3 years since the note. 2 since Jeff. 1 since Ed and Matthew. 271 days ho-free. Zero days since I stole my last purse.

“Stop drawing me,” I complain when I notice Braden sketching me as I sit on the bench top, shaving my legs into the sink.

“I’m an artist, sweetheart. I see beauty, and I draw it. Simple as that,” Braden says from his position on the couch that also doubles as my bed.

“Me shaving my legs is beautiful?” I laugh as I continue my quest of hair removal.

“Well, yeah. In a way. It’s the light. The angle you’re sitting. And you, of course. I like drawing you.”

“Hmmm,” is all I say in reply.

“Just why are you doing that there, anyway? You know there’s a bathroom down the hall.”

“Yes. But that weird girl from number twenty-eight is in there. She sings all the time and asks me super happy questions. She kind of freaks me out.”

“Which girl? Oh, Valerie? Geez Paige, she’s completely harmless. I’m sure she’s just trying to be friendly.”

“I feel like she’s trying to force me to join her super-happy-hyper-girl cult.” I shudder, bouncy girls really do freak me out.

“Sweetheart, it’s not a cult. It’s called cheerleading. She loves that shit.”

“Well fine for her. But she needs to leave me out of it.” I rinse off my legs and apply some lotion.

“Fair enough.” He focuses intently on his drawing, rubbing at the page with his finger to smudge the pencil.

“How many pictures do you have of me in there, anyway?” I ask, as I slide off the bench.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “A few.”

I move over to him and lean on the back of the couch to look over his shoulder. “Exactly how many is ‘a few’?”

He just shrugs again and closes his book so I can’t see, sliding his pencil behind his ear as he moves to stand up. He never lets me see what he’s drawing.

“Oh no. You’re not getting out of it that easy.” Reaching over the back of the couch, I snatch the sketch pad out of his hands. “I’ve been here for months and you’re always drawing in that thing. I want to see it.”

“Give it back, Paige,” he warns.

I move around the studio, dodging him as I leaf through the pages.

“Close it, Paige. That’s private!”

“Wow, Braden. You’re really good,” I admit. There are drawings of everything in here, from people to animals, trees and vehicles. Basically, whatever has caught his eye, has been recorded in such vivid detail it actually looks real.

I’m so focused on the drawings I forget to move out of his way. Although, my reactions are quick enough that I tighten my grip on the pages as he pulls on the binding.

“Give it back.”

“No. I’m looking. Let go, Braden. You’re going to make me tear it,” I tell him calmly. He narrows his eyes at me and releases his hand. Grinning triumphantly, I continue to leaf through his drawings.

The visual arts diary he uses is one of those thick bound ones with a hard black cover. More than half of it is filled with his sketches.

Slowly I flick through all the pages, marvelling at his work. “You can tell when I moved in,” I smile, glancing up at him.

Suddenly, there are pages and pages of me. Sitting watching television, brushing my hair… “You drew me sleeping?” I ask, turning the book to him and tapping on the paper.

“I like drawing you. So sue me,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking surly.

“Well… you’re very talented,” I compliment, as I shut the book and hand it back to his eager hands.

“You’re not weirded out?” he asks, taking it back and folding his arms over it protectively.

“Why would I be? I’ve seen you drawing me. I just wanted to see them.”

“They don’t mean I’m obsessed with you or anything,” he assures me.

“I know.” I smile. Moving towards him and giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “You just think I’m beautiful.”

“You’re damn right I do.” He grins back. “Now get that gorgeous arse of yours out there and get me some more stock. I have a delivery to make this afternoon, and we might as well get all the money we can.”

Once a week, Braden goes out on his own to take all the IDs I’ve managed to get my hands on to whoever it is he sells them to. Our income level varies from week to week, but it’s more money than I’ve ever had. More than enough to get by and procure some entertainment for ourselves on the side.

During the week, we stay clean because we need to focus. Braden is studying art and design at uni as well as working a few nights at Planetary, and I have purses that require my attention. I need to have my wits about me, or I’ll be caught. That’s the last thing I want.

“Get moving, woman!” he says as I’m preparing to leave. Saluting him, I finish collecting my things.

“You want to run interference for me?” I ask as I lace up my shoes. Sometimes Braden comes out and distracts my targets with a question about directions: the time, or whatever else he can come up with.

“Sure. I’ll help you for a while. Then I can go and get our money.”

“Good, I want to go shopping for something new to wear this weekend.”

“Me too. I want to look irresistible this weekend. Did you see that guy I was talking to last Saturday? He said he’d be at Compound this weekend. So that’s where we’re going,” he sing-songs.

“Yes. I did see that guy. And then I saw him go home with his girlfriend. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree with that one.” I laugh.

“No. I could tell. Just watch what happens.” He grins, standing at the door, ready to leave.

Weekends are our party time. It’s when we really let loose and enjoy the fruits of our labour. I haven’t completely given up my old ways. As much as I thought I was sick of sleeping with random guys, I still have a libido. Except now I go home with guys that I actually want to fuck. I can afford to be choosy.

Braden’s not as bad at picking up as he originally made out, although he’s better at picking up women than men. From the looks of it, I think he’s attracted to straight men which is obviously where his problem finding a man arises from. Sometimes he scores though, and that’s when he’s happiest.

We have a rule that we don’t bring people back to the studio because it’s not fair to the other person. We always go home with the guy or girl. The studio is just for us.

Before he met me, Braden was only into ‘chasing the dragon’—as he likes to call it—and speed—which he calls ‘go-ie’. It’s like he can’t call a spade a spade. But I’ve convinced him that coke is far superior to his ‘go-ie’, and after trying it with me, he’s inclined to agree.

Now we have a ritual. When we get ready to go out, we set up our lines and snort them just before we leave so we’re feeling wonderful by the time we get to the clubs or parties. When we get back to the apartment we smoke heroine to come down. It’s a beautiful combination. I even find myself leaving the beds of the men I go home with so I can get back for a smoke. I’m having trouble coming down without it.

Twenty-Five

When Braden gets back from his meeting, he’s in s foul mood. “The boss wants to meet you,” he says as he counts off my money and places it in my hand a little too rough.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. I was trying to keep you out of the official side of things. But there's a party next weekend. We've been invited."

“A party? Well that doesn’t sound too scary. What are you worried about?"

He blows out a breath and runs his hand back and forth through his hair. "I didn't want them to find out about you."

Taking his hands in mine, I hold them between us and give them a reassuring squeeze. “Well, they have now. I've been around dealers plenty of times. We'll be OK. I'll make a good impression. I promise.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s them.”

“Are they going to kill me?”

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Beat me up?”

“No.”

“Then what’s your worry?”

He blows out his breath. "Nothing. Let’s just go shopping. I want to buy you a new dress. You need to look super hot for this.”

“Ah.” I smile. “Now you’ve got me excited.”

Flicking fiercely through the clothes racks in Myer, he scrutinises a few dresses before shaking his head and putting them back. I hold up a gorgeous looking, royal blue mini dress with a tiny ruffle around the hem that makes it look fun and flirty. “How about this one?”

“No. That’s no good.” He frowns and goes back to his rummaging. “You need to look gorgeous. Absolutely ravishing. It’s important that we’re really fun and friendly because these people supply our cash and they supply our ‘fun’. We can’t disappoint. Here,” he says, holding up a tiny red sparkling dress.

I take it and hold it against my body, admiring it in the mirror. It looks like the clothing version of Dorothy’s ruby slippers. I love it.

“It’s perfect,” I tell his smiling face as we head for the shoes. “I wasn’t aware our buyer and supplier were the same people. What else are they into?”

“Oh, this and that. It doesn’t really have much to do with me,” he says, taking the dress from my hands. His eyes dart around, and he appears slightly agitated for a moment. “Red or black shoes?”

“Black,” I say.

When the night of the party rolls around, I have to admit I look amazing in the dress. I barely have an ounce of fat on me these days, but I still have all my curves, and my hair is almost halfway down my back. I look like the goddess Braden always calls me.

As we get ready, Braden reiterates the importance of meeting our ‘bosses’. “Sweetheart, I need you to make a good impression. Reggie needs to meet you and if he doesn’t like you, I’ll be in big trouble.”

“How does he even know about me?”

“Well, I let it slip that I’m not the sticky-fingered wonder who gets him his merchandise, and he doesn’t like that I wasn’t honest with him. He was very insistent that he needed to meet you before we could go any further.” Braden wipes sweat from his upper lip, causing me to frown. He’s not his usual confident self. He won’t hold my gaze for more than a couple of seconds. What am I about to walk into?

My heart thuds double-time in my chest and I’m only too happy to sniff some powdered courage before we catch a cab to Double Bay to meet this ‘Reggie’.

“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe as the cab pulls into the circular drive of the largest house I’ve ever seen. “You actually know someone who lives here?”

“I don’t know. The boss just told me there was a party and to bring you here,” Braden says.

“God. How do I even behave in a place like this?” I think I stop breathing as nerves swirl through my stomach.

Braden squeezes my hand. “It’ll be fun, relax.”

We pay the cabbie and get out at the security gate. Braden presses the intercom. It beeps a couple of times before it’s answered by a gruff voice, demanding to know who we are.

Once our identities are confirmed, we’re allowed to move through. We walk up the pathway arm in arm, the sounds of the party growing louder with each step. I pause for a moment, pulling on Braden’s arm.

“I think I need another hit. I’m too nervous.” I reach in my purse to search for the little snuff bottle I have to top myself up throughout the night.

“Wait til we get inside,” he says, putting his hand over mine and halting my movement. “I swear to you, there will be the purest shit you have ever tried inside. You’ll be flying all night.” My nerves turn to excitement as I wonder what a pure high would be like.

I hang my bag back over my shoulder, and we continue up the path. The driveway is littered with parked cars, and we can hear music and laughter going on inside as we approach the door.

“Are we late?” I ask as Braden raises his hand to knock.

The door opens immediately, and a man with dark, stylishly messy hair, opens his arms wide and welcomes us enthusiastically. He appears to be well into his thirties and has straight, perfectly even teeth and bronzed skin.

“Come in,” he booms, taking my hand and bringing it to his mouth. “Braden, I can see why you were hiding her.” He smiles, his eyes locked with mine as he presses his lips to my knuckles.

“Can you blame me?” Braden laughs uneasily. I can hear a slight tinge of nervousness in his voice as he introduces us. “Paige, this is Reggie. Reggie, meet Paige.”

I nod and smile, but I find him unsettling. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me and then at Braden that makes me concerned. It’s like they know something I don’t. He tucks my hand in the crook of his arm and walks me inside. Braden makes sure to keep pace with us.

“This is quite a party,” I comment, trying to make casual conversation as I look around at all the people gathered in the large foyer and living area.

The house is modern in styling and lit as though it’s a night club. Everything is either white, chrome or mirrored, and the lights that flash are a red or a purple. It feels surreal as it is, but when a strobe light goes off, it’s even more so.

Reggie walks us towards a bar and tells us to choose anything we’d like before excusing himself to go and mingle. I’m grateful when he’s gone because his hand lingered a little too long on my skin, making a cold chill skitter up my spine. He’s creepy.

Looking around the party, I see there aren’t many people holding drinks. But they’re all on something.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.

Braden has been to these things in the past, so he answers before I have a chance to open my mouth.

“Coke,” he says, holding two fingers up to let him know it’s for both of us.

The barman hands us a dish that has everything we need on top of it. “First one’s free,” he tells us. His voice flat and impassive. He’s obviously been saying the same thing all night.

We move to the side, and I lean into Braden. “What is this?”

“A tasting party.”

“Tasting party?”

“Yep. Pick your drug, but don’t mix it. ODs aren’t tolerated.”

“What do they do if you OD?”

“I have no idea. I just know that no one ever sees you again.”

“Holy shit,” I breathe. I’m starting to feel as though I’m in this a little too deep. I had been looking at what we were doing as a bit of petty theft. I had no idea we were involved with major dealers. This is all a bit above my experience level.

“Relax. Reggie seems to like you. Just have a good time, and we’ll be fine.”

I nod, but I’m not sure that I can relax.

“Do you want a downer instead?”

“No. Coke’s fine.”

“Well, sniff up, sweetheart. Let the party begin.”

The high hits me faster than our usual stuff does. It’s almost as good as the first time I did it, back when I was with Jeff.

“Oh wow,” I say to Braden, who’s watching me, nodding and smiling.

“It’s great, right?”

“Amazing,” I say rolling my head around as I’m sent soaring.

When I move through the crowd, I feel so much lighter on my feet. Braden introduces me to a few people he knows but ultimately, we end up dancing alone.

Due to my high, every move of my hips is erotic, and I feel like I can have anyone and anything. Braden’s hands are moving over my body, every touch feels amazing as my senses come to life.

His hand wanders down my thigh and up under my dress. He clutches at my buttocks and pulls me up against him. We’re pressed as close as we can, swaying as one as we stare into each other’s eyes. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I can’t help but lick them. I want him to kiss me.

The moment our lips brush, Reggie appears at our side, pulling on Braden’s shoulder to separate us. He glares at him, then indicates he wants me to follow him. Without waiting, he places his arm around my waist and pulls me beside him. I grab hold of Braden’s hand so I don’t lose him. I don’t know that I want to be alone with Reggie.

We enter another room. It's some sort of an office, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. This room has more of an old world feel to it, with a large wooden desk and plush carpeting. I feel my heeled feet sink into the pile and wish I could take my shoes off to feel the thickness between my toes.

Reggie sits us all on a couch that's such a dark red it almost appears black.

“Braden tells me you’re the one procuring the IDs.”

“I am,” I confirm.

“You seem good at what you do, Paige. But, I wasn’t aware you were working for me. You need my approval to work for me.” He smiles and crosses his legs. “This is quite an embarrassing situation. Braden altered his role within my organisation without fully consulting me. It wasn’t until I asked about the increase in stolen IDs, that I found out what he was doing, and of course about you. Braden made quite an error bringing you on without consulting me.”

“He did?”

Braden sits on the side chair with his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward and watches us carefully. He looks uncomfortable. Anxious. I feel the same way.

“I have to be honest. You wouldn’t be my first choice for what you’re doing. You’re far too… striking. Too memorable. I’m surprised no one has spotted or reported you yet.”

“Like you said, I’m good at what I do.”

“I’m sure you’re good at… a great many things.” His eyes slide over my body as if he’s licking me with them. My eyes flick towards Braden who’s bouncing his leg in agitation.

“Thank you,” I say, almost in question. I’m not quite sure how to respond.

“Braden? Don’t you think Paige is too beautiful to be a purse snatcher?”

“Of course I do, Reggie,” he mumbles, rubbing his hands over his neck and face. I don’t know if it’s the drugs affecting him or if there’s something really wrong going on here.

“Then why do you have her doing it?”

“Because I didn’t want to be your delivery guy anymore.”

“You didn’t ask to change jobs. I expect you to resume your usual role immediately. My stock is low.”

Braden’s face drops and he freezes, causing panic to rise up inside me. What’s going on?

“But…” Braden starts.

“Have her brought to me on Monday—I’m busy tomorrow—and Braden, I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if you don’t.” He gives Braden a pointed look before he stands up and claps his hands. “Well, thank you for coming to see me. I’ll let the bar know you can have one more round on me. Enjoy the party, and I’ll see you both Monday.”

He walks out and leaves Braden and me on our own.

“What’s going on Braden? What does he want me for?”

Braden runs his hands over his head and completely messes up his previously perfect hair. My eyes grow wide as I watch him lean back in his chair and look up at the ceiling while he blows out his breath.

“Braden!” He’s making me even more nervous than I already was.

“He wants you to be one of his girls,” he mumbles.

“His girls?”

Braden nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“I don’t know exactly. Well… I do… I’m… I’m just sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Exactly what am I to this guy? Am I the stock? Is his stock girls?”

“No.” His brow furrows as his eyes shine with water, and he shakes his head. “Yes.”

“Shit Braden!” I hiss, standing up and pacing the room. “How could you not tell me we were mixed up in something like this? I thought we were selling the IDs to some backyard operation and buying our drugs from the same kind of thing. This is… this is way more than I’m OK with. I don’t want to be a hooker, or… fuck…am I supposed to be a sex slave?” There’s panic in my voice. “Braden. You have to get me out of this. I can’t be stock. Why does stock even get low when it’s people? What is he doing with them?” I feel the need to climb out of my own skin. I can’t handle this.

“I don’t know what to do.”

I lean forward and place my hands on my knees and try to calm my breath. “Well, what are our options?”

“What kind of options are you talking about? The ones where we live or the ones where we die?”

“Where we live obviously!”

“You go to him on Monday.”

“That’s it? That’s my only option?”

“Well, that or we run.”

“OK. So we run. What happens if he catches us?”

“There’s no if. He will catch us, and when he does, we’re dead.”

Twenty-Six

When we get home, I’m completely numb and lie straight on the sofa, not even bothering to wash off my makeup and get changed.

“Paige,” Braden says quietly. “Come and sleep in the bed. It’s more comfortable.”

My eyes slide towards him, but I don’t move my head. I just glare.

“No funny business. I just want to hold you…if that’s OK.”

As upset as I am with him for blindsiding me the way he has, I need to be held. I need to be held so fucking bad. So I stand up and wander over to his bed, unspeaking. I lie facing the window and focus on the glow coming in from the street lights.

Braden slides in behind me and wraps his arm around my middle, holding me to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. I don’t say anything to him, this hopelessness in my veins like lead. Even my mind is numb.

I should have known this couldn’t last. Once again, I started to feel like I had a home, and once again, it’s being taken away from me. Was my life ever my own?

“I tried to kill myself once,” I whisper, tears seeping from my eyes and leaking on the pillow. “It was the second time I was kicked onto the street. I thought a man loved me. But he was just using me for sex and drugs. I thought my life was over when he threw me out, so I took all the molly I had on me but I was too chicken shit to swallow. Now I’m here, being sold to some kingpin as stock.” I release a slow breath. “I wish I’d swallowed.”

“Do you want to die now?”

I shake my head. “I want to live. But no one wants to let me.”

Tears roll from my eyes as I continue to stare ahead. I don’t bother to wipe them. I don’t bother to sniff, or blink them away. I just let them fall as if it’s the last of my hope, slowly leaving my body. Never to return.

The next day, we spend our time together, taking every substance we have available in the house. We’re trying to blank out what we know is about to come.

It doesn’t help though. More than once, I hope that what I’m doing will make me overdose so I don’t have to wake up on Monday morning. I mix every drug we have. I can end this now. I can leave this world in a state of bliss, the same way I should have in that motel room all those months ago. But when I open my eyes and see the sun streaming in through the windows, I realise it’s Monday, and I’m not that lucky.

Twenty-Seven

The day I stopped counting

Like a lamb being led to slaughter, I follow Braden up the front path of the apartment building where Reggie lives and wait quietly while he presses the intercom, and we get buzzed in.

As we stand in the elevator on our way up to Reggie’s floor, I turn towards Braden. “I hate you for this.” I glare at him. Anger radiates off me in sickening waves. I still can’t believe I’m in this situation. And worse still, neither of us had the guts to try and get out of it. We’re just doing exactly as we’re told.

“Sweetheart, I hate me too.”

The doors ping open, and we step out into the hall and straight up to Reggie’s door.

Braden knocks twice.

Dread winds its way through my body, turning my stomach inside out as we wait. The door is opened by a gorgeous looking woman with red hair and heavy makeup. She looks like she’s about to go out somewhere but when she opens the door, I see about four other women, and they’re all dressed to the same standard.

Her pupils are dilated as she looks me over, completely ignoring Braden as she steps away from the door and goes to stand by Reggie.

“Right on time,” he says from the dining area. He’s seated at a table surrounded by small packages, boxes and a decent stash of cash as well as some paper work.

He’s obviously been conducting business.

He rises from his chair and walks toward us, shakes Braden’s hand, and then hands him a thick envelope.

“Thanks for bringing her to me,” he says, patting him on the back in a congratulatory fashion. “You can go now.”

I shoot Braden a glance that I hope says ‘Did he just pay you for me?’ but he won’t meet my eyes. My emotions threaten to get the better of me as I watch Braden leave. What the hell just went down? Was this supposed to happen all along?

My mind goes crazy as I think about the care Braden took in dressing me for that party on Saturday night. How important it was to him that I looked good and got along with Reggie.

“Was this a set up all along?” I blurt out.

The woman who answered the door just laughs.

“Maxine, get Paige here something to calm her down so she feels more at home,” Reggie instructs her.

“My pleasure,” she says.

“I don’t want anything. I’m fine the way I am,” I protest. “Just tell me what’s going on? What am I here for? Ah!” I cry out as a sharp stabbing pain enters my thigh. I look down and see that Maxine has just stabbed me with a needle. Pain radiates around the injection site, as whatever it is she gives me seeps into my muscle tissue. “What did you ju—”

Twenty-Eight

Reggie’s ‘girls’—or stock—are a group of drug dependent women. He provides them with everything they could possibly want in return for complete complicity.

When he breaks a new girl in, he’s careful not to let her high wear off too much while he uses her body to suit his own purposes.

Reggie enjoys watching his girls with each other, and sometimes with other people. He also enjoys playing out sexual fetishes. I think he must have some sort of playbook somewhere because he asks his girls to do increasingly more difficult things. He seems to like testing their loyalty because the moment one of them says no, he stops giving her drugs.

The withdrawal is excruciating, and the girl will do anything—anything—to make the pain stop. I know this, because I am now one of them. I’m currently experiencing the pain that goes with withdrawal from whatever it is he’s been injecting me with. The reason? I refused to sit on a bowling pin. I was worried it’d tear me in half.

I have no idea how much time has passed since Braden brought me here, but while I writhe in pain, locked in a room on my own, time is moving slower than a snail’s pace.

Eventually it’s too much.

“Fine!” I scream out. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want!”

Twenty-Nine

“Party, Party, Party!” Maxine sings, skipping along beside me as we follow Reggie out to a waiting limo. “See, I told you if you were good, he’d take you out,” she says quietly in my ear.

Out of all the girls in the house, Maxine has become the closest one to me. It’s not that we talk much, because we’re high most of the time. But we have this quiet bond where we look out for each other. It’s what you need in a situation like ours.

She took pity on me early on in my stay and coached me on how to behave so Reggie favoured me. Basically, I have to act like I can’t think for myself and say ‘yes’ to everything he asks. It’s not my favourite thing to do, but it makes my life easier, and has its perks.

Such as tonight. We’re dressed in designer outfits with matching shoes and handbags. To look at us, you would never guess we were drug whores. We look impeccable. The only difference between us and any other woman who dresses the same is that we can’t hold an intelligent conversation. We’re simply too fucked up.

The three of us huddle in the limo with Maxine and I seated either side of him as he touches us however he pleases.

“Hey Maxine,” he says after a while. “Hand out the champagne. We need to celebrate.”

She does as she’s told and starts passing glasses out for us to hold.

“What are we celebrating, Reggie?” I ask, holding my glass out as Maxine fills it.

“We’re going to go and see a potential new girl.”

“Another one?” Maxine whines. She’s only a little older than me at nineteen and has a tendency to pout like a child. But Reggie seems to like it, she’s been his ‘best girl’ for the whole time I’ve been there.

Reggie squeezes her knee and kisses her neck fondly. “No one could replace you Maxi, or you, Paige,” he says turning to me. “You two are my absolute best. I just want to make sure you don’t get bored. We need someone new to spice things up. You like new playmates too, don’t you?”

“Of course we do.” I smile, sipping at my champagne. There are already six of us living in a single room. It’s starting to get cramped. But what Reggie wants, Reggie gets. And god help anyone who goes against him.

We arrive at a nightclub I’ve never been to before. The way people are looking at us as we exit the limo, you’d think we were celebrities. Reggie wraps his arms around the both of us and walks us inside, straight up to the VIP area.

He orders more champagne and instructs Maxine and I to go and dance while he talks ‘business’ with some guy with dark slicked-back hair who looks a bit like a mobster in his pinstripe suit.

We move to a vacant piece of floor, knowing he wants to be able to see us, and start to move together. I briefly wonder where the new girl is while I move sensually against Maxine. If I was sober, I think I’d feel foolish right now. A bit like a trained monkey, performing for treats. But I’m not sober. I haven’t been sober since the day I entered Reggie’s apartment. I’m not even sure how old I am now. A year could have passed and I’d have no clue.

Maxine leans in to kiss me, and I just go with it. I’ve never been into girls, but we’re here to entertain him while he works. After a while, we’re joined by a third girl. We allow her to dance and touch with us without question. This is what Reggie does. He adds ‘more’ to whatever we’re doing. He always wants more.

It isn’t long before he has us all leaving again with the new girl in tow. He leads us to the waiting limo, grinning broadly after his fresh purchase.

Once inside, the privacy screens are up, and our designer clothes are shed as he instructs us in his own version of a live show.

We do as we’re told, including the new girl, despite the fact we don’t even know her name. I’d like to say this was somehow fun, or perhaps erotic in some way. But I can’t. I don’t feel anything anymore. I simply do whatever he says.

Thirty

It takes a while, but I open my eyes and sit up on the bed. I’m one part of a mass of bodies. Flashes from the night before flit through my mind. There was a time when I woke from a night like that and felt cheap and dirty, but that’s long gone. I don’t care enough to be upset anymore. I’m numb.

“Look at Paige,” a girl called Chelsea giggles as she points at my naked body. “She’s so skinny that she looks like one of those starving kids on TV.”

I walk over to her and grab at her face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re just jealous because Reggie likes me better than you. He’s not calling you up as much anymore.”

Chelsea is fairly new. She put up a huge fight when she got here, but now she’s just like the rest of us. Completely dependent, and willing to do anything he asks.

I grab a fistful of her hair and pull back hard. “You’d better start eating Paige or he’ll get bored with you and toss you out.” She laughs defiantly.

I curl my lip back and spit in her pretty face. The other girls in the room just look on uncaring, or else they don’t even hear or see.

“You’re a bitch, Paige,” she says, wiping off her face as she gets up to leave the room.

I roll my eyes and reach for a silk robe and slip it on my frail body as I scan the group. In the middle of the bed I can see a tuft of red hair where Maxine is still lying, fast asleep.

“Hey, Maxie,” I call out to her, tying the sash at my waist as I walk back over to the bed, shaking her awake. But she doesn’t stir. “Maxie,” I say again, louder this time.

“Oh shit,” Jenny, the girl on the bed next to her says. When our eyes meet I know it’s not good, the bottom of my stomach feels like it just dropped out. “She’s cold.”

“No,” I shriek, rushing to sit next to her. Everyone in the room scatters as I try to lift and shake her. “Wake up damn it. Wake up!”

Her head rolls from side to side as I shake her about even though I know there’s no point. Her skin is bone cold. Her lips are blue. There isn’t a single piece of life left in her.

“Reggie!” I screech.

He appears in the doorway, followed by the other girls. He swears and calls me over to him. Still clutching Maxine in my arms, I shake my head in refusal.

“I said, come here,” he growls, as he grabs my hair before dragging me out and dumping me on the couch.

“Stay there,” he commands, a finger pointed in my face like I’m a dog.

He speaks in soft tones to some of the other men in the apartment. They’re his security and our handlers. They do whatever he asks just like us girls do, but they do it because he pays them.

One of them walks over to me and grabs me around the waist, dragging me, kicking and screaming to the ‘cool down’ room. I want to know what they’re going to do with her. I want them to call an ambulance. I want them to do something to help.

“Why am I in here?” I scream. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You’re becoming a problem. Calm the hell down,” he says as he shuts then locks the door.

I scream my head off in there, but it makes no difference. The room is completely sound proof.

Thirty-One

The day the numbers start back up

I don’t know how long I spend in the cool down room, but eventually my body is kind enough to let me pass out. When I come to, I’m not at Reggie’s anymore. I’m somewhere else.

The stench of the room is a mix of rotting garbage and human filth. I look around, and I’m lying on a stained mattress laid on the floor of a large room littered with other filthy mattresses, broken bits of furniture and listless bodies.

There are a group of people huddled in a corner, passing around a pipe. Am I in a crack den? When I sit up, a sharp pain stabs through my middle.

“Ow.” I cry out as the pain radiates around to my back and fiercely clenches at my abdomen. I look around me, desperately searching for someone to help me.

A person, or maybe two, give me a cursory glance, but that’s about it. No one really cares.

I force myself to stand and weave my way towards the door. I have no idea where I am once I make it outside. The area looks industrial. There’s nothing familiar.

Clutching at my stomach, I walk until I come to a petrol station. The smell of the gasoline is strong in my nostrils as I stumble past people standing by their cars, filling up their tanks.

I must look a fright, as a woman gasps when she sees me and hisses at her kids to look away.

When the automatic glass doors open, I step through and freeze as a burst of warmth seeps between my legs. When I look down, there’s a dark stain spreading on my pants. Touching it, I look at my hand. There’s bright red on my fingertips.

“Are you all right, love?” the cashier asks carefully from behind the counter.

“I…I…” I stammer. “I think I need an ambulance.”

Pain rips through my middle, and I cry out from the shock of it, my knees buckling beneath me as I fall to the floor.

As I lose consciousness, a man’s concerned face appears above me. Slipping away, the last words I hear are, “Be careful, mate. She looks like a druggy. Who knows what diseases she has?”

Thirty-Two

People are speaking underwater as a rocking sensation shifts my body. Feebly, I reach my hand up and try to take the thing off my face that’s causing pressure.

“Leave it alone, love. It’s helping you breathe.”

I force my eyes to focus so I can make sense of what’s happening. I think I’m in an ambulance. An EMT flicks a light in my eyes, causing me to recoil as he asks me who I am.

“Paige.” My voice muffles behind the oxygen mask. “Paige Larsen.”

“OK, Paige. You’re in an ambulance on your way to the hospital. We’re going to take care of you. Do you know how long you’ve been pregnant for?”

“Pregnant? I’m not…” I mumble, confused. I’m not pregnant.

“It’s all right. We’re almost there.”

Pain radiates through my middle again, and I start crying. “Make it stop,” I wail. Why haven’t I died yet?

“Paige, we need you to tell us what drugs you’ve been using.”

“I don’t… I don’t… argh.” I writhe in pain. “What’s happening to me?”

“You seem to be in premature labour.” What? How?

I release a howling cry as my abdomen screams again.

“It’s all right, Paige. We’re almost there.”

* * *

When we arrive at the hospital, I’m wheeled straight through as the EMT’s tell the doctors and nurses everything they know about me. I get asked again what drugs I’ve been taking, and I’m really not sure what Reggie gave me. Some sort of compliance cocktail he called juice. Take your juice, honey. But I don’t think I’ve had any for a day or maybe two. Not since I found Maxine. I wouldn’t be able to feel anything if I did.

As we burst through a set of doors, my pains get closer together, and my back feels like it’s locked into one big painful knot. These feelings can’t be normal. It feels worse than dying.

Through my painful moans, I’m poked and prodded. Checked and questioned. Although, I don’t have any answers. I’ve been living in a drugged out state for so long now. I don’t know anything.

“What year is it?”

A doctor comes to stand beside me. “Paige, is there someone we can call who can come and be with you? The father? A friend or family member perhaps?”

“I don’t…no. I have no one.” I think back, trying to recall who the father might be. Numerous grunting male faces flash through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Blocking them out. I feel sick.

“OK,” is all she says in response.

Another pain rips through me, and I clutch at the cool metal edging on the bed as I scream out, the sound more akin to the soundtrack of a horror movie.

“It’s coming,” another woman says as she looks between my legs.

“No.” I grunt through the pain. “No. Please. No.”

“I’m sorry. We can’t stop it.”

I drop my head back and grit my teeth, unable to stop the primal moans and grunts from escaping my throat. But my eyes are closed as I wish for this to stop. It’s too much. What is it going to take before I finally die?

For the first time since I was taken to Reggie’s I’m completely lucid, and I’ve awoken to a nightmare. The reality of what’s happening hitting me like a ton of stone that lands firmly on my chest. I’m pregnant. How could I not know a baby was inside me? I didn’t even notice my body changing.

I growl through my clenched jaw as my body forces me to bear down. Tears burn a hot trail of despair as they stream out of my eyes. I feel it, I feel everything.

“No!” I scream as I feel an exiting from my body. “No!”

When it’s over, there’s nothing.

No crying, no gurgling, nothing.

“Show me,” I whisper, tears in my eyes and fear in my heart. They’ve moved to the side and no one is talking. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse whispers, sorrow in her eyes as she hands me my baby wrapped up in a blanket that dwarves its body. “She didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” I breathe as I look over my daughter’s tiny blue face and raise a shaking hand to gently stroke her nose, so perfectly formed. “Oh no.” I carefully unwrap her and touch every part of her body. Her fingers, her toes. Everything is perfect, and small, and… still.

So still.

“What have I done?” I gasp, my vision blurry as torrents of tears flow from my eyes. I hold my little girl to me, and I howl. The noises coming from me are the primordial wallows of a woman who just lost the final piece of her soul. I thought I was a bad person back when I used Ed for a home. I thought I was bad when I stole purses to make a living. I thought I was bad when I gave my body for another hit. But nothing compares to what I am now. I’ve murdered a beautiful innocent baby. I’m soulless. I’m pure evil.

No one in the room says a thing as I wail and clutch the tiny body. They move about, quietly doing their jobs. “I didn’t know,“ I say over and over again. “I didn’t know.“

The nurse beside me wipes at her eyes as she pushes back my hair, stroking me like a mother would her child.

It makes me ache even more.

Thirty-Three

While I sleep it’s easy to forget where I am and everything that’s happened, but the moment I wake and hear the constant noise of the hospital ward, I remember.

I’m a murderer.

Tears fall silently from my eyes, as I roll over onto my side and press my face into the pillow.

Why wasn’t I the one who died?

Why did it have to be an innocent child?

Thirty-Four

Over the coming days, I’m given a wealth of information about my own health, my baby’s, and why she didn’t survive.

Of course, it was the drugs. They tell me this, like it was actually possible it could have been something else.

A woman comes to visit me to talk about my ‘options’. She’s trying to be reassuring by telling me I’ll still be able to have more children in time. But I don’t want to have children. I don’t deserve to have children.

I’m treated with strong doses of antibiotics while they tell me I’m lucky I didn’t catch any incurable diseases from my drug use and promiscuity. I wonder if that’s true. Is there anything about my situation that’s lucky?

I ask if I can have a hysterectomy, but I’m told I can’t unless there’s a medical reason for it.

It turns out I spent a little over a year as one of Reggie’s girls. All that time and I have very little memory of it. When I think back, it’s just a lot of flashes involving faces and acts I’d prefer not to think about.

I’m being transferred to a rehab facility so I can get the ‘help I need’. Really, I just want to lay down and die, but there’s something in this world that wants me to live—as long as I live miserably.

After four years out of home, I’m officially in the system and so is my baby. She was developed enough that I had to name her. I also have to bury her.

I called her Phoenix. My hope is that one day she’ll be born again to another mother, far more capable of nurturing her than I ever was or could be. I need to have hope in that. Otherwise, what was the point in all this?

The clothes I came in wearing, never came back to me. I have a feeling that they were so disgusting they took them somewhere and burned them.

Standing in the small hospital bathroom, I dress in a plain grey tracksuit and I’m ready to leave. The girl I see in the mirror now holds very little resemblance to the girl I remember. This one is pale with large sunken eyes and colourless lips. Her hair is long and matted, and her bones can be seen clearly through her skin. This isn’t me.

I don’t know who’s staring back at me.

When I step out of the bathroom there’s a woman out there waiting for me. She carries a clipboard and a small travel bag and introduces herself as Justine.

“I’ll be taking you to your new home today,” she tells me, smiling broadly. I suspect she’s trying to gain my trust, but I’m all out of that. I should have stopped trusting the moment my parents kicked me out of home. But I was stupid. I trusted, and I trusted like I actually believed I might belong somewhere. That someone might actually want me. But it was all a bunch of sordid lies. I was naïve, every bit the brainless girl Jeff mocked me for. Now look where it’s got me.

I’m nothing. I’m no one.

I nod my head curtly and follow along behind her as she leads the way out of the hospital. I notice the sad look some of the nurses give me as I leave the ward, they feel sorry for me. I really don’t think they should. I made most of my own choices. And those choices led me here.

Justine tries to make conversation with me during the hour it takes us to drive to the facility. But I don’t give her much in response. I seem to be all out of words. There’s simply nothing more to say.

“We’re here,” she says as we pull up in front of a large white brick building surrounded by neatly kept gardens.

I get out of the car and look over what Justine called my new home. It isn’t much of a home at all. It just looks like another hospital. As we walk through the front doors, it’s more of the same. Everything is white and sterile, and it seems like misery radiates off the walls. I don’t want to be here. But it looks like somewhere I belong.

Thirty-Five

“How do you feel after laying your child to rest?” my therapist asks the day after Phoenix’s funeral.

I blink rapidly as the memory fills my mind.

I’ve only been in rehab for a couple of days, but I was allowed to say goodbye to the daughter I’ll never know. I was escorted off the premises to attend her publicly funded funeral.

I stood there. On my own, staring down at the tiny coffin that held her body. No one was there, no one cared. They didn’t know her, or even know of her existence.

Her burial was witnessed by myself, my case worker, and the minister presiding over the service. That’s it. That alone is devastating to me. Her death is so significant. I feel like the whole world should be mourning in the streets.

With a bunch of flowers purchased from the service station on the way, I farewelled my precious girl, and vowed to never take another drug again and never to bed another man. The cost is just too severe. I’d rather be a nun.

“Paige?” my therapist prompts me, my eyes come to focus as a drop of water slips from my cheek and splashes on my hand. I touch my face to find I’m crying.

“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping at my tears and frowning slightly. “Um… what was the question?”

“I asked how you feel about the funeral yesterday.”

I move my eyes so they meet his with a steady gaze. “Nothing. I feel nothing.”

Thirty-Six

One month sober

Group therapy. I’d love to know who the genius is that came up with this one. I feel like I’m sitting in a room competing for the title of ‘The Most Fucked up’. But we’re all fucked up, just in different ways.

“Paige?” Our group counsellor, Edith, calls on me. “Do you think you’re ready to tell us how you got here?”

“In a car,” is all I say in return. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to share my experience. I sit here, listening to others break down and cry as they tell their stories. Each one is sad. Each one is hopeless. I don’t want to add mine to the mix. It’s hard enough listening to theirs.

“How does it make everyone feel when Paige gives us an answer like that?” she says to the group.

“It makes me feel like she thinks this is all a joke. That she doesn’t take this seriously,” says Vicky, a small twenty-five-year-old Islander girl, whose voice is thick and gravelly and betrays the fragility of her size.

“I think she’s just being honest,” Liam, a nineteen-year-old high school dropout, says. Everyone calls him ‘Poor Little Rich Boy’ because he comes from money. But he’s just as lost as the rest of us. “By car is exactly how she got here.”

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re not exactly the best sharer here either,” another girl, Kerri, says.

“I just don’t have anything to say. I took too many drugs. End of story.”

“What? You think you’re better than us. Just ‘cause you’re some rich kid who’s had an easy life?”

“You don’t know anything about my life,” he spits.

“Yeah. ’cause you’re too chicken shit to say anything about it.”

“Fuck off, Kerri. We can’t all be tortured souls like you.”

“Alright. Alright. That’s enough,” Edith calls out, holding her hands up. “This isn’t helping anyone.”

The argument continues regardless. People are on edge in here. It seems like we all took drugs to forget something. Remembering is painful. It’s easier to be angry.

Liam stands and points his finger, moving across everyone in our haphazard circle as he speaks. “Just because you all have a ‘woe is me’ tale to tell. Doesn’t mean I have to as well. I’m sick of listening to your bitching. I’m sick of listening to your fucking judgement. If I don’t want to talk. I don’t fucking have to, and neither does she.” His finger lands on me, and I wish I could shrink down in my seat. I don’t want to be singled out. “I’m sick of this fucking place,” he yells, kicking his chair back from the circle and walking off.

“No smoking indoors, Liam,” Edith calls after him.

“Fuck you,” he throws over his shoulder, lighting a cigarette anyway. He thumps his hands against the glass doors and pushes his way out into to the garden, blowing a lungful of smoke inside through the gap as it closes.

“Well, I think we might let that be the end to our session for the day,” Edith announces as he walks out of view.

Relieved, I stand to leave, picking up my jacket from the back of my chair and swinging it around my body to slip my arms inside.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten away with not sharing, Paige. Eventually, you’ll need to talk. If it isn’t in here, then you’ll need to do it in the private sessions. You won’t recover properly without it,” Edith informs me quietly. Although, I don’t respond beyond staring at her blankly.

Pressing her lips together in a tight smile, she squeezes my arm gently before turning her attention towards Kerri, who’s complaining about the way Liam spoke to her.

I lean down to the ground and pick my book up off the floor. Reading is my one pleasure. There is a small library in the facility where we can check out books to read in our downtime. There’s a lot of downtime. Books help me escape and avoid talking to anyone. I don’t want to make friends. I want to do my time here and get the hell out.

Thirty-Seven

When my ninety days are up, Justine returns to collect me. I’m free from drugs. I’ve put on some weight, and I’m about to be taken to my new accommodation.

“Happy Birthday for last week,” she says, as I get in the car.

“Thanks, I guess,” I reply, clicking my seatbelt across my body.

She starts to drive and make small talk along the way. Inwardly, I roll my eyes. I’m not interested in going through this again.

“I’m told you weren’t very cooperative in therapy,” she says after a while.

I bounce my shoulder in reply and look out the window. It’s something they were constantly on my back about. They wanted me to talk. They wanted to hear all about my past and get me to spill my guts about everything I’ve done. But, I don’t want to talk about anything that’s happened to me in my life. I don’t think I’ll ever want to talk about it. It’s a darkness in my soul that no amount of talking is going to turn light. I don’t see the point.

But everyone in there talked. Even Liam started talking after a while. They all talked about the things they did to get their hands on drugs, what they did while on them. No-one’s story is quite the same as mine. No one was a pet.

So I didn’t share. I didn’t make friends. I preferred everyone to think I was a standoffish bitch instead of having those people, who have gone through addiction the same as me, actually look at me with pity in their eyes. I don’t think I could recover from that.

The more I listened to them talk, the more I realised just how unforgivable everything I’ve done is. I don’t even want to think about it.

“I’m sure this sounds like a broken record Paige, but you’re going to have to talk eventually,” she reminds me.

“Where are we going?” I ask her in response, hopeful of a subject change.

“Lemongrove. It’s Western Sydney. I’ve secured you emergency housing—a flat. You’ve been set up with some furniture, and you’ll be going to TAFE to complete your high school certificate. There are lots of programs that will help you get a job when you’re done. But for now, you need to stay clean, go to school, and meet with me once a week.”

“What if I don’t do any of that?”

“Then you lose your assistance. Simple as that.”

I can’t believe I’m going back to school. Just the thought of studying again feels a little overwhelming. And a job? I have no idea what I’m going to do when the time comes to find a job. Drugs and theft aren’t mainstream skills.

And I’m still not sure my life is worth living.

Thirty-Eight

8 months clean

“Have you made any friends yet?” Justine asks during one of my home visits. She comes to me once a month now as my progress is looking good in her books. I have to show her everything I’m doing, and I have to pee in a cup for a drug test to prove I’m still clean. But other than that, my life is becoming pretty normal.

“No,” I reply.

“Paige, you need friends.”

“No, I don’t. I’m fine on my own. Trusting people is what got me into this mess. I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Why don’t you tell me about that?”

I shake my head and button my lips.

She sighs and moves on to her next question. “How are your NA meetings going?”

“I haven’t been to one,” I admit, looking down at the toe of my shoe. I know I’m supposed to go, but I don’t want to spend my nights sitting in a room with people telling me their sob stories. I had enough of that in rehab. There is no way I’m touching a drug again. I just don’t feel like I need to go.

“It’s a part of your program, Paige. You have to go.”

“Fine. I’ll go,” I lie. I won’t go. I don’t want to go at all. The meetings are anonymous, how are they going to know if I’m there or not?

“That’s excellent.” She grins. “It just so happens, there is one on tonight at the Community Centre. I’ll take you.”

Rolling my eyes, I nod my head. I don’t see a way of getting out of this.

Justine drives us in her car. Out the front I see a sign on the door that says ‘NA meeting inside’. Advertising it seems to take away the anonymity in my books, but whatever, I guess people have to find it somehow.

As expected, the meeting is filled with people droning on about their hard lives, essentially making excuses for their drug use. I don’t want to hear it. Each time one of them breaks down and cries over stealing their mother’s jewellery, I want to stand up and scream, At least you have a mother to steal from! But I don’t. Of course I don’t. Everyone’s pain is their own. I do understand that. I also understand that talking about it is making them feel better. I understand they need that.

But I can’t talk. I can’t feel better. No amount of words, no amount of talking, no amount of admitting what I did, is ever going to change anything.

Talking. Talking. Talking. It’s forever torturing me. I hate being here.

Justine sits quietly beside me as I lean back in my chair and look up at the ceiling, avoiding all eye contact. I only half listen as they introduce themselves and share their stories. I’m more focused on the ticking of the clock so I can get out of here. But a voice and a name I’ve heard before brings my focus to the group.

“Hi, my name’s Braden, and I’m a drug addict.”

My head snaps forward so fast, I almost pull a muscle. Braden? Fucking Braden is here?

My eyes grow wide as they land upon the face of the person I had thought of as my friend. The person I’d grown to care for. The person who betrayed me.

“I need to go,” I say to Justine.

“Paige. You need to stay for this whole meeting or I’m going to put in my report that you aren’t properly completing your program.”

That means no assistance and the possibility of jail time. I fold my arms and sink back down in my seat then focus all of my anger and hatred into my eyes so I can shoot it like daggers into Braden. Just looking at him is making my blood boil.

“Hi Braden,” the room choruses in that deadpan way a group does.

“I started taking drugs when I was about thirteen,” he starts. “It’s the usual story. I started with pot and worked my way up to more illicit things. At first it was purely recreational, but using made me feel like the rules of the world didn’t apply to me.

“As my need took over, my morals went out the window. I ended up taking a job with a really shady character. He asked me to procure certain…things for him.” He glances at me.

“At first I didn’t mind. I’d find him what he wanted, deliver it to him and get paid handsomely as a result. I didn’t want for much, the money paid for my schooling and my lifestyle, and I still had a little left over. I chose what he wanted carefully and didn’t consider I was hurting anybody.” He frowns and looks at his hands. “At least until I fell in love with someone, and he wanted her as one of his pets.”

My heart stops. Do not tell them about me.

“I’d seen her around for a while and she seemed, let’s say she was his ideal. But something happened, and I found myself helping her out, instead of using her like I normally would. As I got to know her, we became great friends—best friends—I loved her more than I ever loved another human. And together we starting working on something that would fund both of our habits.

“It was all working really well, and we didn’t consider our drug use to be a problem. Life was good. But we were on borrowed time. My boss found out I had goods I wasn’t delivering to him. He threatened my life, and to save myself, I hurt my friend.” A tear falls and he meets my eyes as he wipes his cheek. “After that, I hit the drugs really hard, and it wasn’t long before I overdosed. I guess I wanted to die. I hated what I’d become. The drugs had taken over, and I wanted it all to be over.” He presses his lips together and sniffs. “But, I survived. I got help. And now, I’ve been sober for nine months.”

The group claps to congratulate his sobriety, Justine places her hand on mine and squeezes me reassuringly. “You’re doing great,” she whispers.

I turn my attention to her and blink rapidly. Tears are spilling from my eyes.

I didn’t even realise I was crying.

* * *

When the meeting is over, we’re invited to mingle over coffee or tea and some biscuits. I don’t want to stay, but Justine insists that I do.

“You need to find yourself a sponsor,” she reminds me.

I nod at a few people who smile to be friendly and make my way to the coffee urn.

“Paige?”

I close my eyes. I knew he’d come over, but I hoped he’d stay away. I turn to see him standing beside me, a pained expression on his face as he bites his lip, waiting for me to respond.

“Braden.” There’s no emotion to my voice as I regard him. Even after his story, I still hate him for what he did.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see that you’re OK,” he breathes.

“I can’t tell you how unhappy I am to see that you’re OK,” I retort.

He sighs. “guess I deserve that.”

“And then some.” I laugh humourlessly.

He busies himself, readying his own cup of International Roast coffee, piling in the sugar to make it palatable, before speaking again.

“You know that girl in my story is you right?” he asks. “You have to know I didn’t want to take you to him.”

“Then why did you?”

He stands in front of me and takes a breath as if he is planning on trying to explain, but he stops himself. We already know the answer.

“We should have killed ourselves,” I whisper as I lean in close and speak so only he and I can hear. “Do you know what he does to his girls? He keeps them constantly medicated and uses their body like it’s a toy. And he shares his toys. He’s very generous like that. He plays rough too, until his toys are all used up and broken. And then he throws them out. Just like that.” I snap my fingers for emphasis. “It’s people like you who help him to do that. You keep his meat fresh, so he’s never left wanting.”

His eyes are wide as the colour drains from his face. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“You could say sorry to me ten times a second for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough. There is nothing you can do to change what happened. Nothing that can take it all away.”

“Let me try, Paige. Please. I need to try and make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing you can do. I’m not the girl you knew anymore,” I say as I step away from him and move back to Justine.

“Everything OK?”she asks when I reach her.

“I attended. Can we go now?”

“Do you know that guy?” She nods at Braden.

“No. I don’t think I ever knew him at all.”

Thirty-Nine

Counselling sucks, and I can’t seem to escape it. I hate talking about my feelings. I do everything I’m supposed to, but I still don’t share at the meetings. The most I have ever said is “Hi, I’m Paige and I’m a drug addict. I never wanted to be one, but somehow I got caught up in it and the destruction it causes. I don’t want to go back to it. I don’t think I’ll ever go back.”

Braden keeps trying to talk to me, it’s like he needs me to forgive him so he can move forward. But I can’t.

“So um, I’ve been working in a tattoo parlour. You should come and check it out sometime,” he tells me after a meeting. Every time he talks to me his voice has a slight shake to it. I make him nervous.

“Why would I want to do that?” I ask. It seems like every time I speak to him, my voice loses all feeling. But maybe that’s just how it always is these days.

“I don’t know. You used to like looking at my drawings. I thought you might like to see some of my designs.”

I look over his arms and wonder why he isn’t displaying any of his work in his body. “Where are your tattoos? Seems strange to be designing them but not displaying them.”

“I only have one,” he says, pressing his lips together lightly.

“Did it hurt too much and you can’t handle getting any more?” I ask, mocking him.

His eyes soften. “No. It was worth it.”

He busies himself, placing granulated coffee in his foam cup, along with his usual mammoth amount of sugar. I watch him. I have to admit that curiosity is getting the better of me.

“Where did you get it? The tattoo… can you show me or is it somewhere private?”

“Nowhere you haven’t seen before,” he grins, glancing at me as he presses the lever on the urn to add the hot water.

“On your arse?” I ask.

He shakes his head as he adds his milk and turns to me. “No. It’s on my chest. Over my heart.”

“Oh. Well… what is it?”

He pulls the neck of his T-shirt down so I can see it. It’s a symbol about the size of my palm done in black ink. I’ve never seen one like it before, it’s a circular shape that has spikes and arrows evenly placed around it as they jut out of some sort of irregular square shape in the middle.

“Does it mean anything?”

“Yes. It’s the symbol for sorrow and despair. I got it over my heart to remind me to stay strong. To remind me of what I did to you.”

My throat thickens and makes it hard for me to swallow. “Don’t, Braden. I don’t want to hear it,” I whisper, tears burning the backs of my eyes as I shake my head no.

“But I loved you, Paige, and I threw you to the wolves. Handing you over was the worst thing I have ever done. I need to remember. I need to be reminded every day when I look in the mirror that my drug addiction destroyed not only my life, but that of my friend’s as well.”

“It wasn’t just my life you destroyed Braden. Every girl you ever took to him was destroyed. Why don’t you have a tattoo for each of them?”

“I don’t know. You’re the only one I tried to keep for myself. You’re the only one I didn’t want to take to him.”

“You’re talking like we were lovers or something, Braden. I think you’re romanticising what was between us.”

“I’m not. I did love you. You were my family. My best friend. You knew me. What we had was better than some stupid relationship where you fuck for a while and it’s over. We were real together.”

“I have to go.” I say, thumbing over my shoulder. I can’t stand here and listen to this anymore. “Congratulations on your job. I’ll see you around.”

I spin on my heel and make my way out of there as fast as I can. Trying not to think about the emotions boiling up inside of me. Having Braden back in my life is messing with me, making me feel things I don’t want to. I hate that he felt so strongly about me and still handed me over. I hate that he has a tattoo on his chest that represents me. I have so much hate, so much disappointment inside me.

I want it gone. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I hold on until I get back to my flat. I hold on as I rush to the bathroom, turn on the shower and get inside. The water is still cold, but as soon as it hits my face, I let go.

There’s something about crying in the shower that makes it OK. It’s like crying with the water doesn’t make it real, and I can pretend it never happened. I can pretend I’m still strong. But I’m not. I never have been.

Forty

“Paige, we’ve been having these sessions for a few months now. I’m not going to sign off on your treatment until we actually discuss something important,” my counsellor, Erin, says to me at my next appointment.

“Don’t you think the most important thing is that I stay off the drugs? Isn’t that the whole reason I’m here?”

“Yes, that’s part of it. But the loss you’ve experienced makes you a high risk of relapse. Counselling can help, Paige. But only if you’ll let it.”

“I’m not going to relapse,” I insist, looking at a print of an Australian bush scene hanging on the wall in her office, and wishing that she had a window so I didn’t feel so trapped whenever I came here.

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“Because I won’t.”

“I admire your determination, Paige. I really do. But right now, you’re living in a guided situation. You have regular contact with people whose job is to make sure you have all the help you need to move on with your life. This situation won’t last forever. Eventually, you’ll be on your own. You’ll want to have relationships, maybe even start a family. And all of these things can be extremely difficult if we don’t address your past. How can you possibly have a productive future?”

I adjust myself in my seat and fold my arms over my chest. “Firstly, I don’t want to have a relationship, or a family. I don’t want to address my past either. It’s been one huge disappointment after another, and I really don’t want to think about it.”

“You might not want to think about it. But our minds have a habit of forcing us to deal with things.”

I drop my head against the back of the couch and look up at the ceiling. During the day, I’m able to keep busy. I focus on my school work, or I read. I tidy my flat, and I cook. Life is very normal during the day. But when it’s time to sleep, my mind won’t stop.

In those moments before I drift off, I remember everything. My dreams remind me about my past. Then every morning when I wake, the first thought in my mind is of Phoenix, followed by the knowledge that my self-destructive decisions are the reason she didn’t survive.

“You know, when my parents kicked me out of home, I thought I was better off on my own. That I didn’t need the help of homeless shelters, or the charities that run them. I thought that being put into foster care, or a girl’s home would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But now I know that if it wasn’t for programs like this, I’d be dead.” I brush a finger across the top of my nose as I focus on the carpet. “Honestly, I think sometimes that would be better. I’m not going to kill myself, but I do wish I had sometimes. Because if I could choose between my daughter’s life and my own, I’d choose hers. Every time I’d choose hers.” I choke up and struggle to keep going. “Every time I think about her growing inside me, it hits me that all she ever knew was drugs. All she felt was my misery. She never knew love. She was dead before I knew she existed, and I hate myself for that. All I ever wanted was someone to love me. For my parents to love me. And she died without a single hope, a single breath. I wish I was sitting here with a little girl in my lap talking to you about how hard it is being a single mother without an education. But I’m not. I know what I did. I know what I lost, and I don’t want to talk about it any more. I am not going to relapse. I don’t want to take drugs to forget. I need this pain. It’s the only thing reminding me that I’m still alive.”

Forty-One

18 months sober

By the time my recovery program is finished, I have my School Certificate. It isn’t enough to get me into a university course, but it’s enough that I can continue on and do a diploma or apply for an apprenticeship. They also offer career counselling, showing me a lot of pamphlets about jobs in industries that need workers.

I pick up the pamphlet that talks about trades you can learn and wonder if I’d be any good at hairdressing. I figure that I have so much hair of my own, it might be nice to learn what to do with it.

The great thing about these community outreach programs, is that they put you in touch with employers who are willing to work with troubled kids. My counsellor made a few calls and within a week, I had an interview at a local hair salon, where I met Tina.

She left home at an early age by choice, she told me she was getting roughed up and couldn’t take it anymore. The day she got her first job was the same day she left home and moved into a share house. Life was difficult for her, but she was careful with her money, worked hard and eventually, started up her own salon. Now she’s at a point where she can afford to hire an apprentice, and she wants to give someone else the same opportunity she had. I guess I’m lucky that ‘someone’ is now me.

I’m still attending NA meetings, but I only go once a week now. Braden and I are slowly starting to talk more. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. I don’t think we’ll ever be as close as we once were. It’s too hard to forgive him that much, but I don’t feel so much like stabbing him whenever I see him anymore.

I still haven’t seen the tattoo parlour he works at, although he’s been bringing sketch pads with him to meetings and showing me what he’s working on.

He’s planning sleeves for himself, every part of the tattoo will tell a story. The left side, he wants to represent his past, and the right side, his future. It will be a huge undertaking, but I’m sure it will look fantastic when he’s done.

Talking about the symbolism of his ink has got me thinking. I really like the idea of having something that will permanently remind me why I’m living my life the way I am. A tattoo feels like just the thing.

“Braden?” I ask one evening after a meeting. “I’ve been thinking, do you remember how you said you’d do anything for my forgiveness?”

That got his attention, suddenly he’s one hundred percent focused on me instead of the sketch pad on his lap. “Of course. What is it?”

“I want a tattoo.”

“Sure. What do you want? Something on your shoulder? Your hip? Your ankle?”

“My back. I want my entire back done.”

His eyes practically pop out of his head. “You want your whole back done for your first tattoo?”

“Yes. And before you start trying to talk me out of it, I know it’s going to hurt and I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about the tattoo you have, how it’s there to remind you about the worst thing you’ve done. I want something like that too. My worst thing is much bigger than your worst thing. So it needs to be large. It needs to take over my body.”

He sits quiet for a moment then nods his understanding. “I want a phoenix, flames and all. In my mind, it rises from my hips, and its head goes up to one shoulder and the wings are diagonal around me. Can you do something like that?”

“Of course. I’ll do some drawings to show you next week… or I can always call and we can meet up. Have a coffee or something?”

“No. Next week is fine.” I stand up and turn to leave, but I pause.

“Thanks, Braden,” I say over my shoulder and then head home.

Forty-Two

The next week, Braden has pages of phoenixes drawn for me.

“Wow, you’ve really been working hard on this,” I comment as I go through the images. They’re all beautiful and very similar to what I asked of him. Although, some are more detailed than others. A few pages in, I find it. “This one.” I tap the page. “This is exactly what I imagined.”

“Done,” he says quietly, taking the sketch pad off me and looking more closely at his drawing. “I think a phoenix is really fitting Paige. Because you made it out. You’ve turned your life around.”

I shake my head minutely as a coldness seeps into my heart, sending me rigid and making my pain stab at my insides. “The phoenix has nothing to do with me, Braden. It’s for my daughter.”

“I didn’t realise you have a daughter.”

“I don’t. She’s dead.”

“Oh God. I’m so—”

“Just do the tattoo, OK? That’s all I need from you.” I can’t hear his sorry.

He nods. “When do you want to start?”

“As soon as possible.”

Forty-Three

It takes over a month of work and healing to get the tattoo complete. We work on it after hours so it doesn’t get in the way of Braden’s paying customers.

While he works, we talk. Sometimes it’s just general chit chat. Sometimes it’s more serious. But it’s different to therapy. It’s different to meetings. It’s two people with a shared experience, finding a way to get over it.

“How did you end up living out west?” I ask him.

“I got so hooked on heroin that I qualified for the methadone program in St Marys. I stayed in a group home for a while and fought really hard to get off the stuff completely. Sally, my sponsor, has been really great. He’s helped me a lot. But, I met a lot of people who weren’t so lucky. They just moved from heroin to methadone and never got off it.”

“Your sponsor’s name is Sally?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You’ve seen him before. He’s the guy with the big black beard and the shaved head.”

“Really? I never would have picked him for a ‘Sally’,” I comment, laughing to myself.

As the days wear on, Braden tells me about his life and how he got involved with Reggie.

“I was buying more than I could afford, and to work off my debt, he took me on as a dealer and his sometime… um… companion. I’m sure you know by now that Reggie likes it every way there is. He didn’t have a big group of girls back then. He had one or two that stayed with him and everyone else got a call whenever he wanted to party. Anyway, after a while, I started recruiting new dealers, and I bragged that I could get anything I wanted—a really stupid thing to say around a guy like Reggie, but I was high, and I wasn’t really thinking.

“He told me to find him a girl. One that no one would miss. He needed to increase his stock levels. So I started paying attention to the girls who slept around a lot. The girls who always seemed to be on something, or seemed really lonely… lost… I’d take them home and play the gentleman, then tell them I knew a guy who would treat them well and give them anything they wanted. Then I’d hand them over.”

I have my back to him as he works on my tattoo, so I can’t see his face as he speaks. But, the air around us is completely sombre, and so filled with regret that I close my eyes to gather some strength before speaking. “So you’re the reason for Reggie’s girls?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “And I’m going to rot in hell for it.”

He pauses in his work, so I take the opportunity to turn and face him. “I’m pretty sure this is hell, Braden. Living with what we’ve done. This is hell.”

“What did you do that’s so terrible, Paige?”

“Everything. I did absolutely everything I was told to do. And then some.”

Forty-Four

The tattoo is finally complete and properly healed. I’ve seen it in the mirror. But Braden is at my flat, taking photos of it so I can see it all properly. It really is something, a real work of art.

“It’s wonderful, Braden. It’s like she’s holding me,” I whisper, looking at the images of the phoenix on my back.

I trace the image with my fingertips as I study the intricacies of the design. The flames erupt out of my lower back as the phoenix rises with its beak open as it calls out over my right shoulder, its wings outstretched. One wing reaches up over my left shoulder and the other, down around to my ribs on the right. It’s as if it’s hugging itself around me protectively. My baby. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, but I’ll carry you with me always. The phoenix's tail feathers fan out near the flames, curving around my body until they reach my hip bone in swirls of yellow, orange and red.

“I love it. It’s better than I imagined,” I tell him in a whisper, still focusing on the images.

“Will you tell me about her? About your daughter?” Braden asks as he moves to sit beside me.

I continue to stare at the pictures as tears drop quietly from my eyes, then I clear my throat. I’m ready. “She um, didn’t even to get to breathe. I didn’t know I was pregnant. I was just so caught up in the drugs and that stupid lifestyle he gave us. I didn’t even notice.”

“Was she Reggie’s?”

“Who knows? But she was mine, and I didn’t protect her. I was even worse than my own mother. I ruined her before she was even born. She didn’t have a chance.”

“What was her name?”

“Phoenix. Her name was Phoenix,” I tell him, wiping at my eyes and taking a deep breath. “That’s the whole meaning of the tattoo. I want to remember her always. I want to carry her with me.”

“Like your cross to bear.”

“Exactly. She was innocent. She was perfect. And I destroyed her.”

Forty-Five

Five

Four years later. Still sober.

“How does it feel to be a fully-fledged hairdresser?” Tina asks when my apprenticeship is finally complete. She’s taking me out to dinner to celebrate.

“It feels great. I’m actually really proud of myself,” I tell her, leaning forward to sip on my coke through the red straw. I haven’t gone to that many restaurants in the past few years, so it’s kind of nice to be in one.

“You should be proud. You’re wonderful at your job.”

I smile and think about how much my life has changed since my stay in rehab. Without the encouragement and support of my boss, Tina, and my caseworker, Justine. I don’t know that I would have made it this far.

I’m proud to say I’m what’s called a ‘functioning member of society’. I have a job. I have a handful of friends, and I have a home. It’s a rented one, but I got it off my own merits, it’s not a government subsidised one anymore.

I moved out of the flat in Lemongrove, and into a new one in Westmead. I needed a change of scenery, and I needed to move away from Braden. While spending time with him when he did my tattoo was therapeutic, the best I could do was not hate him. I still can’t be his friend.

A waiter brings our food to the table and places four dishes between us, each containing different types of Malaysian cuisine. The scent of exotic spices fills my nose and makes my mouth water as I help myself to some rice, and a beef curry.

“I’ll miss seeing you every day,” I say after a while.

“Me too. But you’re new job is with a much bigger salon that will teach you more than I ever could. I’ve loved being your teacher so far, but you have a great talent and you should go out there to learn how to make the most of it,” Tina says. “Besides, Justine is bringing me a new trainee next week. I won’t be on my own for long.” She winks, balancing a large chilli prawn between her chopsticks and placing it in her mouth.

I watch her eating for a moment. I really am going to miss her. But I knew this day would come. Tina’s salon isn’t busy enough to pay two full-time hairdressers, so I needed to start job hunting before I finished my training. In a way, it’s for the best. Me leaving means Tina can train another girl and give her the same chance in life I now have.

Next Monday, I’m starting work at a busy salon in Parramatta. I’m nervous that I won’t be good enough to perform well under the pressure of a constant stream of clients. Tina assures me I’ll do great. But, time will tell.

Forty-Six

“Who’s next?” I ask our salon hand, Tiffany, as I finish taking a client’s payment for her cut and blow dry.

“That guy over there,” she says, indicating a blond man sitting in the chair to the furthest end of the salon. “He’s just after a trim.”

“Great. Thanks.” I grab a black topped stool and slide it down the salon so I’ll be able to use it as I neaten up this client’s hair. Selecting a black salon cape, I shake it out and slide it over his clothing, introducing myself as I do.

“Hi, I’m Paige. What can I do for you today?” I ask, as I secure the clasps behind his neck and smile at him via the mirror. Holy shit.

“Paige.” A grin lights up his features, his blue eyes dancing as they meet mine via our reflections.

“Matthew. I didn’t…I never…” I stammer, completely stunned at his sudden reappearance in my life.

“Never thought you’d see me again?” he finishes for me. “I didn’t either. I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Um…” My hand flutters up and touches my temple as if there’s a pain there, but I’m just uncomfortable. Seeing Matthew reminds me of so many bad decisions, and I don’t want to think about one of them.

“How are you? How have you been?” he asks, his voice too happy for the cascade of emotions I’m struggling under.

“Um…” I say again. My words seem to evade me, so I turn to the safety of business instead of answering. “What kind of hair cut were you after?”

“Just a trim,” he tells me, watching me intently in the mirror.

My face feels like it’s burning. I’m not sure how to handle this. Never, in a million years, did I think I’d ever see him again. I’m not prepared.

I focus on cutting his hair, doing my best to avoid any sort of eye contact as I work as quickly as I can.

“Won’t you talk to me?” he says after a while.

I glance at him briefly and shake my head. “Not here, Matthew. This is my work.”

“Well, can I meet you later? Talk over dinner or even drinks?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, Paige. I’d really like to spend some time with you. What time do you get off work?”

“Six.”

“Then I’ll be waiting outside at six.”

* * *

I hang back and offer to clean things that don’t need cleaning. I can see Matthew waiting for me outside, and I don’t particularly want to go out there. I wanted to tell him no earlier, but something made me agree. There’s something about him that clouds my judgement, the same as it did all those years ago. I’ve made enough stupid decisions to last me a lifetime. I’m hoping that if I stay inside long enough, he’ll get bored and leave.

“Paige. Out,” my boss orders, his hand on the door. “You’ve worked enough for the day. I’ve got paperwork to do. Go and have some fun or something.”

“I can help you with your paperwork if you like,” I offer.

“There’s no need. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Alright,” I concede, as I reluctantly pick up my bag and head outside.

Matthew walks over to me immediately, his hands in the pockets of his beaten up brown leather jacket. “I thought you were trying to stand me up.” He grins.

“No such luck,” I deadpan back at him.

“So, where to? You hungry?”

“Coffee will be fine. We can talk just fine over coffee,” I tell him.

Nodding his head, he walks beside me until we reach a café and go inside. “What’ll it be?” he asks as we head to the counter.

“Just get yours. I’ll order my own.”

“No, I insist. I’ll pay.”

I open my mouth to protest, but when I meet his eyes, my mind goes blank. Looking into his eyes is like watching someone see into my soul. It’s both captivating and painful at the same time. Words escape me, and I simply stand there, staring at him with my mouth still open.

He reaches his hand up and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “I’m glad there’s no bruising this time,” he whispers.

My eyes try to flutter closed as I lean into his hand involuntarily, but I fight to keep control. I can’t go down this path again.

“Can I help you?” the server asks from behind the counter.

Matthew keeps his eyes locked with mine. “Two strong flat whites please,” he orders.

Getting some sort of power over my own body, I place my hand on his chest and push myself away from him. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t want this,” I babble and make my way out of the coffee shop. I shake my head quickly, it’s as if I’ve just broken the effects of some sort of a spell.

Walking hurriedly, I head for the train station so I can make my way home.

“Paige!” Matthew calls, running after me.

“Just go away, Matthew. I’m not doing this again,” I tell him, as I continue to walk.

“Doing what? We’re just having coffee.”

He falls in step beside me and works his way in front so I’m forced to stop walking.

“Please move,” I say, trying to walk around him. Every time I step to the side, he’s right there with me.

“Talk to me.”

“What do you want from me?” I cry out eventually.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”

“Really? Just like you wanted me all those years ago?”

“Yes. More than that. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

“You haven’t stopped thinking about me? Seriously?”

“Of course. Don’t you understand how much I cared about you?”

“If you cared about me, why did you let me leave? You knew I had nowhere to go.”

“I… Paige. I shouldn’t have let you go. I’ve regretted that moment every day since it happened.”

“So have I, Matthew. I regret sleeping with you. I regret giving into whatever it was we had. That moment ruined my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have no idea what I went through. If you had cared about me, you never would have pursued me. You never would have slept with your best friend’s girl. I had a chance with Ed, and you pursued me. I had nothing. You knew that. The moment I left that house, my life went to shit. I have been to hell and back again because you wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.” Anger seethes inside of me as I suddenly see him as the root of all the wrong that’s been done to me. I see that moment with him as the turning point in my life. I can never look at him the same again.

“Hey, I lost Ed too that day.”

“Did you? You lost your best friend? Oh poor, Matthew. Poor, poor, Matthew! Did you lose your home? Did you lose the only person who cared enough to look after you?”

He shakes his head. “I cared. I still care. I looked for you. For months. But I fucked up and lost you. I made a mistake. OK. I know I should have told you to stay. I should have taken care of you. It was my house. Ed’s the one who left. He went back home to his parent’s house, and I haven’t seen him since.”

I can’t help myself, I raise both of my hands up and push hard against his chest. This power comes from inside me that I didn’t know was there, and it sends him stumbling backwards.

“You ruined my life!” I scream. I don’t care that we’re on the street. I don’t care that people can hear me. I don’t even care that I’m being irrational. But hearing him say how he regrets letting me walk out, breaks me. It’s like he’s holding up a picture of a life I could have had. But he just forgot to give it to me.

He rushes me, wrapping his arms around me as I fight him with everything I have while he pushes me up against the closest wall. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, taking my face in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He presses his lips against mine briefly, before wiping away my tears and planting gentle kisses on my eyes, on my forehead, in my hair. He continues trying to calm me, but I break down. Crying in the street like a woman possessed. I just can’t hold it in anymore.

My knees buckle, and I lean against him, crying into his shoulder as he holds me. He speaks to me softly. But I don’t hear a word. I’m so lost in my own pain right now.

Eventually, I do calm down. We’re now sitting on the footpath, with people walking past us on their way either to, or from, the station.

“What happened to you?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.

I push up from the ground and dust myself off. “No one saved me. That’s what happened.”

Standing beside me, he tries to look into my eyes. Although, I look everywhere but at him. “Let me make it all up to you. I never thought I’d see you again. I feel like fate has intervened somehow and it’s giving us a second chance. We can make this right. I can make this right.”

“I don’t believe in fate, Matthew. We’re not meant to be together. I’m sorry for breaking down on you. I really shouldn’t have done that. I think I just took years of shit out of you, and that was wrong of me.” I step away from him, needing to end this. “I’m going to go now. I don’t want to see you again, so don’t follow me. And please don’t stop me. What we had. It’s gone now. On my side, it’s gone. Just… leave me alone. If you care about me even a little, leave. me. alone.”

“Paige. Don’t do this. I just found you again,” he pleads, and I take another step away.

“You didn’t find me. The girl you knew is so lost she’ll never be found. You and I, we can’t happen. It’s impossible now.”

I turn and head towards the station, leaving the only man I’ve truly had real feelings for behind. As I ride the train home, I’m filled with nothing but regret. That day with Matthew is probably the one piece of light amongst it all, but I still regret it. I regret everything. But that’s been my life so far, one giant ball filled with thousands of regrets.

Forty-Seven

Twenty-six. The numbers glow in the centre of the birthday cake my coworkers present me with. In my mind, that number is huge. I used to think that I wouldn’t make it through the night. So to be alive is an accomplishment in itself.

“Make a wish,” my boss says.

I close my eyes and think about a new life. Then I blow.

After seeing Matthew again, I decided it was time to find another job. I wanted a life without any reminders of who I used to be, I needed to put my old life behind me. But that isn’t possible, when you’ve been around as much as I have, there’s always someone who’ll remember you. Every job I got, eventually someone came in who remembered me. I denied it every time. I acted like they were wrong, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But we both knew I was lying.

“I’m upset this is goodbye, too,” my friend, Lizzie says. She gives me a hug, and all I can smell is the sweet icing from the cake.

“The UK awaits,” I say with a smile.

“Are you excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve been saving forever.”

“I’m so jealous,” another coworker says. “I wish I was relocating to London.”

“I have dual citizenship, so it’s a little easier for me,” I explain. It’s something I learned recently after tracking down my birth father. I’ve decided I need to know who he is, and why he never claimed me. It’ll be the last step in my healing process, and for the first time in forever, I’m excited.

Using the address on my birth certificate, I searched Facebook for every Daniel Ashdown in that area and contacted them, asking them if they knew my mother. Finally one replied, knowing he was my father, and everything is moving forward from there. He’s agreed to meet me. I don’t know what meeting him will do, exactly. But I feel like I have to go and close that door once and for all.

I’ve been frugal since starting to work. I’ve spent only what I needed to over the years, afraid of my life blowing up again and having nothing to fall back on. I’ve saved a lot and can afford to go to the UK for a few months without working. Although I think I’ll get a job as soon as possible. With my funds limited, I don’t want to risk running my money down too low and being unable to find something.

I spend my evenings online, pouring over information about the UK. I search the area where my father lives, and where I think I might like to stay. The idea of having a new start in life and leaving every person who ever knew me before is glorious to me.

For the first time in years, I’m actually smiling.

Forty-Eight

The first day of the rest of my life

My life in Australia has been packed up and either stored or given away. I don’t need it anymore.

On the other side of the world is a new life. It’s there waiting for me. No more looking over my shoulder. No more seeing places that remind me of what I’ve done, or who I was. It’s all going to be new.

With a duffel bag I purchased from the camping store filled with the basics. I set off to the airport. As the cab approaches the international departure building at Sydney Airport, butterflies dance excitedly through my entire body.

I check my bag and get my boarding pass. Then go and sit in the waiting area near my departure gate while I listen to my music and leaf through a fashion magazine. Glancing up occasionally, I watch as other passengers take the seats around me. I smile to myself as a striking man sits not far away from me—pure blue eyes, full mouth, light golden-brown hair and broad shoulders—he actually looks as though he should be pictured in this magazine with a tall skinny girl draped over him and pouting. He’s too beautiful and seems at odds with the normal looking people around him. He’s exactly the kind of guy I would have taken home in the old days. A gorgeous fuck, that’s all they were good for.

Smiling to myself as I flick the page, I enjoy the feeling of leaving that all in the past. I’m so different now. Some would call me a grownup, but I prefer to say I’m recovered. I’m living.

Around forty minutes later, a voice comes over the loud speaker, to say our flight is boarding. People around me begin to collect their things and line up, as their seat numbers are called.

I’m nervous and keep looking at my ticket, scared I might forget my seat number and miss my call. I’ve never flown before, so this is all very new to me.

Finally the woman’s voice says the group of numbers that features my own, and I move quickly to get on board. I’m desperate to start this journey. This journey means everything to me.

As I take my seat on the plane, I struggle to keep the grin off my face. Surreptitiously, I slide my hand into the back of my shirt and touch my tattoo. Proud I’m getting out and feeling as though, finally, my old life won’t touch me or her memory ever again.

Forty-Nine

Five hours into my flight and my optimism is starting to fail me. I’ve been sat next a rather large woman who has a penchant for mind numbing conversation. She’s now told me her entire family history and has started to ask me about mine.

Of course, I’m not going to share my history with her. Instead, I tell her the modified version I’ve been using lately.

“My family are all dead,” I reply after doing my best to avoid her questions for nearly twenty minutes. I get that she’s just trying to make conversation to pass the time. But the flight from Sydney to Heathrow Airport is almost a day in length. I don’t have it in me to talk to her for that long.

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” she stammers out, now not sure what to say. She looks at me, her mouth moving up and down like she's a goldfish caught out of water. Her jowly cheeks wobble, and her eyes are darting nervously around as she searches for something else to say.

“It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it,” I tell her, looking out the window at the passing clouds. After years of saying they kicked me out, I’ve stopped. I’ve taken to telling people they all died in an accident. It’s easier that way. People ask too many questions when you tell them you were evicted from your own family. Besides, it doesn’t make me sound so great. I’m the one who was cast out. The one no one loved enough to fight for, someone who’s too much trouble to put up with. It’s better if I say they’re dead, it makes me lucky to be the one who’s still alive. Better still, it stops the questions.

Staring out the window, I watch the clouds roll by below us, like a fluffy white and grey blanket I so desperately want to touch. The woman turns her attention to the guy sitting on the other side of her—the hot guy from the gate lounge—and starts to ask him questions about his life instead. I've made her uncomfortable. I’ve probably made everyone within earshot uncomfortable.

Pressing the buds of my headphones inside my ears, I scroll through my music and select an album. I’m really into 90’s alternative music right now so I choose Custard’s Wahooti Fandango. ‘Teensville’ starts floating into my ears as I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I keep the sound at a level that is just enough to mask the sounds of the plane but quiet enough to lull me off to sleep.

* * *

In my dream, there’s a bear growling outside. I’m aware it’s a dream because Australia doesn’t have bears in the wild, so it confuses me to hear one. My consciousness moves forward as the rumbling sounds vibrate through me. It’s the sounds of the plane and…. snoring? My eyes flutter open and I remove the buds from my ears, the album I was listening to long since over, and turn my head toward the exasperating noise.

The woman who was talking to me earlier has her head tilted back, her mouth wide open, the noise is emanating from her throat. I squint at her, willing her with my mind to stir enough so the noise will stop. When she starts making a small choking sound, I flinch, surprised and slightly impressed with my new mind control ability as she quiets and her breathing evens out.

I breathe out slowly, glad the noise is over, and move to replace the buds in my ears. But I’m paused, my reprieve all too brief, as my skull starts vibrating when she starts up again. So much for my awesome mind control skills…

I cross my eyes in agitation and reach my hand toward her, clamping my fingers on either side of her nose. She makes a guttural sound, and I withdraw my hand quickly, looking out the window and pretending nothing happened. I start counting the seconds as I wait to see if it worked, feeling safe when I reach a full minute in silence.

“Thank god,” I say to myself as I lean my head back against the window. The second I begin to relax however, she starts up again.

The guy on the other side of her starts laughing. I lean forward to look at him, the ‘gorgeous fuck’. He’s laughing so hard, that I find myself smiling without even meaning to.

He's quite frankly, the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on—even more beautiful than Matthew. But he looks almost too large to be in such a small seat. His long legs are angled so that one is in the aisle, and the other is wedged in the minute gap between the seats in front of him. His broad shoulders span further than the width of the seat. And not that it matters, but his golden brown hair is a little longer than I like on guy, but it kind of suits him. He’s wearing a good day or two worth of stubble, which I’ll admit is a bit on the sexy side. And up this close, it’s his eyes that are most striking. They look like someone took the clearest, bluest part of the ocean and dropped it into his irises.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not laughing at you. I've been trying to make her stop snoring for ages. I’m laughing at the situation.”

He’s smiling at me. His smile is textbook perfect and creases the corners of his eyes as they water a little from his laughter. It’s a killer smile. If I hadn’t sworn myself off men years ago, I think I’d go all fluttery over him. But I don’t.

Instead, I decide to get up and go for a walk to stretch my legs. He gets up to let me out and makes some comment about my shirt that I ignore. He even holds his hand out to steady me as I climb over the large woman who is seated between us.

I don’t take it. I just look at it. He’s trying to be nice. I know that. But I can’t let men be nice to me. Not when I’ve come so far. Not when I know that I can do this on my own.

As I walk towards the back of the plane I feel his eyes on me. It makes my skin prickle with an attraction I don’t want to feel. I pull at my shirt to make sure all my skin is covered.

Covertly, I glance over my shoulder at the gorgeous fuck who’s still standing in the aisle. He leans forward and rubs the back of his neck with a strong lean arm. He seems the epitome of the perfect man: strong, healthy, and based upon my short interaction with him, he’s been brought up well.

I walk until I reach the back of the plane where there's a little alcove with a window. I'm so tired that I rest my forehead against the glass and look out at the nothingness that is the night sky.

“Hey there,” a deep rumble of a voice says from behind me, I tilt my head to the side, still pressed up against the glass. It’s the guy from my row. Of course it is.

Sighing, I turn and face him, not saying anything. I just look at him and wait for him to speak. He obviously wants to have a conversation, and I'm doing my best to seem uninterested. I want to get this done and over, as quickly as possible.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says, putting his hands in his jeans pockets, suddenly looking unsure of himself. “I needed to get away from the noise too.” The corner of his lip turns up as he studies me. I notice his eyes scan the length of my body and automatically fold my arms across my middle protectively, feeling betrayed by my body as it flashes hot under his gaze.

“Why would I mind?” I ask him flatly. “It’s not like I own the plane.”

He gives me what I think might be his most dashing smile, but he still looks unsure of me. “I’m Elliot by the way,” he says, extending his hand to shake mine.

My eyes travel down to his outstretched arm. I don’t want to take it. When I look up at his expectant face, his eyes narrow slightly, but he keeps his hand stretched towards me stubbornly.

“I won’t bite,” he assures me, wiggling his fingers. I’m not so sure about that.

Giving in, I reach out and take his hand. “Paige.” I nod, trying to keep my cool. Although, I have to suppress a gasp as our palms connect. It’s as if his life force just travelled up my arm and mingled with mine. I snatch my hand back quickly, hiding it behind my back, as I try to ignore the tingle his hand has left there. No, no. Not again.

A slight longing throbs inside of me. The one that wishes for the life I could have had instead of the one I got. But I squash it down as quickly as it surfaces. I can’t allow myself to seek comfort in the arms of another person again. It’s caused me nothing but pain and rejection.

From the moment my mother stopped holding me as a child, I’ve longed to be held. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this yearning inside me for comfort, for caring. For someone who gave a damn. That longing has caused me to make colossal errors in my life. I’ve fallen into situations that a stronger person would have refused to be a part of, all because I was searching for comfort, searching for love. For acceptance.

But I didn’t find it then, and I never will. Because I need to find comfort within myself. For the rest of my life, my beautiful Phoenix will wraps her wings around my body and hold me tightly until my world ends and I can finally meet her spirit. She was perfect. She was innocent. I hate that I’m here and she’s not. Because I can’t live anymore. I can exist. I can survive. But I can’t live, and I can’t feel, not in the way a man like Elliot would make me. I can’t get caught up in that again.

I turn my attention away from Elliot, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. I don’t want to feel attracted to him for another moment. When I was young, I had dreams. Dreams about happily ever afters and a life filled with love. Now, I have nightmares, my dreams long dead and buried. People like me, we don’t get happily ever afters. We’re lucky enough just to be alive.

Next in the Beautiful Series - Melody

"He's not into you."

It's the story of my life. Every time I find I guy who's perfect for me, it turns out he prefers my friend instead. They go off and get married. And I'm left smiling through gritted teeth, swearing I'm happy for them. I just have to accept that I'm destined to be perpetually single. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride...

With everyone around me settling down and popping out kids, it's time to focus on my one true love: music. The last time I was truly happy was when I was blending my classical violin training with modern music methods. I need to get back to that. Pronto.

Although, returning to my roots means facing old acquaintances. Namely brothers, Theo and Marcus Bailey. I have...history with them.

Marcus has the reputation of a playboy and knows me intimately, and Theo, well... he just plain hates me. But, when I get the chance to join their already successful band, it's an opportunity too good to pass up. I'll have to swallow my pride for the sake of my career. I'll also have to keep my distance from the Bailey brothers for the sake of the band. Because once I'm back in their lives, I find something in each of them I can't ignore (the fact they're both rock stars and ridiculously hot might have something to do with it.)

I must resist. Because you should never mix business with pleasure. Especially when that pleasure could divide families...

Naomi enters the love triangle of the century when she falls for brothers she can't have. She'll be forced to choose love or fame in Melody: Beautiful Series, three. Containing new and extended scenes from previously published books A Beautiful Melody and Commitment in one breathtaking novel.

Melody

Book Three

Foreword

It’s funny going back to write these books again. Maybe I was a happier person back then, I don’t know…but the scenes I remember being dark and gritty weren’t very dark or gritty at all. Maybe my perspective has just changed? Either way, here is a somewhat grittier version of A Beautiful Melody.

Happy reading.

Prologue

Six years ago…

Naomi

“Where did you get that?” I ask as Erica passes a bottle of Bacardi Rum to Stephanie.

“I swiped it from my Dad,” Amy explains, taking it from Steph. “It’s been hidden in the pantry forever. I don’t even think he knew it was there.” She takes a swig then hands it to me.

Sniffing the bottle before I drink, I’m not sure I’m gonna like this. It smells like petrol mixed with disinfectant.

“Just drink already,” Erica urges. “It won’t kill ya.”

“It’ll put hair on your chest, though.” Stephanie giggles.

“I don’t want hair anywhere it doesn’t belong,” I say, grimacing before I hold my breath and tip the bottle back.

“Yay! That a girl,” Amy cheers, clapping me on the back as I choke. The clear liquid burns my throat and makes my eyes water.

“Holy shit,” I splutter. “That stuff is horrible.”

“It’s just a little liquid courage,” Erica says, taking the bottle from my grip. “We need to go in there and act like we belong.”

“Yeah. Don’t you want to see Marcus playing in his band?” Stephanie teases because I’ve had a crush on him since the beginning of high school. He was the year above us, and any opportunity I got, I followed him around like a lost puppy. He’s so dreamy. And talented too. He’s got an amazing voice, and his guitar skills are second to none. Out of everyone from our performing arts school, I think he’s the one most likely to hit it big. He just has that ‘it’ factor.

“Of course, I want to see him. I just don’t know if he’ll even notice me. I haven’t spoken to him in over a year now.” Not since he finished year twelve and started university. School hasn’t been the same since he left. There are other guys with their guitars at lunchtime, but none possess the same level of talent Marcus does. I long to hear the delicate power in his voice and artful arrangement of chords. Which is why we’re crashing a Sydney University party tonight. Erica’s older cousin goes here and mentioned Marcus’s band Matiari was playing. So here we are. It’ll be the last time I get to see Marcus play before I leave the state on my own musical journey and never look back. I’ve landed a prestigious classical scholarship at the Australian National University’s School of Music. I’ll be touring the globe as a first chair violinist before I know it. Time to say goodbye to my old life. One last shot.

“You have a vagina, don’t you?” Amy states in her usual blunt and deadpan way. “Show him and he’ll notice you. Just don’t expect him to call you in the morning.” She grabs the bottle and throws her head back, chugging down the last of it like it’s water. Impressive.

“He’ll notice you, Nomes,” Stephanie says, slipping her arm in mine as Amy tosses the empty bottle over her shoulder and yells, Onward, bitches. “You look super hot tonight, and you’re not a schoolgirl anymore. You’re an accomplished violinist going to Canberra to become even more amazing. He will be blown away by you, I promise.”

“I hope you’re right.” We trail along behind Erica and Amy who are skipping ahead, already dancing to the party’s music. “I just don’t want to leave and always wonder, ‘what if’. You know?”

She flicks her red hair over her shoulder, giving me a knowing smile. “I know.”

“Come on, slowpokes,” Amy yells, hurrying us along. “It’ll be over before we even get there.”

“We’re coming, we’re coming.” Stephanie and I jog a few steps until we catch up, joining in the little dance party until we’re inside the gate, student housing silhouetted around us as the courtyard teems with noisy people.

“University is amazing,” Erica breathes, her eyes wide as she takes in the party around us.

“This could get crazy,” I say.

"Even better," Amy says, grabbing Erica and dragging her into the fray. Stephanie and I shake our heads laughing at them.

“There he is.” Stephanie nudges me with her elbow and points across the courtyard.

My heart does great big thumps against my ribcage as I swing my eyes in that direction and find Marcus setting up with his band. He looks ever better than I remember in jeans and a blue shirt displaying corded forearms from his rolled-up sleeves. Damn.

“Maybe you should go over there and remind him who his favourite groupie is.”

Grinning, I bite my lip. “You think?” It’s what he called me at school. His favourite groupie. He'd play guitar, and sometimes I'd join in with my violin. We sounded great together, but he was the real star. I was just the backup to his greatness.

“Absolutely. Get him before the girls throw themselves at him later.”

“He looks busy.” I watch as his head tilts forward, and he focuses on the guitar in his hands. That’s what I’ve always loved about him—how important he finds his music. There’s a whole room of people around him, drinking and having a great time. There’s even girls already trying to get his attention, but he’s so focused on getting ready that he pays them no mind at all. “I’ll wait until the end of their set.”

“Don’t wait too long and miss your window,” Stephanie advises as this guy comes to stand in front of us with a tub full of vodka mixes.

“Lucky dip?” he asks, offering us one.

“Sure,” we both say together, looking in the tub for a flavour we might like.

“No, no. Close your eyes and pick. It’s not fair if you look.”

“Oh, ok.” I laugh, closing my eyes and reaching in. I pull out this red cranberry mix and Stephanie gets passionfruit, which is my favourite.

The guy moves off, offering the drinks to others as he goes along.

“You wanna swap?” she asks, holding out the unopened bottle.

I smile gratefully, and switch drinks with her, loving that she knows me so well. I twist off the cap and take a mouthful, grimacing a little. “It’s flat,” I complain.

“You want to switch back? Mine’s fine,” she asks.

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll just drink it,” I shrug, throwing the bottle back and taking a long thirsty chug. Even though we’re outside, it’s January, and in typical Sydney summer fashion, it’s awfully humid with only a light breeze blowing to cool us all down.

“Naomi?” I hear from behind me. A familiar voice causes me to turn around until I find myself face to face with an old friend.

“Aramis!” I squeal, jumping up to wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “Oh my goodness, I’ve missed you so much. Still rocking the Goth look, I see.” I grin, holding onto his arm as I speak to him.

“Goth until I die, or until black eyeliner becomes too expensive for me. Whichever comes first.” Aramis is another friend from Australian Performing Arts Grammar. He was a couple of years above me, but we played together a few times in school productions. We used to have a great time sneaking into the music auditorium so he could play on the old piano in there. He loved the sound of it, claiming it was far superior to the electric keyboards they had in the music rooms. I had to agree.

When I wasn’t following Marcus like a lost puppy, I was hiding out with Aramis. We’d take turns on the piano, working through different pieces of music. It was always a lot of fun, and I loved spending time with him. Truthfully, he was my secret crush. You know that one guy you really like, but you’re afraid to tell your friends because they’ll think you’re crazy? Yeah. That was Aramis.

A performing arts school is filled with an abundance of colourful characters, but even in that environment, Aramis was considered a bit of a freak. With dyed black hair and a pale made-up face and white contact lenses, he stood out shockingly. Still, I thought him beautiful, different, unique. I like how quiet and reserved he is despite his obvious talents. Such a contrast to Marcus who has always been so boisterous and sure of himself.

“I hope eyeliner is always in your budget then.”

He laughs. “How have you been?” he asks, his eyes concentrated unwaveringly on me, like I’m the only girl in the world. He’s so sweet.

“Busy with school. I got into ANU,” I tell him, smiling as my eyes rake over him from head to toe, drinking him in. I’ve missed him.

“I heard. It’s well deserved. Congratulations,” he smiles, producing perfect white teeth, and a slight crinkle around his eyes.

“Thank you. What are you doing here tonight? Are you at the Conservatorium of Music?”

“No. I didn’t even apply for uni. I travelled for a year and then came back home. I’m playing with the band tonight. On keyboards.” He rolls his eyes, nodding toward the stage.

“Ouch. That old piano doesn't travel well, huh?”

“Much to my dismay.” He smiles, then a whistle rings out and one of the guys on stage yells his name. He lifts his hand to signal he heard and steps back. “I’d better go. Maybe we can hang after the show?”

“I’d love that.”

“Come and find me.” He turns and walks away, and I’m pleased when he takes a moment to turn back and smile at me.

“Hi, Aramis,” Stephanie says once he’s out of earshot. “I’m doing well too. Not that you'd notice since you didn’t even look at me. But that’s cool, because I do enjoy watching you walk away.” She glances at me with a cheeky grin. “That’s some behind. Who knew goths did squats.”

“Mmmhmm,” I agree, tilting my head as if it will give me a better angle. “That really is a great arse.”

“And that’s when visions of the player, Marcus quit dancing in her head, replaced by the exotic smoky promise of a man wearing makeup with amazing glutes,” Stephanie murmurs, fancying herself as the next great novelist.

“Exotic smoky promise?” I laugh as I glance her way.

“Well, how would you describe him?”

We both stand and openly watch Aramis as he climbs up on the stage, graceful and strong in his movement. “An enigma,” I say, because despite knowing him for years, I barely know a thing about him.

“An enigma she wants in her pants,” she says, causing me to laugh.

“Maybe writing isn’t your jam,” I tease.

She waves me away. “It’ll all look way better in print.”

“I hope so,” I say, tipping my drink back to drain its contents.

“Which one will you choose?” Stephanie asks when I’m looking for somewhere to dump my empty.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you came here for Marcus, but now you’ve seen Aramis—and you’ve always had a weird crush on gothboy, don’t deny it—so which one do you choose? The player, or the guy with a great arse who will get makeup all over your face? Remembering you only have one night with either.”

“You’re really obsessed with his butt aren’t you?” I laugh at her description.

She nods. “You could bounce a coin off it.” She mimes the action as the band starts up, playing a cover of Muse’s Uprising. “Oh, I love this song,” she says, forgetting her question doesn’t have an answer as Amy and Erica come rushing over to us, vodka mixes above their heads as they howl out their excitement and sway to the music.

With a huge smile on my face, I dance along with them, keeping Stephanie’s question in my mind. While I had come here for the sole purpose of throwing myself at Marcus, seeing Aramis has changed things. Being near him again reminded me how much I loved being around him. How much I liked him. While I like Marcus—a lot—I know he’s a player. To him, I’ll just be another girl he fucked after a show, but to Aramis, it’ll mean something. Even if it’s only for a night.

“Just look at him up there,” Amy groans, handing me a new vodka mixer. “He’s like a god on stage.”

“Yeah he is,” I agree, but I’m not looking at the same band member she is. My answer is Aramis.

Smiling to myself, I twist the cap off the bottle and gulp a mouthful of its contents, feeling glad that this time the liquid is fizzy. The flat one was a bit gross and metallic tasting….

One

Five years later

Naomi

“Happy birthday!” I sing out the moment the door opens, and I spot the birthday girl.

“Oh, Nomes. You know it’s not my birthday yet,” Gary jokes, as I reach out and remove my god daughter from his stocky arms.

“Obviously, I’m talking to Amanda, Gary. But, I promise to be just as enthusiastic at your next birthday so you don’t feel left out, ok?” I tease, giving his full cheek a childish pinch as I walk past him into the living room, chatting to his daughter on my hip until we reach the kitchen where I’m sure I’ll find Stephanie.

“Oh, you’re here. Fantastic,” Stephanie says, as she closes the oven door and unties the apron that is protecting her Grecian style summer dress. “I need to get Amanda ready for the party. Can you keep an eye on things in here while I take her upstairs?” She drops the apron on the bench and holds her hands out for her daughter.

“Absolutely.” I smile, reluctantly handing Amanda over to her mother and standing aside as Steph rushes past me and up the stairs.

I walk around the kitchen and check on all the food that is already prepared and laid out on trays. The oven timer is switched on to tell me when to check the finger food so I venture outside for a moment to where Gary is filling plastic party buckets with ice and shoving different drinks inside.

"Exactly how many people are you expecting today, Gaz?” I ask, out of curiosity. This appears to be a bit more than the simple BBQ they mentioned last week.

“Oh god, I think there’s a good fifty coming.”

My mouth drops open. It’s a first birthday party for a one-year-old. How could a baby possibly know that many people? “Fifty?”

“Yeah, well. It’s our first kid. First birthday party. We want to share it with everyone,” he explains over his shoulder and he huffs and puffs with another bag of ice.

“Will there be many little kids?”

“Ah… yeah a few. Elliot and Paige are coming, so they’ll have Grace. And there’s a couple of kids coming from the mothers’ group Steph joined after she had Mandy. Plus, there’s a few other people we know who have kids now. It should be fun. Noisy. But fun.” He smiles as he stands up and surveys the decorated patio and back lawn.

Fifty.

I follow his gaze. They really have gone all out, there're balloons and streamers everywhere, all proclaiming a happy birthday for a one-year-old.

Jesus. They’ve lost their minds.

A beeping sounds from inside the house, so I leave Gary to it, trotting inside to switch the timer off. When I open the oven door, the cheesy aroma of the pastries burst full force into the air, filling my nose. My stomach growls and my mouth waters. I haven’t eaten all day. I basically woke up, got ready, and came here.

I slide my hands into a pair of oven gloves and take hold of the tray of pastries. Unbeknownst to me, the gloves are slightly damp, heating rapidly around my hands. “Oh, fuck.” I should let go. But in my panic, I grab the tray tighter, rushing to lift it to the bench. My leg taps the oven door, causing it to bounce up and hit me in the forearms. A burning pain radiates up my arm as I flinch backward, finally releasing the tray.

“Shit! Bloody! Fuck! Bastards!” I hiss in an attempt to counteract the pain as I race over to the sink and run cold water over my forearms.

“Are you all right?” A deep baritone rumbles out at me from the entrance to the kitchen. Glancing up briefly, I see Elliot, the most recent man of my dreams, who is now married to one of my best friends, Paige. I was maid of honour at their wedding last year, and it was so beautiful. I cried like a baby. They were living in the UK then, but they’ve moved back to Sydney so their little one, Grace can know Elliot’s parents. Paige’s family situation is a bit funny, so we don’t talk about that.

“Ugh. The oven door got me. Can you get the cheese pastry things out of the oven for me? But don't use the oven mitts. They’re wet.”

He grabs a tea towel and pulls the tray from the oven, successfully placing it on the bench without burning himself. Paige is a lucky woman. Every time I see Elliot, he looks amazing. He’s wearing a simple t-shirt and cargo shorts combo, but he makes it look like the most fashionable outfit on the planet. He’s tall, broad and muscular with short-cropped hair that looks golden when he grows it out but stays dark in its current state—either way he takes your breath away. And he has these amazing blue eyes that were the first thing I noticed about him when I met him in the UK almost two years ago.

Back then, I was twenty-two, and all I cared about was having a good time. He arrived at the Aussie share-house we were all staying at and I threw myself at him in a very unsubtle way. I got as far as making out with him, but it didn’t go any further. The moment Paige arrived, he was a goner, and I respectfully took myself out of the running. I love reading about love triangles, but actually being involved in one is another story. The way I see it, a guy either wants you or he doesn’t. No sense in fighting over him.

“How are your forearms?” Elliot asks, his voice laced with concern as he brings me the tea towel so I can pat dry my arms.

“They’re red, but they don’t seem to be blistering. I think I’m ok.”

“Let me see,” he says, taking my arm with a ginger touch before he inspects the reddened area. Admittedly, I tilt my head towards him slightly and inhale. He smells so good, I think I’m going straight to Myer to sample all of their aftershaves until I find what he’s wearing. “I think you got off lightly. Keep them under the water though. I’ll go get some burn cream and bandages off Stephanie.”

“Thank you.” I press my lips in a small smile as the scent of him whispers away and all I can smell now is cheese. Lucky I really like cheese.

This all probably sounds like I’d like to steal Elliot away from Paige if I was given the chance. But that couldn’t be further from truth. Paige is one of my favourite people on this planet. I’d never do something like that. Elliot is just the current standard that I hold all other guys up against. I watched him fall for Paige. I watched his patience, his determination and understanding as she struggled with trust issues after a painful past. And it was just beautiful. I want a love like theirs. The kind you can feel in the air around them. I want that kind of connection with someone.

I want my own Elliot—not Paige’s one.

“What’s happened?” Paige asks as she enters the kitchen and finds me running my arms under the water. She’s this exotic-looking sex bomb who makes a young Sophia Loren look like an ugly cow. Compared to her, I’m a dog, and I know I’m pretty. But I’m your typical Aussie girl—straight blonde hair, straight teeth, small frame and tan skin—and next to Paige, I look boring. She’s fucking stunning.

“I burned myself.” I scrunch my face up.

“Ouch,” she winces as she leans down to pick up her daughter, the adorable Grace. She has Paige’s shock of curly dark hair and Elliot’s sea-blue eyes. She will break hearts when she’s grown.

“Hello, miss Grace,” I coo.

“Ha-wo,” she says in her tiny voice before she tucks her head into Paige’s neck and hides. God help me, my uterus hurts around these kids.

“She’s a little shy,” Paige explains.

“No. She’s just perfect,” I say with a smile, catching Grace’s eye as I shut off the water and dry off my forearms. She giggles and hides again. “Tell me what’s new in the Robert’s household. I feel like I haven’t seen you guys in months.”

A grin spreads across her face and her gaze drops to the floor momentarily. It’s as if she’s trying to hide something. “Things are good. They’re really good.”

“What aren’t you telling me? You’ve got ‘secret’ written all over your face.”

“I do? Well, I’m not supposed to say anything yet. It’s still too early,” she informs me quietly.

I suck in my breath. “You’re expecting?” I gush. “Were you trying? Or is this a surprise?” I’m genuinely excited. I love Grace and Amanda. They’re the sweetest little girls in the world, and I love being the cool aunty.

She tilts her head slightly and lifts her shoulder. “Not trying, but not standing in the way either.”

“Congratulations.” I lean in and hug her, growling lightly in Grace’s neck as I do. She giggles and we all laugh. “How are you feeling?”

“OK. A bit of morning sickness, and my psychiatrist altered my meds a little to cope with the changing hormones. But I’m doing OK.” Paige’s upbringing was super messed up, and she has some psychological issues because of it. I witnessed the beginning of her breakdown when she was newly pregnant with Grace, but that was before her diagnosis, so I’m really happy to hear she’s being monitored now. But we’re all here for both her and Elliot if she’s ever struggling. We’re all family now.

“It’s so wonderful. I wonder if you’ll have a boy this time,” I speculate. I’d love it if they have a boy. So many cute boy outfits to buy.

“Cat’s out of the bag already, huh?” Elliot says, as he returns to the kitchen with the first aid supplies, kissing Paige on the cheek as he moves past her.

“She saw right through me.” Paige’s mouth curves into a grin. “She always has.”

“That’s because I’m perceptive.”

Placing the supplies on the counter, Elliot applies the burn cream to my arms as Paige hovers and tells him what to do like the guy doesn’t have his first aid certificate as a part of his personal trainer qualification. It’s adorable the way they are together. They make me want to sigh and hug them.

Before I know it, Stephanie and Gary are in the kitchen too, and I’m explaining what happened again while Elliot finishes wrapping my burns.

“It’s really not that bad. I promise it’ll all be fine tomorrow,” I assure them, a bunch of clucking hens if ever I saw one.

“I just feel bad,” Stephanie says. “If I hadn’t been running behind schedule, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Forget it,” I insist, as a knock sounds at the door. “Once you see what I bought for Mandy, you’re gonna wish I was hurt worse.”

“Oh no. You didn’t.”

“I did,” I confirm, my eyes wide with delight.

I enlist the help of Elliot and Gary to come to my car and carry in the rather large gift.

“Oh my god, Naomi! Where the hell am I going to put a baby grand piano?” Stephanie moans.

“Wow, where did you get that?” Paige laughs.

“eBay.” I grin.

“It’s always eBay,” Stephanie sighs as Amanda and Grace immediately start banging on the keys, sending out a clamour of jumbled notes and delighted squeals.

I simply smile and gesture at the girls. “Look. She’s a natural.”

As I stand and watch the girls happily playing, other people arrive and the house fills up rather fast. I pay little attention though, I’m having too much fun with my little protégé. All my life, I dreamt of a music career. But somewhere along the way, I altered my path. Looking back now, I wonder why I gave up. I guess it just stopped being fun.

Now I work in a Sydney night club behind a bar. It’s not a career option. For a long time, I’ve been ignoring the rest of my life and what I want to do with it. But it’s time to figure something out. Everyone around me is getting married and having kids. They’re having careers. I’ve been trying to keep the party going, but it’s starting to feel like I’m just floating through life, waiting for something to happen. What could possibly happen though?

Now, that’s the million dollar question.

Two

Naomi

Eventually, the girls move on to play with some other children, so I leave them under the watchful eyes of other responsible adults. Then I make my way through the party to find Stephanie to see if there’s anything she needs me to do. My focus is so far ahead of me, I don’t even notice when someone else is trying to get my attention until they’re standing right in my path.

“Naomi! Oh my god. I haven’t seen you since that massive party we crashed,” Erica says, wrapping her arms around me in an overly friendly gesture.

I’ve had zero contact with her since the end of high school and that university party. I shudder every time I think about it. That party sparked a rumour about me getting trashed and sleeping with two different guys in the same night. Before I’d even woken the story was already in circulation. People who weren’t even at the party were texting me to see if it was true. Needless to say, I was pretty pissed off with my so-called friends. I knew it wasn’t Stephanie who told everyone—she would never do that to me—so, logic says it had to be Erica or Amy. No one else at the party could have told all our classmates so quickly.

“Oh, Erica,” I say with minimal enthusiasm. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”

“Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself,” she demands, touching my arm lightly as she tilts her ash blonde head, causing her loose curls to graze the top of her bare shoulder. I open my mouth to answer, but it turns out she’s not really interested in me. She simply widens her blue eyes and surges forward with her own news. “I can’t believe how much has happened since we last saw each other. Did you know, Jenny Tyler has already been married and divorced? Twenty-four years old and she already has a divorce under her belt. And I hear she ran off to America. Rumour has it she went to Vegas to be a showgirl, and she’s met some old rich guy and is about to get married again. I just can’t understand why there are so many girls rushing into this wedding stuff.” She places her hand next to her mouth and leans in close. “No offence to Steph of course. Gary’s a great guy and their baby is just gorgeous. But I couldn’t think of anything worse than getting married and having kids. We’re so not ready yet. Are we, Amy?”

I shift my gaze to find Amy has appeared beside Erica sipping on a bottle of beer, looking bored out of her mind. “No fucking way am I being some guy’s laundry bitch.” She shakes her brunette head from side to side then upends the beer swallowing it all down before belching. “I’m having way too much fun being amazing on my own.” Suddenly her dark eyes widen with interest. “Oh, my god. Who the hell is that?”

Turning my head to look over my shoulder to see who she’s looking at. “That’s David,” I inform her. “His wife works with Gary.” She’s also Elliot’s ex-girlfriend, Katrina. They’re all linked through family and work friends. A complicated story, but somehow they all get along without making it weird.

“He’s hot. Reminds me a bit of that guy from the Star Wars movies. The Darth Vader dude. What was his name?”

“Hayden Christensen,” Erica offers, leaning in close to Amy as they both stare at David. “He is gorgeous. Where’s his wife?”

“Over there,” I say, pointing out Katrina as she moves to stand alongside him, saying something private that makes him laugh then give her arse a squeeze.

“Urgh, she’s a supermodel,” Amy moans as we watch them turn and walk outside. “I’d go a threesome with them, though.”

“Not sure David’s much of a sharer,” I say.

“Pity.” Amy shrugs.

“Oh wow. What about him?” Erica asks as Elliot appears, and catches David by the arm, telling him some story that involves a lot of arm gestures and laughter. I smile just watching them.

“That’s Elliot. He’s married with a kid and one on the way.”

“Oh fuck. And that’s his wife isn’t it?” Amy scoffs as she notices Elliot reach out for Paige who’s carrying Grace on her hip.

“Fuck me dead,” Erica gasps. “I’d go lesbian for her. Look at her.”

“Jesus. This party sucks,” Amy grumbles. “Every hot guy is taken.”

A burst of laughter escapes from my chest. “What did you expect? It’s a one-year-old’s birthday party.”

“Still, there’s got to be something for the single girls to do besides drink,” she replies.

“Speaking of fun and hot guys,” Erica says. “You should come out with us later. We’re going to see a band we think you’ll find really interesting,” Erica tells me, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Will she?” says Amy, her snub nose creasing in the middle as she thinks. “Why? Does she know… Oh my god. Yes! You have to come. You will die when you see who’s playing.”

“Is it Matiari?” I ask, feeling sure the only band they ever watch features Marcus Bailey as the front man. Their Instagram account is @UltimateMatiariGroupies. They’re obsessed.

Erica offers a coy smile. “Just meet us at The Metro at eight o’clock. We’ll wait out front for you.”

“Naomi,” Stephanie calls from across the patio. I turn my head towards my name and see her incline her head toward the house. She obviously needs my help.

“I need to go,” I tell them.

“That’s cool. We’re going to get out of here anyway,” Amy says, her voice sounding flat.

“Just promise us you’ll come,” Erica presses as I turn to leave.

“Sure. I’ll go.” I concede, not feeling at all certain I’d actually go through with my word.

I make my way back into the house and spend the rest of the party being the dutiful godmother and best friend, avoiding the questions of older people who want to know which child is mine. I love Stephanie and Gary; I love their daughter, Mandy. But I feel like I’m the only single person left in a group of married couples, and at times I feel like a big ole sore thumb.

By the time the party is over, I’ve had enough of watching happy couples brag about their children. Going out to see a band with Amy and Erica seems like the perfect outing to make me feel like less of a failure, and more like the party girl I’ve been clinging to. I’ve been ignoring my life for ages, might as well keep going for one more night.

Three

Naomi

I go home and get changed into more gig appropriate clothing. The first thing I do is remove the bandages on my arms. The burns were so minor, I don’t even think they needed first aid. But that’s what I get for hanging around a bunch of young parents—coddled.

After taking a quick shower, I squeeze myself into a form fitting royal blue dress that hits about mid-thigh, add a set of chunky knee high black boots and my cropped leather jacket. I feel sufficiently hotted up to watch a band and have some fun with Erica and Amy.

Running the eyeliner pencil around my blue eyes, I think about the last time I partied with those two and pause. Maybe this is a bad idea? I study my reflection as I war with my decision. It wasn’t their fault I don’t remember that night. But it is their fault everyone found out about it. As long as I stay sober, we shouldn’t have a problem. Plus, I really want to watch Marcus’s band again. I haven’t seen them live since that night either. But I’ve been doing my due diligence by stalking their social media.

Matiari has come a long way from playing university parties. They’ve independently released two albums, have an increasing number of listeners on Spotify, and play to sold out venues all around Sydney. I think they could be even bigger if they would stop changing band members. But Marcus has always had an ego, so I’m not surprised people like Aramis didn’t stick around. I just hope I wasn’t the reason for that change.

Taking an Uber, I arrive at The Metro to find Erica and Amy waiting out front wearing tiny scraps of material that make my dress look modest.

“You came,” Erica says the moment I step onto the curb. “Amy tried to tell me you wouldn’t show. But I had faith.”

“Fuck off, Erica. I just thought she didn’t seem that interested. I didn’t say we should go inside without waiting.”

“It’s cool,” I say. “I wasn’t even sure if I was coming. But after spending a day with married couples and their kids, I decided I needed to get out and be a single girl.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Amy holds her hand up and I clap mine against it.

“Well, you’ll be glad you came. Check out the poster,” Erica says, drawing my attention to the poster advertising the band playing tonight.

“Matiari. Wow, I’m shocked,” I deadpan.

“You know who their lead is, right?” Erica asks, eyes wide and expectant. I think she wanted a bigger reaction than my emotionless acknowledgement.

“Of course she knows him,” Amy says. “She fucked the guy.”

Erica laughs behind her hand. “Haven’t we all.”

I roll my eyes. Of course they have. Marcus has probably fucked every willing girl in Sydney by now.

We make our way inside and grab a drink from the bar while we wait for the show to start.

“How many Matiari concerts do you think you’ve been to?” I ask Erica. “Your Instagram is pretty full up.”

“Oh, you follow us?”

“You come up in my suggestions a lot,” I lie, not willing to admit I follow #matiarimusic so I always see public posts about my one-time friend following his musical dreams. Since the rest of us gave up on our dreams years ago.

“You should follow us. We come to every single Matiari gig,” Erica says.

“Marcus’s voice is everything,” Amy adds.

“And we even go to their after gig parties. We’re like, their unofficial documentarians.”

Amy nods. “It’s our calling.” Oh shit. She’s serious.

“I’ll be sure to click follow next time you pop up.” I smile. They’ve lost their minds.

Sucking noisily on her straw, Amy makes solid eye contact. “Why don’t you do it right now?”

“Uh… sure,” I say, pulling out my phone and doing just that. “There you go.” I show her my phone just as Erica snaps my picture.

“Hashtag new follower alert,” Erica says, bouncing on her toes as she focuses on her phone.

“You’re posting my picture?”

“Just in our story. It’ll be gone in twenty-four hours. Only band photos go in our feed.”

“And photos of us with the band,” Amy adds. “Since it’s our account and all.”

I nod slowly, starting to think they might be a little over-the-top obsessed.

“One…two…” The tech performs his onstage soundcheck before the lights dim.

“Let’s go to the floor,” Erica says, pulling my unfinished drink out of my hands. “We have to get right in front.”

“Only place to be,” Amy says, pushing me as we make our way through the crowd until we’re right up against the stage with all the other groupies wanting Marcus’s attention. This is becoming embarrassing. Maybe I should have stayed home.

Maybe he won’t even recognise me. It’s been six years. Lots of girls and pussy between then and now…

The crowd whoops as the band walks on the stage. They move about in the dim light, getting themselves into position and double checking their instruments to the continued tune of squeals and whistles. Real rock stars. I don’t whoop. I break out into a cold sweat because what if he does recognise me? How pathetic am I going to look then? Shit. I really shouldn’t have come. This is beyond pathetic.

I’m about to take a step back when Marcus’s smooth voice fills the room, and a spotlight trains itself on him. Everything else is black and the only sound belongs to his voice and his guitar. So beautiful. So powerful. I’m instantly transported back to high school, transfixed by him at lunchtime.

Marcus

“Why did you sing your song to my heart?

When you knew we were fragile,

Right from the start.”

I play the last notes of Fragile and open my eyes, nodding my head as I thank the audience while they cheer and clap for us. I fucking love this part. The public recognition, the adoration. I scan the faces of the crowd in front of me, looking for a girl to claim. I frown slightly when I see Erica and Amy. They’re our self-proclaimed chroniclers and are at every show. I appreciate their enthusiasm, but they’re a bit much. Even for me, a guy who loves having his arse kissed while his dick is getting sucked.

Erica grins like she has a secret and nods her head towards the blonde next to her. I shrug a little. Is she picking groupies for me now? Nice try, but I had a blonde last weekend. I'm looking for something more exotic this week since I like to mix it up. Erica’s eyes go wide, trying to communicate something as she juts her head forcefully in the blondes direction. That’s when I see her. Holy shit. Naomi-fucking-Prendergast.

Back in high school, I would shamelessly flirt with her every lunchtime. It was primarily to piss my brother off since he was crushing on a girl who didn’t even know his name, but it was also because she’s completely adorable. Like a little puppy you want to scratch behind the ear and feed treats whenever she’s good. I haven’t seen her for years. We had an interesting night together, and when she left, she vanished. I haven’t seen her since. Five or six years, I think.

My eyes drag over her body. Damn. Time has been kind to my little pocket rocket. She’s even hotter than she was back then. And she’s always been hot. Catching her eye, I lift my chin in acknowledgment and she smiles back briefly before she drops her gaze. I announce the next song as I look over at Amy, tilting my head towards the backstage entrance. She nods and I can’t fight my smile, I’m looking forward to the show finishing.

My brother, Theo counts us in with his drumsticks. This song is more upbeat and involves the whole band. There are four of us. I front on lead guitar and vocals, my brother is our drummer, a guy called Lachlan is our bassist—he’s only been with us for a couple of months—and Jack is on keyboards. We’ve known him since school, but he’s also fairly new to the band. It’s not easy keeping members at times. Everyone’s got a fucking opinion.

Four

Naomi

“What did you think?” Amy yells over the din as Matiari leaves the stage.

“They were fantastic,” I reply, a sigh in my voice and a grin on my face. There’s nothing like live music to set your creative soul alight and make you miss performing. I haven’t picked my violin up in ages, and now my fingers are itching to work those strings and bow.

“All it’ll take is one amazing song and they’ll take off,” Erica says, a definitive glint in her eye. “Marcus was born to be a star. He’s always been amazing, but their newest songs are something else.”

I have to agree. Their older stuff was good, but the new songs they played tonight were sublime. But I’d love the chance to add some strings and female vocals in. I think it would add that ethereal quality to their music that would make people stop what they’re doing to feel the music enter their soul. Pity we’re not friends anymore, or I’d tell him that….

Were we ever friends, though? Back in the day, we ran in the same circles, but it was more Marcus and his groupies than Marcus and his friends. He was that guy at school everyone knew and wanted to be around. And I was just another member of the crowd, sitting around him at lunch while he played his guitar. I loved listening to him.

I also loved playing with him.

The difference between me and most of his admirers is that I can play by ear. I quickly learned his songs, hearing the flow of music in my mind and knowing exactly how to play along so he looked even better. I was the perfect backup, never stealing the limelight, only adding to his shine. I remember the look on his face the first day I pulled out my violin and joined in. I impressed him. Enough that we became somewhat of a lunchtime duo. Never anything more.

Until that stupid fucking uni party. I didn’t even drink much that night, so I figure one of my drinks was spiked because I have zero recollection of what I did beyond a certain point. Then I woke up the next morning in bed with Marcus. My dreams of having a moment with him had become a reality, but I didn’t remember a fucking thing. And what about Aramis? The last thing I remembered was organising to meet him after their set and deciding he was the better choice. Why was I in bed with Marcus?

I was so outside my comfort zone that I got out of bed and found my clothes as fast as I could. Marcus woke up and saw me just as I finished getting my panties and bra on. From the way his brow creased when our eyes met, I was about to get thrown away. Marcus had a reputation for turning cold after the fuck.

“Listen, about last night…” he started, looking down as if he was embarrassed. I didn’t want to hear the rejection, so I cut him off as I picked up my dress and my shoes.

“It was just sex, Marcus,” I told him. “I don’t want anything from you.”

His mouth sealed shut, his eyes studying me as I turned away and dropped my dress over my body, stuffing my feet into my shoes.

“See you around,” I threw over my shoulder as I walked out of the room without looking back. I felt cheap. Even though I’d gone to that party with the express purpose of doing what I did, I at least wanted to remember it.

Until I switched on my phone.

The damn thing blew up with messages and tags over photos on Twitter, showing me all over Aramis and Marcus with the caption ‘When one isn’t enough’. I burst into tears.

What a slut, more than one comment said. I’m not even repeating some of the others. They were beyond crass. I closed my Twitter account down.

I tried to call Aramis, needing to understand what happened between us all that night. But he didn’t answer, and he didn’t call me back. And why would he? He must’ve thought I was a total whore. Everybody else did.

After that, I moved on with my life, heading to Canberra for my music scholarship. I threw myself into my studies for a couple of years, eventually losing heart and dropping out before my course was even finished. Burnout, they call it.

I worked for a bit then went to the UK for a break and some life experience. I started bar tending, telling myself it was just a holiday job, that I needed a break from music. But I’ve been back in Australia for over a year and I’m still working the bar. The urge to create music hasn’t sparked in that entire time. Until tonight….

“Come with us. Our attendance has been requested backstage,” Erica says next to my ear, snapping me back to the present.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head as I widen my eyes. “I don’t want to speak to Marcus again. I watched him play, and that’s enough for me.”

“Don’t be a dick. As if he even remembers,” Amy scoffs. “He’s probably had a thousand threesomes since then. Don’t think yourself special.”

“I don’t think I’m special. It’s just embarrassing when I don’t remember what happened.”

“You’re thinking too hard on this,” Erica says. “Just say hello, stroke his ego. No need to mention the sex.”

“Ladies,” a burly voice says from behind me. When I turn, I realise they’ve herded me towards the backstage entrance where a large Polynesian man in a black ‘security’ shirt is blocking our way. He takes a moment and lets a couple of giggling girls wearing ‘backstage pass’ lanyards through.

“Oh, damn. We don’t have a pass.” I deadpan my words and take a step back. Amy catches my arm with her surprisingly strong grip.

“Joe, my man,” she says, giving him a one-armed hug. “This here is Naomi. She went to high school with us all.”

“Naomi, huh?” He looks me up and down, nodding appreciatively. I feel like a piece of meat. “He knows she’s here?”

“He sure does. Made it very clear he wanted to see her.”

With a slight nod and a sweeping hand gesture, he steps aside and lets us through. Erica pauses to give him a hug and a kiss. "You’re the best,” she says and Joe chuckles.

Backstage is a series of narrow passageways, littered with various people who are drinking or smoking, or making out or tweaking. I hear music up ahead and hold on to a nervous breath while Erica tugs me along. It’s as if she’s worried that I’m going to get lost or refuse to follow. Although the latter is the most likely scenario. I’d rather be heading home than walking towards my worst memory.

Eventually, we make it to a room with the band’s name on a printed piece of paper taped to the door. There aren’t that many people in there, maybe a dozen tops. But the room is so small that we’re all squished against each other, and to top it off, the delightful scent of sweaty man is filling the air, causing me to scrunch up my nose a little. How glamorous.

“Naomi,” Marcus croons, positioning himself directly in my path. He’s dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest. While he was on stage, he also wore a black blazer, but he’s discarded that now and is looking casual while holding a bottle of beer.

“Marcus,” I nod. “Great show tonight.” And that’s all I’ve got. Because I’m conflicted as to whether I want him, or if I want to run away from him. It could go either way. He's even better looking than he was six years ago. I need to stop making decisions with my vagina.

“Thank you. I'm glad you came. It's been too long.” He talks like he didn’t fuck me while I was out of my mind at a party. Maybe he doesn’t remember. “I heard you got into ANU.” He looks at me expecting an answer all the way up there from his six-foot-three of height. Marcus is a giant compared to me. I’m only five foot four, so I rely heavily on heels to bring me a little closer to most people’s eye level.

“Yeah. Well. That didn’t really work out,” I say, looking around the room as I scratch a non-existent itch on the back of my head, thinking of a way to change the subject without being lame. “Um, that was quite a crowd out there. I didn’t realise you were doing so well.” A total lie. But he doesn’t need to know I cyber-stalk him on the regular.

“You didn’t realise?” He places his hand on his heart and scrunches up his handsome face in mock pain. “Oh, you injure me. You mean you haven’t been following my career?” His puppy brown eyes shine with mirth.

I can’t help but laugh, even though I’m still fidgeting awkwardly in front of him. I want to relax, to talk to him easily like I used to. But this is hard. Sex changes things. “Was I expected to?”

“Of course not.” He smiles, softening his voice. “But, I’m glad you liked the show.”

“I did. Very much,” I say, keeping my thoughts about how I think they’d benefit from some strings and female backing vocals to set them apart. I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to insert myself back into his world, and I also don’t want to tell him how to do his job. So I hold my opinion back and stare up at him, trying to think of something else to say. Unsuccessfully.

We stand there, just looking at each other. A grin pulls up at the corner of his mouth, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the last time he saw me. I squirm a little under his gaze, embarrassment heating my cheeks. It’s hard enough being polite to someone you’ve slept with before, but the fact that I have no recollection of it and he does, makes me feel unusually uncomfortable.

“I think we’re missing something,” he says once the staring becomes uncomfortable and I’m working out how fast I can get to the exit.

“What are we missing, Marcus?”

“Not you and me. The band.”

“Oh?”

“We need strings.”

“Ohhh.” I fidget with my hair before I shake my head. “No. I mean, yes. I think you could do with strings. And, uh… female backing vocals. But I don’t think it should be me.”

“Come on, Nomes. We were always so great together. And you know your stuff. You just said exactly what I’ve been thinking. You could help take us to the next level.”

“Uh-Ah. No. Nope. Not me.”

“Do you still play?” he asks.

“Nooo. Not in, like, two years now. The violin wasn’t working out that great for me anymore.”

“It always worked great for me,” he says, his voice low and intimate as he leans in closer.

My cheeks flame hot as I drop my face and move back slightly.

“Marcus,” another male voice interrupts. I look up and I’m met with a pair of eyes that are just as dark as Marcus’s are light. My heart beats faster at the intensity of his gaze. He takes my breath away. He’s a tiny bit shorter than Marcus but he has the same strong, lean build with dark brown hair that falls messily about his chiselled face. His brother, Theo. I know him from their Instagram feed. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Marcus’s brow creases slightly. “Seriously? You want an introduction?”

“I do,” he says, smiling in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes. Suddenly, I’m on guard as I get a sense of animosity toward me. Have I done something?

Marcus rolls his eyes before making the introductions. “Theo, this is Naomi. You probably remember her from school. Naomi, this is Theo, my older brother. You should also remember him from school.”

“Hi,” I say, holding out my hand to shake his. I don’t remember him from school. I remember being told Marcus’s brother went there, but I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths until now.

“Can’t say I do remember her from school,” Theo notes, not bothering to take my hand.

Relief floods over me as my hand flies back to my chest. “Thank goodness, I was really worried because I can’t remember you either.” I smile, attempting to be friendly. “I mean, you look familiar. But I think that’s because you look like Marcus with darker features.”

One of his eyes narrows as he looks me over. “Actually, Marcus looks like me. I’m the oldest,” he says, looking away from me like he can’t be bothered with me anymore. I’m slightly taken aback by his attitude. What the hell is this guy’s deal?

“I invited Naomi to come and jam with us next week,” Marcus says, blocking his brother’s exit. “I think it’ll sound great—strings and female vocals.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Theo grunts before he moves away from us and sparks up a conversation with someone else.

"I never agreed to it,” I call across the room. Not that it makes any difference since Theo isn’t listening. What an arse.

“Ignore him,” Marcus says. “He lost one of his drumsticks a while back, and I think it got lodged permanently up his arse. Makes him constantly cranky.” I can’t help but laugh at the image that flits through my mind. “There she is.” He smiles as he watches me giggle.

“There who is?”

Reaching out, he brushes his pinky finger lightly across my forehead, moving my hair back from my face. “The girl I used to know. I’ve missed her.”

My brow knits. “Really?” He was supposed to barely remember me.

“Yeah. Really.” He grins then runs his top teeth over his bottom lip. “Listen, I have to talk to some people. But I mean what I said; I want you to come and play with us next week, show the guys what you can do. How great you’d make us.”

“Marcus—”

“Just try it.” He pulls out a card and a pen and scrawls on the back of it, handing it to me. “One jam session. That’s all I’m asking.”

Looking over it, I see that it’s their business card. It has a contact number, a web address, email, and a hand-written address on the back of it. “One only?”

“We’ll see,” he says, giving me a wink as he brushes his lips against my cheek and steps away.

I close my eyes for a moment to gather myself. Having him close to me again has messed with my head a little. I feel a lot like that schoolgirl with a permanent crush, and I’m fighting to stay grounded. Why haven’t I outgrown this?

Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I look over my shoulder, only to find him with a busty red head hanging off his arm. I have to go and talk to some people. Now I remember why I was careful around him for so long… well… except that one night of course.

Five

Theo

My brother is a bag of fucking dicks. He asked her to join our band? Our band. Not his band. Ours. Fucking ours. No. No fucking way. No fucking how. Not her. I don’t want her here. She’ll fuck everything up. It’s hard enough keeping Marcus thinking with the right head without adding the girl Fragile is about to the mix. Fuck. How could he be so stupid and selfish? Didn’t he learn from the last time we added a girl to the band?

In the early days of Matiari we had a girl on bass. Terrible idea. She lasted about a month before Marcus fucked her up so badly, she lost her shit—she didn’t even make it to a paying gig. And he’s such a scumbag that I had to be the bad guy and kick her out. She left my place screaming and ranting, then a month later, a song popped up on iTunes called, Dear Marcus. Subtle title, and even subtler lyrics. My favourite line was, ‘I hope you get mouth herpes on your dick and dick herpes on your lip’. It had a certain ring to it. And while it didn’t do too well in the charts, it was catchy. I still find myself humming it on the odd occasion. Like now.

Humming to myself as I suck down the last of my beer, I watch my baby brother work the room with a busty girl hanging off his arm. He reaches down and squeezes her arse when she giggles. Then she giggles some more. Can anybody spell ‘cliché’? Sometimes I swear he’s only in this for the pussy. And if he wasn’t so damned talented—and if he wasn’t my blood—I don’t think I could stand being around him, let alone in a band with him. Ladies and gentleman, I hate my brother.

And I want to go home.

The afterparty is a necessary evil I loathe. I’ve never been a social creature, but as the band grows its following, we’re expected to sit around and smile pretty for the photos, play nice with venue managers and festival bookers. Sometimes it feels like this is more about networking than it is about the music. But then, I hate groupies too. I’m here to make music, and I couldn’t give a fuck about anything else.

Is it time to go yet? Ugh. Not even five minutes has passed since I last checked the time.

My eyes drift over to Naomi just in time to catch her reaction when she clocks Marcus lick the neck of this evening’s dick hole. Her features darken and she looks away, working her lips in a way that gives me hope. Maybe she won’t show up to rehearsal. Her face is saying she’s not interested in his shit.

Good. I’m not interested in hers.

I watch her move through the crush of bodies in the hot room until she finds her friends, Erica and Amy. Those two are always hanging around. They have a social media account dedicated to us and are our greatest cheerleaders slash fans slash stalkers. I appreciate their effort, but I’m wary of their motives. They’ve slept with every member of the band—except me, I don’t fuck groupies—more than a few times, but they don’t act jealous when girls are chosen over them. They kind of act like den mothers, making sure there’s ‘something for everyone’ at every party. It’s weird. But we’ve known them for a long time, so if any girls are going to organise our guest list so Marcus never fucks the same girl twice, it may as well be them.

Amy shakes her head at something Naomi is saying, holding up her bottle of gin to show she’s only drunk a quarter of it. Then Naomi glances back to Marcus, an embarrassed flush to her cheeks as she gestures for the door. She’s leaving. Good. Fuck off. Erica places her hand on Naomi’s shoulder, her lips move then she and Naomi say something that makes Amy roll her eyes and put the bottle she was working through down. Then they all leave together and I can breathe again. She’s gone.

I stare at the door after she leaves, an odd feeling twisting in the centre of my chest and making me feel too jittery for my liking. Bullshit, she doesn’t remember me.

“You were great tonight,” some girl says from beside me, dragging my attention from the vacant space Naomi filled.

“You like drummers?” I ask the bottle blonde with far too much makeup on.

She grins and slides her hand over my arm like she’s making love to the curve of my muscle. “Uh-huh.” Jesus. This conversation is fucking riveting.

“I’m going home,” I say, as I gently push her aside and stand. She jumps up with me, an excited bounce to her breasts. I glance down before I meet her eyes. “Alone.”

“I thought—”

“No one wants to hear what you think, sweetheart.”

She scowls. “Jerk.”

That makes me smile. “Thanks. That’s the nicest thing I've been called in a long time.” They’re usually way more creative than that. Her lips pucker and she folds her arms across her chest as I chuckle and make my exit, glad when no one blocks my path.

The moment the fresh air hits me, I take a deep breath then grab my smokes out of my pocket and light up. Fucking crowds. A guy with anti-social tendencies probably has no business trying to make it in the music industry. But here I am, living the fucking dream.

“You’re too late,” Amy says, moving in beside me and holding her fingers out for my cigarette. I hand it over and she takes a long drag that burns away half the paper. So that’s why the guys like her…

“Too late for what?” She offers the cigarette back, but I shake my head. “I’ve got more.”

“Naomi. She just left in an Uber.”

Threading a fresh smoke between my lips, I frown at her while I light up. "I'm not looking for her."

She shrugs. “I'm just saying if you were looking for her, she’s already gone.”

Blowing smoke from my nose, I turn and meet her eyes. “Why’d you bring her here?”

“Because the band needs her.”

“And you make decisions for us now?”

“I’ve always known what’s best for you, A—”

“Don’t, Amy,” I warn. “Don’t say shit like you have some insight into my mind just because you've been hanging around like a bad smell since the beginning of time.”

“Fuck you. Theo. Erica and I made you.”

“You made us?”

“Yes. Our Instagram account is doing for you what twitter did for One Direction.”

“Is that right?” I scoff, flicking my unfinished cigarette onto the ground. “News flash, Amy. We’re not One Direction. In fact, I’m insulted by the comparison.”

“That’s because you’re full of yourself. If you’d fuck a few groupies occasionally, you might learn to chill out a little and quit pining over girls you could never have.”

Pressing my lips together, I nod slowly. “I don’t want to see you at our next gig, Amy.”

Her eyes flash then I walk away, a chorus of disgruntled obscenities ringing out behind me.

Six

Naomi

“Are you going?” Stephanie asks when I phone her the next day.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can have Marcus Bailey in my life again. My reputation is messed up enough.”

“You never know, he could fix it this time,” she says, causing me to laugh.

“I highly doubt that. Photos on the internet never go away.”

“Look on the bright side, you weren’t completely naked in any of them and your face was so smudged with Aramis’s makeup, if they surfaced again, we could argue it wasn’t you at all.”

“Except that it was me and everyone knows it.”

“I wonder what happened to Aramis,” she muses as I sit back and let out a sigh.

“Who knows? He never spoke to me again.”

“Guess he got what he was after, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess…” Thinking about him like that saddens me. In all our time together at school, he never gave off a sleaze-bag vibe. He was intense and passionate, but never sleazy… I guess it was all a ruse. Because why else would he act like I didn’t exist the next day? “Ugh. This conversation is precisely why I don't want to jam with them. Too many bad memories.”

“Yeah. But, Aramis isn’t even in the band anymore. And Marcus is the biggest whore on the planet so he won't hold anything against you. He probably doesn’t even remember it.”

“That’s what Erica and Amy said.”

“Yeah? Well, they’d know. They spend every waking moment fawning over the guy.”

“I still think getting involved with them is a bad idea.”

“Why? Because you’re embarrassed around Marcus? Or because it’s been so long since you played, you’re not sure if you’re good anymore?” Jesus. Why does she have to know me so well?

“It’s been sitting in its case for two years, Steph. I won’t even be in tune.”

“So get the thing out and tune it. There's no-one like you, Nomes. You know it, and they knew it too. It’s why Marcus asked you to jam with them.”

“You seriously think I should do it?”

“Yes!” She laughs. “I think you'd be crazy to pass this opportunity up.”

“It’s not even an opportunity. It’s just a rehearsal.”

"It's an audition. And it’s with a band on the cusp of making it big. Don’t let this slip through your fingers. Your passion has always been blending classical sounds with modern rock. Go and live your best damn life, woman."

God damn her for making so much sense. "I'll think about," I concede.

“Here’s some incentive: I love you, but don't call me again unless it's to tell about how your audition went.”

I gasp. “Mean.”

“Someone has to dish out the tough love. You can't tend bar forever.”

“I reckon I could.”

She laughs. “Goodbye, Nomes.”

“Bye, Steph.” Sighing, I disconnect the call, spinning Marcus’s business card around in my fingers thoughtfully. Could I handle playing with him again? Can I even handle playing again?

Glancing at my violin case, I chew on my lip, nerves building in my stomach as I consider popping the buckle. I lace my fingers together and stretch out my hands, shaking them while rolling my neck from side to side. “Maybe start with something a little easier,” I tell myself, sitting on the bench in front of my old acoustic piano—a replica of the one I used to play with Aramis at school—and closing my eyes. “Just like riding a horse.” I position my fingers and press down on the keys, a slightly off melody filling my tiny apartment and irritating me because where sound is concerned, I’m a perfectionist. I was gifted with the ability to play by ear which means I can tune by ear too. It doesn’t take me long before I’ve got my tool kit out and I’m tuning my old piano until every key has returned to its harmonious self.

“Let’s try this again,” I say, noticing the tiny quake in my hands as I prepare myself to play Fragile, the first song Matiari played last night. As the cords flow from my fingers and into the piano, I’m filled with the peacefulness that only music can bring. I close my eyes and just listen and feel. It’s been way too long. I don’t know the words, but the melody is in my blood and it’s beautiful. And Marcus is right; it will sound even better with a string accompaniment. “Shit.” I can already feel myself caving.

Letting my fingers drop on the keys in a nonsense note, I glance over at my violin case. It actually has dust on it. What if I’m not as good as I think I am?

When I went to the Conservatorium of Music, I had dreams of being the finest violinist Australia had ever seen. But my maestros didn’t have the same kind of confidence in me as my high school music teachers did. They were quick to tear apart my technique, calling me clunky and unrefined. They stole my love and replaced it with anxiety by forcing me to study and replicate, shoving me inside a box that didn’t quite fit. I was relieved the day I walked away. I almost left my violin behind.

Today I’m glad I didn’t.

Taking it out of the case, I run my fingers over its body, loving the smooth wood beneath my fingertips. “You can always text and say no,” I whisper, taking a calming breath before I pluck at the strings to check and fix its tuning. “You’re just testing things out. No big deal, Nomes. This doesn’t have to mean anything.” When I finish my pep talk, the tuning is corrected, and I’m ready to go.

Opening Spotify, I select the same song I played on the piano, hitting repeat before turning it up so it’s all I can hear. With my eyes closed, I straighten up and take a deep breath, positioning my violin on my shoulder, listening with my bow ready.

Have you ever been reunited with an old lover? The feelings are still there, but you’re nervous to instigate the first touch, afraid that spark you once shared is gone, even more afraid that it’s still there, that you’ll get lost in it again and make the same mistakes over and over.

That’s how I feel with my violin at the ready. Reunited with my lost love. How will it feel?

Matiari's song plays through once while I listen and prepare myself to join in, deciding the chorus is where I’m needed most. The song is already beautiful, but I think what I bring to it evokes more emotion and adds power to the lyrics, ‘Why did you sing your song to my heart? When you knew we were fragile; Right from the start.’ I make it better.

I play it over and over then I record myself, listening to the difference with a critical but relieved ear. It is better. I can still do this.

Thank god.

My stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me to take a break. I’ve been at this for hours, so caught up in the music I didn’t notice my neck stiffening and the blisters developing on my fingers. Pressing my thumb against my middle finger, I apply pressure to the fluid-filled bubble. It’s been a long time since I had one of those. I’m going to have to work on my callouses all over again.

I guess that means I’m joining the band.

Letting out a complex sigh, I place my violin, lovingly, back in its case. As I stand up and stretch myself out, I glance over at the business card Marcus gave me. It’s almost like making a deal with the devil; have everything you want with a side of chaos thrown in. Because Marcus is chaos. He always has been.

“Fine,” I tell it, like I’m actually talking to him. “I’ll play in your band. But if you even try to find your way back into my pants, I’m out of there. Band members don’t have sex with other band members. It complicates things.” Nodding my head as if a deal was just struck between me and card-Marcus, I turn away and dust off my hands, heading for the kitchen to get some food before I get myself ready for work tonight.

I have to say I’m feeling bloody good about this Matiari gig now that I’ve made a decision. I’ve really missed performing, and this opportunity feels like it was dropped in my lap just when I needed it most. And as long as I stay sober, I should manage to keep my clothes on this time….

Seven

Marcus

“What’s going on with you two?” Lachlan asks, while sitting on a stool in our rehearsal space and strumming at his unplugged bass. I can hear the light twang of the strings as his fingers fly over them, and he looks between Theo and me through his dirty-blonde hair waiting for an answer.

“Nothing,” I reply, focusing on my own setup.

“Nothing? I don’t think inviting a girl to join the band without consulting anyone is nothing,” Theo growls from his seat behind his drum kit. He taps his foot on the pedal of his hi-hats, letting it drop with a crash as he glares at me.

“What the fuck, man?” Jack yells. “You invited a girl? Are you insane? Can’t you just fuck her and be done with it? The last chick nearly ruined everything for us.”

I hold my hands up in front of me, showing them my palms in the hopes they’ll calm down and listen. “Just hear her play, ok? And Jack; it’s Naomi. Remember her?”

“The violin chick from school?”

“Yeah.” I nod, noting how his expression changes. I can see the thoughts written all over his face. He can already see how much better our sound will be with her in the band.

“All right,” he says after a moment, nodding his head. “Let’s give her a run. See how we sound.”

“Who the fuck is Naomi?” Lachlan asks. He’s our newest recruit. We’ve been through a few bassists over the years. They’re almost as unreliable as drummers and half of them are wannabe leads who couldn’t make the cut so they try to tell me how to do my job. But Lachie seems cool. He’s good at what he does and takes direction well. That’s what I need.

“Naomi was at The Metro last Saturday. The little blonde girl with Erica and Amy,” I tell him.

“They were there on Saturday?” he asks, scratching at his messy blond head, probably trying to remember what ended up being a very drunken party for him.

“Briefly,” Theo says, tossing his drumstick up, so it spins before he catches it. “Marcus dripped all over her then dumped her to pickup some big-breasted redhead.”

Lachie lifts his chin and squints his brown eyes. “I remember the redhead…”

“Naomi would too,” Theo says, his eyes trained on me. “She took off real quick. I don’t reckon she’ll even show up.”

“She’ll come,” I say with confidence while I fix a broken string on my guitar. “I know her. She won’t pass up a chance like this.”

“Tick-tock, mutha-fucka,” Jack says, spinning on his stool with a cigarette dangling between his lips. Rehearsal officially started five minutes ago.

“She gets fifteen minutes,” Theo says, getting up and lighting a smoke himself. “If she’s not here, I’m locking the door and there are no second chances.”

“You sound like that English teacher, Mrs McFarlane,” Jack laughs, increasing the pitch of his voice as he mimics her. “If you’re not seated by the bell, you’ll be sent to the office for detention.”

We’re all laughing when he gets up and continues his bit, demanding to know where our ties are, and why our shirts aren’t tucked in. Then the door opens, and the laughter stops like someone pulled the needle off the record.

“Looks like I’m in the right place,” Naomi says with a little smile, clutching her violin case in front of her with both hands. She’s looking fine in a tight pair of faded jeans, knee-high boots, a fitted white t-shirt, and a black vest on top with this long silver locket hanging down between her breasts.

“You made it,” I say, grinning as I drink her in. Suddenly, I’ve got these visions of taking a hold of that locket and pulling her towards me so I can peel off every layer she’s wearing and bury my face in those tits. I’ve become so used to girls wearing clothes that leave nothing to the imagination—hell, half of them don’t even bother with underwear—that the idea of undressing Naomi is causing quite a stir in my nether regions.

“Yeah. I got a little lost. Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque.” She smiles, and Theo is the only one who laughs.

“Where the fuck is Albuquerque?” Lachlan asks, looking around to Jack who just shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s a bugs bunny reference, dumbass,” Theo says.

“Bugs what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Naomi says. “It wasn’t particularly funny.” Theo obviously thought it was. But he’s a nerd. “Where do I set up?” She directs her question at me as she reaches up and secures her hair into a high ponytail. I want to pull on that thing so bad…

“Oh, um. Just over here,” I say, covering my dirty thoughts by clearing my throat as I indicate the extra microphone stand and amp where she can plug in.

“Thanks.” She walks over and places her things on the floor, busying herself with her own setup. Despite saying she hasn’t played in a while, she’s still a pro and already has the tuner pick-up attached to the bridge of her standard violin so it can be used as an electric without compromising her acoustic sound.

Jamming my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, I look around the rest of the guys who are staring at me, obviously waiting for an introduction. “Oh. Yeah. Naomi, this is the rest of the band. I don’t think you met everyone on Saturday.”

“That’s because I left, Marcus. You seemed too busy to introduce me around, and I’d had a big day,” she tells me evenly, not even making eye contact as she untangles a loop in her cord.

“OK.” I drag out the sound before I ignore the jibe and get on with the introductions. “Jack is the guy on keyboards, Lachlan is our bassist, and I’m sure you remember our drummer, Theo.” I point each one out as she stands up with a sigh, turning her amp on.

“Hey, guys.” She nods as she speaks to each one. “I remember Jack from school; nice to see you again. And you too, Theo.” She picks up her bow. “And it’s nice to meet you, Lachlan. You were all great on Saturday.”

“But you think you can make us better,” Theo deadpans and I shoot him a look that says, ‘Shut the fuck up’ before he smiles to himself then takes a seat back at his drum kit.

“I reckon she just might.” Jack looks between us, taking the reins to move things along. “Do you need the sheet music, Naomi? Or can you still do that thing where you can play everything straight away?”

“I can still do that thing.” She smiles and positions her purple violin under her chin, smashing out the chorus for Fragile like she’s been playing it all along.

“That’s fucking brilliant,” Lachlan says, looking at her with stars in his eyes. “How do you do that?”

“She was born that way,” I say, not wanting to get caught up in a bunch of arse licking when we have work to do. “Let’s play the same set we did on Saturday. Naomi, you come in where you think works and perhaps add some backing vocals? We’ll record the session and make adjustments once we’ve had a chance to review it.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says, saluting me.

There’s a couple of sniggers behind me as Theo counts us in to play ‘Fragile’. For the entire first verse, Naomi stands ready, swaying her body as she feels the music, causing me to wonder when she’s planning to join in. Then we get to the chorus and she begins, the warm sound of her instrument causing all the hair on my body to stand on end. Her music gives the words a deeper meaning. I can feel them now.

When you whisper to me,

I want your words to be true,

But you know we can't be,

Not like this. Not like this.

I expect her to keep going, but I forget how good she is. She stops at the perfect time, allowing me to play just the few quiet notes on my guitar, as I sing the last two lines of the chorus in virtual silence.

Why did you sing your song to my heart?

When you knew we were fragile right from the start

The rest of the session goes on much like this. In some songs she adds vocals, in others she only adds violin, then there are ones where she adds both. I thank god Theo has this session recording, because I need to hear it again. She’s so much better now than she was when I knew her. It makes me wonder why she quit ANU. She could have been a star.

Theo

There’s a song Marcus wrote that I’ve never been a fan of. It’s called Then You Were Gone, and it’s about this chick leaving him and his ability to write music suffers as a result. It’s ok, and the fans seem to like it, but I’ve always felt it could be better. In true Marcus fashion, he wouldn’t listen to me so we’ve been stuck playing this subpar song for the last couple of years. Then Naomi comes along and now I think it’s my favourite.

The moment we’re getting ready to wind down after the last chorus, Naomi starts up with this amazing violin solo. I keep the beat with her—I want to see where she’s going with this—and it adds this magical element to the song that takes it from mediocre to outstanding. I really didn’t want to accept her into the band, but with an ability like this, how can I possibly say no? When she lowers her bow, she leans in to the microphone and hums the tune instead. All the while, her eyes are closed and she’s completely lost in the creation of this moment. I continue my gentle tapping to go along with her hum, and Marcus joins in, humming along with her to finish off the song. Fuck Amy. She was right. Naomi is exactly what we’ve been missing. Now I have to call and apologise for being a dick.

“Whooo,” Lachlan yells the moment we finish. He claps his hands, beaming while Jack nods excitedly.

“That was fucking brilliant!”

“I’m so glad you all liked it,” Naomi says, placing a hand on her chest. “I was worried it might be too much.” Her cheeks are flushed and she looks over at me. All I have for her is a curt nod. Because besides what she just did, I still don’t like her. She’s an amazing artist, I’ll give her that. But I still feel like bringing her on is a ticking time bomb and we have too much to lose if this goes wrong.

“No, that was perfect,” Marcus says with this dumbfounded look on his face. I can tell he’s really affected by how that song played out. I think we all were. While I look around at the guys, they gush like little girls over how great she is. So now, regardless of the risk in bringing a girl we have history with into the band, she’s being voted in. Excellent. Great. Shit.

While everyone stands around talking about songs they want to show her, and the shows we currently have booked, I quietly leave the room.

“You were right,” I say when my phone connects to its caller.

“About the Powerball numbers or sending Naomi to your brother so he’d ask her to join the band,” Amy replies. I swear that girl has a single tone and zero emotion.

“Depends on whether you won Powerball, I guess.”

“I lost spectacularly.”

I smile. “Then I guess we’re talking about Naomi.”

“Of course we were. Who else would you or Marcus want to talk to me about?”

“Marcus was talking to you about her?”

“Yeah. Asking if she was still single and shit.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“The same thing I’m telling you. Keep your dick in your pants. You’ve worked too hard to mess this up over a girl.”

“Then why did you bring us that girl?”

“Because she’s the best there is. And I want the best for you guys.”

“Careful, Amy. I’ll start to think you have feelings.”

“Shut up, fuckface. I only care about you guys making it big so I can hitch a ride with you when you go on a world tour. I want to party with the big kids.”

“Who says you’d be invited?”

“Dude. Come on. We’ve been spruiking you since the beginning. You have to let us tour with you. We’re your door bitches and we protect you from the crazies.”

I smile. Amy and Erica definitely have their perks. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re top of the entourage list when we’re allowed one.” It’s the best I can do at this point.

“That’s all I ask. And you’re welcome, by the way.” For Naomi, obviously.

“Yeah. Yeah. Don’t start getting a big head.”

She laughs, but even that doesn’t have any tone to it. “See you next week. Can’t wait to hear the new sound.”

We disconnect and I take a minute, staring at my phone screen while I stick a cigarette between my lips and don’t even bother to light it. I have photos of Naomi from before. They’ve transferred through each model I’ve owned since high school, backed up in iTunes and now they’re floating along in the cloud. Does she remember any of this? I swipe my thumb from side to side, wondering why the fuck I kept these for so long. Too much fucking history.

Eight

Naomi

Marcus claps his hands together. “I think it’s time to take a vote.”

“I say she’s in,” Lachlan says, grinning that big goofy grin of his. He’s so tall and lanky. He reminds me of Shaggy from Scooby Doo with his messy dark blond hair. He’s pretty drugged out sounding too.

“No question,” Jack says, running his hand over the top of his close cropped black hair. “She’s awesome.”

“Aw, thanks, Jack.” I smile, nudging him gently in his arm.

Winking, his blue eyes shine amusedly. “I only speak the truth.”

“What about you, Theo?” Marcus asks, drawing all of our attention to the empty seat behind the drums. “Where the hell is he?”

“Probably out for a smoke,” Lachlan says with a shrug before looking at me. “It’s where he always is.”

I nod.

Switching off his amp, Marcus removes the lead to his acoustic guitar and takes it off his shoulder. He leans it against his amp, muttering something under his breath about his brother being a dramatic shitbag before he stalks out of the room, banging the door shut behind him. I jump slightly. It makes me glad I’m an only child. I’ll never ask my mum for a little brother again.

“Don’t worry about them,” Jack says. “They’re always bitching at each other over something.”

“Theo doesn’t seem too happy about having me join,” I say, placing my violin and bow back in their case.

“Yeah, well. That’s Theo. He’s got issues. But he’ll come around. You make his songs sound too good for him not to.”

“His songs? Does he write them?” I thought Marcus did.

“Sure does,” Lachlan answers. “Most of them anyway. Marcus has written a few, but our most popular stuff is all Theo.” Wow. That changes things. He’s amazingly talented for a drummer. But I guess Dave Grohl was Nirvana’s drummer….

“Maybe he thinks I’m ruining them?” I suggest. “Maybe he doesn’t want strings in his songs?”

“Nah, that’s not it at all. I saw him, he liked what you were doing. He’s just got a bug in his butt. He’ll come around though. You’ll see,” Jack assures me, and I hope he’s right. Despite the blisters on my fingers turning raw, I loved every moment of today’s rehearsal. It’s like I’ve finally found the answer I’ve been searching for. I want to be in a band.

While we wait for the brothers to return, we sit around making small talk. I learn that Lachlan joined the band after answering an open audition ad in a music magazine. He’s self taught, and can’t sing for shit, so bass is where he’s happy to stay. No big ambition. He just likes to play. Jack joined the band after running into Marcus and Theo at a cousin’s wedding. They’re not sure whose cousin the bride was, but since they’re all connected via lots of aunties and uncles within their large Italian community, they tend to call everyone in their circle cousin—even if they can’t work out exactly how they’re related.

“Does working with family cause issues for any of you?” I ask.

“It does for the brothers, but for me, it means Marcus can’t pull his diva act on me or my mamma will tell her sister, who’ll tell his Aunty who runs a community garden with his mamma. Then his mamma’ll box his ears.” He shrugs like what he just said was simple and normal, but it leaves my head spinning.

“That’s a lot of relatives.”

“Keeps us in line.”

Theo

“What the fuck is your problem?” Marcus bites out from behind me.

I pocket my phone, taking the unlit cigarette out of my mouth and sticking it behind my ear. “You’re my problem. Fawning over her with drool running down your chin. You don’t get to fuck this one, Marcus. Remember how crazy you made the last one? We’re not doing that again.”

“Fuck you. Naomi isn’t mental like Andrea was.”

“Don’t touch her,” I warn, refusing to back down on this one.

“Why? So you can?”

“Fuck you, Marcus. I wouldn’t touch your sloppy seconds in a hazmat suit.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up. “Whatever, Dude. You’ve always been pissed because you wanted her and I got in there first.”

“Wipe your chin, Marcus. You’re dribbling shit.” Fuck he pisses me off.

“Tell you what, I’ll step back and give you first crack this time. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “No. I don’t think.” I would never touch one of his whores. I might as well be fucking my own brother. There are just some things you don’t ever share with family, and women is one of them. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m just trying to be fair, brother.”

“You know what? I was sitting out here thinking we should give her a shot, but after your filthy fucking attitude, I don’t want her in the band at all. Get somebody else. Get a guy.”

“A guy won’t work. We need the female vocal.”

“Then get a guy whose balls haven’t dropped. Hell, get one of those guys who thinks he’s a girl and takes the hormones. They’re popular these days. It’ll give us diversity.”

Marcus puts his hands on his hips and lifts his eyebrows. “That’s very insensitive, Theo. I don’t think the LGBTQIA+ community will appreciate you seeking a trans person out for the sake of your own agenda.”

“LGB-What? I don’t know what the fuck that all means. And I don’t give a fuck what the community thinks. I just want a band full of people you don’t want to fuck.”

“There are some beautiful trans girls out there,” he says, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Seriously! Marcus. If you fuck her, I go. And all of those songs I wrote will come with me.”

“I’m lost. Are we talking about the trans girl or Naomi?”

I narrow my eyes. “Naomi, fuckface.”

“Oh, well, if you want to go and take your songs, I can’t stop you. We’ll write more. Nomes is a great songwriter, remember?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Just imagine it, Theo, me and her, spending long nights together, working on lyrics and writing music.” He sucks air in through his teeth. “We’ll become so close.”

“Don’t,” I warn, gritting my teeth and balling my fists at my side.

He chuckles. “Relax, big bro. I won’t touch her—been there; done that—you can relax.”

I think my body visibly slumps with relief. I can handle having her in the band as long as I don’t have to stress about Marcus fucking it up. “I’ll need your word,” I say, spitting on my hand and holding it out.

“Don’t be a jackass.”

“I’m not. I’m dead serious. Give me your word or I walk.”

He works his jaw from side to side. “Fine. But you have to swear too. Neither of us touches her. Deal?”

"No problem," I say immediately. I don’t even have to think about it.

He spits in his palm and claps his hand against mine. "Then it’s a deal. Naomi joins the band and we fuck anyone but her.”

“Perfect. But we need to see how the fans react before we make anything permanent. All right?” I’m pretty sure they'll love her. But you can't always guess what the general public wants.

“Deal.” Marcus grins, slapping me on my arm as he continues to shake my hand. “I’m fuckin’ excited. This is gonna be great. Let’s go tell her she’s in.”

Following behind Marcus, we make our way back to the rehearsal space where Lachlan, Jack and Naomi are talking and laughing together like old friends.

“You two kiss and make up?” Jack asks.

“Always. Theo can’t stay mad at me.” Marcus smiles, and I want to slap it off his face. I’m constantly mad at Marcus. He’s childish and selfish and big-headed and arrogant and entitled and…I could go on, but there aren’t enough words in the world to cover it.

“So is Nomes in or not?” Lachlan asks.

“She’s in,” Marcus says, rubbing his hands together.

Naomi grins so broad it makes her puppy dog brown eyes shine and dance happily. “Thank you, guys. I won’t let you down,” she starts before I jump in.

“Well, we’ll see how the next show goes before we make anything official. If the fans like her, she can stay.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Naomi says, meeting my eyes with a happy sigh. I ignore the thumping in my chest. “Trial by fire suits me fine. I’ll stalk Instagram the day after to see how many comments make me cry.” She giggles a little at herself and it sounds like a bell. I wonder if she snores in tune too…

Jack slings his arm around her shoulder and grins at her. “They’ll think you’re awesome just like we do.”

Naomi blushes. Which reminds me….

“Since we have a woman in our ranks now, there will be no fraternising. Relationships break up bands.”

“Yeah,” Lachlan says, nodding. “ABBA totally fell apart after they divorced.”

Jack grins. “You listen to ABBA a lot, dude?”

“What?” Lachlan says, looking a little hot under the collar. “Nah. Me mum was a fan. Not me.”

We all laugh at him and I make a mental note to get him an ABBA shirt for his birthday.

“You can sniff around girls anywhere but in here,” I add, looking pointedly at each guy. “Understood?”

“We’ll consider her one of the guys.” Lachlan smiles, his brown eyes watching Naomi closely for a reaction.

“I think you should consider me one of the girls, you’ve got such long hair,” she teases, reaching up and pulling on Lachlan’s dirty blond do.

“All right, ladies,” I boom over their laughter, clapping my hands to break up the joke. “Let’s get out of here. I think we need to meet a couple more times this week to make sure Naomi is up to speed with our set list. We’re playing The Basement this weekend, so we don’t want to mess this up.”

With a chorus of yeah-yeahs and goodbyes, the guys file out one after the other, leaving me behind.

“Are you coming?” Naomi asks as she collects the last of her things.

I shake my head. “No, I live here.”

“Oh, really? Wow, that must be great. You can play whenever you want with a soundproof room like this.” She looks around my converted double garage with an eye of appreciation.

“See you Wednesday.” If that doesn’t get her moving I’ll probably push her out the door. I need my alone time.

She takes a couple of steps towards the door, but pauses, turning around to face me. Oh, my god. Just go. “I wanted to say thanks for giving me a go,” she says, fiddling with the handle on her case. “I can tell you don’t really want me here, but I hope I’ll win you over. I’m happy to play however you want me to. I mean, I don’t want to mess with any of your songs.”

Shit. I’m being an arsehole. I wipe my hand across my jaw and hear the scrape of my stubble against my palm. “There’s nothing wrong with your playing,” I admit.

“Oh.” She looks at her hands then back up to meet my eyes. “So, it’s just me then?”

We stand and look at each other for a long moment, and I wonder if she has any recollection of me. She was the most adorable little thing in an otherwise bleak time of my life. But now it’s as if I never knew her at all. “Rehearsal starts at five. Make sure you tape those fingers.”

She lifts one hand, letting her case shift to her side while she inspects her blistered fingers. I’ve never seen someone play until their fingers bled before. I’ve heard the expression, but to witness it happen is pretty powerful. I’m both impressed and wary of the woman she’s become.

“I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Spinning on her heels, she makes her way to the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I’m not sure how I’m going to cope having her near. A couple of hours has already given me a bad case of anxiety. I can feel it thrumming in my chest and bubbling against the walls of my stomach like a sense of foreboding. I can’t even bring myself to listen to our rehearsal recordings to make notes. I’m too agitated to do anything but… play.

It’s the only thing that calms me down.

I walk to the rear of the studio and remove the sheet that covers my old piano and sit on the creaky bench. I’ve owned this since I was old enough to work. It was the first thing I saved for. I didn’t care that it had seen better days; the lacquer worn away from the many hands that played it. They’d wanted to throw it away, to upgrade to something more modern. But I convinced them to let me buy it. It’s the only thing I still have from back then, back when my life was different.

With my breath held in the centre of my chest, I position my fingers. The notes flow out of me easily. It’s a song I’ve played hundreds of times. I play it every time I need peace. And right now, I need a little peace. I’ve worked my arse off to get this band to where it is and inviting Naomi is a gamble that could make or break us. I don’t know if Marcus can keep his promise. Hell, I don’t know if I can keep the promise. Shit. I close my eyes and push my thoughts deep down into the pits of my mind. Focus on the music, Theo. You’re not the same man anymore. That’s what this song reminds me off—how far I’ve come, how much I’ve changed. I’ve only ever played it for myself and one other person because it’s deeply personal. I’ll never give it to the band for my brother to sing. It’s another thing I’m not willing to share with him. This one is mine alone. Just like Naomi should have been.

Fuck you, Marcus.

Nine

Naomi

“Tell me all about the big jam session,” Stephanie asks over the phone. The woman must have been spying on me because she called the second I put my violin in my car.

“It was good,” I say, securing my pride and joy with a seatbelt so it won’t slide around. “Great actually. I can’t stop smiling.”

“That great, huh? Are you part of the band now? What’s happening?”

Getting behind the wheel of my forest green Rav4, I fill her in on the details of the session, and how I’m to practice with them a bit more this week before we perform next weekend. “And get this—we’re performing at The Basement on Friday night. I’m excited and freaking out at the same time.”

“Oh, my god. You’re a rock star. I need to come and watch,” she squeals, making my smile even broader.

“Don’t get too excited for me. If the crowd doesn’t go for it, this will be my one and only performance.”

“Nomes, they will love you. There’s no way they won’t like you,” she assures me, the way all best friends are supposed to.

“God, I hope so. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if this doesn’t work out, you know?”

“Yeah. It kind of popped up just when you needed it, huh? What’s it like playing with Marcus again?”

I connect my phone to the Bluetooth and start the engine. “It’s fine. A little weird, but I think that will go away with time. All of them are really nice though. Well, except for Theo. I don’t know if he hates me or if he’s one of those people who hates everyone.”

“Ew. That’s gotta be a downer. Who’s Theo?”

“The drummer. He’s actually Marcus’s brother. Supposedly he went to our school. Do you remember him?”

“What grade was he in?”

“He was a year above Marcus, so two above us.”

“I can’t remember off the top of my head, but that doesn’t mean much. I never recovered from this baby-brain business since I had Mandy. Is he as hot as Marcus?”

“As long as you find guys who are permanently angry, hot. He looks like a more manly version of Marcus. He’s not as pretty, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah it makes sense. As long as he has those same killer eyes.”

“They’re darker—almost black. And his hair is darker too, still brown, but way darker.”

“I’ll have a perve on Friday night.”

“No perving, young lady. You’re a married woman,” I joke.

“I’m just window shopping. It’s not like I have any intention of buying.”

“Fair enough.” I laugh as I pull into the parking garage of my apartment building. “Listen, I have to get going. I have a bar shift tonight and need to get ready.”

“All right, well text me the details for your gig on Friday, and Gary and I will be there. We’ll leave Amanda with my mum and pretend we’re twenty again.”

“Sounds great. Talk soon,” I say, hitting the button on the steering wheel to disconnect the call.

Looking at the time readout on my phone as I grab it from its cradle, I curse myself silently. I only have fifteen minutes to get ready and be at work. Fuck. I'll need to skip the shower.

Racing up the stairs, I give my armpits a sniff and give myself a good dousing of body spray and some roll on deodorant. Thankfully, I’m already in jeans, so I just grab the black fitted t-shirt that is my uniform and race for the door. I don’t have time to do my makeup, so every time I stop for a traffic light, I apply my eyeliner and lip gloss. When I run into work, I only have minutes to spare.

“Cutting it fine aren’t we, Naomi?” my boss says from his office as I drop my bag in the staffroom.

“I still made it,” I point out breathlessly, grabbing my apron and heading for the bar where my co-worker, Kylie, is already setting up.

Kylie is a uni student. She’s only twenty, but she’s a hard worker. I like being on shift with her. She’s small like I am, but she has deep auburn hair and green eyes. Between us, we manage to attract enough admirers to amass a good collection of tips. On top of that, I don’t catch her wasting time, flirting with the patrons like a couple of the other girls and guys I work with are prone to do.

“Good evening,” she says, pulling some glasses out of the cabinet and setting them on the bar.

I move right over and pick up the bucket of ice she’s already collected from the back room and tip it into the basin, shoving the scoop in it, ready for later. “Hey. Sorry I wasn’t earlier.”

“It’s no worry.” She looks up and meets my eyes. “You seem buzzed. Good day?”

“The best,” I sigh.

She grins, pausing to watch me pour off the stale beer that gets trapped in the line. “Did you spend it with a guy?”

My lips curve uncontrollably upward. “I spent it with four, actually.”

“You hussy.” She laughs.

“It’s not like that; I was auditioning for a band. It was amazing. I haven’t played with anyone for ages.” I sigh again.

“Play what? I had no idea you could play anything.”

“I can play a lot of things.” I lean against the steel bench and fold my arms across my chest. It' been so long since I enjoyed making music that I stopped talking about it.

“Like what?”

“For the band, I’m playing the violin.”

“A violin in a band? What kind of band?”

“They’re an indie rock band. They have this folky sort of sound. It’s really nice, and the violin fits in beautifully. I just…” I grab the glass I used to clear the beer lines and put it in the dishwasher before standing back up to face Kylie. “You know, I didn’t realise how much I was missing it. I used to play all the time. It was all I cared about, but then I took some time off, went travelling, and then I came back and didn’t even want to play for myself. I had given up on music as a career option, or even as a dream. But now… I feel alive again, you know?”

When I meet her eyes, she’s grinning at me. “Well, it definitely suits you. You look like you’re floating on clouds. When do I get to see you play?”

“Actually, that’s what I needed to talk to you about. Can you please cover my shift on Friday night? We have a gig and I can’t miss it. One of the guys is already a bit funny about having a girl in the band, so I don’t want to appear flaky. Can you do it? Please, please pretty please,” I beg, holding my hands clasped together in front of me.

Kylie laughs as she shakes her head from side to side. “Enough, stop begging. I’ll do it for you on one condition… actually two.”

“Ok, what are they?”

“Firstly, you thank me for this in your Aria speech.”

“Done.” I laugh, not sure I’m ever going to be in the position of winning one of those awards. “What’s the other condition?”

“You have to lend me your kindle for a month.”

My mouth drops open. “A month?” I cry. I love my kindle. My parents gave it to me last Christmas and I carry it with me everywhere. Thousands of books are at my fingertips and I don’t know if I want to give that up… but the gig… it’s important.

“A month,” she confirms.

I chew my lip as I war between my love of romance novels and my love of music. It’s close, but music wins. “Fine. It’s yours. One month only. And don’t oneclick any new books, all right?”

“Deal.” she grins, holding out her hand to shake mine with a triumphant gleam in her eye.

“You drive a hard bargain, missy.”

She giggles as she takes the bucket off the bench and returns it to the ice machine. As much as I’m going to miss my ereader, a month without it will probably be ok. It’ll give me the chance to throw myself fully into my music so I’m playing at my best for the band. Besides, there's always the kindle app on my phone I can read on. The hot alpha I’ve been swooning over is still accessible to me. All is not lost.

Ten

Naomi

Friday night takes forever to arrive. I’ve been dying to perform, but as soon as it‘s time to get ready, my nerves make me wish I had longer to prepare.

“You’ll be fine,” Stephanie says as she sits on the edge of my bed, watching me fling clothes about as I decide what to wear.

“God, I’m sweating. I haven’t even stood on stage yet and I’m sweating! My bow’s going to end up sliding out of my fingers and hitting some poor bastard in the eyeball. They’ll never let me up there again,” I moan, throwing yet another dress on the floor. None of them look right. I’m a fucking mess.

“Calm down. How many times have you performed in your life? You’ve never choked, and you won’t choke now. You’re like the Rain Man of music. The moment you heard those songs you knew them. Plus, you’ve been practicing with the guys all week. It’s going to be amazing, and I’ll be right there cheering you on.”

I stand back from my wardrobe and survey the mess I’ve made of my room. I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated with myself for not planning my outfit sooner.

“I should have bought something new to wear,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t have anything decent, and I'm going to look stupid.”

Stephanie laughs and looks at the mountain on my floor. “I’ll choose your clothes. Go take a shower. Gary will be here in twenty minutes, and then we’re leaving. You don’t have any freak out time left. So it’s time to stop this nonsense and go.”

“God, you’re such a mum now. When did you become the responsible one?” I ask, half in jest as I concede defeat and head for the bathroom.

“I was always the responsible one.”

I laugh as I close the bathroom door, turning the shower on with a shaky hand. I try to breathe and calm down but I’ve gotten myself into such a state, that when I look in the mirror, my face is bright pink.

“You can do this. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how to perform. Right?” I say to my reflection, still unsure if I’m capable of playing in front of a crowd again.

Quickly, I shake my head and my nervous thoughts away. Steph is right, I don’t have time to freak out or I’ll be late. I test the water temperature and quickly remove my clothes, stepping into the shower recess and allowing the water to pour over my body. Closing my eyes, I try to picture myself on stage, strong and confident. Singing and playing at my best. In my mind, the crowd is loving me.

Then my doubts take over and the crowd boos me off stage, rotten tomatoes and all.

Rapidly, I open my eyes and shake my head again. “This isn’t helping,” I admonish myself. “Everything will be fine… You’ve got this.”

My entire future in music rides on tonight. I have to do well.

* * *

Marcus

“Where is she, Marcus?” Theo glowers. “She’s supposed to be here by now.”

“She will be, Theo, relax. She’ll be here,” I assure him as confidently as I can, although I look at my phone furtively, silently hoping I’m right. If she doesn’t turn up after all the promo we've done to hype her up, Theo will lose his shit and I’ll never be allowed to make a creative decision again. Even if I made this one with my dick. But, Theo is right. A no fucking policy is what’s best for the band. Pussy isn't hard to come by. A great violinist is. Keep it in your pants, Marcus. And hurry the fuck up and arrive, Nomes.

As if hearing my prayers, she bursts through the door, all breathless and well… gorgeous. I can see immediately what took her so long. She looks smoking hot in a short girly looking skirt that’s purple like her violin. It shows off her tan legs perfectly, my eyes can’t help but drag down the length of them, pausing at the pair of killer black heels she’s got on her feet.

“Seriously, if you fall over in those things, I’m not catching you,” Theo spits. It’s the first thing anyone has said. The rest of us are just staring at her open-mouthed. She’s got her hair pulled up into a messy bun and her face isn’t overly made up. It’s just enough to make her look like she’s glowing. But after Theo’s shit remark, she’s scowling.

“It’s ok, Nomes. I’ll catch you.” Lachlan smiles, turning that frown upside down.

“Thanks,” she says, fidgeting slightly. I think Theo has made her feel a little self-conscious now. Fuck he can be a dick.

“You look gorgeous, Naomi. You’ll knock them all dead tonight,” I tell her with a wink, glad when I’m rewarded with a huge smile.

“I hope so,” she admits.

“All right, ladies. Enough gushing,” Theo interrupts, clapping his hands together. “We’ve got just enough time to complete setup before they open the doors. Let’s get this done.”

We finish preparing the stage as Theo talks quietly with the venue’s sound guy. Our band is doing well, but at the moment we’re solely responsible for all of our own equipment, sound, bookings and everything else promoting a band entails. No extra staff.

Theo has taken on the crux of it. He’s got a good head for the business side of things. Admittedly, we wouldn’t be where we are without him. Although, I don’t really tell him that, because I don’t want him thinking he’s the boss or anything. But it’s true. He’s like, our music industry guru. I have no idea how he does it.

When everything is checked and ready, we all head out to the back room to wait until it’s time to get on stage. We don’t say a huge amount. All of us guys just try to make normal conversation in an attempt to put Naomi at ease because she’s sitting on a stool and bouncing her leg up and down frantically, occasionally blowing out steadying breaths and complaining about the heat in the room.

I exchange glances with Theo, who just looks at her and shakes his head. Suddenly, I find my knee bouncing too. Shit, if she blows this, Theo will murder me.

Eleven

Naomi

“Five minutes,” we’re told by someone from the venue. We’ve been waiting almost an hour and I’m dying from nerves. I’ve taken to pacing the small room, trying to keep my arms away from my body to lessen the amount of sweat that’s pouring out of me. I’m a disgusting mess.

I silently thank Stephanie for choosing a fitted tank top in black for me. At least I don’t have to worry about noticeable sweat stains. Oh god. I’m dying right now. I’m not sure I can do this.

The guys have been taking turns trying to talk me down between their pre-show routines. I would have given up after about ten minutes of my incoherent bumbling but they’ve kept at it. In between exchanging wide-eyed glances, of course. I’m sure they all think I’m completely insane. I wouldn’t blame them if they asked me to go home.

“You’re gonna do great. Stop worrying,” Jack says in his fiftieth attempt to soothe me. They’re all being ridiculously understanding. Well, except Theo. He’s spent this whole time glaring at me while he taps his drumsticks on the edge of his stool. I keep seeing him shaking his head at me, and I want to yell at him and tell him to shut the fuck up because that tapping is making it worse. But I don’t give him that satisfaction. I just need to get through tonight.

I guess this is like getting back on the proverbial horse. You’re nervous that you’re going to get thrown again, but once you do it, you get your confidence back, right? I’m hoping that’s how it will be. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever been booed off the stage, I’ve always performed well. But the last time I did something like this was in high school. Most of the stuff I did at Uni was classical. I was part of a string section. And I didn’t have to sing.

Oh god, that reminds me; is my voice warm enough?

“Let’s go,” Theo says, standing from his seat and picking up his sticks as he moves toward me, dipping down to pick up my violin case. “Calm. The fuck. Down,” he growls into my ear, as he hands my case to me.

I swallow the thick ball of saliva that’s lodged itself in my throat and nod at him quickly, our eyes locking as he looks at me intently, his eyebrows raised. I realise he wants some sort of answer. Wait. What was the question?

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him in a small voice, wrapping my sweaty palm around the handle of my case as I take it from him. “I promise.”

He lets out a slight grunt and heads out the door, closely followed by Jack, and Lachlan; who gives me a pat on the shoulder and a few encouraging words.

“Come on,” Marcus says, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go make beautiful music together.”

When we get out on the stage, I look out and try to find Stephanie and Gary in the crowd. The lights are dim, and in front of the stage are tables and chairs. My eyes find them to the left of the stage, seated at a table they’re sharing with Amy and Erica. They give me a little wave, and I feel glad to have the support of them there.

As I ready myself to start, I take a moment to survey the room. Every table is full, and the standing room on the upper level is jam-packed with people. Matiari sure can pull a crowd.

I let out a slow breath as I hold my bow and violin at my side. This is it. Show time.

My attention goes to Marcus as he clears his throat and leans into the microphone. “Good evening,” he says. Three syllables and the room erupts in cheer, a group of women in the front table practically scream. It elicits a beautiful swoon-worthy smile from our front man. “Thank you, ladies. This first song is called ‘Fragile’.”

I close my eyes and focus on the sound of him strumming his guitar. This song is primarily guitar and gentle drums. The rest of us don’t come in until the chorus, and I don’t sing on this one either, it’s all Marcus.

We only kiss when we’re all alone,

When no one can see us.

I should take you home.

He’s mesmerising. So much that I almost forget to ready my violin when it’s time to join in. Luckily, the sound of Theo hitting out his intro to the chorus snaps me to attention, and I quickly lift my bow, closing my eyes and playing along as he sings.

When you whisper to me,

I want your words to be true,

But you know we can't be,

Not like this. Not like this.

Why did you sing your song to my heart?

When you knew we were fragile right from the start

The moment I play, I’m focused. I don’t miss a beat. I come in and out of the song at the correct places. I let the music flow through me, and marvel at Marcus and Theo’s cohesion. Really this band is the two of them, the rest of us are just here to support their talent.

This past week rehearsing with them has made me really appreciate the minds behind the music. Each note is so careful, so deliberate; each quiet pause adding to the emotion of the song. When I finish playing my part in the last chorus, all instruments stop and Marcus sings the last two lines in silence, finishing with the same music he played for the intro—guitar only, gently twanging out its beautiful melody to an enraptured audience. When he finishes, the audience pauses for a beat before erupting into cheers and applause. I’m smiling so hard I can barely see.

“Thank you,” Marcus says into the microphone. “I’d like to introduce you all to the band. To my left on bass, is Lachlan.” The crowd claps and cheers as Lachlan gives them a salute and a smile, his handsome, dimpled and unshaven face causing more than a couple of girls to whoop a little louder than necessary. I grin when I see him wink and point at a couple of them.

“On the keyboard is Jack.” Applause and cat calls ring out again. Jack holds his hands up and laps up the adoration.

“On drums, is my brother, Theo. He writes most of our songs.”

Theo does a short beat on his drums as the crowd cheers for him. When I look at him, I expect him to have his usual scowl in place. But he’s actually smiling. It’s a good look on him, and I find myself wishing he was happy like that whenever he spoke to me. Fat chance. He hates me.

His eyes fall on me, and I realise I’m staring, caught up in the joy he’s displaying. My heart leaps up in my chest and the air crackles. He frowns, the smile falls from his face and he shifts focus to something on his drum kit that needs adjusting. Wow. He really hates me.

A pang shoots through my torso, starting from my throat then bottoming out in my belly. I look away quickly, embarrassed I was openly gawking, feeling even worse over the contempt he displayed at catching me.

“And tonight, we have someone new for you. The gorgeous woman standing to my right with the fiddle is Naomi.”

Taking a deep breath, I set a smile on my face and nod while the crowd cheers. Their praise washes over me, pushing away that icky feeling in my gut. Stephanie and Gary smile and yell loudest, while Erica and Amy let out loud cat calls and thump their fists on the table. My grin grows until I’m laughing. I resist the urge to look behind me even though I can feel Theo’s eyes on my back. I don’t want to see him scowl and ruin this moment. They’re cheering for me.

“Now, it’s her first night with us. So, you need to let us know if you like her stuff so we keep her. Get on Instagram and tag us in your pictures. Leave us your review in the comments, hashtag ‘Naomi stays’ or hashtag ‘kick Naomi out’. Do you think you can do that for us?”

The crowd cheers, letting us know that yes, they’ll happily rate my performance tonight. #kickNaomiout? Geez, no pressure there.

“I’m sure she’ll dazzle you,” he says in a low voice close to the microphone as he looks directly at me. “Just like she dazzles us.” Something passes silently between us. It’s in complete contrast to what happened before with Theo. Instead of a pang landing in my gut, this one shoots up to my chest. “This one is called ‘It’s a Crime’.”

I love this song. But I’m nervous because it means I’m supposed to sing. You can do this. I close my eyes and listen while Jack plays the intro before Marcus comes in with the first verse. It’s just the two of them together, piano and voice.

Please get out of the way

This is not what it looks like

I’m in the wrong place

I’m not looking for you

Towards the end of the first verse, Theo comes in with a slow double boom emanating from the bass drum, the signal before I lift my violin and play a few bars before everyone goes silent and I sing.

Please don’t fight… me

This was all Theo’s idea. Instead of having me harmonise with Marcus during the chorus, he felt I should take on the role of the woman the song is about. It creates a more intense emotion as the music lifts and Marcus sings back to me as if we’re arguing.

Don’t steal my heart

When you know it’s been broken

The song continues with me singing, begging him not to fight my advances while he sings in return, refusing to offer his love.

As the music swells, he becomes louder, more insistent, and every tiny hair on my body lifts as we finish together.

I will fight,

I will fight,

I will fight you.

He draws out the last note. And as he finishes, I sing a single word. No

Stepping back from the microphone, I play the final notes in a soulful refrain with Jack on the keyboard. It leaves me feeling as though I just lost something, and I wonder where the lyrics come from. Theo may be an arsehole in person but he's a gifted songwriter.

The crowd cheers again, whooping and hollering at us. As I lap up the attention, I can’t believe I was seriously studying to play classical violin. The applause from a classical theatre is so much more restrained than this and I suddenly understand why a lot of musicians have such big egos. This feeling is amazing.

The rest of our set flies by, and the show is over far too quickly. Before I know it, we’re done and Marcus is taking me by the hand and waving at the crowd as we leave the stage while people congratulate us on a great show as we head backstage. They are so complimentary towards me, and I can’t seem to get the grin to leave my face. Be cool, Naomi.

Yeah. I can’t.

“That was probably the best damn show we’ve ever done,” Jack declares the moment we’re in the back room. “We’ve never had a crowd that excited. We’ve got to keep her, Theo.”

“We’ll see,” he says, no words of praise or encouragement as his eyes drop to where Marcus still holds my hand. I immediately let go, feeling like I just got caught cheating on a test. Will he count that as fraternising?

His dark eyes lift to mine, then he grunts and walks out of the room.

“Yeah. Great show, mate,” Marcus calls after him, making light of what was becoming a tense situation. “You were so good out here.” He places his hands on my shoulders and shakes me lightly. Now I’m smiling again.

“I’m lookin’ at our Insta right now," Lachlan says, his middle finger scrolling up his screen as he sits on the ratty old couch and stares at his phone. “Brilliant show. Hashtag Naomi stays. I've never seen you boys play so beautifully. A woman's touch was all you needed. Hashtag Naomi stays.” He keeps flicking. "There are a lot of Naomi stays here.”

“What about hashtag kick Naomi out?” I ask. “There’s got to be a few of those.”

Lachlan frowns then purses his lips. “There are. But you don't wanna read those. They’re kinda personal and don’t have much to do with the music.”

“If you click each hashtag,” Jack starts. “You can see the numbers. Naomi stays is in the hundreds, and since Erica and Amy just mentioned as in a poll on their story, we’ll get more numbers that way. But so far, you’re a hit.”

“Yay.” I grin outwardly while my mind clings to the fact that some people don’t like me. Why do brains even do that? You’re getting all this open praise and it would rather focus on the handful of shit slung your way than believe you’re actually good at something. Ugh. I need a minute.

“I have to go and visit the ladies,” I announce, grabbing my phone from my bag as I stand to make my way out the door.

“I’ll show you where the backstage ones are,” Marcus says. “You don’t want to go back out to the general area. You’ll be bombarded with admirers and you’ll never get to pee.” He grins then holds out his hand, gesturing for me to follow him.

We head down the narrow hallway, weaving our way past stacks of chairs and other backstage paraphernalia. As we round the corner there’s an open door that, judging by the tiles on the floor in the doorway, leads to a bathroom.

“I’ll wait here for you,” he says in a low quiet voice. I turn to him and smile, ready to let him know that he doesn’t need to. But the look in his eyes has my words evaporating before they’ve made it out of my mouth. “You really were great tonight.” He lifts his hand and tucks a wisp of hair behind my ear.

The gentle brush of his fingers against my cheek causes my eyes to flutter closed for a moment. “You were pretty great yourself,” I whisper, my voice husky and thick as I speak. Old crushes die hard. I can’t help the way I feel around him. The moment he touches me I’m right back in high school, loving every bit of attention he gives me while silently begging for more. I’m not sure I even want it—especially since he dumped me so fast the last time—but he has that magnetism every frontman should have. It's hard to keep my wits about me.

“I’ve missed you.” When he lowers his hand, he brushes his fingers down the side of my face, looking at me intently.

My breathing becomes deeper and I lean towards him, feeling drawn in. I don’t know what I’m expecting here. But it feels like he’s about to kiss me. Do I want that? Before I can decide, he pulls back, leaving me wanting and confused. Just like he did in high school.

Nothing has changed.

My eyes prick, but I fight my runaway emotions with a smile. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of company,” I say as I step away, moving towards the bathroom. “Why don’t you head back? I’ll meet you in there when I’m done.”

He frowns a little, but I can see the light in his eyes brighten. He’s ready to party. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine. Go. I can find my own way.”

He nods. “Just stay off Instagram,” he says, gesturing to the phone in my hand. “Take one night to enjoy your return to the stage before you let the rest of the world in.”

I lift my phone and sigh. “You should probably take it from me then.” Scrolling through social media is exactly what I was planning to do. I don’t even really need to pee. I sweat so much on stage there's nothing left.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a grin as he takes my phone and sticks it in his back pocket. “See you in there.” He disappears around the corner as I lean up against the wall and roll my eyes at myself. How needy can you be, Naomi? So desperate for validation that I sneak away to scour Instagram, and lean into Marcus like I want him to kiss me. Ugh. I need to get a handle on myself. I used to be more confident than this, but years of coming in second best—with men and in music—have taken their toll. I want to be number one for a change. I want to be loved. And it seems I’m willing to take that adoration from any avenue I can get it. I’m not sure if that makes me pathetic or driven.

After visiting the bathroom and sorting myself out somewhat, I make my way back to the others. As I round the corner, Theo heads towards me from the opposite direction. Fuck. He makes me nervous. I feel like I’m constantly trying to prove myself to him. I nod and smile politely, even though I would rather run and hide somewhere so I don’t have to be subjected to another one of his hooded looks.

“Everything worked well tonight, don’t you think?” I say, feeling trapped into making small talk.

“Yeah, it was fine.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna fight them over letting you stay if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh… I wasn’t,” I splutter, completely taken off guard by his abruptness. I expected a grunt, a nod at best, before he stalked off. “I was just—”

“I don’t want you getting the wrong idea here.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “I didn’t want you in the band. Even after the reaction out there, I’d still prefer it if you weren’t in the band. But I always do what’s best for the band and the fans. So regardless of what I want, you get to stay. Just don’t mistake my acceptance for want. I’d still prefer it if we found another cute girl to play the fiddle and sing for us,” he explains, his eyes dark and unfriendly. “Someone who has no interest in sleeping with my brother.”

“What? No… that’s not what I…” I struggle to find my words as my eyes prick for the second time tonight. I stop trying to speak and instead search his face for some sort of reason as to why he’s behaving like this towards me. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Look at my face.” He holds his position, uncomfortably close with such angry eyes. I can barely breathe let alone think. “Look at me very carefully. Tell me who I am.”

“I…” I frown, shaking my head slightly. I should be telling him to fuck off, but instead I’m forcing myself to focus, looking over his features while searching my memory. His eyes are dark, almost black. It’s really hard to see where the pupil ends and the iris begins. His hair is also dark—like eighty percent chocolate—and slightly long on top, the bottom half clipped close to his scalp. He has definite features. Compared to Marcus, Theo is all hard lines and angles. But he’s still beautiful, despite the anger he loves to direct towards me.

My heart sighs. Why must hate exist in a person’s heart? In my life, I don’t think I’ve ever hated a single person. Even when I was treated poorly, or dumped unceremoniously, I still couldn’t hate. That emotion simply isn’t in me. It hurts to see it glaring back at me.

Seemingly of its own accord, my hand reaches up, and I lightly touch my fingertips to his dark stubbled jaw. It’s a gesture born of sorrow, but the moment my fingers connect with his skin, a shock flies up my arm. He flinches his head back, confusion flashing in his eyes, briefly dissipating the hard set of his features before he regains his composure and scowls.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, shaking and wide-eyed. That was dumb.

Theo grunts, pushing his way past me and into the room with everyone else.

Slightly rattled from the interaction, I stay just outside the door and peer inside. There are plenty of faces in there I don’t know, and in true Marcus fashion, he has a random girl hanging off his arm already. The Bailey brothers are a juxtaposition of emotion. Marcus shares love to a new woman every night, like he’s on a timer and needs to amass as many hookups as he can or his dick will fall off. Theo breathes contempt, sucking the light out of the room with his scowl of indifference. Most people leave him alone, too afraid of his aura to get too close. It must be awful to be so alone in a room full of people. Why is he like that? Does everyone forget who he is? or is that a special kind of beef he has with me? Is it because we went to the same school? Thousands of kids went there. I can’t be expected to remember every single one of them. I’m going to drive myself crazy trying to figure this out.

“Naomi,” a voice calls from inside the room. I turn my attention towards it and see Stephanie and Gary smiling and waving at me like proud parents. They’re so out of place in the sea of denim and leather.

I can’t help but grin back as I head over to them, dropping my worries and wrapping my arms around them both as they congratulate me on my performance. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“It was so wonderful, Nomes. We loved it,” Stephanie gushes.

“Yeah, you were great, kiddo,” Gary adds, his balding head showing small beads of sweat from the heat of the room. Gary is a few years older than Stephanie and I. She met him almost as soon as we finished school. He must have a thing for curvaceous redheads, because they haven’t been separate since then. But his thinning hair makes him look much older than his twenty-eight years, as well as the fact he has a habit of calling anyone younger than him ‘kiddo’.

“Naomi! Well done tonight.” Both Amy and Erica talk as one as they bounce over to me.

Amy places a hand on my arm and squeezes. “Hashtag consensus is a resounding yes. You killed it.”

“We’re so glad you decided to play with them. How great is it that you’re all together again?” Erica rambles. “It’s just like high school.”

“Except Lachlan wasn’t there,” Amy points out. “That kid with the weird hair was. Oh, hey!” Amy’s eyes go wide at someone over my shoulder then she and Erica bounce away as fast as they arrived.

My brow creases slightly. “What just happened?” Gary asks looking almost as confused as I am. What does she mean ‘all together again’?

“I think they’re excited Naomi's in the band,” Stephanie explains just as Lachlan and Jack grab me by the hand.

“There are people you need to meet,” Jack explains as Lachlan tells Stephanie and Gary to help themselves to the bar.

Over the next hour I’m dragged around the room, introduced to every person who’s ever shown an interest in the band. I meet the venue manager, the guys who run the merch desk, some girl with a music blog, a couple of guys in a band who have a line on a festival hookup, and then some. I don’t remember a single name, but they are all lovely in my books because they talk about how much depth my playing brings to the band. I feel a bit like a celebrity.

When Jack gets caught up with a tiny brunette with a low neckline, I take that as my cue to get out of there. I’m dead on my feet—these high heels are a killer—and I’m struggling to stay bubbly and social while Marcus is having his ear cleaned by the tongue of some random girl, and Theo keeps looking at me like he wishes I’d just go somewhere and die. How am I supposed to work like this?

“Do you mind if we go?” I ask Stephanie and Gary, who are standing quietly in the corner talking to a man with spiky black hair.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Gary tells me, leaning close to my ear before he speaks again. “To be honest with you, this scene is making me feel really old. I don’t think I have it in me to party anymore.” he laughs. “Not when we have a one-year-old to wake up to in the morning.”

I mention to Lachlan that I’m going home, and he gives me a big hug and once again tells me how great the show was tonight. Lacking the energy and enthusiasm to do more, I nod and smile, then I collect my things and follow Gary and Stephanie outside.

“What’s wrong?” Stephanie asks once we’ve stepped into the quiet of the street. “You seem really down for someone who put on such a fantastic show.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply, shaking my head. “It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I can watch Marcus with a new girl every night. And then there’s Theo...”

“What about him?”

“I just...I don’t know if I can handle working with someone who hates me as much as he seems to. I don’t know if it’s worth it,” I admit.

“I don’t hate you,” a deep voice says from behind us.

Gasping, I spin around to find Theo only a few steps back from us. Holy fuck. “Are you following me?”

“I’m not following you. I’m heading home myself, and I overheard you,” he states calmly, moving so he stands directly in front of me.

I feel tiny having him this close, needing to crane my neck so I can maintain eye contact—not to mention I don’t trust my hand not to try to touch him again. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.” I take a small step away, just to gain some distance.

“I’m not going to apologise for overhearing you bag me out,” he states with a slight pull at the corner of his mouth. He’s finding this amusing?

“I wasn’t bagging you out,” I object, placing my hands on my hips as I stand my ground.

“Listen, if you can’t handle being around me, that’s fine. Leave the band. It’s no skin off my nose. But don’t do it because you think I hate you. I don’t.”

“What am I to think, Theo? You’re always glaring at me and telling me you don’t want me around. Is that how you like someone?”

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t bother speaking to you. I wouldn’t bother wasting my energy on you.”

“You barely speak to me as it is.”

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“Jesus Christ. Just tell me what I did to you so we can deal with it and move on.”

He opens his mouth, and I think he’s actually about to tell me. But he looks over my shoulder to where Stephanie and Gary are standing, pretending they aren’t listening, and clamps his lips shut.

“Well?” I prompt, holding my hands out at my sides. This mystery of how we’re supposed to know each other is driving me nuts.

“Listen, it’s not important. It’s my shit to deal with. Just…” He blows out a breath and rakes his hand through his hair. “Just be at my place to rehearse Tuesday. We need to work up a new set for next weekend.” He steps to the side and strides ahead of us. “Unless you’re too scared of big bad Theo, of course,” he teases over his shoulder, before nodding once at Stephanie and Gary as he walks past. I think that’s the happiest I’ve seen him off stage.

“What the hell was that about?” Stephanie asks, as we stand there watching him walk away.

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” I say, more confused than ever.

“Are you still going to quit the band?” She links her arm in mine as we walk with Gary to the car.

“No. I’m not going to quit the band.” I’m going to figure out who the hell Theo Bailey is and why I’m such a problem for him.

Twelve

Naomi

“Eighty-six to fourteen,” Marcus says a week later. He’s standing in my doorway with two takeaway coffees in his hands and a huge smile on his face. He’s dressed in jeans and a fitted white t-shirt with a button-up tied around his waist, Vans on his feet. When I look at him it’s like I’m looking at the embodiment of a good time.

“What are you talking about?” I step aside as he walks into my apartment, pressing one of the coffee cups into my hand. “Thanks.”

“The public vote. It finished today. The results are eight-six to fourteen percent.”

“Eighty-six percent I stay?”

He winks then taps his coffee cup against mine. “Congratulations.”

A smile creeps over my face as I let out a relieved sigh then take a sip of the coffee. It’s a little sweet—I think there’s hazelnut in here or something—but the gesture is nice. “Does that mean fourteen percent of your fans don’t like me?”

“Our follower count has increased, and we’re getting constant messages asking for more of you. I don’t think fourteen percent is going to affect us too much.” He shrugs as he looks around my apartment, primarily decorated with rescued furniture, repainted sky blue before I sanded it back to give it a distressed look. Then I’ve tied everything in with some vases with dried flowers and cute cross-stitches that I found at garage sales. It has a farmhouse vibe about it.

“As long as my joining is more of a help than a hindrance.”

“I like your place,” he says, ignoring my comment. “It’s cute. Suits you.”

I laugh a little. “Because I’m cute?”

He meets my eyes and grins. “You’re adorable. You always have been.”

A light blush creeps over my cheeks. He’s got this natural ability to add deeper meaning to his words. I cover my reaction by drinking more coffee and walking around my couch to where my violin is sitting on the rug where I was cleaning it.

“What’s all this?” he asks, his eyes following me as I set the coffee on the floor and sit down cross-legged.

“Just a little maintenance work. I have to make sure there’s enough of this stuff on the bow to create friction.” I lift the block of rosin to show him the pine sap derivative that helps the magic happen. “But it comes off in a sticky powder while I play. Everything needs to be regularly cleaned or the varnish will get messed up.”

He folds his long legs up to sit next to me, taking the rosin from my hand and holding it to his nose. “So, it’s not tune, plug and play like the guitar is?”

“You don’t wipe off your guitar?” I ask, holding up my cleaning cloth as an example.

He shrugs as he places the rosin block back on the rug. “Sometimes.”

“Ew.” I laugh as I run the cloth over the bow, clearing away as much rosin dust as possible. That stuff gets everywhere. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Theo wants to record an EP to officially launch our new sound ASAP. You up for that?”

“As long as I have time to work as well. I still have to pay my rent.”

“That reminds me.” Shifting his weight, he pulls an envelope from his back pocket. “Your cut of our last gig.”

“I get paid?”

He chuckles. “Of course.”

I glance from the envelope to him. “How much is in there?”

“Take a look for yourself.”

Wrapping my hand around the envelope, my fingers brush with his and he holds on a second longer than he should. “There’s four hundred dollars in here.”

He smiles. “Should at least cover your rent.”

I laugh. “Almost. But this on top of my bar earnings means I’ll be able to eat well this week. Thanks.”

“You did the work. And once we’ve got you recorded, you’ll start making royalties too. Then there’s merch sales…it all adds up. You won’t have to stay working at the bar for long.”

Dragging my teeth along my bottom lip, I can’t contain my smile. “This is pretty cool. I haven’t made money from my music before.”

“You didn’t even busk as a kid?”

I shake my head. “Never.” I lift my hand to tuck my hair behind my ear and he catches it on the way back down.

“What’s this?” he asks, pulling my hand so it’s resting open palmed on his thigh. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s from playing too much without a break,” I say of the torn-up fingers on my left hand. “They’ll heal and I’ll have callouses before you know it.”

“Is it hard to play?” he asks, running the pad of his thumb across my palm. It makes me want to close my eyes.

“A little. But I’ve been through it before. I’ll be OK in a week or two.”

Lifting my hand, he presses a light kiss on each effected fingertip. My rate of breathing increases then deepens when his lips move to the inside of my wrists where he runs his tongue over my pulse point.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“When I was young, my mother always said a kiss could make the pain go away.”

“I don’t think this is what she meant.”

“No?” He leans in to press a kiss to my bare shoulder, the curve of my neck. I let out a tiny gasp. “Are your fingers still hurting?”

“No,” I whisper, just at his lips connect with mine, my whole body sighing like this is the first time it’s ever happened, even though there’s photo evidence to the contrary. “Stop.” I place my hand on his chest and pull back before the kiss can get any deeper. “We’re not doing this.”

“You don’t want to?”

“No. I mean, I do. I just… We made a rule as a band. I don’t want my first, newly voted in act to be breaking it.” I push myself back from him. “Now isn’t the time to re-visit whatever this is, Marcus,” I say, pointing between us.

He sits back and blows out his breath. “For the record, it’s a stupid rule designed to torture me.”

Picking up my coffee, I touch the tip of my finger to the lip. “I don’t know, Marcus. Maybe it’s a smart rule designed to protect the band. I mean, you’re not the most monogamous guy out there.”

He pulls at his lip with his teeth. “I could be. Given the right incentive.”

I actually laugh at that one. “I would like to see that someday. But for now, I think there’s too much temptation out there and for the sake of the band, and for my precious feelings, I think this is best kept as friends only. Can we do that?”

Blowing out his breath, he nods his head. “It’s a hard ask, because, well, you’re you. But, OK. I’ll cool it for the sake of the band.”

“Thank you, Marcus.” I smile. “And thank you for the coffee and the good news too. You made my day.”

He gets to his feet, taking that as his cue to leave. “I could have made it better,” he teases, before giving me a wink and heading out the door.

Thirteen

Naomi

The next couple of months move by in a blur of rehearsals, gigs, gatherings and shifts at the bar. I’m exhausted. I barely get a moment's rest but I’m loving the fact that I get to put all my energy into creativity. On the flip side, I’m still negotiating my relationships with the guys in the band, especially the Bailey brothers.

Jack and Lachlan are easy. They show up to rehearsals and recording sessions, play the music and do whatever work is needed. I can talk to them, and they treat me like a member of the band, like a friend.

Marcus however, treats me like a girl. More pointedly, like a girl he’s interested in. Admittedly, I like the attention. It’s nice to have a man like Marcus flirt with me, and it’s fun to flirt back. But I’m smart enough to realise it means nothing. I don’t think Marcus is actually capable of any real feelings towards a girl. The man can only think about his dick—as he proved at my apartment all those weeks ago.

Theo, well… he’s still difficult, but he’s toned it down. I have searched through every picture my parents and I have of me at high school, Googled the crap out of him, and still I don’t know how the hell I'm supposed to know him. We never performed together, we didn’t have mutual friends—I don’t even know who his friends were—and I don’t even remember being aware that Marcus had a brother until Theo joined the band not long after I left for Canberra. I’m at a complete loss. But thankfully we’ve been too busy for it to be any more of a problem, working on recording songs to capitalise on our increasing popularity.

The night the first EP featuring me goes live, there’s an extra big after party held in the private function room at the City Recital Centre. It’s our biggest gig to date. We played to a sold-out audience, and Theo has even been in talks with promoters who can help us tour around the country.

“You’re growing,” Amy says, plonking herself beside me on the sofa. I’m taking a moment to rest my feet and observe the energy in the room. My life has become surreal and I need these moments to give myself a pinch to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“They’re heels,” I say, sipping my water. “I’m too old to grow.”

She rolls her eyes. “I mean the band, bitchface.” I’d react poorly if I didn’t already know that name calling is Amy’s way of saying she likes you. “Did you see how many followers you gained on Spotify today? You’ve also debuted in the top fifty on Apple Music. I reckon you’ll be on the ARIA charts too. You were the magic ingredient I thought you’d be.”

“Jesus.” I sit back and absorb that information. The ARIA charts? How did this happen? “What do you mean I’m the ingredient you thought I’d be? Did you organise for Marcus to get me into the band?”

“No.” She grins and shakes her head. “I just dangled you in front of him. You two have great musical chemistry, and I knew he’d see you and realise he needed you. Men aren’t hard to manipulate.” She chuckles as she sips the clear beverage she has in her glass. I doubt it’s water.

“What do you get out of this, Amy?” I ask as I study her self-satisfied expression. “You put so much time and effort into the success of this band, but I’m not sure what your goal is. I mean, do you get paid?”

She lifts her glass. “In alcohol and admiration.”

“Is it worth it?”

Meeting my eyes, she releases a heavy breath. “Theo and I have a deal,” she explains. “If you guys go on tour, we get to come with. It’s as simple as that. I’ve attached my future to the Bailey brother rocket and I’m riding it all the way to the moon.”

“To what end?”

“What do you mean to what end? I want my life to be a party.” She shrugs. “And when other musicians see what Erica and I did for Matiari, they’ll be begging us to run their social media campaigns too.”

“I see. Matiari is your industry in?”

“Not everyone gets to be in the band, Naomi. Some of us work behind the scenes.”

“Makes sense.”

She pats me on the leg as she shifts her weight to get up. “I’m going to mingle. You should too. There are two independent labels here, plus that guy talking to Marcus is with Triple J. You might be getting airtime soon.” With a wiggle of her eyebrows, she’s gone, smiling as she chats with some dude wearing a blazer and a T-shirt with holes in it. I’ve never seen that girl smile so much. I’m concerned her face will crack.

Taking another mouthful of water, I pull my feet half out of my heels, wriggling my toes to force circulation to ease the pain. I really need to remember to pack flats next time. These things are torture devices.

“Why don’t you take them off?”

Looking up to the face that matches the voice, I find Theo standing across from me, beer in hand. “Because then I’ll be so short no one can see me.”

He bounces one shoulder. “No one can see you sitting over here, either.”

“Is that why you’re here? Finding a quiet corner to escape?”

A slight grin teases the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.” He plonks himself down on the couch next to me, keeping the standard distance of ten centimetres between us so we don’t touch.

Surreptitiously taking his advice, I slip my feet completely out of my shoes and press my arches into the carpeted floor. I can’t contain the groan as the pain radiates out of them. Theo chuckles as he tips his beer back and drinks. Then we just sit in silence as we watch everyone else act the way successful band members should—getting shitfaced and picking up.

“I wonder what number that is,” Theo says, lifting his chin a little.

“What?” He could be talking about practically anything at this point. How many beers has Jack finished? How many people have kissed Marcus’s arse? How many times has Lachlan needed to push his hair out of his eyes? The list goes on…

“The girl with Marcus. I wonder if he keeps score.”

Turning my attention to where Marcus stands, I find him brushing the hair away from a cute brunette’s face. That’s exactly what he did to me outside the bathroom after our first show. I try to ignore that pang of disappointment that hits low in my belly. “I don’t know if he can count that high,” I tease, eliciting a small chuckle from my unlikely party pal.

“You might be right. He does go through them.”

I shrug. “He’s never been shy.”

He turns his attention to me, waiting until I meet his eyes to speak again. My heart skips when our eyes lock. He’s so fucking intense. “Maybe you should let her know how it feels.”

I suck in a breath. I take back the part about us being pals. “How what feels?” I have a strong sense of exactly what he means, but if he’s going to be an arsehole, he shouldn’t beat around the bush.

He holds my gaze for a few beats before he leans in close and speaks low in my ear. “To be used and tossed away by my brother.”

I flinch away from him. “Fuck you, Theo.” My brow creases as I meet his penetrating glare.

“That’s what you did with Marcus. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

Without any forethought, my hand flies out and slaps him in the face, an instant sting heating my palm. Wincing slightly, he recovers fast and has the audacity to laugh at me.

“Go eat a bag of dicks. I wouldn't touch you either.” I jump up and storm towards the exit. The altercation has drawn quite a few curious glances. Oddly, no one asks if I’m OK.

As I push past the final party goers and make it out the door, my feet hit a cool surface. Shit. I forgot my shoes. The last thing I want to do is go back in there for them. I settle for leaving barefoot as I pull out my phone to book an Uber.

“Forget something?” The unmistakable rumble of Theo’s voice follows me down the hall.

“Nope.” I wave over my shoulder and keep going. “I’m happy leaving just the way I am.”

“Absconding from a party held in your honour?” He titches as he falls into step beside me. “Some might say that shows a lack of gratitude.”

“Oh my god, Theo. Go away. I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

“I think you can handle a little more. I’ll drive you home.”

“I've already called an Uber.” I pick up my pace.

“Cancel it.” He keeps walking right beside me.

“No.” Can’t this guy take a hint?

Glancing at me, he clocks my phone in my hand then snatches it away.

“Hey!”

He taps at the screen a few times then hands it back to me. “Cancelled.”

I stop moving as we reach the exit, my mouth open as I stare at my screen. "How do you even know my password?”

“It’s your birthdate backwards. Not very cryptic.”

“How do you know my birthdate?”

“I manage the band. I know everyone’s birthdate.”

He hits the button on his key fob and the lights on his van flash. “You gonna get in yourself or do I need to carry you over the pavement?”

I look from his van to him then scan the street for any obvious broken glass. “Just give me my shoes. I'll walk.”

“Sure thing, princess,” he says, holding my heels out to me. The last thing I want to do is put those things back on my feet. But all I have to do is make it to his van and I can take them off again. I’ll manage.

Bracing myself against the door, I hiss from the abrasive pain of the lining against my toes. My shoes feel at least two sizes too small as I take a ginger step towards the street.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Theo says, sweeping me off my feet as I yelp.

“Put me down.” I cling for dear life to his shirt. He’s a Neanderthal. A total cave man. Of all the bands in the world, why did I have to find my way into his?

“Once you’re in the fucking van.” He stops beside the passenger door. “Open it.” I do as he says then he deposits me roughly in the front seat.

“You’re an oaf.” I push my skirt down to properly cover my thighs while I scowl at him.

“You’re welcome, princess.”

“I’m no princess. I could have walked on my own.” He slams my door while I’m still talking. Motherfucker. “Are you going to be a dick the whole drive home?” I ask when he gets in the van and turns the ignition.

“That depends. You gonna be a pain in my arse?”

“I’m not a pain in your arse. You’re a pain in mine.”

“Then how about we listen to the radio instead of each other?”

“Suits me.” I fold my arms across my chest and look out the window while Theo searches for a station not playing ads. Guns and Roses November Rain fills the silence and I’m happy to rest my head against the window and just listen.

Guns and Roses. I wonder how they came up with that name? Is it because a gun and a rose are two very different things? Or because the name is somehow symbolic to the members of the band? I’m sure it’s explained somewhere online….

“Why Matiari?” I ask suddenly, momentarily forgetting we aren’t speaking. “You know what, forget it. I’ll ask one of the other guys.”

He laughs for a moment, the sound surprising me. “You remember that game that went around Facebook years ago where you search a random article on Wikipedia, and that’s your band name?”

“Vaguely.”

He glances at me briefly. “We did that.”

A laugh escapes my chest. “Seriously?”

“Yep. One hundred percent.”

“What would have happened if the random article was titled ‘Dogs balls’ or something? Would you have named your band that?” What an insane way to name something as important as your band.

Chuckling and shocking me again, he shrugs. “The first name we got was Matiari. It sounded cool, so we went with it.”

“But you weren’t in the band in the beginning.”

He blows some air out between tight lips. “Someone needed to book gigs and keep track of everything.”

“So you’re the responsible brother who saved his pocket money and Marcus was the one who spent it all straight away?”

“Something like that.”

“And what does Matiari mean?”

“It’s a place in Pakistan or something. Wikipedia claims it’s well known for its academics, religious scholars and poets. They also produce some sort of hat and a weird sounding dressing.”

“Dressing? Like a salad dressing?”

“I have no idea.” He laughs. “That’s just what the article says.”

“Well. I like it. It’s a good name.”

“Yeah. I think so too,” he says, shifting down a gear as he takes the exit ramp off the freeway, heading towards the suburb of Hurstville where I live.

“Do you know my address too?” I ask when he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

“It’s my job to know these things,” he says, like having all this information on me is no big deal.

“It’s kind of weird.”

"I never claimed to be normal." He pulls up outside my apartment building and leaves the engine running.

Unclipping my seatbelt, I twist my torso towards him and study his handsome features in the low light. “Do you hate me because I slept with Marcus, or do you just have no respect for me?”

“I already told you. I don’t hate you.”

“So you don’t respect me?”

“I didn’t say that.” This man makes me nuts. I’m stuck between wanting to punch him in the face and wanting to win him over so he’ll flash one of those handsome smiles at me.

“Would it help you to know that I don't even remember it?” I hate talking about that night, but since his issues with me seem to revolve around the fact I have history with Marcus, I have to try.

He meets my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that someone drugged me that night.”

His eyes flash. “What?”

“Not by Marcus. There was this guy giving out Cruisers as a lucky dip. Mine tasted off, so I guess I won. I don’t remember much past the first song Matiari played. Next thing I knew, it was morning and I was in bed with Marcus while a twitter storm was brewing with photos of me with Marcus and the guy who played keyboards that night: Aramis.” I let my head drop back against the seat and laugh. “I had a threesome with two guys, and everyone seems to remember it but me.”

“You didn't have a threesome,” he says before he clears his throat and looks forward.

“I didn’t?” My stomach leaps in hope.

He shakes his head. “Marcus told me about your um... evening. It was just the two of you.”

“Seriously? Oh my God that is a huge relief. Are you sure?”

A frown crosses his features as he nods. “Aramis left the moment Marcus stepped in. He wasn’t a fan of sharing.”

“Was I the reason he left the band?”

His tongue snakes out, and he licks his lips. “He was just gone one day.”

“So you don’t know the reason?”

He presses his lips together and lifts his shoulders before he blows out some air.

“It’s OK. I just always wondered what happened to him. I tried calling him but he pretty much ghosted me and everyone he knew. I thought maybe he got what he wanted from me then left, but now….” I let out a sigh. “Maybe he just decided I was a total thot and didn’t want anything to do with me.” I twist my mouth to the side, chewing on the inside of my lip. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. Thanks for the lift.” I place my hand on the door handle and push the door open.

“You’re not a thot, Naomi. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

I stop with one foot out of the car. “It’s hard not to when the one night I can’t even remember seems to define me to some people.” We lock eyes. A few beats pass and there’s something that flashes in his eyes, some emotion I can’t read because he tears his eyes away and focuses on the steering wheel.

“I shouldn’t have said the shit I did tonight, or any other night for that matter. It was really low of me and you didn’t deserve it.”

Holy shit. My eyes go wide and I'm pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. He’s apologising?

When I don’t respond straight away, he clears his throat and moves on. “Listen, I need you to come around to the studio so I can take your photo to add to the website. Now that you’re an official member of the band, I need to add your bio page.”

“Ok. When do you need me?” I ask him calmly, although inwardly, I’m still shocked he apologised to me. Does this mean we’re cool now?

“Tomorrow at ten.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.” I nod, shutting the car door and stepping away from his van.

Before I turn to leave him, the electric window rolls down and he tilts his head down to see me properly. “Flick your lights twice so I know you went inside safely.”

“What?”

Without responding, he clicks the button on the centre console and the window goes up, the reflection of the street lights on the car’s window tinting making it impossible for me to see inside.

“Um, ok,” I say, confused because the Theo who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole shouldn’t give a shit about waiting until I’m all the way inside my apartment. He’s such a confusing man.

With my heels dangling off my fingers, I make my way up the front steps to my apartment building and scan my security fob to get inside. It’s not long before the lift arrives to transport me to the fourth floor where my place is. As I ride up, I bite my lip in contemplation, wondering if I leave the lights off will he come inside to check on me? Do I want him to come inside and check on me? Probably not. That was the first semi-decent conversation I’ve had with him in months. I don’t want to mess that up playing games to try to figure him out.

When I get inside, I hover my hand over the light switch before I let out a sigh and leave things dark. I just want to see if he’s still here. That’s possibly a lie I’m telling myself as I walk through my dark apartment. I mean, he could have told me to turn the lights on and off to create an illusion he cares so he can torment me in some new and creative way later. I need to know if he’s genuine or if this is some kind of set up so he can write a song called Naïve Girl and embarrass me on stage.

Reaching the window, I look down at the street, finding Theo’s van still idling on the curb. This is weird. I replay our conversation over in my mind. Is this turnaround seriously because I told him I can’t remember sleeping with Marcus? Does it matter that much to him? And if it does, why? It’s not like Marcus and I are sleeping together now. We’ve all stayed true to the no fraternising rule and behave like buddies. Maybe slapping him knocked some sense into him? Geez, if I’d known that, I would have slapped him on the first day.

While I’m trying to riddle things out, the driver’s side door opens, and I gasp in surprise, realising I’ve been watching him in the dark for quite a while. I rush over to the closest light switch and slap my hand against it, my heart thudding loudly against my chest as I flick it on and off. I’ll just tell him I took the stairs if he asks….

When I go back to the window to see if he’s still there, a huge sigh of relief bursts out of me as I spot his van pulling into the street. I watch until his lights disappear around the corner before I flop down on the couch and study the callouses I have building on the tips of my fingers. I wonder if I will ever figure that man out. One moment he seems to have nothing but contempt for me, and the next he shows concern. So bloody confusing. But when you always do what's right for the band, I suppose a little concern for the band members is normal. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea…

He doesn’t hate me but he doesn’t want me around either. What kind of idea could I possibly get from that? Ugh. I’ll never understand men.

Fourteen

Theo

I think I’ve slept maybe an hour or two all night. My brain won’t stop. It’s thinking about this new direction our band is taking. It’s thinking about Naomi being drugged the night Marcus was with her. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? And on top of that, it’s writing new music.

Every time I drift off, notes play in my head. So I get out of bed, jot it down or play the riff on my guitar, recording it on my phone. The music keeps flowing, and I feel possessed, needing to get it all out of me. Eventually, I quit sleep altogether and head into the studio so I can work at my piano. I always do my best work in there. The melodies flow easier when my fingers are on the keys.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, pencil jammed either behind my ear or between my teeth, but I’m working my way through a song. It’s all over the place right now, but there’s something great in the jumbled chaos. I just have to find it.

“Hello?” A voice calls out from behind me. At first I kind of just grunt over my shoulder. I’m too immersed in my own world. But when I hear my name, I knit my brows closely together and spin on the padded bench towards the voice. “Is this a bad time?” Naomi asks.

I open my mouth in surprise and flinch when the pencil falls from between my teeth. Fumbling, I manage to catch it and place it on top of my papers. I completely forgot I told her to come here so I could take photos and update the website.

“Oh shit. What time is it?” I splutter, gathering all my bits of paper and sliding them inside a book so they’re out of sight. The song isn’t ready for a second set of ears yet.

“I have a piano just like that.” She smiles, moving towards me and touching the keys lightly. “They had one at school. Did you ever play it?” Her mouth pulls up at the corner, and a wistful look passes over her face as she taps one key creating a gentle ping. I fight the urge to slap her hand away. “What are you working on?”

“Um… nothing. Nothing yet.” I pick my notes up from the seat next to me and place them on top of the piano, wanting to put the sheet back over it and hide it away. I don't share this anymore. This is mine now. But she takes the vacant seat as an invitation to sit down, and now I'm fighting the urge to push her off the damn bench. Shit. Her body brushes lightly against mine, and I close my eyes to the sensation, moving just enough to make a space between us. I need that gap there.

If she notices, she doesn’t act like it. “I heard a bit of what you were playing. It was really nice.” She positions her fingers on the keys and plays the tune I’ve been working on. Looks like she heard more than a bit. Watching her play it feels strange. The melody existed inside me only moments ago, and now she’s putting her mark all over it.

At first, I’m not sure how to react. I’m still toying with the idea of pushing her away and slamming the cover over the keys. But then she adds a little something. And it’s exactly what the melody was missing.

“That’s it,” I gasp, quickly grabbing my note book. “Play it again.” My pencil hovers over the lined page, the surge of adrenaline making my hand shake.

She repeats the melody, my hand working furiously to fill in the notes.

“Again.”

She does as I ask and I make my tweaks, slapping the page with the back of my hand when it’s done.

“Again?” she asks.

Standing up, I shake my head as I hold the notebook in front of me, pacing the floor. “How did you–” I start. But I stop myself, because I already know. It’s what she’s always done.

“Do you have any lyrics for it?” she asks. Spinning around to face me. It’s then that her eyes widen a little before her cheeks flush pink and she drops her gaze to the floor.

I suddenly realise I’m only wearing a robe and underwear—my open robe and black boxer briefs that leave little to the imagination. Shit.

I grab my robe and wrap it around my body, trying to tie the sash without dropping my notebook. It doesn’t work out.

“I should get dressed,” I say, tucking everything under my arms.

“I can come back another time,” she says, a grin twitching the side of her pink lips.

“Today’s fine. I just lost track of time. Just um… the kitchen. Make yourself coffee,” I call out, making a hasty retreat towards my bedroom. I drop the notebook on my bed and throw the robe next to it before I pull on my jeans, grabbing a shirt from the floor and sniffing it for any offending odours. It’s fine. I lift an arm and smell myself. Shit. I stink.

I stink and Naomi just spent fifteen minutes sitting right next to me. I’m surprised she wasn’t dry retching from the stench.

Throwing my shirt and jeans back on the floor where I found them, I grab my towel from the door and make my way to the bathroom for the fastest shower and shave on the planet.

Why am I nervous?

Naomi

Theo has one of those Nespresso coffee machines that take the pods, so all I have to do is fill the compartments with milk and water and I’m ready to go. When the pipes creak in the walls, I realise he’s taking a shower. So I stop making coffee and take a wander (read: sticky-beak) around his living areas.

It’s interesting being inside someone’s house. Especially someone who, until twelve hours ago, seemed to not like me that much. It’s like you get this little window into who they are. Suddenly they become more of a person than a nemesis as you discover common ground. Like that old piano.

I have exactly the same model at home. I loved the one at school so much that I begged my parents to get it for my sixteenth birthday. It’s something I’ll never part with. I wonder how Theo feels about his.

Walking around his lounge and dining room, I pick up books and pictures, looking at each one in turn. He reads biographies and books about elves and dragons. Theo obviously cares a lot about his family, there are heaps of photos of him with his brother, their parents, grandparents, and a fair few photos and framed articles featuring the band and their music. He’s proud.

Working through the photos on a bookshelf, one in particular catches my eye. It’s slightly obscured by other frames in front of it, but the picture is unmistakably identical to the one I see on the wall at my parent’s house.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, reaching out to pick up the small frame as my heart hammers in my chest.

I remember the day it was taken. It was a school performance where we were exploring the use of classical instruments in modern music. There are five of us in the photo. I played violin, Marcus played an electric guitar, Aramis was on keyboards, a girl named Christy used the cello as a bass replacement, and some guy with red hair I don’t remember, played drums. We practiced for that performance for a solid month and were so proud of ourselves. I think I still have the recording somewhere at home.

I touch the picture lightly, running my finger over my image as I smile at the blissful look on my face. Marcus has his arm draped over both mine and Christy’s shoulders. We both look like we’re about to break out into fits of giggles. We’re flanked either side by Aramis, who stands next to me with his arms crossed and his black lips pursed. And the red-headed dude is trying to look cool next to Christy.

Grinning, I move to place the photo back on the shelf. It’s nice that Theo has this photo of Marcus’s performance group on display.

“What are you doing?” Theo asks suddenly. The photo frame falls from my hands and crashes onto the hardwood floor.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. I was only looking because that’s me in that photo. Shit, I’ll buy you a new frame,” I babble, kneeling down to pick up the pieces at my feet. I retrieve the photo from the wreckage and pause as I notice writing on the back. ‘Classically Modern Concert. Theo, Naomi, Marcus, Christy, Damien’. “What the?” I flinch when Theo snatches the picture from my hands.

“Leave it. I’ll clean it,” he snaps, collecting the broken pieces of the frame roughly, tossing the broken glass into his palm. “God damn it.” He flinches from nicking his finger on a sharp edge. Blood flows and he sticks his finger in his mouth, getting up and stomping into the kitchen.

I squat down and pick up the last of the glass, retrieving the photo before chasing after him.

“Fuck.” He dumps everything he collected into the rubbish. “I told you to have a coffee. Not snoop through my shit.” A streak of red blood runs down to his palm.

“Are you cut badly?” I ask dropping the last of the glass in the bin and placing the photo on the bench.

“I just need a Band-Aid,” he growls, moving past me. His eyes drift towards the photo and his brow deeply furrows.

He opens a drawer and pulls out a box of Band-Aids, fumbling with the packaging as he tries to stem the flow of blood from his finger.

“You need to wash it first.”

“Fuck.” He flicks the box, spilling the bandaids all over the bench. “Did you even make a coffee? Or did you go straight through my drawers the moment I left the room?” He’s spluttering, red faced and frustrated. I shouldn’t have been looking around his living space. That was wrong of me.

“Wash your cut, Theo.” I move to the sink and flick on the tap. “I’ll sort out this mess then help you bandage it.”

He shoves his hand under the water. “I don’t want your fucking help. I want you gone.” I grab some paper towel and a couple of bandaids, ignoring his outburst because I’m not letting him scare me away when I’ve finally figured it out. I know who he is.

“I’m going to check how deep it is first,” I say, shutting the water off before taking a hold of his palm. He doesn’t go along with it willingly, snatching his hand back and trying to take the paper towel too. “Quit being a fucking baby and let me help.”

He releases a heavy sigh and shoves his hand in my direction. I dry it off and inspect the cut. It won’t need a trip to the doctor. As I peel the paper away from the bandaids and wrap them around his finger, neither of us speaks. All seems quiet except for the sound of our breathing and my gentle movement. I even feel the wet tips of his freshly washed hair brush the top of my head as he leans forward, watching me. When I finish, I look up and meet his eyes. He’s so close that I can smell his soap and shampoo, and I find myself wishing he wasn’t wearing the fitted black t-shirt he’s now put on. I kind of liked the view earlier. Who knew Theo was so well…built.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes locked on mine. I’m still holding his finger, smoothing my thumb over the plaster strip as we just… stare. I can see him now. The face beneath the makeup, the familiar nose, the perfect Cupid’s bow of his mouth. It’s all there, staring right at me.

“I know who you are now,” I whisper, swallowing the thickness in my throat so I can say his name. “Aramis.”

His eyes fall shut at the sound of his nome de plume and he turns away, scooping up the bandaid wrappers and tossing them in the bin.

My eyes prick as I think about all the time I spent trying to find him. He was right in front of my face the whole time, playing drums instead of piano.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s not who I am anymore.”

“And yet you’ve been angry with me this whole time because I didn’t remember you. What the fuck, Theo? You were a boy who had pitch black hair and wore a massive amount of makeup and facial jewellery to school every day. A boy who hid out in the music room and didn’t go by the same name. You wore white contacts, so I didn’t even recognise your eyes in their natural state. How am I supposed to recognise you without that mask? And how fucking dare you hold that against me when you just said that’s not who you are anymore.” I release a frustrated growl and shove him in his rock-hard chest. “Fuck you.”

He closes his hands over my wrists and holds me firmly in place. “I was angry because the last time I saw you, I told you who I was and you didn’t remember. I was pissed that you had no recollection of me removing the makeup and making out with you for hours. And I’m furious that when I went to get you some water, I came back to find you naked, and in bed with my brother.” He leans in a little closer and grits his teeth. “My brother, Naomi. I’m bitter because I meant so little to you. I’m incensed because I’ve hated my brother ever since. And I’m resentful that because of you, I have a knuckle that will never go back into place because I punched my own brother in the face. Because of you.” Shit. That’s a lot of ways to say angry.

My mouth drops open as tears burn in my eyes, blood pumping through my ears at a horrendous volume. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes tight, not wanting to hear anymore. “That’s not fair,” I gasp. “I don’t remember any of that night. You know I don’t.” A tear escapes my eye and slides its way down my cheek. Theo reaches up and cups the side of my face, the warmth of his hand causing me to lean into it as he brushes the tear away with his thumb. Aramis.

His voice drops to almost a whisper as he continues. “I know that now. What I’m most angry about now is that he took advantage of you then dumped you. I’m irritated that despite that, you came running the moment he called, and that you still look at him like you’d let him do it all again. But above all, the anger that eclipses it all, is how infuriated I feel looking at you and knowing he’s been with you when I wanted you for myself.”

He wanted me for himself.

I stare at him wide eyed. I don’t know what to say. What is there to say? I can’t fix this. I can’t turn back time. I can’t change what happened. I can only live knowing that it did and accept it for what it was. A mistake.

I snatch my hand from his grip and pull my face from his hand, needing some space as I glare at him. “You’re an arsehole.”

His brows shoot up. “Really?”

“A fucking huge one. Stinky. Smelly. Full of Haemorrhoids.”

“You’re painting a delightful picture here.”

“How dare you,” I say, picking up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “How dare you hold shit against me I can’t even remember. How dare you treat me like shit for months instead of manning up and fucking telling me your problem. Fuck you. Fucking arsehole.” I spin around and head straight for the door, needing to get the hell out of there. I hear him call out my name, but I don’t turn around. Fuck this shit.

Focusing on making it to my car, I ready my keys, jumping in and reversing out of the driveway as quick as I can. By the time I’m in the street, he’s standing in the driveway with his hands on his hips, watching me make my escape like he thinks I'm being petulant. I should run him over for all he’s put me through. He’s lucky when I don’t.

Straightening my car in the street, I pause for a moment and look at him. I had wanted so much from him back then. When he froze me out, I carried that hurt with me for years, feeling used and abandoned. If he had have answered my fucking calls, told me what he knew, everything could have been different. I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed, and perhaps we could have… No. There’s no perhaps in this situation. The moment he saw me with Marcus, he wrote me off. And now he can barely look at me. The boy I knew is gone. He’s someone I don’t recognise anymore. He’s someone I don’t even like anymore.

Lifting my hand, I hold up my middle finger and drive away. Fuck him. Fuck Marcus. Fuck the band. I’m not planning on returning. As much as I love the music, I just can’t do this. I can’t be a part of a band that has two men who think so little of me. That fucking party will haunt me forever unless I put a stop to this now. I’m done. I’ll find another fucking band to join. One without so much history.

Fifteen

Naomi

“Aren’t you supposed to be at rehearsal tonight?,” Kylie asks as I join her behind the bar to help with setup. “I thought you swapped shifts with Dave.”

“Change of plans,” I tell her, ignoring the insistent buzzing of my phone in my back pocket. There’s no way I’m going back there. They’ll need to find someone else to play violin. I’m not the only one capable.

“You got the night off and you’re spending it here?” She laughs. “Band life must pay bad.”

I heft a bucket of ice into the basin then stab the scoop into it. “It’s not all riches and parties,” I say, even though there have been a stack of parties and the money’s semi-ok. I just don’t want to get into it.

“That sucks. The movies make out like it's a crazy drug-fuelled sexfest”

I grab a cloth and wipe down the counter. “Maybe for the lead singers. But I play violin. Not really rock’n’roll.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

My phone quits ringing, and I wonder if the guys have finally given up on me. I should have been at Theo’s over an hour ago. But I just can’t bring myself to be there. I’m hurt by the way Theo treated me. And to be honest, I'm hurt by the way Marcus has treated me too, the way he disregards mine and everyone else’s feelings. If Theo punched him in the face for sleeping with me, then he knows why Theo has been a jerk all this time. That means he asked me to join the band knowing my presence would torment his brother. It’s fucked up. And I don’t want to be part of their messed up sibling rivalry anymore.

But I feel bad. I feel bad for me. For Aramis/Theo. For Jack and Lachlan; they’re getting caught in the middle of this. And for the fans who have been so accepting of me. I’m letting them all down. But if I don’t walk away, this is just going to get messier. I need to be done.

“I think your butt is vibrating,” Kylie says when my phone starts up again.

I guess they haven’t given up.

“Telemarketers,” I say, kneeling to rotate stock in the fridge.

“Ugh. They suck. You should block their numbers.”

I pull out my phone and watch Marcus’s face light up the screen. "You know, that’s an excellent idea."

* * *

Marcus

I ring Naomi for the ninth time in a row and she’s still not picking up. In fact, I think she just blocked me. “What the fuck did you do to her?” I demand of Theo. “You were the last one of us to see her.”

He bounces a shoulder, twirling a drumstick in the air. “Maybe she got sick of watching you hook up with randos every other night.”

“Fuck off, Theo. She’s a big girl. She knows the deal,” I spit back, annoyed at him for being so high and mighty. Just because he doesn’t want to take advantage of the hot and willing girls out there, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to live like monks.

“Maybe you could tone it down a little around her, man,” Jack puts in. “She had a thing for you all through high school, and everyone knows you slept with her then dumped her. It’s not cool to be all over chicks in front of her like you do.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, huffing out my breath and running my hand roughly over my hair. I try to ignore that little tinge of guilt that niggles inside of me, but just shift the focus instead. “Well, we need her here. She’s our fucking ticket to the big leagues. If she quits, we’re fucked.”

“How?” Lachlan asks.

“The clip of us playing It’s a Crime has gone nuts. We got an offer to support Radio Silence on their Australian tour next month. If she’s not in, we don’t have a deal. This is big, guys. We need her back.”

“Why the hell did they call you?” Theo asks, normally all gig offers go through him.

“Um. Because I’m awesome,” I state, widening my eyes comically. Although, the contact came through me because Theo left the launch party too early.

“Whatever,” Theo says, rolling his eyes. “But if we need Naomi that badly, I’ll take a ride and talk to her.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure you’re the reason she isn’t here today. You haven’t exactly been nice to her.” I snatch the keys to his motorbike from his hands.

“No, you don’t,” he says, snatching them back.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll rock, paper, scissors for it,” I challenge, staring Theo in the eye defiantly. “Winner goes to find her.”

“Fine,” he agrees, holding his hand next to mine in preparation. There’s no decision or argument in this world that a good rock off can’t fix. “I’ll call it. Ready? Go.”

We bounce our fists in the air the required three times. Theo holds his hand flat for paper. I turn my hand upward, extending my middle finger as I snatch the keys back again. Theo is quick though, and he gives me a slap upside my head for playing unfairly, earning a roar of laughter from Lachlan and Jack.

“You’re a fuckwit. Give them back and do it properly,” he demands.

“Not a chance,” I say, moving them out of his reach as he goes to grab them. “I’m going. You’ve done enough.”

Theo folds his arms over his chest, looking at the blank wall as he grumpily concedes defeat, telling me what I’ve already figured out—he was the one who chased her away. He wouldn’t have given up so easy otherwise.

“Don’t crash my bike or you’re a dead man,” he calls after me as I head out the door.

* * *

Naomi

“What can I get you?” I ask the next customer in line as I push the till closed with my hip. When I look up, I’m met with Marcus’s self-assured smile. “Kylie. Can you serve this one? There’s something I need from the backroom.”

“Sure.” She smiles as she leans towards Marcus. “What’ll it be?”

His smile drops and he holds up a finger before pushing back through the crowd and calling my name.

“Why aren’t you at rehearsal? We waited on you for over an hour,” he yells over the music, catching up to me while I lift the side of the bar.

“I’m not here,” I yell back. “I’m just a figment of your imagination. In fact, you’ve been imagining me this whole time. I’m not even a real person.” It’s how they fucking treat me.

“Come off it, Naomi,” he returns, completely ignoring my sarcastic tone. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.” I walk down the short hall, past the bathrooms, readying my key so I’ll waste as little time as possible in his presence.

“Why didn’t you come to rehearsal?” he asks again, placing his hand on the door the moment I get it open.

“Take your hand off the door. This is staff only.”

“Explain yourself and I will.” His eyes narrow and I have a sudden desire to stomp on his toes. I let out a frustrated sigh instead.

“Because you and your brother are jerks. I don’t want to be in a band with either of you anymore.”

“Why? What did Theo do?” He frowns and I almost laugh. Marcus can never accept any wrongdoing. You'd think his shit shines like diamonds and smells like a meadow of wildflowers.

“Not just Theo. Both of you. You both have a fucked up view of women. You think we're disposable and Theo thinks we're tainted.”

Marcus twists his mouth a little. “He thinks you’re tainted. Which, believe me, is a good thing. You don’t need Sir Broods-a-lot in your life. You’re too good for him.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, not quite believing my ears. “Go away, Marcus. I don’t need this kind of controlling shit in my life. I have a job. I was doing fine before the band.”

“Fine?” he scoffs. “Working in a bar, barely making rent?” He laughs. “What an excellent use of your talent.”

“It pays the bills.”

He locks eyes with me as his jaw tenses. “You’re better than this.”

“No. I’m just another one of your castoffs.”

Before he can respond, a group of drunk and squealing women come too far down the hall and find us talking. “Is this the ladies?” One of them hiccups my way.

“Turn around and stop before you reach the corner,” I instruct. “It’s past the mens.”

Marcus shoots an exasperated glance over his shoulder when they don’t leave right away. “She said its around the corner,” he says.

“Oh, my god.” One girl’s eyes go round with excitement. “You’re Marcus Bailey.”

Another girl gasps while the third squeals and says, “Holy shit. We saw your band. And you. You’re the new girl. Neve. Nelly.”

“Naomi,” the first girl says, bouncing on her toes. “Matiari is seriously my most favourite band. I have listened to your new songs like, seventy times already.”

“You should offer to sign their breasts,” I say to Marcus, happy over the squeals the suggestion produces. They give me the opportunity to make my escape.

I have the door almost fully shut when Marcus jams his foot in it then barrels inside the tiny space. “That wasn’t playing fair,” he says, placing his body weight against it as the girls knock and call his name.

“Has anything ever been fair between us?”

He frowns. “Of course it has. Every member of the band gets an equal cut of royalties, merch and ticket sales. It’s always been fair.”

“I’m not talking but the band, Marcus. I’m talking about you and me. I’m talking about me and Theo.” He keeps leaning against the door like a human barricade as he looks at me with little comprehension. “You can get off the door it auto locks.”

“Oh.” He stands up straight, glancing over his shoulder as it rattles from the girls knocking.

“You can’t stay in there forever,” they say.

He shakes his head like he can’t believe this is happening, but by the shine in his eyes I can tell he’s also loving it.

“Go out there,” I say. “Have some fun with them. Have a three-way. That’s what you like people thinking, right?”

Raking a hand through his brown locks, he bites at his lip. “I don’t think I understand the problem. What’s going on between you, me and Theo?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Aramis was your brother?” I demand.

“What?” He laughs, stepping back, only managing to press himself against the door of the two metre square room. The women on the other side get excited by the sound.

“Aramis. The name Theo used when he was all goth in high school. Why didn’t you ever mention he was your brother?”

“Um, because it was embarrassing. As if I was going to admit the freaky goth guy was my brother. I hid it from everyone.”

“And in doing so, you made me look like a fool.”

“How did I do that?”

“By not telling me then. By not explaining who Theo was now. I had no idea. Theo has been hating on me for months because of this.”

“What do you mean you had no idea? You made out with the guy, got him to take all of his makeup off. You were rambling about how you met my brother when I found you missing your clothes at that party.” He lets his eyes drift down my body like he’s recalling a mental picture. I put my arm across my breasts defensively, causing him to chuckle and look back up to my eyes.

“I don’t even remember that party. All I know is I got completely wasted off two drinks and ended up with our entire school thinking I had a threesome.”

He scrunches his face up. “With whom?”

“You and Aramis.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I know that now. Twitter is a terrible narrator.”

“That’s why I don’t use it. The trolls are there.”

“I know. They were very sweet when they called me a slut in every creative way possible.”

“Is that why you disappeared? Because school kids and the internet called you a slut?”

“I was embarrassed. For years, I thought it was true. But it turns out, all I did was sleep with the would-be rock star who fucks ‘em and dumps ‘em. Which, mind you, is fucked up because surely you could tell I was off my face—”

“Of course I—”

“Let me finish. I’m sure you fuck plenty of wasted girls. It probably seemed normal to you. But I was with Aramis first—your brother, Marcus—and for some reason, you saw fit to step in and take something he wanted, something I’m sure I willingly gave because it’s no secret I had a crush on you all through high school. But I also had a crush on Aramis. A pretty fucking big one.”

“You had a crush on Theo when he dressed like that?” He laughs like it’s the craziest idea in the world.

“I did. Because he was sweet and creative, and he made me feel important. But now, he hates me. He looks at me like I’m tainted goods, and that makes me feel like a piece of shit. I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

His brow knits, his expression taking on that thoughtful look he gets in the rare moments he’s being serious. “How did I make you feel?” he asks finally. “Not now. Back then. If he made you feel important, how did I make you feel?”

That’s what he’s focusing on? My eyes widen as I wonder if this is an ego thing, or a serious moment of reflection. I’m just about to tell him to fuck off when I change my mind at the last moment and go with the truth instead. “You made me feel lucky. I felt lucky to be the focus of your attention. But if you’re interested in how you make me feel now, you make me feel like I’m just another throwaway groupie.”

“But I’m the one who wanted you in the band.” He seems genuinely confused.

“That has nothing to do with me as a woman though. That was about my musical abilities. I don’t need you to make me feel special about my music, Marcus. I already know I can play.”

“But you need me to make you feel special as a woman?” The man will need Botox if he keeps frowning like that.

“Needed. Back then when I woke up next to you. That’s when I wanted to feel special.”

“What about now? Do you want to feel special now?”

I laugh and shake my head. “I just need a night I can’t remember to stop messing with my life. Can you make that happen?”

“Yeah. Um… about that night...” He closes one eye and sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. I feel like he’s about to deliver some terrible news. Oh god. What don’t I know about that night? “You might have your story a bit messed up.”

“Messed up how? All I remember is waking up next to you before you gave me the ‘let’s be friends’ speech.”

“I didn’t give you that speech.”

“Yes, you did. I was getting dressed, and you sat up and said, About last night…”

“I know. I was trying to tell you not to worry, we didn’t sleep together. But you were in such a hurry to get out of there you refused to listen to me. You cut me off, said we were cool and that you already knew. So I thought you did know.”

“We didn’t sleep together?” Holy shit.

“No.” He laughs, before lowering his tone and stepping closer to me. “Not that I didn’t want to. It was so tempting having you right there, naked and willing. But, like you said, you were wasted. I would never fuck you like that, Naomi.”

“We didn’t sleep together?” I can’t even believe my ears right now. “Did anything happen?”

He shakes his head and gives me that sexy lopsided grin of his. “I stayed with you and we slept. I was keeping an eye on you.”

“You didn’t fuck me?”

Placing his fingers under my chin, he tilts my head up so I’m looking into his eyes. “No. And I’ll tell you exactly why I didn’t. It was because when I do fuck you—and I will—I want it to be memorable for both of us. You’ve never been just another girl to me, Naomi. Surely you know that.”

I suck in my breath. “What? What about the band?”

“You just said you quit the band.” My breath catches as I’m drawn into his eyes, his hair falling forwards as he tilts his head like he’s about to kiss me.

My heart goes crazy. I even lick my lips in preparation, but when his mouth nears mine, when the gentleness of his breath tickles my lips, I place my shaking hands on his chest and push away.

“Then why is Theo so angry?” I ask.

“What?” He blinks like I just snapped him out of a daze.

“If we didn’t sleep together that night, why is Theo angry about it?”

He alters his stance and drops his gaze, once again rubbing at the back of his neck. “Because I might have let him believe we did.”

“Fucker.” I lift my arms, ready to shove him but I stop when he holds up his hands in defence.

“You’re the only girl I ever wanted to date,” he blurts.

“What?” I let my hands drop to my sides.

“Ever since I saw you at school, I had a thing for you.”

Now I’m confused. “Why didn’t you do something about it? You had to know I’d say yes.” I would have done anything for him back then.

“Yeah. But I also had a habit of losing interest once I broke a girl in.”

“You’re a pig.” Breaking a girl in. How crass.

“Hey, I’m just telling the truth. I knew myself well enough not to mess up a good thing. You were so fucking sweet. So fucking…pure. You know? You looked at me with those big brown eyes and I felt like a king every time. I didn’t want to lose that.”

“So you just fucked every girl I knew and kept me as your favourite little groupie.”

He chuckles at my use of his old name for me. “I guess I figured we’d grow up and one day the stars would align. I’d be ready to quit fucking around and everything would work out.”

“Because everything works out for Marcus Bailey.”

He shrugs. “Usually. But then you showed up at that party, and you and Theo were just… on each other.” He uses his hands to express his words, bringing them together like they’re grasping at a ball. “I couldn’t stand looking at you making out with my brother. But I still stood there like a creep, watching the two of you go at it while I drank far too much rum. When I saw you drag him into a room, I nearly lost my shit. I was all ready to charge on in there and defend your honour, but he came out pretty quickly, so I knew he hadn’t done anything with you. I mean, he’s a jerk, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of a drunk girl. So, I don’t know, I guess drunk me didn’t want to risk him changing his mind and going back to you. So I went in there and got into bed. Nothing happened. I promise you that. Although, Theo thinks something did. When he came back in, all he saw was me on the bed and…” he mumbles the last part.

“And what?”

“And you naked. He thought we’d”—he threads his finger through a circle made by the fingers on his other hand—“and I let him believe it. I didn’t want you and him to… you know?” He makes the same gesture then rolls his eyes.

“At what point did I get naked?”

“I honestly don’t know. You were naked when I got there,” he explains, before a grin creeps over his face. “Nice body by the way.”

“You jerk. Why didn’t you just cover me up and take me home? Everyone thinks we slept together.”

“I don’t know. ‘Cause I was drunk too?”

“Jesus Christ, Marcus. This is a mess. You need to tell Theo the truth.”

“No way. He’ll punch me in the face for it. Besides, I thought you quit the band.”

“If you tell him what really happened, he’ll have no reason to hold it against me.”

“And?” He’s lucky he’s pretty. Smarts obviously aren’t his thing.

“I won’t have to quit.”

“You were never going to quit. I won’t let you.” He steps close again, looking at me with a growing intensity in his eyes. “But if I tell him, he’ll think he can touch you.”

“That’s stupid. He doesn’t even like me. Besides, he’s the one who made the no fraternising rule.”

Lifting his hand, he brushes his knuckles along my jaw. God that feels good. “He made that rule for me. He doesn’t want me to touch you either.”

“So you want him to keep treating me like shit while you string me along forever? No, thank you.”

“That’s not what I want.” He shifts closer again, backing me against the wall.

“Then what do you want?”

He dips his head low, and I feel his hair brush against my cheek as his lips touch lightly against my ear. “I want it all,” he murmurs, sending chills down my spine as his voice vibrates through me. “I want success. I want legions of fans, screaming my name. And I want you screaming the loudest; in my bed at the end of it all.” Holy quivering clitoris.

Sucking in my breath, I place my hand back on his chest, a deep flush blooming over my cheeks. “And what about Theo?” I force out, barely able to speak when my knees are shaking so bad.

He pulls back and frowns. “I’m the winner in this scenario, Naomi. He’s just the drummer. A replaceable one at that.”

My chest jolts. I don’t have a sibling, but having that amount of disregard for another’s feelings just isn’t in me. “He’s your brother, Marcus. And I’m not a prize. You’ll have to find your way to stardom without me. I’m not dumping band members and I’m not staying caught in the middle of whatever war you two having going on.”

“War?” He knits his brow tighter. “There’s no war, only jealousy because Theo always wants what I have. He’s the drummer and the manager. The band is me, and now it’s also you. We’re the faces, the voices, the talent.” He shakes his head and licks his lips. “You and me, Nomes, we can take this next level. Together.”

“By dumping your brother?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Shifting his stance, he places his hands on my upper arms and stares into my eyes. “There’s an opportunity. Radio Silence is touring, and their manager contacted me asking if Matiari would support. Dan Stolle saw a clip of you and me singing It’s a Crime, and he wants to meet us. Said if he likes what he sees and hears on the Australian leg, we could continue supporting the rest of the world tour.”

“How is dumping Theo going to help that? They’re asking for Matiari. He’s part of that. He writes the songs for crying out loud. And he’s your brother, Marcus. How can you even be considering this?”

“Because he’s standing in my way. You and me. We are Matiari. Everyone else is replaceable. How can you not get that? We have a chance to be something more than a garage band. But that all goes away if you back out. I need you. I don’t need him.”

“You need me?” It sounds like he’s promising me the world.

He presses his forehead against mine and inhales. “Yes. In every way. I’m better when I’m with you.”

Closing my eyes, I swallow hard. “Then you need to tell Theo the truth. I won’t consider having any part in this if you don’t.” I want the world. I want every dream I’ve ever had to come true. But I won’t do it stepping on someone else’s toes. I had feelings for Theo once. And I never wanted to hurt him. I still don’t. There’s a man with oceans of emotion beneath that brooding exterior. I can hear it in his songs.

Marcus’s hand rests against the wall above my head as he pushes away from me and reaches into his pocket, retrieving a set of keys. “Fine.” He sighs, his expression hardening. “Just grab your fiddle. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

With that, he walks out, giving the patient girls something to squeal about on his exit. When the door closes, I’m alone for a blissful moment to calm down by fanning myself with the neck of my shirt. That man is trouble. And if I’m not careful, I’m going to be the reason the band falls apart and two brothers go to all out war. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place: the key to their success and the key to their undoing. Don’t I feel special?

I can never sleep with either of them. No matter what.

It’ll be a simple achievement where Theo is concerned. But with Marcus, it’s definitely going to be a struggle between my body and my brain. If the current state of my panties are anything to go by, he really knows how to get a woman going—even when he’s talking nefarious schemes. He’s certainly ruled by his ambition. And his dick.

I might need a chastity belt…

“You going to be much longer?” Kylie asks, giving me a shock when she seems to appear rather suddenly in the doorway. “We’ve got a bar out here to ru—” She stops talking and just stares at me.

“What?” I rapidly run my fingers over my hair, and check that I didn’t magically lose my clothes.

“You’re very flushed.”

“Oh.” I touch my cheeks and feel the heat of them through my palms.

“Who was that guy?”

I blow out my breath and push myself away from the wall. “That was Marcus. But we were just talking.”

She laughs. “Sure you were.”

Letting out a sigh, I move towards my locker to retrieve my bag. “Listen, I hate to do this but—”

“You need me to cover for you?” I wince a little as I nod. “Sure. But you know it’s gonna cost you.”

I roll my eyes and pull my Kindle from my bag. “How long this time?”

“Another month should do. Although, it’s short notice, so maybe I need it for two…”

“You know what? Keep it,” I say, hitching my bag on my shoulder. “As a thank you. I’ll just read on my iPhone.” I give her a hug as I leave, feeling fairly sure this might be the last time I ever work with her. “You’ve been really good to me, Kylie.”

“Just don’t forget me in your ARIA speech.”

When I leave, I detour past my apartment to collect my violin and find Marcus waiting for me outside on a motorbike. It makes me feel as though I’m being herded, as if he doesn’t trust me to show up without him. Shaking my head at him, I place my bag and case on the back seat of my car. The entire way to Theo’s place, I can see Marcus in my rear-vision mirror.

“You didn’t need to follow me. I know the way on my own,” I tell him when we arrive at Theo’s. He simply shrugs, following me inside to find the others in deep discussion as they sit around a laptop staring at the screen.

“What’s going on?” Marcus asks.

“We’re reading the comments on a YouTube video Erica sent through,” Jack says as he looks up from the screen. “I hope you’re not thinking of leaving the band, Naomi. The comments are blowing up with people who love you.”

I walk around behind them and they show me the screen. I lean forward, tucking my hair behind my ear as I scan comment after comment talking about how 'amazing that girl on the violin’ is, and how ‘her voice compliments Marcus perfectly’ and ‘they were born to play together’.

“Wow,” I breathe, pointing at the number of views it’s had.

“I know, right?” Lachlan nods. “I’m spinning out.”

“See why we need you?” Jack says.

I place my hand on his forearm and give him a squeeze. “I'm sorry. I just had some shit to deal with. But it should settle down soon. Right, Marcus?" I shift my gage to give Marcus a pointed look. He nods then taps Theo on the shoulder, inclining his head towards the door. “Thank you,” I mouth when Marcus glances my way. He bounces a shoulder like it’s no big deal. But it is to me. I’m hoping this whole misunderstanding will be cleared up so we can move forward and focus on making this band something fantastic. We can really be something. Together.

Sixteen

Theo

“I should break your fucking nose,” I grind out, fists curled at my sides as I fight the urge to beat the crap out of my brother. Again.

“Think of the band, Theo.” Marcus holds his hands out defensively. He’s always been too worried about his face to willingly enter a fistfight.

“I am thinking of the band,” I growl. “I’m thinking of all the years I spent in it hating you.”

“You hated me?”

“Of course I fucking did. You could have any girl you wanted, and you chose the only girl who wanted me. Then you threw her away like a used condom the next day. Why would you do that to me?”

“Because I wanted her for myself.”

“And when you didn’t have her you lied?”

“You’ve always held contempt towards any girl who'd stoop so low she’d sleep with the dirty bastard you think I am. If you believed I had sex with her, I knew you'd never look at her again. So, yeah. I lied. I wanted to turn you away.”

“You’re a total dick. A selfish, conceited prick. Out of all the girls who would cut off a tit to be with you, why did you have to want her?” I’m looking at my brother, the kid who used to steal my Lego and break apart the designs so he could make a giant city to play Godzilla in. He always wanted to be larger than life. Now that he is, I'm not sure who I’m looking at anymore.

“Probably for the same reason you wanted her. She’s like sunshine and fucking rainbows. When she enters a room people smile. And they don't even know why they’re smiling. They just are because she’s there and everything is better when she's around.” Fuck. I think he’s in love with her. I never thought him capable of loving anything besides his own reflection.

“Why didn’t you ask her out before that night? Why did your desire need to take her away from me?” Because I loved her too. Whether it was a lie or not, he robbed me of that. He took those feelings away with his greedy little fingers.

Blowing out his breath, he runs his hand across the back of his neck. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“It’d be a nice fucking change.”

“Because I wasn’t going to lose the only girl I ever cared about to the world’s biggest freak.”

World’s biggest freak. I run my teeth over my bottom lip as I contemplate how to respond to his jibe. I know he was embarrassed by my goth phase. I know he hid the fact we were related to his friends. But still... we’re brothers. I should mean more to him than that. So I try. I really try to keep my cool, but in the end, my head bobs slowly then I take a quick step before my fist jabs into his gut. Oof. I catch his shoulder as he stumbles forward, holding him up and rubbing his back as I encourage him to breathe. I may be filled with disdain for the guy, but he's still my little brother, and mamma always told me to take care of him.

“Here’s the deal,” I say as he straightens back up and fills his lungs with air. "We’re going to do this tour with Radio Silence. You’re going to get up on that stage with Naomi and wow everyone who's watching. Then you’re going to find yourself a new manager and a new drummer, because you and I are going our separate ways. I’m done with you, brother. I am done.”

His eyes bulge. “What about the songs?”

“You’ll be paying me for them until people quit listening to them.”

“What about new music?”

“You can write it yourself. I seem to recall you bragging about your ability to make magic with Naomi.”

“And what about Naomi?”

I lean in and speak between clenched teeth. "The fact you asked about her last tells me you never really deserved her. So if you touch her, I’ll do more than punch you in the gut and walk away. I'll beat the fuck out of you, and I’ll take everything.”

He straightens has shoulders and nods in slow motion. “What about the rest of the band? You’ve always done what's best for the band.”

“That was before I found out my brother lied to my face for years. Now I'm doing what’s best for Theo.”

“Fine,” Marcus says, stepping back to make his escape. “I never needed you, anyway. I’ve been letting you write the songs so you could feel more important than you are. You’ve been dead weight for years.”

I nod once and pull out a cigarette. “You tell yourself that, brother. Maybe it’ll be true someday.”

Naomi

“You coming?” Marcus asks as we finish packing up our gear at the end of rehearsal. He’s on his way out with Lachlan and Jack, but I’d like to hang around for a minute since Theo has been quiet all evening.

“Head off without me,” I say. “I want to go over some of the tracks Theo recorded. I think I’m coming in a little late on Me, Myself and You. I’d like to work on my timing”—I swing my gaze to where Theo is standing lighting a cigarette—“if that’s OK with you, of course?”

He blows a puff of smoke as he flicks his lighter closed. “Knock yourself out.”

“See you tomorrow,” I say to Marcus, who’s still standing in the doorway, his eyes moving between me and Theo.

“I can stay if you like.”

“That’s not necessary,” Theo says, his voice toneless.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Marcus responds, and I’m gripped by the discomfort of the challenge in the air. Is this because of me? Or something else as well?

“There’s no need for either of you to stay,” I say, looking between the both of them. “I’m capable of working on a track by myself.”

“I live here,” Theo reminds me.

“I know that. But you don’t have to stay in the studio. Although, if my being here is going to cause a drama I can send myself the track and do this at home.”

“You don’t need to go,” Marcus states. “We will.”

“Safe drive, brother.” Theo sucks back on his cigarette as Marcus hesitates in the doorway then leaves after I give him a smile.

“See you tomorrow,” I call after him.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Once Marcus is gone, Theo makes his way to the door that connects his house to the studio. “Lock up when you leave.”

“Did he tell you?” I ask before he can make his escape.

He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes.”

“And?”

With a sigh, he releases the handle then turns to face me. “And…OK.”

“OK?” I expected a bigger reaction than that. From the way he told it, he and Marcus had been at odds ever since that night. Having the truth should have alleviated some of that tension, surely. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What more do you want me to say, Naomi? It was years ago. A lot has happened since then. We’re all different people.”

“I just thought you and I—”

“Could what? Pick up where we left off? Magically become friends again?”

“I—”

“How about I sit on that couch over there? You can straddle me and stick your tongue down my throat while I feel you up and you tell me how awesome you think I am.”

I take a step back and shake my head. “Theo.”

“No? That’s what I thought. Because things are different now. It got fucked up when Marcus lied and we don't get a do-over.”

Pressing my lips together, I fight becoming overly emotional and set my jaw. “I was hoping we could at least talk and clear the air. Start our friendship fresh now that everyone is being honest.”

“Honest.” He bobs his head as he looks at the tip of his cigarette, almost burned out. “I’ll give you honest, Naomi. I’ll tell you exactly what I told Marcus. I’m done.”

“Done?”

“With the band. With him. With you. I’ve wasted so much energy on something that didn’t even happen. I’m fucking over this. I’m out.”

“Out how?” This is exactly what I was trying to avoid when I demanded Marcus tell the truth. The band needs Theo. His songs are our heart.

“When this tour is done. I'm leaving the band.” He moves over to the shelving where his ashtray lives and stubs out his cigarette. “You can keep playing the songs. But you'll need to find a new drummer and write your own stuff moving forward.” He sniffs slightly and shoves his hands in his pockets, his tone losing its aggression, shifting more to one of accepting defeat. It gives me a pang in the centre of my chest. He can’t leave.

“That’s what you want? To walk away after all these years right when the band is set to take off?” I shake my head. “I don’t want to be part of that reality.”

“Well, it’s not your choice. It’s mine. And I'm done. I’ve been looking out for Marcus since we were kids. Keeping him from messing up, and I’m exhausted. He needs to do this without me.”

“What about the rest of us?”

“You survived this long, Naomi. I think you’ll be just fine.”

Twisting my mouth to the side, I shake my head. “No. I won’t. Because if you’re leaving. Then I’m leaving too. I made Marcus come clean to you because I didn’t want to be the reason the band broke up.”

“You’re not the reason. He is.”

“Matiari isn’t Matiari without you. Marcus might be the voice, and I might be the melody, but you are the soul, Theo. Your talent for songwriting is the reason we are where we are.”

His tongue runs over his teeth while he glances at the ground. “You’ll be fine. Marcus can write. So can you. It’ll be a new direction.”

“It’ll be the wrong direction”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

I press my lips together and nod. “OK, then.” I kneel and secure my violin in its case, latching it closed before I stand.

“Where are you going?”

“Tell the others I’m sorry about the tour. But I’m sure there’ll be more opportunities. They'll just need to find them without me. And I suppose without you too.” I’m not even bluffing.

“Wait.” He starts towards me, intercepting my path before I can make it to the door. “You can’t leave now. You have four other people counting on you. There might not be another chance.”

“What’s the point in going through this if the band will break up, anyway? I'd rather go back to tending bar. I’m sure they haven’t filled my position yet.”

“It’s not breaking up. I'm the drummer. I'm replaceable. You’re the sound. You’re the entire reason this opportunity presented itself. Not because of Marcus’s voice. Not because of the way the other two play my songs. Because of you and the magic you bring to our sound. They can’t replace you, Naomi. If you leave, they lose everything.”

“If you leave, I leave. You are not replaceable, Theo. The band doesn’t exist for me without you and your songs.”

The muscle in his jaw tightens then he slaps his hand against the wall. “Fuck!”

I flinch slightly, but I don’t dare move. “What’ll it be,Theo? Do we end it now? Or do we ride this rocket to the moon together?”

He drags his hand through his dark locks as he steps back, letting out a frustrated growl. "This is blackmail."

“No. It’s incentive.”

Seventeen

Naomi

“That works.” Theo leans back in his chair as he lowers his headset to the desk. Once I convinced him to stick it out with the band, we knuckled down and worked together on my timing issue. The man lives and breathes music. I don’t care what he thinks leaving the band would accomplish, he’s worked too long and too hard to let this go over a sibling rivalry. Especially when I’m at the centre of that row. I couldn’t stand it if I drove them apart.

“Just as well,” I say, inspecting my left middle finger. “I’m starting to rub away my callous.”

Leaning forward, his chair creaks as he flicks off the recording equipment and closes his MacBook. “You need to learn your limits. You can’t work without rest.”

“Is that what you were doing that day when you were banging out a song in your underwear? You looked like you’d been up all night.”

He rubs a hand over the growing stubble on his face. “Point taken.”

“Looks like we’re as bad as each other. How is that song coming along, anyway?”

Meeting my eyes for a moment, he sighs as he checks his watch. “It’s past midnight, Naomi. I’m tired.”

“So answer the question and I’ll leave.”

“Is that how this works now?”

I give my violin a quick wipe over before I place it in my case. “We used to be friends, Theo. I just want you to stop being so pigheaded and remember what that was like.”

He looks at me for a moment before he rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands in front of him. “Um… it’s coming along. I’ve been working on the lyrics since you helped me get the melody down.”

I smile. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” He sits back and rolls his eyes. “Do you think… I could hear it?”

“Jesus. You like pushing your luck.” I like pushing him. I like seeing that spark light up in the back of his eyes. I like sharing music with him.

“Remember how you and I would ditch class and hide out in the old auditorium? We’d work on writing new music together and talk about how one day our creations would mean something? Those are my favourite memories of high school, and until recently, I thought I’d completely lost the person I made those memories with. I really miss that guy, Theo. I miss watching him play. I miss hearing him sing. I miss making music together.”

“That guy doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Maybe. But his talent has only grown. I want to hear what you have.”

“Fine. I’ll show you,” he concedes, making my heart do a cheer when he picks up an acoustic guitar before sitting back down. “Now, don’t laugh. The lyrics are a work in progress.” He gives me a ghost of a smile, positioning himself before plucking along the strings, his fingers dancing as he weaves his magic. I need to press my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling too much. I feel like I’m being jetted back in time—minus the makeup—and it’s wonderful.

“Woke up this morning, and I realised you were gone.

This house feels so empty I never thought our time was done.”

His voice flows through me like a gentle warmth that tickles my spine and ends with the small hairs on my body standing on end. It’s beautiful, his voice, the lyrics, the music. Him…

“I know you asked me to write you a special song

You were my muse, writing without you seems wrong”

He stops singing then looks up at me, his fingers still playing the music. “I want another verse to go in here. Something about windows being open and cold coming in. I’ll work it all out, but this part here is the chorus.” I can’t help but smile as he plays without fault and talks out his thoughts like doing the two together is the easiest thing in the world. It’s not. And I hum along as he sings the chorus to the bars of music I helped him with.

“Oh, please know I loved you,

Even though I was unfair

Please know I still want you

I’ll show you that I care.”

Placing his hand over the top of the strings, he stops the music. “And that’s all I have so far. But I like that hum you just did. We’ll have to incorporate that when we work it into our set list.”

“Does that mean you’re definitely staying with the band?” I can’t even try to hide my smile now as he pulls out his notepad and jots his thoughts down.

“It’s not like you’re giving me a choice, ” he says, flashing me a tight smile.

“For what it’s worth, we’re doing exactly what we dreamed about in high school. We’re making people feel with our music. And you have such a beautiful voice. Seems a shame to hide it behind a drum kit.”

He shrugs. “Drummers are unreliable. And honestly, Marcus needs the limelight far more than I do. I’m happy with my role.”

“And yet you were willing to give it up.”

“I was willing to give my brother up. Not music. I would’ve found something else.”

“Well, I guess you two will just have to find a way to become friends again. For the sake of the band.”

He scoffs. “Not even a time machine could fix me and Marcus. It goes way deeper than what happened at that party. You’re forcing us all together when we’re better off apart.”

“Do you really believe that?” I lean down and pick up my violin case. “He’s your brother, Theo. You have to make this work.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Your mum sounds like a smart woman.” That actually gets a laugh out of him.

“You know this is a disaster waiting to happen?”

“Not if we keep our focus on the music.” I reach for the door. “Good night, Theo.”

“Good night, Naomi.”

I offer him one last smile as I head out into the cool night air, hopeful that this is our turning point, and that we can all move forward together. This band isn’t just about me, Theo and Marcus. It’s about Lachlan and Jack too. It’s about Erica and Amy, and the fans who are rooting for us to succeed. If we fall apart now over an immature misunderstanding, then what the hell are we even doing? I’ll make those brothers friends again if it’s the last thing I do. I’ve helped people together when they were too stubborn to see reason before. I can do it again now. I have to.

Eighteen

Naomi

“You have to tell me everything.” Stephanie sits opposite me, breathless and running late to meet me for coffee the next afternoon.

“Well, hello to you too.” I laugh, indicating the coffee and cake I’ve already ordered for her. “It’s chocolate torte.” I slide my sunglasses on top of my head while she settles into her seat.

“Hello? Whatever,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “What’s a hello? I haven’t seen my best friend—the godmother of my child—in months. You’ve been so busy with this band stuff that I hardly even get to talk to you, and on top of that, do you know what I saw posted on Facebook today? A YouTube video of you, looking smoking hot on stage next to lover-boy-Bailey. And do you know who posted that video, Naomi? Fucking Radio Silence. Not their fan page. Their page. They’re saying you’re touring with them when they come out here. Is that true? Are you actually going to get to meet Dan Stolle? You have to introduce me. You know how much I love them. I mean, I already have tickets. I ordered them the moment they went on sale. Fuck, Nomes. Do you know what this means?”

I laugh at her constant barrage as I take a sip of my coffee. “It means I’m going away for a while.”

“It means you’re going to be famous.” She holds her hands out like she’d rather be shaking me, but she’s too far away.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re just supporting. We’re not the headlining act.”

“Yes, but do you understand how many other bands would have been going for that?”

“I know. Honestly, this is all happening so fast I’m struggling to wrap my head around it. Tell me something normal. Tell me about what you’ve been doing lately.”

“Me? Are you fucking serious? I stay at home all day and watch a one-year-old walk around the house and throw tantrums because her chubby little fingers won’t let her pick up a piece of lint from the carpet. I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about the boys in the band. Are you and Marcus sleeping together yet? God, I bet he’s great in bed—when you can remember it—he’s got that I’m-gonna-make-you-scream vibe about him.” I giggle at the way she shimmies in her seat.

“I’ll let Gary know you’re into lead guitarists now,” I tease.

“Married girls can still fantasise. Gary is the dream, but being a stay at home mum is hardly the vision I had for myself back in the day. I was going to be on stage, remember? Broadway. But my talent didn’t really extend past community theatre.” She sighs and shoves her fork into her cake. “Just tell me you’re having wild spontaneous sex. I need someone to be.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no.” She shovels cake into her mouth and groans. “And you’re not going to believe this; I haven’t slept with either of them. Ever.”

Her eyes widen as she holds her hand in front of her cake-filled mouth. “What do you mean?”

I recount the ridiculous sibling rivalry Marcus and Theo had over me back in high school and how Marcus allowed Theo to think he’d slept with me just to make sure he stayed away.

“That’s bloody ridiculous,” she says, cutting off more cake and popping it into her mouth. “Thanks for ordering for me by the way.”

“No worries,” I tell her. “But, what’s even weirder is we actually did know Theo in high school. He just went by a different name back then.”

“What was it?”

“Aramis.”

Stephanie sits forward so quickly, she sprays cake out of her mouth in surprise.

“That’s disgusting, Steph,” I grimace, handing her a napkin.

“I’m sorry, but oh my god. Theo is Aramis?”

“Yep.”

“What the hell? Why didn’t we know his real name?”

“I always thought it really was Aramis,” I say. “Even the teachers called him that. How were we supposed to know?”

“See, that’s the problem with performing arts schools. At a public school a teacher would never go for some teenage boy going all goth and changing his name.”

“Perhaps,” I say, laughing.

“So, you made out with both Theo and Marcus. But no threesome, or sex of any kind happened?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh. I gotta say, I’m kinda disappointed. It would have been cool if you were in the middle of a rock star brother sandwich. I’m getting all warm just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, well, Theo barely tolerates Marcus. When he thought Marcus slept with me, he’d look at me like I had the scarlet letter carved into my forehead. It’s been really unsettling.”

“And how is he now you’ve uncovered the truth? He knows nothing happened, right?”

I nod. “I made Marcus tell him. Oddly, I think it made him even more angry. He was seriously talking about leaving the band.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know. I’ve convinced him to stay, but I don’t know, tensions are high. I’ll need to be really careful with how I interact with them.”

She picks up her coffee and holds it between both her hands. “You’re not gonna sleep with either of them are you?”

Offering an amused but emphatic smile, I shake my head. “Bands break up when members get involved. Just ask Lachlan, he’ll tell you all about it.” I remember back to my first session when he went on a rant about ABBA.

“Which one’s Lachlan?”

“The bassist.”

“Shaggy blond?”

“That’s him.” I scoop some cake into my mouth.

“So…if you can’t sleep with the guys in your band, where are you getting sex?”

I almost spit cake myself. “Uh, I haven't really had time.”

“But you can sleep with any other guy around the band, right?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Because Dan Stolle is single.” She wiggles her eyebrows comically.

“Ooh nooo. That would be a terrible idea. I'd be no better than a glorified groupie.”

“Who cares? Its Dan Stolle. Just promise that if the opportunity presents itself, you'll seriously consider it.” She clasps her hands together like she’s begging.

“You realise you’re making plans for my vagina for your own personal enjoyment, right?”

“All I have is the ability to live vicariously through you. Please.”

I sit back in my chair and laugh. “Fine. If Dan Stolle tries to get in my pants, I'll let him so I can tell you all about it.”

She claps her hands and laughs while bouncing on her chair. “You’re the best friend ever.”

“So I’ve heard.” I chuckle while I roll my eyes.

“Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, take photos. Oh! And get his autograph.”

“How about I get him to FaceTime you the moment we’ve finished having sex?” I tease, trying not to laugh.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, my God. Could you do that? I would love it.”

“No!” I cackle so hard, I almost can’t breathe. “Can you imagine? That would be crazy.”

Stephanie pouts. “I think it would be awesome.”

Picking up my bag, I stand. “I’ve got to get to practice.”

“So soon?”

I lean down and give her a brief hug. “I’ll call you soon OK? We’ll catch up before I go on tour.”

“Tour.” She grins. “Oh, Nomes. I’m so fucking excited for you.”

Sliding my glasses back over my eyes, I release a happy sigh. “So am I.”

Nineteen

Marcus

“Give it back!” Naomi squeals, chasing Lachlan who’s successfully evading her by putting Theo’s drum kit between them.

“No way. I want to see what girly crap you’re going to end up making us all play,” he teases as he holds a journal out of Naomi’s reach.

“Don’t think those drums are going to save you. I can still whip you with my bow from this distance,” she warns, flicking her arm out and getting him in the shoulder.

“Ow.” He laughs, flinching away from her as she hits him repeatedly. “Ow. Stop it. All right, all right, I’ll give it back. Stop whipping me.”

He moves around the drum kit and holds the book out to her, his other hand held up in surrender. She snatches the book back and gives him one last whip for good measure.

“Hey.” He winces while rubbing his arm. “I gave it back.”

“Dude, you totally deserved that,” Jack says, laughing over the whole altercation. “You don’t mess with other people’s music journals. They’re personal.”

“It’s true, mate,” I say, not even bothering to hide my amusement. “Those things are sacred. You never look inside unless you’re invited.” Lachlan doesn’t write his own music, so he can be forgiven for not understanding. But he needs to learn.

“I get it,” he whines, still rubbing his arm as he turns to Naomi. “You’ve given me welts.”

She pokes her tongue out and shoves the book deep into her oversized bag.

“You’re writing lyrics?” I ask, moving to stand beside her.

She looks up and bounces a shoulder before she looks down at her hand, inspects one of the many callouses she’s developed from playing. Her dark lashes hide her eyes from me. She seems so small and delicate that I have to fight the urge to scoop her up in my arms and protect her from the world. How do you stop wanting a person you never got to have?

“It’s nothing. I’m just playing around.”

“Now you’ve got me interested.” I lean down a little so I can speak quietly. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” My mouth turns up in a grin. I know I’m teasing, but I can’t help it, I love making her blush. Besides, we’ll need to start collaborating since Theo’s planning on cutting us off.

“You’re incorrigible.” She laughs, glancing back up at me. But it’s there; that blush I was after is blooming across her cheeks. I guess this is what I’ve always liked about Naomi. She has this innocence about her that other girls don’t have. And I know she’s not innocent by any stretch of the imagination. It just feels that way, like she needs my protection…I don’t know. She’s special. Different.

“Seriously though, I’d love to hear what you’ve got.” I grin before nodding towards her bag.

She leans against the low shelving and tucks her hair behind ear. “Oh, they’re really nothing special. I’ve just had the melody to the song Theo’s been working on in my head and I jotted a few things down. The rest of it is all old stuff I’ve been playing around with since school, and there’s some classical themed stuff from my uni days. Normal stuff… you know?”

“Theo’s working on new music?” I try to ask without letting a frown etch my face. Why would he be writing new music if he’s leaving the band? “Is that why you stayed back last night?”

“I stayed back to make sure we were cool after our misunderstanding. And to work on my timing like I told you. Don’t doubt me, Marcus. I’ve given you no reason to.”

I lift my hand in a show of acquiescence. “My bad.” I guess I trust Theo around Naomi as much as I trust myself—not very much. “Why don’t you tell me about this song.”

“It’s from a couple weeks back. He was playing it when I got here one day, and it got caught in my head so I wrote some things down that might help.”

I nod as I press my lips together, trying to decide how much I should tell her. I’d hate for her to spend time working on a song only to have it all wasted when he leaves and refuses to hand it over. But at the same time, I don’t want to upset her balance before we go on tour. We need everyone happy and positive if we’re going to make a good impression out there.

“Maybe just focus on the tour for now?” I say instead. “There’ll be plenty of time for us to work on new music once we’re back and in the studio.” I look around and realise I’m going to need to find us a new rehearsal space. Theo won’t want us in his garage anymore. Fuck. I hadn’t thought about all this.

“I am focusing on the tour. There were just some lyrics in my head and I jotted them down. It’s no big deal.” Shit. I’ve offended her.

“They’ll be a huge deal,” I say, leaning back on the shelving next to her. “You’ve always been incredibly talented. I can’t wait to hear this new song. I bet it’ll be a fan favourite on our next EP.” When she smiles and looks down, I can tell I’ve flattered her enough to save myself. Phew. I don’t need her pissed at me too. “Hey, you never said why you left ANU. Why didn’t you finish?” I need to change the subject.

“I don’t know.” She sighs. “I guess I just lost heart. I went from being the best in our school to being just like everyone else. I wasn’t so special there. Heaps of students could play even more instruments than I can, and they could pick up the music and play even better than I can, and I guess I just got lost in it all.”

“Sounds like a bit of a shit fight.”

“It was. Everyone was vying for the same positions in the orchestra, and I realised it wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to be an instrument in the crowd. I didn’t want to fight like everyone else was. The competition just took all the fun out of it, so the moment I started to dread opening my violin case, I decided I’d had enough, and I left.”

Lachlan and Jack move closer to listen as well. It’s something we’ve all been interested in knowing, especially when the music school at the Australian National University is the best in the country. Everyone who wanted a career in music applied there. Hell, I even applied to go there, but I didn’t make it. She did.

“I know a lot of people think I wasted a great opportunity, but I just couldn’t keep doing something I wasn’t enjoying. I mean, what’s the point in getting a coveted position in Australia’s top orchestra if you’re not really into it? It’s pointless right?” she explains, looking at each of us as we all make some sort of agreeable noise. “I’m so much happier playing here. This kind of musical freedom feeds my soul.”

“I get it.” I nod.

“Me too,” Jack says.

“Well, I’m glad you dropped out, Nomes,” Lachlan adds. “Because if you’d gone on, you’d be playing the philharmonic or something and we wouldn’t be going on tour with fucking Radio Silence!”

Jack whoops, high-fiving Lachlan as Naomi and I laugh.

“Thanks guys,” she says. “I’m ridiculously excited about this tour too.”

“Speaking of the tour,” I say. “Where the hell is Theo? We need to get this rehearsal in.”

Theo

I open the door just as Marcus asks where I am. “Speak of the devil” he says. I’m not surprised to find he’s sitting right next to Naomi as they all huddle together gossiping about god only knows what. Hair products or something, knowing this lot.

“Hey Theo,” Naomi says with one of her bright, day-making smiles. Marcus is right. She is like sunshine and motherfucking rainbows. Even I feel a twitch of a smile trying to fight its way to the surface. But I squash it down and maintain my straight face. We don’t need smiles. We aren’t the Wiggles.

“All right, ladies. Let’s get this done.” I head straight for my drum kit and pick up my sticks, tossing them in the air and catching them before I sit down.

“I love that move,” Naomi says, giggling as she gets into position.

Jack sits down at his keyboard. “All business today, huh?”

“Yep. And you should be too. We’ve got less than a month to get these songs perfected if we want to make the most of this tour. I just got off the phone with the tour manager and we’re playing ten shows in three weeks. If we aren’t capable of playing this stuff together in our sleep we’re gonna end up sounding shit by the end of it. So get your arses into gear and stop your fucking gas bagging.”

“Yes, sir!” Naomi smiles, saluting me before she picks up her violin. I try to hide it, but I can’t help but crack a smile. “I knew I’d get you eventually,” she teases.

Despite my reservations, I have to admit Naomi’s been perfect for the band. She works harder than any of us—including me—and lightens the mood when it’s needed. She even has a way of making me realise I don’t have to be serious and in control all the time. In fact, I think she’s the one controlling the lot of us these days. But I trust she’s doing it because she wants us to succeed together. Otherwise, why would she be willing to quit just to keep me around? She could have easily let me go the same way Marcus did. But she stood there and fought me on it, and she was willing to sacrifice her own chance at making it just so I’d make it too. That takes guts. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it all night. I don’t think anyone has had my back like that before.

“What’s first?” Marcus asks, shooting a look my way.

“Can we do It’s a Crime?” Jack suggests. “I need to loosen my fingers up a bit.”

“Sure,” I say. “We’ll run through the set we played at the Recital Centre. But when we’re finished, I want you all to stick around. We’ll order pizza and hash out our set lists for the tour. We’ll try to get something that transitions perfectly.”

“That sounds amazing,” Naomi says.

“Yeah.” Marcus frowns. “Who are you, and what did you do to my brother? You normally bang this stuff together on your own.”

“I’d like everyone’s input,” I explain.

“We’re playin’ with the big boys now,” Lachlan says, plucking out a beat on his bass. “Our man’s just steppin’ up our game.”

I never thought I’d see the day when Lachlan was the one who understood me. But here we are. Perhaps it’s because the guy always sees the positive side of things, and I’m actually feeling good about this tour this morning. Actually, I woke up feeling better about a lot of things this morning. And as long as I can keep my focus on the music, it should stay that way.

Twenty

Marcus

I could do with a break and we haven’t even hit the road yet. After a month of pain-staking preparation, we’re packed and ready to travel. Each of us is capable of farting in tune now. We’re as good as we’re gonna get, and I’m already feeling a little melancholy over the fact Theo is leaving at the end of this. I feel like this last few weeks has made us such a cohesive unit that replacing him will be nearly impossible. Plus, the guy is my brother. I’m really gonna miss that bastard.

“To new beginnings,” I say as I lock up the studio, walking away from it for the last time. We’ve shared so many memories here over the years. We spent an entire weekend soundproofing it when the neighbours complained. Then we played about a hundred shitty pub gigs to pay for our recording and mixing equipment. Besides letting years of work go, there’s history here. I think I was wrong to say the band could survive without him. And now the damage is done.

“Can I say something before we get in the van?” Naomi asks as the others throw their duffle bags in the back.

“Only if we get to stand in a circle, then yell ‘go team’ at the end of it,” Jack says, holding his hand out in front of him. The rest of us laugh and gather around, stacking our hands one on the other until Naomi’s is on the top. Touching Theo’s. I will not growl. I will not growl.

“I’m so incredibly proud of us,” she starts, grinning like the pretty blonde angel she is. “When you think back to what we were in high school to what we’ve become now, we’ve grown so much and accomplished more than pretty much everyone we knew. I know in my heart that we’re going to blow the socks of everyone we play for over these next few weeks. Radio Silence’s audience is enormous, and if we can convince a tenth of them to give us another shot, all this work we’ve been doing is going to pay off in spades. I guess what I’m really saying here, is that I believe in us. This is our moment, guys. The start of something new and amazing. And if we can all promise to keep each other grounded and professional as this thing blows up, we could be doing this as our actual jobs for the rest of our lives. How cool would that be?” She looks around the circle of bobbing heads while my eyes find Theo’s and I offer a small smile. I need to try to convince him to stay.

“Can we yell ‘go team’ now?” Lachlan asks.

“Not yet,” Theo says. “I want to add something, because I’m proud of us too. I might not seem like I’m happy about it most of the time but being in this band has been the highlight of my life so far. I fucking love you arseholes, and no matter how big or small we become when this tour is over, I want you all to know that I see you as family, and I don’t regret any of it.”

“Jesus, mate. Who cut your dick off and gave you a pussy?” Jack teases, rubbing his free hand on top of Theo’s head and messing up his hair.

“Fuck off, douchebag. It’s the one and only time I’m saying anything nice to you cunts.”

“Aww, come on, guys,” Naomi says. “There’s a lady present.”

“I’m still waiting for the ‘go team’ part,” Lachlan says.

“On three,” I say, and we count it out. “One, two, three. Go team.”

There’s some friendly backslapping as everyone jumps into the van, chatting and joking around as the excitement builds. I really want to be excited with them, but I find myself taking another look back at Theo’s place while wondering how I’m going to salvage what’s left of our relationship. Or if there’s even a relationship left to salvage at all. We started here as an idea between brothers and we’re ending as a band on tour around the country, playing in every big venue there is. It’s a huge leap, and it’s one Theo and I have taken together. This can’t be goodbye.

“Fuck.” I rub my hand over my head, taking in the enormity of what we’re about to do. Radio motherfucking Silence has asked us to tour with them. All things aside—holy shit.

If you don’t know who Radio Silence is, you must have been living under a rock for the good part of ten years. Most days, you can’t make it through a day without hearing one of their songs. You’ll hear them on TV, in movie soundtracks, on the radio. Hell, you’ll even hear them in the freaking supermarket or while you’re standing in a lift. They’re that popular.

They started off as a little indie rock band in England, some place called Gloucester. I have no idea where that is because I’ve never been there, but the whole point is, they’re kind of like us. They produced their own album, played as many shows and festivals as they could and finally got noticed when their song, Vagabond, caught on.

For a while, that’s all their fans wanted to hear and eventually, they refused to play it. Dan Stolle, the band’s front man and song writer, said he always hated the song and couldn’t stand playing it anymore. Right now, they’re on their tenth world tour and all reports are saying they’re playing the song again. Fans are going mad, tickets have been sold out for months. Extra shows were scheduled, and they sold out too. It’s epic, to say the least. And we’re a part of that. Us.

I’m confident on stage, but this is next-level stuff. When I think about standing on that stage, in front of their audience, it frightens the hell out of me. What if they hate us?

I remember going to a concert a few years ago. It was a pretty well-known band, but the supporting act was just horrible. They did this weird thing where they ran around the stage, fluttering their hands at their sides while ‘Flight Of The Bumblebees’ played. We all sat in stunned silence, wondering what the hell was going on and when they stopped, a member of the audience yelled out ‘You Suck!’

They gave him the finger and played a song that had little musicality to it while they wailed indecipherable lyrics. When they finished, it was like they were playing to a stadium full of fucking crickets. Not one person applauded. On top of that, the same audience member yelled out, “You still suck!”

Then the band started swearing at the audience, every one of us roared with laughter. Next thing we knew, the lead singer kicked over the microphone stand and the lot of them walked off the stage without finishing their set.

At the time, I remember laughing. I remember re-telling the story and laughing with people again and again. Now though, I think about that band, knowing exactly how exciting it is to be the supporting act for a big-name band and feel fear creep through me. What if we become that band? What if we get booed off the stage?

“Oi Marcus. Get your arse in the van,” Lachlan calls out. “The plane isn’t gonna wait for your day-dreaming arse.”

One more look before I say goodbye to this old life and hello to whatever happens next. Fuck. I’m nervous. I’m never nervous. I jump in the back seat, Lachlan on one side and Naomi in the middle spot, and I blow out a charged breath.

“All good?” she asks as I clip my seatbelt.

I place my hand on hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah. I’m ok.” The warmth of her small hand in mine comforts me, so I don’t let go. Something about Naomi feels like home to me. I guess that’s why I’ve always been so careful with her. I didn’t want to ruin this… thing we have by getting involved.

As our journey starts, I leave my hand on hers, and she doesn’t take hers away, holding my hand until we arrive at the airport.

Twenty-One

Naomi

“Is it bad that I’m nervous already?” I ask Theo, who’s sitting in the seat next to me. I’m in the middle of the row and he’s in the aisle seat. Lucky for him, because he’s much too tall to fit comfortably against the window or the middle where I am. Some random person who is pretending we don’t exist was the lucky one to snag the window seat.

The other three are five rows in front of us in the seats just near the emergency exit. That’s where there’s the most leg room. Theo, who is still over six feet tall, is the shortest of the group, so he volunteered to keep me company. He still looks slightly squished up though. Luckily this flight isn’t very long. We’re only travelling from Sydney to Brisbane.

“Give it half an hour,” he says to me. “Your nerves will give way to boredom soon enough.”

Theo pulls out his phone and takes it offline before plugging a set of AirPods into his ears. My eyes stray to his playlist as he thumbs through the songs. I notice an eclectic mix of rock, metal, and alternative music. Some of it I know, some of it I haven’t heard before. But from the looks of things, we have very similar taste.

He stops on Aiden Price’s I Recall. It’s one of my favourite songs by an artist I’ve loved since Theo was Aramis. We’d spoken of the Irishman’s music often, loving the passion and moments of cheekiness in his lyrics. “You wanna listen?” He holds out an earpiece.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to get my ear gunk on your headphones,” I explain, causing a deep belly laugh to rumble out of him. It sends chills through me, starting at my chest and working its way in ripples until I’m sure I feel a tingle in my fingertips and toes, and I guess maybe somewhere else too…

“I can deal with your ear gunk.” He smiles, offering it to me again. This time I accept it, plugging it into my ear as he presses play and adjusts the volume.

“I’m still working on those lyrics,” he says when the chorus leads into the second verse.

“I’m not surprised. We’ve been so busy, I forgot to tell you I jotted a few ideas down.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “You said you wanted that second verse to say something about open windows and rain. I may have gotten a little carried away, but when we get to the hotel, I can show them to you if you like. My notebook is packed with my luggage.”

“I’d like.” He smiles, and my chest feels like it’s turning somersaults. When we were in high school, we would share our thoughts on our compositions all the time. I can’t begin to explain how wonderful it is to get back to that.

“I’ve missed this,” I say, resting my head on the padded chair.

“Flying economy on a fight that charges ten bucks for a cup of coffee?”

Giggling a little, I shake my head. “Collaborating.”

He meets my eyes for a moment, and one side of his mouth twitches. “I still have some of our old stuff in a notebook somewhere.”

“Yeah? I’d love to see it sometime. I’m sure it’s terrible now, but you never know.”

“We could have a forgotten hit.”

I smile to myself, reminiscing over our old song writing sessions. “You haven’t told Marcus you’re staying with the band, have you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because he’s being careful about how he talks about the future. And when he looks at you, he’s sad.”

Theo frowns like he doesn't believe me. “He’s sad?”

I nod. “You might be shocked to hear it, but he has feelings. And he cares about you. It might help him if you ease his mind a little.” When I notice his brow knit a little tighter, I study his expression. “Unless it was me you lied to?”

He turns to me quickly, his eyes flashing with offence. “I didn’t lie to you. I’m staying.”

“Then why aren't you telling him?”

“Because I need him to take this seriously. If he thinks I’m leaving, he’s going to party less, so he impresses more.”

“What if he cracks under the pressure?”

“He won’t. Marcus does whatever he needs to help Marcus. He’ll give Jim Morrison a run for his money.”

“Jim Morrison was a drug addict and a drunk.”

“And a fantastic performer. Just watch, and you’ll see. Marcus is a changed man when he’s on edge. If I tell him I’m staying too soon, he’ll relax and become complacent. Trust me on this.”

“OK. But I want to go on the record in saying I don’t like this. It feels dishonest.”

“It’s what’s best for the band.”

“And you’re all about doing what’s best for the band.”

“Since the day it started.”

Obviously done with our conversation, Theo rests his head back and closes his eyes. So I remove the bud from my ear, and pull my replacement Kindle out of my bag and power it up, ready to lose myself in the world of romance for the next hour. It’s always been my favourite genre. Full of hope, and stories of redemption. I think more people should crack open a good romance more often.

“What’s that? A tablet?” Theo asks, his eyes now open as he watches what I’m doing.

“It’s an ereader,” I inform him.

“You like reading?”

“Yeah, I love it. And this means I can carry a whole library full of books with me.”

“Yeah? What are you reading now?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know.” I laugh, waving my hand at him in an attempt to cancel out the subject, most people tease me over my genre choice.

“Tell me. I’m interested.”

“It’s a romance. I love everything about them,” I admit, feeling a little defensive.

“There’s nothing wrong with romance. I’d have a bigger issue if you said you were reading War and Peace. No one really likes that book, they just say they do to impress people.”

I can’t help but laugh at the image of some uni students I’ve seen lugging around that giant thing trying to look cultured while reading it.

“Will you read to me?” he asks, pulling the bud of the earphone out and stopping the music.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. We’re going to be travelling a lot, we’ll have plenty of time to read a book or two. Why don’t you pick a book and read it out to me?”

“Um… alright.” I scroll through my library, trying to find a book that doesn’t skirt the line between romance and erotica. I’m sure I’ve got some clean romance on here… “Oh, here,” I say when I find one. “I’ve had this one downloaded for a while now. It got really great reviews. It’s about a girl who’s really spoilt and ends up getting in trouble and having to redeem herself through community service. Sounds kind of boring when I try to sell it like that. But I’m sure there are some good life lessons in there.”

“And this is the plot of a romance?” he asks, brows raised.

I nod, tapping the screen to open the book. “Romance can be about anything as long as there’s a love story and a happily ever after.”

“Is that a rule?”

“The happily ever after? Yeah. The whole point of them is knowing that no matter how hard things get, everything will turn out OK for the main couple.”

“I like that.”

“Are you ready?”

He nods. “Read away.”

The story opens with a bunch of rich brats having a party and doing drugs like it’s the normal thing to do.

“See I don’t get that,” Theo says when I pause. “Why is it, just because you’ve got more money than you can possibly spend, that you go and ruin your life with drugs? It’s just stupid as far as I’m concerned.”

“Do you want me to pick another book? I’ve got heaps.”

“No, no. This is fine. I just hate drugs is all. Keep going, I like listening to your voice.”

We exchange a brief look and a smile as he leans on the armrest between us, his head on his hand and he positions himself so he can see the words on the screen as well. When I look at him, I have this great urge to hug him. So I do. I can’t help myself. It’s a little awkward because we’re sitting next to each other, and I think I’ve shocked him a little so I only hug him briefly, but he hugs me back and I hear him release his breath in a low sigh.

“What was that about?” he asks as I sit back and pick up my Kindle again.

“It’s just nice to know that the boy I used to know is still in there somewhere. I’ve missed you and your view of the world, Aramis,” I tell him fondly.

He chuckles a little. “Just call me Theo now. But thanks, I guess I’ve missed you too. You were kind of the light to my dark,” he admits, and my heart does this little skitter thing across my chest.

“You should write that down you know.”

“Which part?”

“The light to my dark. It sounds like something you could use in a song.”

He nods. “Yeah. That could be what I’ve missed,” he says, more to himself than to me. He opens the notes on his phone and writes the lyrics on the screen. I can’t wait to see what he turns those few words into. “All right, keep going.” He nods towards my ereader.

It’s gone to sleep now, so I press it on again and resume the story, sneaking glances at him now and then to check that he’s still listening and doesn’t look too bored. All the while, I’m thanking the cosmos for returning my friend to me. Even if he’s a slightly gruffer version of who he was before.

By the time we land, we’re about ten chapters in, the main character has just started her community service helping impoverished kids and the guy who’s being her love interest is giving her a hard time for being so spoilt all her life. She thinks he hates her, but you can tell there’s more to it than that.

When we stand up to disembark from the flight, I stash my kindle back inside my bag, sliding it on my shoulder.

“I hope you’re going to finish reading that to me. If I don’t find out why Ethan’s got it in for Kasey, I might lose my will to live,” he jokes as he steps out into the aisle, blocking the path of other passengers as he lets me out in front of him.

“You don’t have to listen to it if it’s boring you,” I state, talking to him over my shoulder as I slowly move towards the exit.

“No, I like it. I really do want to know what happens,” he assures me, his voice soft and low as he leans towards me and speaks so only I can hear. “I meant it when I said I like listening to your voice.” There’s something about Theo, the rumble of his laugh, the deep tone of his voice, it’s like a caress, gently running down my spine, causing my skin to prickle with goose bumps.

“Then you’ll need to make sure you’re always sitting next to me.”

Marcus

Rising from my seat, I get ready to exit the plane. I can’t wait to get out and stretch my legs. I’m not big on sitting still for long periods of time, preferring to be active and moving. I rarely go to a movie because of it.

“How long do you reckon it’ll take to get to the hotel?” Lachlan asks. “I’m fucking sick of travellin’ already.”

“I just wanna get our bags and get out of here,” Jack grunts, twisting his head so his neck cracks. “I need a smoke.”

“I think it’s maybe half hour from here to where we’re staying,” I say. “Theo has the...” I stop talking when I glance back to where Theo and Naomi were sitting, my stomach bottoming out. I’ve been around enough women to not like the way she’s smiling up at him. Her cheeks are flushed and her focus is entirely on him. Even sourpuss Theo is looking like the cat who got the cream as he leans in and says something in her ear. Fuck. I knew I should have insisted I sit with her. I knew Theo couldn’t be trusted. She laughs at whatever he said, touching her hand briefly to his chest. Am I growling?

“We’re moving,” Jack says, nudging my shoulder.

Shifting my attention between the exit and my brother, I can’t make my feet move. “We’ll wait for the others,” I say, blocking them in. Theo laughs. I hear it. And it’s so foreign to my ears that it feels all wrong. When did he get so happy?

Not when. Why. He’s fucking flirting with her. And she’s loving it.

“Hey guys.” Naomi smiles as she pauses to let us out. “How was your flight?”

“Long,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “And yours?”

Her grin gets wider. “I’m reading a great book. So, yeah, it was good.” I spot Theo’s head bounce with a burst of amusement. They have inside jokes now?

“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” I say, shooting a glare at my brother. “Ladies first.” I gesture for her to go ahead of me then slide between her and Theo, pausing to let Lachlan and Jack out as well.

“I know what you’re doing,” I state over my shoulder.

“What’s that, Marcus?” Theo’s voice hardens with each word, any sort of lightness displayed with Naomi seems lost.

“As if you don’t know.” I close my eyes for a split second, still assaulted by the mental image of him practically putting his tongue in her ear. The way she smiled, touched him. Breathing through my nose, I hang back a little more, blocking his progression and letting out other passengers. It gives us a bigger gap between Naomi, Lachlan and Jack.

“I really don’t.” He gives me a smile like he feels sorry for me. Fucking arse. Just because he’s quitting, doesn’t mean the rules don’t apply.

“You were flirting with her,” I say through gritted teeth.

He swipes a hand across his mouth and laughs at me. “I was talking to her like a human being. You should try it sometime.”

“I talk to her like a human being.”

“You talk to her like a woman you want to fuck. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah? Well, you look at her like she’s a woman you want to fuck.”

“We get along, Marcus. We always have. I’m just being nice.”

“You don’t do nice.”

“Sure I do. Just not with you.”

“Whatever, brother. The band rules still apply, even if you plan on ditching us.”

“I’ll take your concerns on board, frontman. You are the all-important talent here.”

“Don’t mock me. I said that shit in the heat of the moment. You know this band would be nothing without you.” When he doesn’t shoot off a comeback right away, I glance back, finding him stunned. I’ve never admitted that to him before. “Don’t let it go to your head, Theo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Marcus.”

As we exit the plane, the other three are waiting for us outside the gate. And I’m sure to put myself between Theo and Naomi as we head as a group towards the luggage carousel. That plan doesn’t work so great when Naomi breaks off and says she needs to visit the ladies. Theo is the first to say he’ll wait for her.

“We’ll catch up to you,” he says to the rest of us as he reaches out and takes Naomi’s backpack before placing a hand on her lower back. Shit. Fuck. I take it all back. The band doesn’t need him. I don’t want him to stay. He’s moving in on my girl when we all promised not to chase her.

“You OK, mate?” Jack asks as I rubberneck beside him.

“I’m fine. Why would anything be wrong?” I can hear my voice; it’s coming out high and overly enthusiastic. I have to stop myself from visibly wincing when I’m met with odd looks.

“Err. No reason.” Jack frowns and exchanges glances with Lachlan. “But I’m sure they’re OK. Theo’s watching her.”

“Yeah,” I say quickly, even though that’s exactly what I’m worried about.

Gathering some trolleys, we load one of them up with our luggage then head over to the oversized pickup area to get our instruments. That’s when Theo and Naomi rock up. Finally.

And they’re happy again. Great.

“Why don’t you supervise this while Nomes and I sort out the hire cars?” I say to Theo, grabbing Naomi by the hand before I can even get an answer.

“Wait. Do you have the booking number?” he calls out.

“Of course. It’s all in the email on my phone. We were all cc’d.”

“I actually have it too,” Naomi says.

He looks between me and Naomi, at the way I’m holding her hand. His expression darkens. “Sure. We’ll meet you outside.” He waves us away and I hear Jack groaning about how he wants to go outside and smoke.

I drop Naomi’s hand and sling my arm around her shoulder instead. “First leg, Nomes. How cool is this?”

“I know. I’m dying of excitement, nervous about making a good impression, and pinching myself because it doesn’t feel real.” We join the short cue at the hire car counter.

“Tell me about it. Did you and Theo get to talk much during the flight?” That question didn’t seem too telling did it? I’m trying to appear like I’m just making polite conversation, but I have this great need to know what’s happening between them. And the smile that plays on her lips causes my gut to twist.

“We did. And it was almost like old times again. He’s really mellowed out this past few weeks. I feel like I’m getting my friend back.”

“That’s great. That’s great.” Now I wish they’d never sorted it out. I knew this would happen when I told him the truth. But I couldn’t say no to her. I like her too much to be that much of a jerk. “What’d you guys talk about?”

“The band, the tour. Nothing terribly exciting,” she explains as she reaches up and pulls her hair away from her face, securing it in a messy bun with her hair elastic. “How about you guys? Anything interesting to report?”

“Not really. Lachlan was pissed there was no inflight entertainment, so he slept most of it. And Jack was on edge the entire time, rapidly chewing Nicorette and asking when we landed.”

“That’s funny. Theo smokes more than Jack and he was fine.”

“I think Jack’s problem was being without the freedom to smoke. That’s what gets to him most.”

When it’s our turn at the counter, I’m happy to stand back and let Naomi do all the talking to sort out our van. It gives me the chance to look at her without seeming creepy. Or maybe it’s still creepy, I don’t know. I just know that I’m torn. I want to do right by the band. But I also really want Naomi. And that feeling has only grown more intense spending so much time together prepping for this tour.

Since Theo made his decision to leave, things have been more cohesive between the band members. I don’t know if that’s because he’s looking at this as the last chance he’ll have to enjoy his hard work, or if he’s calmed down now that he knows I never touched Naomi. Either way, I feel like we’re all friends again, kind of like how we were back in high school before I was a dick and ruined things. And I’m trying hard not to ruin things again. But I’m struggling. Especially now that Theo is acting like a different person around her. She says it’s like she has her friend back, but she seems to be forgetting he was in love with her back then. Just like I am now.

Shit. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s why I’m climbing the walls every time I see Theo smiling at her. Why I’m torn between asking him to reconsider leaving and letting him go. I’ve fallen for the girl.

Or maybe that’s how it always was? I’ve never been jealous of my brother before, but I’ve always been jealous around her. Shit. This makes things way more difficult.

If I was a good brother, I’d back off. There are plenty of girls out there. Ones I won’t have to fight Theo for. Problem is, none of them are Naomi.

And I’m not a good brother.

Twenty-Two

Naomi

“Naomi.” A gentle voice pulls at my consciousness. I slowly stir and open my eyes.

“I was asleep?”

Marcus’s mouth kicks up on one side, and I realise I’m practically lying across him in the car’s backseat. “You were also drooling.”

“Oh, god.” I sit bolt upright, pulling my legs from his lap as I wipe at my face. How embarrassing.

“Relax. You’re still gorgeous.” He chuckles as he opens the car door. “Come on. Let’s get this stuff up to our rooms before we have to get on the road again.”

“Again?” Taking the hand he holds out, I exit the car and stretch my arms above my head, yawning. “Why?”

“Sound check,” Jack explains. No rest for the wicked.

Marcus moves to help Jack unload the boot, and I move to grab a luggage trolley to help us haul everyone’s bags inside. Theo and Lachlan have detoured to the venue to drop off our equipment and talk through the soundboard setup with the tour team. I was happy to ride along with them, but Theo only wanted Lachlan with him. I guess he wanted brawn over beauty.

“We have an hour to settle in,” Marcus says, dropping duffle bags and a guitar case on the trolley. “Then we have our sound check booked in. And Theo wants to run a set rehearsal to make sure everything’s working fine. He worries something could get damaged in transit, he likes to prep for all contingencies. It’s what he does. He’s a bit of a control freak.”

“Yeah, but if he wasn’t, we’d be giving a cut of our profits to managers and agents or whatever,” Jack says, slamming the boot shut and pocketing the keys. “Better someone who has the band’s interests in mind more than they want the money.” The more involved I get with the inner workings of the band, the more I realise how intrinsic Theo’s involvement is. I have no idea what possessed Marcus to think he could just ditch his brother and do all of this himself. He doesn’t have the mind for the business side of things like Theo does. These guys are a team, and I need Marcus to get his head out of his arse and see his brother for the backbone of the band he is.

“Theo takes on a lot of work,” I comment, my purpose is giving Marcus a gentle reminder. “He manages, he organises, he writes. Is that why he plays drums now? To take some pressure off?”

“He used to play the keyboard when we first started the band,” Marcus explains. “But when we lost our first drummer, he took over and stayed there because it was easier to find someone for keyboards than it was to find a drummer that would actually show up and keep the right beat.”

“That’s when I joined.” Jack raises his hand before he lights a cigarette, needing his fix before we’re trapped inside again.

“I imagine he’s got a lot more on his plate than the rest of us. I feel kind of bad for taking an equal cut. Maybe he should be paid a manager’s percentage on top of his cut?”

I look between them. Marcus blows out some air and Jack bounces a shoulder.

“To be honest with you,” Jack starts, releasing his lungful of smoke. “I’ve never thought he was paid enough for what he does.”

“Theo is the one who made the decision to do an equal cut,” Marcus says.

“Why would he do that?” I ask.

“Because he’s Theo. He gives. He doesn’t take. Plus, he read a biography on Queen and they had a bunch of drama over royalties. They ended up taking an equal cut because Queen didn’t exist without each member.”

“Yeah, but Queen didn’t book and manage their own gigs,” I say.

He shrugs. “You’d have to talk to Theo about it.”

“And maybe we could discuss breaking the work up so he’s not doing it all alone?” I suggest. “If he wants everything equal, that should go for the load too.”

Marcus grins. “You’re a good person, Nomes.”

“Does that mean yes?”

He nods. “Yeah. I think taking a more active role in our band’s success and inner workings will be good for all of us.”

I grin, releasing a happy sigh. I’m getting through to him.

“Hey, did you ever tell her about the bassist before Lachlan?” Jack asks, stubbing his cigarette out on the footpath.

“Dude, why would you even bring that up?” Marcus frowns at Jack like he’s got two heads.

“Relevance,” Jack says, placing his hands on the gold bars to push the trolley and our luggage into the hotel.

“To what?” I ask. Although I’d be interested in this story if it had nothing to do with Theo taking on the brunt of the work.

“The reason Theo runs the band.” The automatic doors open and a burst of cool air conditioning washes over us as we enter the lobby.

“Jesus. I don’t even wanna talk about this,” Marcus says, pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna check us in and get our keys. Hopefully this story will be over when I get back.” He walks off, and I instantly turn to Jack with keen eyes.

“What happened?”

“It was this chick called Andrea,” he says, stopping not far from the elevator bay while we wait on Marcus.

“Andrea? Did she go to our school?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. She was a bit of a random. I’m not actually sure how he met her.”

“He?”

“Marcus. He’s the one who recruited her.”

“Why did she leave?”

“She didn’t leave. She was kicked out because she was shit. She fucked up left, right, and centre. Nearly destroyed the whole band. I’m pretty sure she was only in the band in the first place because she was fucking Marcus.”

“Shut the fuck up man,” Marcus says from behind us. He’s holding an envelope that I’m assuming has the key cards for our rooms inside. We didn’t even hear him coming up. “You only overlapped with her for a couple of months and came in at the tail end of it. Quit talking about shit you know nothing about.” Marcus glares at Jack, who just rolls his eyes, ignoring the outburst and continuing on regardless.

“She totally fucked up this gig she was in charge of because she was too off her face to function properly. Then on the night of the gig, she could barely play. Theo cracked it, kicked her out, then brought Lachlan in. End of story. But it made Theo take over and create a bunch of ground rules. The biggest being no drugs or we’re out, and we’re not allowed to involve our girlfriends in band business.”

“That’s fair enough,” I say, pressing the button on the wall to call the elevator. “Theo’s always been anti-drugs. Besides, I don’t think I’d want to be in a band mixed up in any of that shit. And I do appreciate that there’re no hangers on at rehearsals. I think it’s made you guys really professional.”

“Don’t tell Theo any of that,” Marcus says as the lift arrives and we load ourselves and the trolley on. “He’ll get a big head.”

“I think he could probably do with a little acknowledgement, Marcus. How else is he going to feel comfortable letting us help him?”

He sighs as he scans the key card and hits the button for our floor. “You’re right. I need to give the guy more credit.”

I lean in and loop my arm though his, giving him a slight squeeze. “I just want to see you two getting along again.”

He laughs. “You sound like my mother.”

“So, I hear,” I say, smiling to myself as I release his arm then watch the numbers on the readout change. I’m already feeling great about the direction our band is heading in. This tour can only bring us all closer, like family.

“I’ll bet Radio Silence doesn’t have to lug their own bags around,” Jack complains when the lift doors open and the trolley gets stuck in the groove. They push and grunt and have to heft the whole thing across the threshold before it’s free.

“Well, we’re not Radio Silence,” Marcus points out, handing Jack the key to his and Lachlan’s room.

“I bet they don’t have to share rooms either,” he mutters.

“Lucky me,” I tease, waving my card in the air. Since I’m the only girl, I have my own room.

“I’ll trade,” Jack says. “Lachlan farts and talks in his sleep. It’s all kinds of wrong.”

“I think I’ll pass.” I laugh, moving along the hall to open my door, feeling surprised that Marcus doesn’t even make a cheeky comment about sharing with me instead of Theo. Maybe he’s finally taking the band rules seriously?

We’re all situated either across or next to each other. So, we set the luggage cart in the middle of the hall and open up all the doors, depositing the correct bags in the correct rooms.

Each room has one or two double beds, and a low-line cupboard spanning the longest wall. On that are the TV, a water jug and supplies for making tea or coffee. Built into it is a minibar, and at the very end is a narrow wardrobe. There’s also a bathroom, and a small sitting area with a couch and coffee table.

Once I’m alone, I haul my suitcase onto the bed, pulling out some of my things, hanging them in the cupboard provided.

A few minutes later, a light tapping sound comes from my door, just before it opens. Marcus walks in, holding my key card in front of him. “You might want this,” he says, waving it at me before placing it in my hand.

“Thank you. I didn’t realise I dropped it.” His hair is damp and he’s changed his clothes from the ones he was wearing on the flight here. I inhale, smelling the scent of soap as it drifts off his warm skin. I can’t help but let out a little hum.

“I found it on the floor in my room. It must’ve fallen out of your pocket while we were distributing bags.”

“Lucky you found it. I would’ve been locked out.”

“No worries. What do you think of the room?” He takes a quick look around then flops down on my bed, next to my open suitcase.

“Yeah, it’s nice enough,” I say, as I continue to unpack my things. When I turn around, Marcus is holding my purple silk and black lace bra off the tip of his finger.

“Got a thing for purple, huh?” I take back the part where I thought he was taking the band rules seriously.

“That’s not for you.” I reach out and snatch it from his hand, giving him my best unimpressed look.

“Hey, it’s nice. Who’s the lucky guy?”

I grab the rest of my undergarments and stuff them into a drawer so they’re out of his reach and sight.

“There is no lucky guy. You should know that. I don’t do what you do. I have this thing called standards. And self-respect.”

“And what is it I do?”

“Fuck every girl on two legs who bats her eyes at you.” I fold my arms over my chest and wait for some sort of smart arse retort.

“Maybe I’m trying to keep busy until I can have the girl I really want. Have you ever thought that?” He gets off the bed and moves over to where I’m standing, stopping directly in front of me, only inches away from my face. He’s not an easy man to resist.

“You can’t have the girl you want, Marcus.” Lucky I have a lot of practice around him. “I believe in the band rules. I’m not available.”

He reaches up and brushes his knuckles along my jaw, sending delightful shivers beneath my skin. “One day the stars will align, Naomi. I will have you.”

His closeness makes me heady, makes my fingertips itch to reach out and touch him. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. Even still, I lift my hands slightly, feeling momentarily brave or foolish – I’m not sure which one. But instead of reaching for him, I reach back and grip the edge of the bench top, turning my head to break eye contact. “You need to stop doing this. It isn’t helping.”

“I’m just reminding you that I’m still here. Still waiting. Never giving up.” He steps back slightly and lifts his other hand, a pair of black lace panties hanging from his middle finger. “You missed a pair.”

“Jesus christ.” I snatch them back and ball them in my hand. “What is wrong with you?”

“You know exactly what’s wrong with me.” His eyes sparkle amusedly, loving that he can make me blush like an innocent little schoolgirl. He does it on purpose, I know it.

“Yeah. You’re not getting what you want.”

“You’re right.” He leans in even closer and inhales. “It’s right here. But it isn’t mine to take.” I feel his warm breath caressing my neck as he releases it, his mouth right beside my ear. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Marcus. I… I need to finish unpacking.”

“You might want to take a shower too,” he murmurs, withdrawing from my space. “You kind of stink.”

My eyes—which had fluttered closed—suddenly fly open, my mouth along with it as I let out a shocked gasp. “Well don’t sniff me,” I yelp, shoving him away as he chuckles, seemingly delighted with my reaction. “Get out!” I throw the only thing I have in my hand at him in a huff as he moves towards the door.

He catches the underwear. Shit. I didn’t think that through. “I’m keeping these by the way. You’re the first girl to throw her panties at me.”

“No. Give them back.”

“Never.” He laughs, quickly opening the door and exiting. By the time I throw it open, he’s already across the hall.

“I wouldn’t let that door shut if I were you,” he warns. “You’re key is still on the table inside.” I freeze with my foot jammed against the door.

“Shit,” I hiss, balling my hands at my side, feeling defeated as Marcus laughs at me again and spins my panties around his finger, looking mightily impressed with himself.

“You’re an arsehole.”

With a wink, he shuts the door, knowing he’s won.

“Jerk!” I slam my door, but when I turn around, I’m smiling.

Every day I spend around him reminds me why I’ve always liked him so much, why I’ve always loved being in his presence. He’s fun, he’s spontaneous, and never afraid to say or do something. Sure, he can be a total jerk, but he’s also one of the most genuine people I know. You just need to learn how to read him right. He behaves the way he does because without hordes of attention; he feels worthless. Although, I could do with him dialling back the sexual tension a touch, I don’t think I brought enough panties to deal with too many of his charged encounters.

Twenty-Three

Theo

“Ok ladies, we need to do Controlled by Longing from the top. The sound is off,” I say, wanting to give it one last shot to get our board right. Everyone’s exhausted from the long trip and struggling to give it their all, but we only have a couple of days until the show, and I don’t want to leave anything to chance. Our timing and instruments need to be perfect. Our sense of space on the stage, and our sound levels need to be perfect too.

“Again?” Lachlan complains. “I just wanna go back and take a shower, man.”

“And you can,” I say. “When we get this right.”

He groans, but he doesn’t complain again. I get that he’s tired, hell, I’m tired too. But if we fuck this opportunity up because we chose to shower and nap instead of practicing, we may as well pack up and go home now.

“Is it the instruments or the sound setup causing the problem?” Jack asks.

“The setup. It sounds tinny.”

Jack nods then sprints up to the sound guys and has a quiet conversation. I know I’m being really particular about this stuff, but I’m not here to be anything less than perfect. We have a standard to uphold.

“Are Erica and Amy going to be here?” Naomi asks while we wait.

Our stage set up follows a V-shape. I’m in back with Naomi ahead on my right. On my left is Jack and his keyboards, and ahead of him is Lachlan on bass. Marcus, of course, is front and centre. That way he can move around and interact with everyone as necessary.

“They’ll be here. I gave them our comp tickets. They’re driving up tomorrow.”

“I’ll bet they’re glad they followed you guys.”

“You’re one of us now too. Don’t forget that.” She smiles and gives me a small nod. Then Jack comes running back onto the stage, wheezing a little because he’s been smoking like a chimney instead of breathing fresh air.

“Should be good now,” he says.

“Controlled by Longing from the top.” Marcus turns around and everyone nods.

I count us in, closing my eyes and listening to each note played, and each word sung so I can confer with the sound guy afterward.

I can’t control this feeling

I’m about to raze it to the ground

I need you to stop me,

I need your gentle calm,

I don’t want your words,

Just the cool touch of your palm

Lie with me

Wrap me in your arms

Despite our exhausted state, we’re playing well. I guess we’re all at a stage where we can do this in our sleep. We know that if we fuck around, we could lose our chance at becoming more than a garage band who records all of their own stuff.

Honestly, I’d love to get picked up by a label, or to have someone else manage it. The time and energy I put into this band is huge. It’s my entire focus. While I love doing it, and love that we’re getting some success out of it, it would be nice to have someone else pick up the slack, so I can actually enjoy some fun of the band instead of feeling like I’m everybody’s Nazi dad. Things need to change…

When the last notes are played, our attention is pulled to the floor where a loud clapping echoes through the room.

The lights are trained on the stage, the floor cast in shadow. It’s difficult to see who’s out there, but as the figure approaches we know exactly who it is.

“Sounding great guys,” Dan Stolle, the front man for Radio Silence says, his English accent sounding out of place in this Aussie setting as he climbs onto the stage.

We all thank him, beaming like a bunch of groupies. This is so cool seeing someone like him in the flesh. He represents the few who’ve truly made it in this industry, and to have him walk up and tell us we’re great is something else. He even shakes each of our hands, complimenting us individually on our playing so we know he payed attention. But then he pays special attention to Naomi….

“You, sweetheart, are the reason we said yes to having Matiari support us on this tour. I have to say, I love what you do with that fiddle of yours. It’s seriously making me think of adding strings to our next album.”

“Really?” She giggles. Giggles. She fucking giggles. She keeps a hold of his hand, smiles wider than I’ve ever seen her and she giggles. Great. What chance do I have now? Not that I’m supposed to be getting any chances.

“Really. You impress me, doll.” He lifts her hand to his lips, and the energy of the room changes. We quit being star struck and encroach like a pack of wolves protecting their female. Don’t you dare touch her. Feelings aside, Naomi is one of ours. And guys like Dan Stolle don’t get to swoop in and charm her away from us.

“Thank you,” Naomi sighs.

“We’ll need to talk some more during the tour. I’ll show you a few tracks and maybe you can share some ideas about what you’d add to my sound.”

“Seriously?” She gasps. And now I want to punch him because I think he just offered her a fucking job. Right in front of us. Stay in the band, Theo. It doesn’t exist for me without you, Theo. Until Dan Stolle comes along and wants you to work with Radio Silence… Shit.

“Yes.” He smiles, still holding her hand. This entire encounter wipes any smile I had off my face as I watch her turn to a puddle at his feet. Crap. Crap. Fuck. Shit.

I need a smoke.

Stolle steps back, finally letting go of her. “OK. Just wanted to drop by and meet you all. We’re about to rehearse ourselves, but I hope to be crossing paths again soon.” He directs the last part at Naomi, who fucking giggles again. Fuck the sound. I need some air.

“That’s great, mate. See you around.” Marcus dismisses him with a few measured words, and I’m thinking I could be persuaded to like my brother again. I like it when he shows some balls, because fuck Dan Stolle for walking in and trying his rock star charm on our girl.

“Have a good practice, mate,” Jack adds, saluting him, also seeming unimpressed.

Never meet your heroes.

Stolle seems oblivious or just doesn’t care about our reaction as he heads backstage, leaving us all feeling like the wind is taken out of our sails. For a while I just stand there, staring after him like I’m trying to bore a hole in the back of his head. Who the fuck does he think he is? He was hitting on Naomi right in front of us. He either did it to fuck her, or steal her. He may as well have cocked his leg and taken a piss around the stage to mark his territory. Cunt. I know fame does things to people, but you’d think he wouldn’t be so fucking obvious.

So we’re here because he wants Naomi. Not because he likes the band because of Naomi. That’s just fucking brilliant. Because I needed more stress. Just when I’d started to feel good about my life and the direction it was taking fucking Dan Stolle strolls in and stomps all over it, stealing everything that makes my world good. FUCK.

I wipe a hand over my face and shove my drumsticks in my back pocket. “Let’s get this shit away. We’re done for today.” Keeping my head down, I unplug one of the leads and wrap it around my arm. I’m sure Radio Silence wouldn’t want any of our stuff stinking up their stage. Unless it was Naomi’s of course. Shit.

“You might wanna wash your hand,” Marcus suggests as he leans in near Naomi. He says it quietly, but in a big place like this, sound carries.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you don’t know where he’s been.”

I cough to hide my burst of amusement.

Naomi

Because you don’t know where he’s been. I watch Marcus wind cables around his arm like he’s wrestling snakes. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you’re gonna make this about me and how many women I fuck again?”

“What is wrong with you?” I pull my head back, annoyed he’s ruining what was an exciting moment for me. Dan Stolle of Radio Silence just told me he was a fan of my work and that he wants to see me later to discuss music. It’s a dream come true. And even if his offer was just an excuse to get me alone, the man is every girl’s wet dream, pure one hundred percent rock star hotness, and he just showed interest in me. Stephanie will lose her mind, and frankly, I’m struggling not to lose my mind as well. I haven’t had sex in months. I will not feel guilty for being flattered when a superstar kissed my hand. Now Marcus—who has probably slept with every girl I’ve ever known—is telling me to wash my hand Not cool.

Marcus leans in and whispers so only I can hear. “Just say the word, Naomi. And I won’t touch another one.”

Turning so I can look into his eyes, I set my jaw in challenge. “The word.”

His eyes narrow slightly as the corner of his mouth turns up. “Done. Just stay away from the likes of him.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t believe for a second that Marcus could go more than a week without fucking around. His dick would take over and start fucking every hole he could find. “Are we done here?”

“We’re just getting started.”

“Get your head back in the game, Marcus.”

“My focus hasn’t changed for a second. Where is yours?”

“I just want to eat and go to bed. I’ve had enough for today.”

“I’m with Nomes. I’m beat,” Lachlan puts in, cutting through the tension before Marcus and I turn nasty. I don’t know if he’s jealous because Dan might fuck me, or because he might be serious about working with me and not him.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Theo says, heading to the back of the stage. Jack follows behind. Then the rest of us put away the last of the gear without making conversation. Fucking male egos.

“I’d never leave the band,” I say when we head outside, trying to ease the tension between me and Marcus.

He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me into a hug. “I know, Nomes. And I’m sorry, I acted like a douche in there.”

“It’s OK.” I sigh. “Just remember that we’re all in this together, OK?”

“Yeah,” Lachlan says, wrapping his arms around the both of us. “Go team.”

I laugh as Jack barrels over and almost knocks us off our feet with his hug. “Go team!”

“Come on, Theo,” Marcus says from the middle of the huddle when Theo stands to the side, finishing off his cigarette. “Get in on this.”

“Fucking hell.” Theo mutters something as he throws his cigarette on the ground then drags his booted feet in our direction. He stands at the edge of the circle and finds my eyes.

“Go team?” I say, offering him a smile.

With a roll of his eyes, he spreads his arms and wraps them around the lot of us, crushing us all together as we laugh and he says, “Go team.” And just like that, the tension is gone, jealous egos fall to the side and we’re us again. Matiari.

Twenty-Four

Naomi

I can’t sleep. Whenever I’m not home in my own bed, I struggle to relax. It was the same when I went to the UK. It took me a good week of sitting up all night reading—unless I passed out drunk, of course. My Aussie roommates were big on partying—before I felt comfortable enough to go to sleep on my own. And I’m experiencing the same thing here. I doubt that nap I had in the car helped any. But still, I need to learn to sleep anywhere if I’m going to survive this tour. I won’t last long if I’m falling asleep mid-set because I was too much of a sissy to sleep properly in a strange place.

After tossing and turning for a good hour, I gave up and switched on the television, grabbing a couple of tiny-overpriced bottles of vodka from the minibar in the hopes of depressing my system a little.

There’s not much to watch on a hotel TV these days. They all seem to expect you have a Netflix subscription and that’s where it ends. I’m one of those strange people who doesn’t have a Netflix subscription. I gave it up when I went overseas, and I haven’t restarted it in the eighteen months I’ve been back in the country. I prefer to read. I’d prefer to be reading now, too. But my eyes are too tired. So I’m stuck watching free to air television. Not that I’m complaining after happening upon an old Carey Grant movie called An Affair to Remember. It’s about this couple who meet on a cruise, but they’re engaged to marry other people. They fall desperately in love and agree to sort out their lives and meet each other on the top of the Empire State Building a year later. It’s such a beautiful story that has me weeping tears of happiness at the end. OK, maybe they’re wails of happiness. I’m tired and a little tipsy, and I’m using toilet paper to blow my nose.

“Oh god,” I sniff, downing a mouthful of vodka as a soft knock sounds at my door. I cough and choke a little in my surprise. Who the hell is here at this hour? “One sec.”

Getting up from the bed, I wrap my silk dressing gown around me and pad over to the door, opening it slightly to peer out into the dimly lit hall. My heart jumps into a heavy thud when I find Theo standing there looking effortlessly gorgeous in a pair of black sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt. His hair looks messy like he’s been trying to sleep, and his constantly present stubble has almost doubled since I saw him at dinner.

“Are you ok?” He keeps his voice low and soft, his eyes filled with concern. “I heard crying.”

I wipe over my eyes, imagining I must look like shit, and smile reassuringly. “No… well, I have. But not because I’m upset. I was watching a movie. It had a sad ending.”

“Oh. Ok. Sorry. I’ll leave you to it,” he says, starting to turn away.

“Theo?”

He turns back to me, eyebrows raised in question.

“Are you ok? Can’t you sleep either?”

He bounces his shoulders slightly and shakes his head. “There’s too much going on in my head.”

“Why don’t you come in for a while?” I offer, unlatching the hook on my door and opening it wider. “I still haven’t shown you the lyrics I was thinking of for that song.”

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, the muscles in his arms flexing as he fidgets with indecision. “Sure,” he concedes, stepping inside my room.

I close the door and re-hook the latch before wandering over to switch on a lamp for some light. Muting the television, I collect my toilet roll tissues and the empty vodka bottle and drop it all in the bin.

“Looks like a regular party,” he teases, picking up the tiny vodka I didn’t drink.

“Self-medicating,” I say with a laugh. “I was hoping it’d help me sleep.”

“Did it work? Do you want me to go so you can sleep?”

Shaking my head, I smile. “I don’t think it helped much. But why don’t you give it a go? It might kick in by the time we’re done talking music.”

He looks at the little bottle and bounces a shoulder before cracking the seal and downing the contents of the bottle in a couple of gulps. “That burns,” he gasps.

“Right?” I grin. “It took me the whole movie to get through just one of them. It’s like battery acid.”

“You should have mixed it with something.”

“I can make something else if you want? There’s no more vodka, but there’s Jack and we can mix it with Coke.”

He shakes his head, handing me the empty bottle when I reach for it. “Nah. I’m good. Show me your lyrics.”

I sit back on the bed, expecting him to come and sit next to me, but he just stands in the middle of the floor awkwardly before deciding to go and clear one of the lounge chairs to sit on.

“You can sit next to me. I’m not going to bite you,” I say, watching him try to organise my mess.

For a moment, he hesitates, my makeup bag in his hand, before putting it back down and coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

“All the way back,” I say, plumping the pillows beside me. “Get comfy.”

Pressing his lips together, he grunts his objection but still slides up the bed so he’s sitting beside me. “Happy now?”

“That depends, are you comfy now?”

“I was fine on the edge of the bed.”

“Whatever.” I laugh, leaning over to pull my notebook from my side drawer. “You know, I think you take on too much responsibility. It’s no wonder you can’t sleep.”

“To be honest, I don’t trust anyone else to do it.” He crosses his legs at the ankles, wriggling his toes. He has nice feet. “When we started, we’d split up a lot of the extra tasks, but that just turned into a shit fight.”

“I heard about Andrea.”

“Yeah?” He turns his head and meets my eyes. “That was a fucking nightmare.”

“Sounds it.”

“And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

“Oh really? That’s a revelation to me.”

He grins. “It’s just easier if I keep it all up here.( he says pointing to his head.) At least then I know it gets done.”

“But then you can’t sleep because you’re worried you missed something, right?”

Resting his head against the headboard, he sighs. “It’s this tour. The tour company organised most of it, and it’s stressing me out because I feel like I’m just floating along.”

“Gotta be hard when you’re a control freak.”

Running his hand across his face, he laughs. “It is. I normally plan every detail, so I’m worried they’ve forgotten something. Then I’m worried I haven’t focused on our sound enough... I don’t know. My brain keeps throwing up issues.”

“And now you can’t sleep.”

“That’s right.” He nods. “Why are you still up?”

“It’s not my bed,” I say with a half smile. “I feel weird.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You’re going to have a tough few weeks then.”

“Right?” I laugh. “I’m gonna have to put my big girl panties on and sort my shit out or I’ll fall asleep on stage.”

Smiling, he closes his eyes for a moment before letting his breath out in a whoosh of air. “I’m insanely nervous about this tour,” he admits.

Reclining on my bed, Theo appears so much softer than he usually does. Almost vulnerable. Normally, he’s taking charge of the moment and never caught off guard. Well, except for that time at his place when I caught him in his underwear… I take a deep breath and force my mind to focus on the moment. But my mind starts to produce images of him standing in front of me, shirtless…pantsless... A tiny thrill of a shudder runs beneath my skin and I close my eyes against it.

“I should go and let you sleep,” he says, causing my eyes to fly open as my cheeks heat from the welcome memory.

“No,” I say, placing my hand on his forearm to keep him. “And if it’s any consolation, I have complete faith in you. You do an amazing job managing this band. You deserve more credit. And probably a bigger cut of the profits.”

“I don’t care about the money. But a little credit wouldn’t go astray.” He meets my eyes and gives me a wan smile before running his free arm over his face, still looking like a man with the burden of the world on his shoulders. I figure the best thing I can do is distract him, so I pick up my notebook, turning it to the page where I scrawled some lyrics.

“Here, see what you think,” I say as I hand it to him.

With his head bowed, he reads over them quietly. My nerves dance in my belly when he frowns then rubs his chin thoughtfully, but doesn’t give any indication if he likes my ideas. Fuck. This is killing me.

“I um… remembered how you said you wanted the next verse to be about open windows and feeling cold. I tried to follow the pattern you’d already laid out. Although, I thought we could all harmonise the tune at the end with our voices. It will give it a more solemn sound… I don’t know. I’m not much of a lyricist. I just thought of them after seeing what you’d done.” He keeps his eyes on the paper and licks his lips. Jesus. Say something.

“I like them, Naomi. I think they’re perfect, actually. If it wasn’t so late, I’d go and get my guitar.”

“Really?” Thank god. I curl my legs underneath me and turn to face him some more. It’s always nerve-wracking showing someone your writing, like you're exposing part of your soul to them. Having him like my lyrics enough to want to sing them has me wanting to turn cartwheels. Now I’ll never sleep.

“Of course,” he says, closing my notebook and placing it on the bed beside him. “You’ve always been a great writer. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s funny,” I say, picking up my book and flicking through it. “You’re so different to who you were before. But in many ways you’re also the same. Well, when we’re alone you are, you’re kind of an arsehole around everyone else.” I lift my eyes to meet his, offering a slight smile along with the hope he’ll give me something…more. I know there are rules that we’ve agreed to follow, and I’m not asking him to break any. But I do want us to be close. I feel happier when I’m around him.

He releases an amused burst of air through his nose. “That’s because everyone else is an arsehole. And you’re…”

“Not?” I offer with a smile.

“Yeah. Except for when I thought you were.”

“Yeah. Well, let’s forget all about that misunderstanding. That night deserves to be put in a chest and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your Goth phase?” I say, dropping my notebook on the bed and repositioning myself so I’m leaning on my pillow with my body turned to him.

“Can that go in the chest too?”

“Sure. After you tell me what brought it on and why it ended. You’ve transitioned from looking like a member of Kiss or Marilyn Manson to the quintessential leather-wearing rock god.”

He laughs at that before rolling to his side, propping himself on his elbow as he faces me. As he thinks over his answer, he plays with the spine of my notebook, twisting the spiralled wire that holds the pages together. “I always wanted to be different. We were in a school full of egos and Marcus was the biggest of all. The guy could do no wrong. Even as a kid, the entire family fawned over him. He was born with that star quality and people ate his shit up. I got sick of being Marcus’s Less Talented Older Brother and wanted my own identity. So I created Aramis. He was the guy people left alone because they were afraid, or didn’t want to understand. When I was him, I could do my thing, my way.”

“What made you stop?”

“You did actually. We’ve um, actually had this conversation before,” he tells me, sitting up again. “At that party. You asked me the same question, and you said I wasn’t living my own life at all. You made me realise that all I’d done was create a character, and somewhere along the way I’d forgotten who I was. I was too caught up trying to be different from my brother that I gave up my own name. That kind of resonated with me. So I claimed my identity again. But the current look was helped along by Amy and Erica. They cultivated our look when they decided to be the champions of our cause.”

“Is this look you?”

He looks down, taking in the tracksuit pants and T-shirt. “This one? Yeah.”

“I meant the jeans and leather jacket look.”

“Hell yeah. It’s comfy as fuck, and I need the leather jacket for my bike. I don’t do fashion like Marcus does, but I’m comfortable this way, and I don’t feel like I’m trying too hard.”

“Hmmm. That makes me happy. But I’m also a little sad that I don’t remember that night. I think things would be very different for us if I didn’t accept that drink.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. It sounds like we really connected.”

He presses his lips together. “I guess we did. But I don’t know what it would have changed. You still would have gone to Canberra. I still would have stayed in Sydney with the band.”

“I guess,” I say, playing with the top of the blanket. “The timing wasn’t right.”

He waits until I meet his eyes. “I think it’ll always be off, Naomi.”

A pang hits me in the centre of my chest then slides into my stomach like a heavy weight. “I guess you’re right.” I push myself up so I’m sitting against the headboard. “Thanks for not taking advantage of me by the way.”

He laughs a little through his nose, adjusting himself so he’s mirroring my pose. “That’s not the kind of guy I am. I figured there was something wrong when you um…”

“Stripped?” I fill in for him, rolling my eyes as the embarrassment of waking up naked the next morning revisits me.

“Yeah, and when I thought Marcus had taken advantage, well, I lost my shit. I hate him for letting me think that.”

“I don’t understand his deal. It’s like he’s always got a kick out of stringing me along. I don’t think he actually wants me though, he just like the idea of me.”

“I think he likes the idea of winning.”

“Well, I’m not a prize.”

“Yes you are,” he says, lifting his eyes a little so they meet mine. I’m sure I see a hint of sadness. I recognise it because I feel the same way about everything that happened that night. But it’s different for me, I can’t remember what it was like to be with him. Although, I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened between us if Marcus hadn’t gotten in the way. Would Theo have taken care of me all night? Would we have started seeing each other? Maybe he would have followed me to Canberra. Maybe with his support I would have finished my studies. Maybe my life could be completely different.

“But it’s always an issue of timing, right?” I say, my heart stilling in my chest while my stomach does nervous flips. His eyes darken with want as he looks into mine and nods slowly. I hate the thought that Theo and I are destined to always be too complicated to move beyond friends. But when you’re caught between brothers, and those brothers are members of your band, the timing will never work out. Such a shame. Because if I had to choose, I’d choose him. I’ve always been attracted to Marcus, but attraction and compatibility are two different things. And I’m drawn to Theo, I understand Theo. It’s more than liking the way he looks, it’s about him. I always chose him. Even when I was drugged out of my mind.

Like all those weeks before, my hand develops a mind of its own and reaches up, lightly running my fingertips along the stubble on his jaw. He tilts his head slightly, pressing against my hand as he closes his eyes and releases his breath.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmurs as he opens his eyes to meet mine once more.

“I know,” I whisper, keeping my hand on his face as I move my fingers, caressing the coarse hair.

Slowly, we move towards each other, our mouths just a hair’s breadth away from touching. But we hesitate, eyes locked. I nudge forward, hoping to close the gap, but my hope plummets when he turns his head at the last moment. No.

“I can’t,” he growls. “Damn it, I can’t.” He pulls away, getting off the bed so he’s standing a safe distance from me. I make a move to follow him, but when he holds up his hands, I freeze. “I made the guys promise not to touch you. I can’t break my own rule. This would fuck up the band. If Marcus found out….” He shakes his head, raking at his hair.

“It’s OK,” I whisper. “It’s bad timing.” I’m blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling. Rejection sucks.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Fuck.” He gestures to the door, takes one step towards it, then another back to me. He looks at me, a pained expression crosses his features before he makes for the door again. This time not coming back.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I bury my face in my pillows and cry. Between the two Bailey brothers my emotions are an absolute wreck. I have one who would sleep with me in a heartbeat if I let him, and one who I want to sleep with who won’t do anything about it. I understand that giving in to this is a terrible idea. But oh god, I want Theo. Even if it’s only once.

Theo

Holy shit. I almost kissed her. If one of the other guys did what I just did, I would throttle them. This band and all we’ve worked for are too important. And as much as I want to kill the guy most of the time, my relationship with my brother is also too important. I can’t let this get messed up over some girl. Family comes first. The band comes second. And girls are a distant third.

But this girl is Naomi. A girl you’ve been in love with for years.

A girl Marcus is in love with too.

There’s no middle ground here. No winning. Either we all lose, or one of us does. And we know how I like things to be fair…

I rest my forehead against the outside of her door. My entire body aches to go to her, especially when I hear her muffled sobs coming through the door. Shit. I place my hand on the wood and listen. God. I hate myself right now.

Twenty-Five

Naomi

“Nomes.” I hear my name accompanied by banging on my door. Forcing my eyes to open, it takes a moment to focus and realise where I am. “Naomi.” It’s more insistent this time.

“I’m coming,” I call out, my voice croaky from sleep as I roll out of bed and trudge towards the door. I open it fully, finding Marcus on the other side. Why does his face piss me off this morning? Oh, that’s right. His brother knocked me back last night, and I fell asleep feeling angry towards Marcus for interfering all those years ago and making things difficult now.

“Fucking look at the time.” He points at his watch. “It’s after lunch and we need to go to the venue to get everything ready for tonight.”

“Oh shit! I’ve been asleep all this time?” I spin on my heel and grab a towel, running for the bathroom to have a shower. The towel gets ripped out of my hands, stopping me in my tracks.

“You don’t have time for a shower. Get some fucking clothes on, grab your violin, and we’ll meet you downstairs.”

I nod and run to the bathroom anyway, splashing some water over my face and grabbing a mouthful of Listerine. I swish it around as I quickly strip and grab a pair of black leggings and a grey tank top and throw them on my body. I rush into the bathroom and spit the mouthwash down the sink, holding my tongue out as it burns from the prolonged use of the mouthwash. I continue my rush and shove my feet into my boots, grab my violin case, my bag and hurry out the door.

When I make it to the lifts, the door is closing and Marcus is inside. “Wait,” I call out, running for the closing doors. He reaches over and presses the button to open them again, smiling as I bustle inside the cabin.

“You could have brushed your hair.” He laughs. “I would have waited.”

I poke my tongue out at him as I turn around and look at the mirrored back wall. “Oh, fuck,” I moan. I certainly don’t rock the sexy bedhead look. It looks more like a family of birds has been nesting on my head all night.

Running my fingers through the tangles, I do my best comb it out. “This is a disaster.” I don’t have much time before the elevator doors ping open, and we’re on the ground floor.

“Leave it,” Marcus says, blocking the doors with this hand as he steps out. “You’re hot even when you’re a mess.”

“That’s what you tell every girl,” I say, spinning around and following him, even though I’m still trying to smooth my hair.

“Nope. That’s something I only say to you,” he says, catching me by the hand.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he takes me by the shoulders and spins me around.

“Fixing your damn hair.” He rakes his fingers over my scalp, dragging my hair together before securing it in a ponytail on my head. “Done. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and drags me towards the exit while I try to catch my reflection in every shiny surface we pass.

“Where did you get an elastic?” I say, touching my hair to check everything is in place.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do.”

He leads me to the rental car and pulls the back door open. “I carry one in my wallet.”

Stopping before I climb inside, I frown up at him. “Why?” What an odd thing to carry around.

Clearing his throat, he shifts on his feet. “Because I like pulling hair, but I don’t like it whipping me in the face.”

My mouth opens and forms an O. He keeps hair elastics next to his condoms. “It’s not used is it?” Because, ew. I don’t want to wear his groupie sex elastic.

“No. I use a fresh one every time.”

“Just like a condom, huh?”

He laughs. “Get in the car, Naomi.”

“Um…where’s Theo?” I ask when I climb in and only Lachlan and Jack are inside.

“He went ahead of us to get some technical shit sorted out,” Jack says from the driver’s seat.

I nod and sit quietly, not sure how I feel about seeing Theo today. I just hope he won’t let it be awkward. I also hope he won’t let it ruin our friendship. Again. I feel kind of stupid now. At the time it felt right, but I never should have leaned in to him.

“Nervous?” Marcus asks as the Entertainment Centre comes into view. This is the first time any of us have played such a large venue and it’s exciting to be the ones going through the backstage doors for a change.

“Yeah. You?”

He nods and rubs his palms along his jean-clad thighs. “Sweaty palms.”

“Thank god guitars have straps, right?” Lachlan says from the front seat.

“Just don’t let your pick slip from between your fingers,” Jack teases. “You could put someone’s eye out with those.”

“We’re gonna do great, guys,” I say. “This is what we’ve been practicing for.”

Jack steers us through the security checks and we park in our designated spot. There’s a sign with our name on it and everything.

“Feel like a rock star yet?” Marcus asks, as he slips his arm around my shoulders and walks along beside me to the entrance.

“None of this feels real,” I reply, absorbing every little detail while we make our way to our band’s dressing room. Lachlan pauses at the entrance and snaps a few photos on his phone, taking a selfie of himself pointing at the band’s name on the door.

“It’s a bit like walking through a dream,” Marcus muses, pulling his phone out and filming our entrance. He does a tour around the room, narrating as he goes along, making us all say hi to the camera.

I smile as he stands in the centre of the room and posts the video to our Instagram story.

“What’s so amusing?” he asks as he pockets his phone.

“I just can’t believe this is our life now.”

He retrieves his guitar case and opens it up, pulling out a few different picks and slipping them into the pocket of his jeans. “Believe it, babe. The only way from here is up .” I hope he’s right.

I stash my bag in the corner of the room, keeping a hold of my violin case as I follow the guys out to the stage where Theo is waiting for us. He’s talking to a small man with brown curly hair, who holds a clipboard and points around the room while they confer.

Marcus slips his arm around my shoulder again, sweeping his arm across the expanse of the room as he speaks. “Just imagine, tonight all of this will be filled with people.”

“It’s wild,” I say, taking a deep breath as I hear our voices echo back to us.

Releasing me, he stands in the middle of the stage where he belongs. “I know we’re just here to support, but it’s fucking mind blowing.” He touches his fingertips to his forehead and pops his hand open to emphasise his words.

“Marcus,” Theo calls out, his voice curt and clipped.

We both turn at the sound of his name. “Duty calls.” Marcus jogs straight over there but I can’t help noticing the flash of discomfort on Theo’s face as his eyes linger on me for a moment. I lift my hand to wave, a skitter of nerves dancing all the way up my body and resting at the base of my throat. Say something to me. Smile at least. But all he does is frown then shift focus to his brother. Fuck.

I fold my arms over my chest and let out a quiet sigh before I head over to where Lachlan and Jack are setting up.

“I wonder how many people will show up early enough to see us play,” Jack muses while he checks the connections to his keyboard.

“It’d be cool if the stadium was full. But I reckon maybe half if we’re lucky?” Lachlan says with a bounce of his shoulder, blu-tacing a few picks to his microphone stand.

I pull out my bow and run some rosin over it, plucking at my strings to check my tuning. But it’s hard to trust my ears when they’re straining to hear what’s being said elsewhere.

“What d’you reckon, Nomes?” Jack says.

“Huh?” Reckon about what?

“We’re taking bets on how full this place will be.”

“What’ll the winner get?” I grin, my eyes straying to where Marcus and Theo stand. Marcus has his hands on his hips and Theo’s arms are crossed. What’s going on?

“How about the winner gets all their luggage and equipment carted around for the next week,” Lachlan suggests.

“Lame!” Jack laughs.

“I think we can do better than that,” I say. “Besides, I reckon if I pulled the ‘it’s too heavy’ girly face on you, you’d carry my stuff, anyway. Pick something better.”

“Oh, I know,” Jack blurts, clapping his hands together and rubbing them greedily. “This is great. You’ll like this one.”

“Well, tell us then,” I prompt, wondering what he’s come up with.

“Winner gets the single room,” he says, nodding his head and grinning, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“No way!” I yell, laughing at his audacity. “How is that a win for me? I already have the single room.”

“It’ll be a win because if you’re right then you won’t have to share with Lachlan. That man’s arse is lethal. Plus, he snores like an angry fucking T-Rex. I swear the walls vibrate while he’s sleeping.”

“I do not snore,” Lachlan counters, and an argument breaks out between them, leaving me laughing while they bicker like children wanting the last lolly in the jar. I am not giving up my room.

“That’s enough, ladies,” Theo interrupts, causing the quarrel to end instantaneously. “And no betting either. How about we focus on the performance? You won’t even be able to see the audience. The lights will be too bright, so it doesn’t fucking matter. Get your head in the game and get your shit ready.”

We all mumble some sort of acceptance or apology and get back to work.

Theo tightens the nut on his cymbal, his head down, a frown tightening his brow.

“Is everything OK?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Our set list is being reduced.”

“What do you mean? I thought they approved everything before we got here?”

“They did,” he says, finally glancing up at me as he bounces a shoulder. “And they changed their mind.”

Now I’m frowning. “That really sucks. What songs are we cutting?”

“Me, Myself and You. And, ah… Fragile.”

My eyes go wide. “Fragile? That’s our biggest crowd pleaser.”

“Stolle wants us to mix it up.”

“But what’s it to him?”

“It’s his tour.”

“And you seem to be forgetting that this is one big job interview,” Marcus puts in.

“What for?” The moment the words leave my mouth I feel dumb.

“For you, dummy,” Lachlan says. “He’s trying to poach you.”

“At the very least he’s trying to fuck her and get free music advice,” Jack mutters, moments before a drumstick hits him square in the back. “Ow. Fuck you, Theo.”

“No,” Theo practically growls. “Fuck you. Don’t say that shit about her.”

“It’s OK,” I say. “This is obviously an issue. So, I think I need to be really clear to you all. I won’t leave the band. I jumped on board with you guys and I’m not jumping off the moment something better or more exciting comes along. That’s not what I’m about. We’re family here, right?” I look between each of them. “And as for who I chose to fuck, Jack; that’s none of your goddamn business.” I give him a pointed glare and Lachlan laughs while Jack leaves his hands in surrender. Theo and Marcus don’t find it amusing.

“Can we quit being little bitches here, please?” Theo scoops up a stack of papers and hands them out. “This is the new set list. Tape it to the fucking floor and take a picture of it on your phone. I want it memorised by tonight. We have just enough time to run through this once. Then it’s back to the hotel to rest up for tonight. Don’t fuck it up.”

I’m the last person Theo hands the list to. He keeps a hold of the paper for a second too long. “Everything okay?” he asks in a low voice.

I nod. “Everything is perfect.”

He releases the paper and inhales. “No hard feelings?”

“Not at all. I understand.”

Licking his lips, he nods and glances around the stage. Ears are straining. “Good.”

No hard feelings. Of course there are fucking hard feelings. But I’m big enough to put those feelings aside and put my energy into my music. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to kiss a guy and he’s knocked me back. And I’m pretty sure it won’t be my last.

No hard feelings.

“First song is Then You Were Gone,” he calls out as he settles himself at his kit, and suddenly we’re all very professional, the band we’ve trained to be.

Despite the last-minute changes, our set goes off without a hitch as we make sure our transitions and queues are right. Time flies by, and before we know it, it’s time to get off the stage and get ready for tonight’s gig.

Don’t fuck it up.

No hard feelings.

Fuck.

Twenty-Six

Marcus

Have you ever heard your favourite song on the radio and sung along, pretending to be the one performing it on stage to a massive crowd of screaming fans? If your answer is yes, then I’m here to tell you that nothing your imagination can produce is even close to the real feeling you get when on stage to a crowd of thousands. Thousands. And they’re fucking loving us.

Considering we’re the supporting act, I’m surprised at the turnout, and the enthusiastic response. It helps that the band is playing perfectly together. We haven’t missed a single note, had one beat out of place. It’s been the greatest experience of my life, and it’s going to be over too soon. I want to stay on this stage forever.

“Would you like to meet the band?” I say into the microphone, just before we move on to our last song. The crowd screams excitedly in response, and I glance down at the front row, finding Erica and Amy there with their phones trained on us. I have no doubt they hyped the fuck out of this tour for us. They should promote bands for a living. I smile and wave at them, then euphoria washes over me as the din rises. I even have to hold my hands up to get them to calm down. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Disconnecting my microphone from the stand, I walk around the stage, introducing us all one by one. The crowd shrieks for each member. But they fucking love Naomi.

“She’s great, right?” I comment, standing next to her. She is looking absolutely amazing tonight in this tight black miniskirt, purple high heels and this sparkly singlet top that drapes loosely from her body. Her hair is piled up high on her head and she has one of those long sparkly earrings that kind of looks like a chandelier hanging out of her left ear, but in her right is a small diamond stud. When I asked her about it before, she told me it was so the left one didn’t get caught in her bow or get in the way of the violin while she played. Whatever her reason, the look works. She’s smoking hot.

Her eyes shine with delight as the crowd screams their agreement. I can tell she’s on as much of a high from this as I am. We were born to be on stage. “Thank you for coming early to see us tonight,” she says, waving with her bow above her head. “And let’s not forget to cheer for our frontman, Marcus Bailey.” She gestures towards me and the crowd screams again. I fucking love this.

“How about we change things up a little?” I say as they calm down. “And bear with me here because Matiari has never done this before. But it’s a special occasion, and I’d like to show my appreciation to the woman who made this possible.” I know my bandmates won't be happy about this, but I want the crowd to know us, and more importantly, I want them to remember us. “You see, before Naomi joined our ranks with her magic violin, we were still struggling alongside every other band out there. Then she came along and added that special something that got us noticed.” I turned and meet her eyes. She’s waving me away, but she’s beaming at the same time. “She got us here.” I turn back to the crowd. “Who’s a fan of Aiden Price?” They scream, and I look around to Theo, noting the stormy look on his face but trying to give him a look that says, trust me, I know what I’m doing. “Me too. He’s also one of Naomi’s favourite artists. So it’s to thank her, that we’re going to cover I Recall.”

Naomi’s eyes go wide as she keeps her smile on her face and leans towards me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trust me. They’ll love it.”

I move back over to my position, avoiding any eye contact with the other members of the band, especially Theo who’s probably going to lose his shit at me after this. But it’ll be worth it, because the audience will go nuts.

The first part is just my guitar and Naomi singing, so they will have time to get over their annoyance before they have to play.

The crowd quiets as I play the first notes and Naomi starts to sing.

I recall perfectly

The day I met you

Your eyes piercing blue

All thought left me

I recall perfectly

Your hair stood on end

As you spoke with your friend

And I stopped moving

She closes her eyes, her violin held down at her side as she loses herself in the words. The audience is perfectly quiet. They’re loving it. I know they are.

Come to me tonight

Come to me

You’re everything I could want

Come to me tonight

Come to me

Nothing will keep me from you, you, you…

She lowers her voice so the last line is practically a whisper into the microphone ‘except you, my love’.

The pitch of the song changes as the music speeds up and becomes more intense as my part to sing comes up. As I sing, I’m building towards the chorus hoping to God that everyone else in the band comes in and plays it with me.

Gather around

Listen to my sound

As I lose my mind night after night

You scream out your love

And take part of me

I strum at my guitar as I play the break between the verses. It’s an angry sound, completely at odds to the melodic picking that accompanies Naomi’s vocals. The music feels like it’s taking over me as I lean back from the microphone and sing a type of moan that leads into the next verse.

Gather and cry

What I sing is a lie

It sounds like the truth

I speak love, you need proof

Perhaps you’ll forgive me

But I hate, who I am, who I am

Thankfully, the band doesn’t let me down. Relief washes over me the moment I hear Theo come in on the drums at the exact moment Naomi comes in on her violin.

I want to recall, the words you whisper to me.

Recall, the way your eyes see right through me

I want to recall, who you are

I want to remember

I want to recall, the words you whisper to me.

Recall, the way your eyes see right through me

I want to be, what you want

But I’m not who you want

There’s a long musical climax to the song, as our instruments meld in a cacophony that tells a tale of woe and confusion. I harmonise my voice with the music the same way the original song does, by singing loud ‘La’s and ‘No’s along with the clamour that rises and peters out slowly, ending with Lachlan playing on his bass on his own.

Everything is quiet, but for the sound of that bass, his fingers plucking out those notes, the sound filling the stadium, like the buzzing of an uncontrolled emotion. The moment he stops, I suck in my breath. The crowd roars. Yes. I race over to Naomi and grab the hand she’s holding her bow in and hold it up over her head. They roar even louder.

As we look at each other grinning, the excitement of the night takes over me, and I grab hold of her face, capturing her mouth with mine. Somehow the crowd finds a way to become even louder, spurring me on as I drive my tongue into her mouth and work it against hers.

Even over the noise, I can feel the vibration from her body as she hums into my mouth. I’ve wanted to kiss her for as long as I’ve known her. But I’ve never felt it was the right time. I’ve never really had the guts to cross that line with her. But tonight, everything seems perfect, and I just can’t help myself.

When I release her, I smile again, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before returning to my microphone.

“Thank you,” I call over their screams. “That’s us finished for tonight. But the people you came to see, Radio Silence, will be out here in just a few moments.”

We all head off the stage to the tune of the crowd cheering for us, making our way through the backstage crew congratulating us on a great show until we make it to our dressing room.

The second we’re in there, Theo turns on me. “What the fuck was that?” he roars, shoving me in the chest with both hands.

“Genius,” I say, moving my weight toward him. “You could see how much they loved her out there. I was just giving them what they wanted. They went nuts after every song Naomi sang and played in. They loved It’s a Crime, and they loved Then You Were Gone. We’re good on our own mate, but she makes us brilliant.”

“Just pray we don’t get in shit for playing someone else’s song in our show,” he growls, giving me a second shove for good measure. “And you didn’t need to kiss her like that.” He gives me a third shove. “I don’t know how many times I need to warn you.” He stalks across the room and twists the cap off a beer, taking a long chug.

I look around the room, noting the way Jack and Lachlan are avoiding eye contact because they don’t want to get involved. “They loved us,” I say to them all.

“Yeah, Marcus,” Naomi says. “They loved it. But they loved us before you pulled that stunt. Now they’ll think of us as the band who covered Aiden Price and pashed on stage. They won’t remember our songs. You shouldn’t have done that, and you can’t just kiss me whenever you want.”

I think I hide it fairly well, but I feel like I just got punched in the gut. Didn’t she tell me just yesterday that she wanted me to stop screwing around? Didn’t she say ‘the word’? I’m confused.

“Yeah. OK. I’m sorry, Naomi,” I say, rubbing the back of my head. I guess I should have done that in private. “I got caught up in the moment. But you have to admit they loved it. So, I can’t regret kissing you to the sound of thousands of people cheering us on. Call me a jackass, but that was fucking awesome.”

Naomi

My face still feels flushed from the excitement of tonight. I look between Marcus and Theo, struggling to find the right words for this delicate situation. Theo seems ready to punch a hole in the wall, and Marcus seems ready to fuck against the wall. The energy in the room is all messed up and I wish Lachlan would make one of his well-timed jokes to lighten the mood. It doesn’t come.

“Well,” I start, taking a breath. “If you plan on any theatrics in future, I’d appreciate you asking my permission first. Stunts like that blur the lines between us and flout the rules. I don’t want to give people the wrong impression.”

He pulls his head back. “About what?”

“About you and me.”

“No one has the wrong impression, Naomi. They all saw you melt against me.”

“There are rules, Marcus. We all agreed to them.”

“Fuck the rules,” he snaps. “Theo fucking made them and he isn’t even planning on sticking around.”

“What the fuck?” Jack yells, suddenly showing interest in the conversation. Ah shit.

“You’re leaving?” Lachlan asks, the shock dripping off his features.

“Fuck,” Theo mutters, placing his empty beer bottle on a table before he glares at Marcus. “You are such a dick.”

“No. Don’t make this about him, Theo,” Jack says. “Explain to us what the fuck is going on?”

“Theo is quitting at the end of the tour,” Marcus reveals, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “He’s so desperate to get his dick into Naomi he’s willing to dump the lot of us so he can break his own stupid rule.” Whoa.

“It’s not a stupid rule,” Theo responds. “And you’re proving why it’s not a stupid rule right now.”

“You’re fucking leaving?” Lachlan yells.

Holy fuck. My stomach twists uncomfortably. They’re talking about me—fighting about me—like I’m not even here. I won’t stay and listen to this. This is total bullshit. As their voices rise, I take the opportunity to slip out of the room. I need to get away from the Bailey brothers for a while. I love the band. But this rivalry is getting to be too much. If they can’t sort their shit out, I have to be the one to do it for them or else this is going to blow up in our faces and everything will be ruined. I can’t even entertain the attraction anymore.

As I close the door, Radio Silence is leaving their dressing room, heading for the stage. “Naomi.” Dan Stolle is the last one out. “What the hell is going on in there?”

I bounce a shoulder, trying to play it down. “The brothers are Italian. They can get a little passionate in their debates at times.”

He lifts his brow as someone growls and something crashes. “That’s a debate?”

Pressing my teeth into my lip, I wince. “Don’t hold this against them. I can sort it out.”

“Sounds like they’re sorting it out for themselves.” He gestures for me to follow him. “Something you need to learn about men—especially brothers—sometimes they’re going to punch each other. But once they get it out of their system, they’re fine again. You’ll see.”

“I hope so. Otherwise this tour is going to be incredibly short.”

He chuckles. “I broke my drummers nose on our first tour. I don’t even remember why. The energy of a crowd does strange things to people.”

“We should be celebrating.”

“Yeah, you should. You guys were amazing tonight.” We make it to the side of the stage where a stagehand helps him with his earpiece and hands him his guitar. The stadium goes nuts, patrons stomping their feet on the floor and screaming so loud we need to yell over the top of it. “Why don’t you stay here and enjoy the show? Take your mind off things. I hope you’re a fan.”

“Of course I am.” I laugh, giving him a small wave as I watch him run out onto the stage, hands raised above his head as the crowd goes absolutely mental.

He plugs in his guitar and slings it over his shoulder, leaning into the microphone. “How’d we like that Matiari, huh? I can’t believe how talented some of you Australians are,” he says, turning his head for a moment to wink at me.

I smile and lean up against a pillar, watching as Radio Silence starts to do their thing. If someone had told me I’d be standing this close to such a huge band a few months ago while I was still tending bar, I would have laughed my arse off and called them a liar. But here I am, an intrinsic member of a band on the cusp of success, rubbing shoulders with the big guns. All I have to do to make sure that happens is keep my relationships with the Bailey brothers as platonic as possible, and what better way to do that than to spend some time with a rock star? The idea feels shitty, but Theo will back right off and Marcus’s ego will take enough of a hit that he’ll go back to fucking groupies before the nights out.

Theo will back of.

Shit. How did I manage to get myself in this position? I’m caught in the middle of two brothers. There’s no winning here.

* * *

When the show is over, the band comes off the stage to the roar of the crowd. Being the main act, I know they’re planning on going out for an encore, so I try to move out of their way as helpers move towards them, hand them towels to wipe off their sweaty faces and bottles of water to cool down.

“Having fun?” Dan asks, rubbing the hand towel over his face.

“That was amazing. It’s surreal watching from here.”

“Crazy thought. But do you know Vagabond?”

“Ah, is the pope Catholic?”

He laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes. Do you think you can do your thing on stage with us?”

My mouth falls open and I almost fall backwards. “You want me?” I point to myself. “Out there?” I point to the stage. “With you?”

Letting his head drop back, he releases a big belly laugh. “Come on, Naomi. Grab your fiddle. This is your chance.” He holds his hand out to the side, and a stagehand moves in, holding out my violin and bow. He was prepared for this?

“Oh god.” I look at my most prized possession in my hands and shake with nerves.

“They’re waiting.” The crowd chants encore, clapping faster and faster. “Now or never.”

“OK,” I say, my heart hammering. “Yes.”

He grabs my hand and we run out on stage together, the screams so loud I feel the vibration under my feet.

“Please welcome back to the stage, Naomi Prendergast from Matiari.” Dan holds his arm out towards me as the din continues. A stage hand directs me to where I can plug in, and the other band members acknowledge me with smiles and nods. Is this seriously happening?

“Just come in when you feel the need,” Dan tells me, seconds before the drum beat kicks in and the crowd loses their shit. Vagabond is the song that made Radio Silence a household name. They haven’t played the song in concert for years. And here I am getting the chance to add my flavour to it. No pressure, right?

Oh god, please don’t let me throw up.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to calm my heart and focus on the music. I’ve played this song a thousand times before for my own entertainment. I can play it again now when the creators are watching. I can do this.

I come in at the end of the first line, adding a flourish that fits in between the regular beat, joining his voice when the song reaches its crescendo, then singing along with him, harmonising for the last two lines. I hope it isn’t too much. I wanted to impress without taking over. I’m almost too scared to open my eyes.

Then the crowd roars.

Slowly, I lift my lids and look around. They’re all smiling at me. Dan Stolle is clapping for me. How is this real? I almost want to pinch myself in case I’m dreaming.

“Is this the part where I run over and kiss her?” Dan asks the audience, and I can’t even hear from the screams. Shit. He saw that?

I shake my head and laugh as he walks over and holds out his hand. “Ready to give the crowd what they want?”

“This is crazy.” That magical stage hand appears and takes my equipment.

“Maybe. But it’ll give those brothers something else to fight about.”

“OK.” I slip my hand in his, because he’s right. Kissing him could the thing that stops Marcus and Theo fighting.

He grins then wraps his arms around me, tipping me back like we are reenacting a scene from a movie. Then he presses his mouth to mine, locking our lips together without using his tongue—which is something I appreciate.

When he sets me back on my feet, he leans into the microphone and yells, “Goodnight, Brisbane. You’ve been a fantastic audience.” Then we run from the stage, and I’m not sure I’ve taken a breath yet.

“I’ve gotta say, sweetheart, you’re everything we thought you’d be and more.” Dan’s eyes shine while he looks at me. “Stay close. It’s time for the second act.”

He takes my hand and leads me away from the stage. For a moment I wonder what he means by a second act, but then we’re stopped constantly by those wanting autographs and photos. I try to stand out of the way at first, but Dan pulls me in close and insists it’s good exposure for me. So I smile and pose for photos, even signing the handful of autographs I’m asked for. People want my autograph. I want to giggle about it, but there’s too much going on, like running a gauntlet all the way until we reach the exit and are led by security to a waiting limo.

“My bag is inside,” I say, leaning for the door so I can go back for it.

Dan places his hand on my arm. “You can’t go back out there. You’ll be mobbed. I’ll have someone get it for you.”

“And my violin. It needs cleaning or it’ll get sticky. And the guys, they’ll worry about where I’ve gone.”

Dan chuckles as I rattle off my list before he presses a button in the console and relays my requests to whoever’s on the other side. “Taken care of,” he says when he’s through. “Now, sit back and relax. We have things to discuss.”

As the limo drives slowly through the crowd, I realise I needn't have worried about the guys not knowing I’d left, standing next to our equipment van is Theo, sucking back on his cigarette and watching the limo intently.

I swallow hard as a pang resounds in my gut. And I try to tell myself that this is what I wanted. No. What I needed to happen. I need to make myself seem unavailable to them. It’s the right thing to do.

Then why does it feel so wrong?

Twenty-Seven

Theo

Here’s a list of people I currently hate: Chris Pine, because I hate every movie I’ve ever seen him in—except Wonder Woman, but that’s because his character dies—and there’s something about the guy that annoys the fuck out of me when I look at him; Captain America, another Chris but it’s not the actor I have a problem with, it’s the character. He’s too wholesome, and just plain boring. Give me Iron Man any day; Marcus Bailey, the little brother I didn’t ask for and got anyway. He’s been given the world and I’ve stood there holding it up for him, and when the world isn’t enough, he takes a little more. He takes from me; Dan Stolle, lead singer and founder of Radio Silence. I hate him because he’s fucking rude, and he has ulterior motives. He’s a British version of Marcus, swooping in and stealing my chance—my dream—away from me the moment I was too rigid to go for it; Naomi Prendergast, because I just watched her get into a limo and drive away with a rock star, proving once again, that she isn’t the person I thought she was. I should have stuck with the impression I had of her after that stupid fucking party from years ago. She’s just chasing stars like the rest of them. Shallow; Theodore Bailey, because I’m fucking weak. I want her so much it’s like a searing pain in my soul, but I couldn’t bring myself to break my own goddamn rules. And now Marcus is taking a shot. Dan Stolle is taking a shot, and I’m just smoking in the dark, fucking watching it happen.

If I had a rock, I’d throw it through the back of that limo’s window.

“There you are.” Amy’s heeled boots crunch over the gravel. I drag my eyes away from the receding lights of the limousine with Naomi and Dan Stolle inside. I can’t even think about what’s happening in there. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I needed some air,” I grunt, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it from the tip of the one I’m smoking. I hand it to her.

“Thanks.” She leans on the van next to me and inhales, blowing out the smoke before she speaks. “You guys killed it tonight. Social media is going mental.”

I offer a grunt. It’s all I have.

“You’re pissed about the impromptu ending?”

I don’t even grunt this time. I just give her a look that says, ‘What do you think,’ and she nods.

“He’s a good showman. He reads the room like a pro. You have to give him that.”

I’d like to give him my boot in his arse.

“But you’re not really pissed about the song choice, are you? You’re pissed about the kiss.” I suck air in through my nose as she pushes herself off the van and turns to face me, dropping her smoke in the gravel and stubbing it out. “My advice? Let it go. Let her go.”

“The band needs her.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying that you need to let her go in here.” She touches her fingers to my head. “And here.” She places her hand over my heart. “You’ll go crazy if you don’t.”

Releasing the air trapped in my lungs, I place my hand on top of hers, moving my thumb from side to side as I war with my mind. I know she’s making sense, but how do you let someone go when you’ve never actually had them?

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You want to know the first step?” She moves in a little closer and places her other hand on my chest to join the first one.

“Enlighten me. What’s the first step?”

She rises up on her toes and whispers. “Start acting like a rock star.”

I laugh. “I’m no rock star.”

“Survey says you are. And do you know what rock stars do? They party, and they fuck, and they lose themselves to the evocative power that comes with commanding an entire room of screaming women. They all want a piece of you, Theo.”

“They want Marcus.”

“And yet, I’m standing out here with your sorry arse.”

“What?” I barely get the word out before she grabs me by the back of the head and spear tackles me with her tongue. My first response is to pull away, but something inside me tells me not to. Something inside me says, fuck it. I grab her around the waist, twisting until she’s against the van. And I kiss her back.

Time for Theo to fucking party.

* * *

Naomi

“What drew you to the violin?” Dan sits across from me in a booth in the back of a late-night tavern. They serve burgers with wilted lettuce and chips cooked in too much oil while playing 80s and 90s rock music a little too loud for conversation to be easy. But the allure of this place to a guy like Dan Stolle is that no one bothers him, and we can eat alone. He leans forward and twists the ring in his eyebrow. “It’s not the easiest instrument to play while singing.”

“True.” I pick up a soggy stick of potato and swirl it through the pot of tomato sauce. “I guess I just like the different sounds it can produce compared to the other instruments I was playing.”

“How many instruments can you play?” He leans back, taking a swig from the bottle of Crown lager he’s been nursing.

“Um… well, I specialise in violin. I play a lot of piano and guitar. But I can play pretty much anything.”

“Wow. So, you’re one of those prodigies? Music flows in your blood.”

“Yeah.” This is where I get uncomfortable. I understand how hard it is to learn an instrument and become proficient in it, so I feel like a bragger when I talk about what I can do, but he seems interested, so I continue. “I can work instruments out by getting a feel for them. So I haven’t found one I can’t play yet.”

“That’s incredibly awesome.”

I grin. “Thanks. Some people really hate that I find music so easy. Although I hate how everyone else finds life so easy—I’m always feeling lost.”

He shrugs. “Life is hard. That’s why we sing about it. To feel better.”

“He’s wise,” I say, smiling as I lift my beer to him in salute.

“Possibly old and jaded. I’ve been in this industry a long time.” He tilts his head like he’s listening as the U2 song With or Without You starts to play. “How about a dance? I’ll bet you’re great at that too.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty rockin’ at that as well.” I laugh, sliding out of the booth and taking the hand he offers.

He raises our clasped hands and spins me onto the dance floor, taking the lead with great ease as we sway together to the music.

“Ah, seems like someone else is a pretty good dancer.” I smile up at him.

“Yeah well, I have a big family. Lots of weddings,” he explains.

“That makes a lot of sense.”

We dance together quietly for a while, and I take the time to scan the other people in the tavern. No one seems to care that a guy as famous as Dan is in here. They’re all just happy playing pool, drinking or dancing themselves.

“You made a good choice coming here,” I tell him. “Everyone is happy to leave you alone.”

He gives me another spin and pulls me back up against his body as he sings along to the lyrics. “It’s actually what I love about Australia. I can pretty much go anywhere I want and no one gives a shit.”

“Really? You don’t get fans harassing you for an autograph wherever you go?”

“No, I do. It’s just… different I guess. I can do a lot more while I’m here. It’s hard to explain. But I’m pretty sure you’ll find out all about it. A girl as beautiful and talented as you will end up with the world at her feet.”

“I don’t know about that.” I blush, dropping my head slightly to hide it.

“I do,” he murmurs, curling his finger under my chin to tilt my head up toward him. “Because I’m going to make it happen. You and I, Naomi Prendergast, are going to make beautiful music together.” He stops dancing and dips his head toward me, his lips brushing lightly over mine before he gently sucks on my bottom lip. At first I find myself responding, but as his tongue seeks entry, I drop my head again, effectively breaking the kiss.

“What about the band? What about Matiari?”

Twenty-Eight

Theo

“Rum.” I slap my hand on the bar then wave my hand when the bartender gets out a plastic tumbler and fills it with ice. “The fucking bottle.” I reach over the bar and yank it out of his hand.

He protests a little, but when I pull out the metal pourer and drop it on the bar in front of him, he just rolls his eyes and watches me take two mouthfuls of the tea-coloured spirit.

“Thanks,” I say, tipping the bottle toward him.

“Whatever, dude.”

Amy moves to my side and slides a hand over my shoulder, grinning as she hangs off me. “That’s how you party like a rock star. I’m proud of you.” She lifts her phone and takes a picture of us in selfie mode. She’s grinning—since when did she grin so much? —and I have my brows up with the bottle of rum held to my lips. “That one could get you an endorsement. The label is clear and everything.” She taps at her phone. “Tag and post. Cha-ching.” Giving me a wink, she pushes me to go mingle. Back when this band started gaining popularity, she was here telling us how to dress and who to talk to. And now that we’re taking off, she’s coaching me on how to party. She’s an interesting woman. I’m not sure how I feel about locking lips with her, but I’m too drunk to care, and too pissed to give a fuck.

Downing rum like water, I stumble towards the couch where Lachlan and Jack are entertaining a couple of girls. I drop between them, holding the bottle by the neck, taking big-burning gulps, appreciating the alcohol as it enters my veins. The numbness is coming. I can feel it.

“What are we supposed to do for fun at these things?” I elbow Jack, interrupting the wannabe orgy that’s going on either side of me.

Jack looks over at me as the girl keeps eating away at his neck and writhing on top of him. “In the mood to party for a change, huh?” he asks, nodding toward the bottle in my hand.

“Yep,” I state, taking another mouthful.

“I’m so fucking proud.” He grins. “Hey, Lach. Look who’s joining the party.”

Lachlan lifts his shaggy head, his eyes half-drunken slits and his lips swollen. “Theo. Fuck yeah, dude. Get in on this.”

“I’m tryin’.” Another slug should do it.

“The best things to do at these things is getting drunk and fucking,” Jack explains. “You’ve got the drunk part covered, and that brunette over there looks like she might be ready to fulfil the fuck part of the evening. Go and get her, mate.” He laughs as he nudges me in the gut?.

But I sit still and settle in, my eyes dragging over the luscious body of the brunette. “Fuck that,” I grunt. “I’m done chasing women. She can come and get me.”

Naomi

“Those are my terms,” I say as the limo pulls up in front of the hotel.

Dan sits opposite from me, twisting that eyebrow ring as he thinks. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms Prendergast, but I accept your conditions as long as you’re willing to work with mine.”

“I am,” I say, holding my hand out to shake his.

His mouth curves into a grin as he wraps his hand around mine. “They’re lucky to have you, Naomi. There aren’t a lot of people who’d be willing to do what you did tonight. But I have a hell of a lot of respect for you for standing your ground. I’ll get my people to draw up some paperwork and let you know when it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Dan.” I let go of his hand and move to get out of the car.

“He’s a lucky man,” he calls out when I step onto the curb.

“Let’s hope that he thinks so too.” I smile and lift my hand to wave. “I’ll see you on stage.”

“See you,” he says with a nod as he sits back. The driver closes the door before addressing me.

“Your things were taken to your room, miss. Reception has your key.”

“Oh, thank you.” After everything that happened tonight, I’d totally forgotten I didn’t have any of it. Stephanie will lose her mind when I tell her about this. But first, I need to talk to Theo and Marcus. If I’m right about everyone’s motivations, the deal I just struck with Dan will appease us all. I hope.

Once I have my key card, I make my way upstairs and walk up the dimly lit hallway. It’s late, but by the light shining out of their slightly open door, Theo and Marcus are still awake. Why would they leave their door open?

“Hello?” It feels too quiet. God, I hope nothing has happened to them. I place my hand on the door, and push, letting it open slowly as I peer through the widening space. “Holy shit.” I want to vomit. And cry. And scream. And stab someone.

Instead, I gasp and clutch at my chest, rooted to the spot as I take in a scene I never expected. Not in a million years. “I…” I shake my head. Not wanting to believe it.

Theo, standing against the wall, a girl knelt at his feet. Her head bobs back and forth as he fists her hair, his head tilted back as he moans in between swigs of his beer.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I… I…” I stammer, trying to force my eyes away while I grope for the handle of the door. I need to get out of here.

“Naomi?” His eyes find mine, glassy and unfocused.

“Pretend I wasn’t here,” I gasp, finally getting a hold of the door and backing away. Closing my eyes as click it shut, I cover my mouth and release a sob. “Stupid, naïve, desperate girl. What did you expect?” I mutter to myself as I fumble with my key card in my lock, wishing my hands would stop shaking. “Fuck.” I jam at the card in the slot, begging it to turn to green so I can get the fuck to safety and forget that I saw what I just saw. “Work!” The lock beeps and the door clicks, blessedly granting me entry. “Thank god.” Reefing down the handle I quickly push my way in, I can’t deal with this. Not Theo. Fuck.

“Naomi, wait.” Theo emerges from his room, still trying to do up the buttons on his jeans.

“Fuck you, Theo.” I try to get inside and push the door shut before he can reach me, but he’s too fast.

“I said wait.”

“Leave me alone,” I warn him.

“No.” The smell of liquor rolls off him as he pushes his way in.

I swipe at the tears on my cheeks. “Go back to your whore. I don’t want you.”

Slamming the door, he homes in on me, a predatory look in his eyes. I try to sidestep him and get to the door, but he steps in front of me each time, completely blocking my way.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking back what’s mine.”

“You’re drunk.”

His eye twitches, and he grunts. Fuck.

I turn and run for the bathroom, hoping to at least put a door and a lock between the two of us. I reach out for the door handle just as his strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me against his hard chest.

I kick my legs, beating my fists behind me, hitting at him wherever I can. “Let me go,” I screech. “Let me go!”

Suddenly he obliges, dropping me on my feet. A rage builds inside of me and I turn on him, pointing my finger at his face as I wish I was capable of spiting venom in his eyes.

“What the fuck, Theo?” I shriek, my teeth clenched as I growl at him.

His eyes move between mine and then drop to my mouth. I don’t get a moment to think before he crashes his mouth into mine. I stumble back, hitting up against the bathroom door as his fingers work their way into my hair and his mouth moves demandingly against mine.

I shove against his chest, giving me just enough space to lift my hand and slap his face. “Fuck you.”

He snatches his head back, his brow furrowing slightly as we glare at each other, gasping for breath. I lift my hand to slap him again, but this time he catches my hand, pinning me against the door.

“Stop, Theo. You’re drunk, and you’re scaring me.”

His eyes move over my face, brow tight as he studies my features. “Do you know what I realised tonight?” The slur in his words is gone. He’s eerily sober.

“What?” I whisper, pressing my swelling lips together as a tear slides from my eye.

He inhales. “That I don’t care anymore.” His warm breath washes over me as he presses his body against mine and dips his head, brushing his lips along my jawline. My head swims.

“Theo.”

“I don’t care if you fuck Marcus.” His tongue snakes out and tastes the skin at my pulse point. “I don’t care if you fuck Stolle.” His mouth moves to fleshiness where my neck meets my shoulder. “I don’t care if you fuck the whole damn country.”

“I—”

His teeth press into my skin, sending a searing heat as he bites and sucks. I gasp and cry, fighting against him for the moment it takes for him to mark me then lift his head. “I don’t care because I want you, anyway.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I want you so much it burns.” He brings his mouth to mine and sucks on my lower lip. “I want you so much I’m willing to take you.”

I turn my head away and sob, my voice coming like gravel as I yell. “I didn’t sleep with him, you dick.”

He pulls back for a single moment, his dark eyes softening before his lips return to mine, demanding.

“Don’t you kiss me with that mouth.” I turn my head. “God only knows what you just did with it,” I cry, pressing myself into the door behind me. I may not have slept with Dan, but he was certainly busy while I was gone.

“My lips didn’t touch her,” he murmurs, taking a hold of my jaw and holding me steady.

“Just your dick did,” I spit.

“I’m not trying to touch you with my dick.” My nerve endings scream for attention as he brushes his lips across mine, confusing my mind because I want him, but he’s scaring me. “Let me in,” he whispers, his tongue sneaking out, and brushing over my bottom lip. “Let. Me. In.” He grinds his hips against me, showing me his arousal, proving to me that I’m weak when my body responds, my core throbbing. I want him anyway.

My mouth pops open on a gasp and his tongue invades with a moan. He releases my hands and slides his fingers into my hair, gripping me by the roots and holding me steady as his mouth moves against mine insistently, almost violently, his body jamming me against the wall.

And then there’s me, getting off on it, clinging tightly to him, one hand in his hair and the other on his back, gripping his shirt into a ball in my fist, trying to draw him closer.

I’ve lost my damn mind.

Our kissing becomes more frantic, more needy. One of his hands slides down my body, gripping my arse and pulling me closer still. My blood pumps in my ears as every inch of me begs for more from him. Lifting my leg, I wrap it around the back of his, rocking my body against him, moaning and whimpering into his mouth as my need for him grows. This is insane.

With a loud erotic growl, he slides his hand down my leg, sending ripples of pleasure skittering through my body, directly to my core. “You are mine,” he rumbles, his hand moving back up my leg, his fingertips pausing at the hem of my skirt. “Only mine.” He breaks the kiss momentarily, looking into my eyes as he moves his hand just a little higher.

“Yes.” I rock my hips again, begging as my chest heaves and my insides ache. “And you need to be mine.”

With a groan, his mouth covers mine, growing more frantic and desperate as his hand slides between my legs. I feel a deep rumble escape his throat as his fingers slide underneath my panties and between my folds, gliding through the slickness of my arousal.

“Oh god.”

Finding my nub, he rubs my juices over it, back and forth, along with the motion of my hips. My fists clench even tighter as I whimper into his mouth, teeth pulling at his lip.

My insides scream for his touch as my pleasure builds, and the moment his fingers find their way inside me, I burst, throwing my head back against the door as I moan and buck against his hand as he finger fucks me into oblivion while I yell, “Holy fuck. Holy fuck,” until the wave subsides and he stops moving.

Leaving his fingers inside me, he rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavily for a moment before kissing my now swollen lips softly, much sweeter and gentle this time. Sucking on my bottom lip, he pulls away from me and removes his hand from between my legs. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What?” I’m still leaning against the door gasping, expecting something more to happen when he takes a step away from me, his eyes widen and he shakes his head slightly, looking utterly confused. Then he turns and leaves the room without even a backwards glance.

“Theo!”

When the door clicks shut, I start to shake, feeling unsure about what the hell just went on. Still leaning against the bathroom door, I reach down and straighten my skirt. Taking deep calming breaths as I fight the tears that are threatening to pour out of my eyes. The reality of what just happened seeps into my lust addled mind.

I’m sorry? He’s sorry? What the fuck?

Tears stream down my face as I attempt to reconcile everything that just happened with the intentions I came in with. And all I can think to do is take a shower and try to wash the whole evening away. Fuck you, Theo.

Twenty-Nine

Marcus

What a fucking awesome night. If it wasn’t for the fact we have another show to do and I need to get some sleep, I think I’d still be out partying. I stumble up the hallway of the hotel with Lachlan and Jack, trying to be quiet but unable to stop our laughing over some of the things we got up to. The parties are bigger and wilder at the top.

“I love being in a band with you, man,” Lachlan slurs, tapping my cheek as he lands against the wall while Jack opens up their room.

“You’re pretty great yourself,” I say, roughing up his hair as I walk backwards away from them. “And we get to do it all again tomorrow.”

“Living my best life!” Jack hoots as he opens their room and he and Lachlan fall inside. I pause in the middle of the hall and grin, taking a moment to absorb the quiet. I could get used to this life. Touring around, singing and partying with my best friends, spreading happiness with our sound. There’s no better job in the world.

Shoving my hand in my pocket to retrieve my room key, I pause when the door to Naomi’s room creaks open. Of course, I’m expecting it to be her—why wouldn’t I? It’s her room. Maybe she enjoyed our kiss so much it was keeping her from sleeping?

“Hey—” My words catch in my throat when the person emerging from her room is Theo, his hair all mussed up and lipstick on his face. Fucking cunt. I knew it. I fucking knew it.

He stops in his tracks, his face paling when we lock eyes. “Marcus.”

Offering a knowing smirk, I point to my mouth. “You’ve ah… got something. Right there.”

He glares at me as he wipes at it, taking a couple of quick strides towards me and snatching our room key from my hand. He enters our room without a word.

“Planning on filling me in on what the fuck that was?” I push the door open before it closes on me and follow him in, holding my hands out to the side as I confront him. The rules. The rules. They’re so fucking important until it’s him breaking them. Fuck him.

His only response is to turn his head slightly and glare at me. Arsehole. He thinks he holds all the power here. I’m sick of his attitude… I quit my internal rant when my foot taps against an empty beer bottle. I look around at the destroyed room, empty bottles and cans all over the place.

“What the fuck went on here tonight?” I ask, becoming worried. This is so unlike Theo. I was glad when Amy convinced him to come into the party after the show and have a few drinks for a change. But I had no idea he left and did… well… it looks like he did a lot.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he states, walking into the bathroom and slamming the door.

I follow him in, not giving a shit if he wants privacy or not.

“No. You don’t get to refuse to speak. I just caught you coming out of Naomi’s room looking like you’ve spent all night fucking. You chewed me out tonight for kissing her on stage. Went on and on about how there are rules, and that getting involved with her would ruin the band. Then I get back, and from the looks of things, you had some sort of drunken bang session with her. What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you just keep your fucking hands to yourself?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? It’s always been the same with you. You always want what I want, constantly trying to get in the way,” I spit, goading him, pissed off that he’s sneaking around with her after yelling at me for doing something publicly. At least I was open about it.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he warns, his fists balling at his sides as his nostrils flare and his jaw clenches.

“What was it like fucking my sloppy seconds?” I snap.

“What?”

“Did you really believe I didn’t sleep with her that night? She’s fucking hot, and she was naked.” I’m drunk and I want to hurt him. He made me swear I wouldn’t touch her and he’s going around behind my back. “She was so fucking wet, Theo. Gagging for it. Legs open wide. I took my dick out and I gave her what she—”

My head snaps back and hits against the tiled wall as Theo’s fist collides with my face. Pain spreads through my sinuses as a warmth flows over my mouth, and I immediately regret my words. Especially considering they’re not true. I never took advantage of her. I couldn’t. Naomi is the sweetest girl I’ve ever known and she could never be a mere conquest to me. She’s much more than that. It’s why I’ve never slept with her. Naomi is the kind of girl you settle down with.

Theo releases a frustrated roar then storms out of the bathroom, grabbing his wallet and keys before he slams his way out of the room. Staring after him, I reach up and cup my hand over my nose to catch the blood that starts pouring down my face and dripping onto my shirt.

“Shit.” I hang my head over the basin and look at myself in the mirror. I think he’s busted my nose. God only knows if I’ll be able to sing with it like this tomorrow. Fucking Theo.

Thirty

Naomi

The next night while we’re waiting to go on stage, the tension in the dressing room is so thick you could slice through the air with a knife. I force myself to focus; the music is more important than my fucked-up sex life, but it’s a struggle to ignore the issues in the room.

Lachlan and Jack sit together like they need the protection while the brothers stay as far away from each other as possible, and I’m sitting in the middle of it all. Where I always am.

With minutes to go, I change out of my ballet flats into a pair of suede ankle boots that give me a good five inches of extra height. They look great with the rest of my outfit, which is a fitted black singlet and cropped vest, with a purple mini skirt that has these tulle ruffles coming off the back of it, kind of like I have a peacock tail.

Theo hasn’t even looked at me, and truthfully, I don’t want to look at him either. Except my stupid eyes keep finding their way over to him. I feel embarrassed—mortified—after last night. I can’t believe I gave in so willingly. He was being awful, and I’d just caught him wearing a groupie’s throat for underwear. My first encounter with him was supposed to be this emotionally charged moment of beauty. Not some moment of anger that left us feeling worse than we were before. And now I feel cheap, cast aside. But what did I really expect? Theo is a Bailey brother after all.

Checking myself over in the mirror, I tighten the ponytail I’ve swept my hair into and spritz a bit more spray into my hair to set it all in place. I can see everyone in the room behind me, all the men are dressed in jeans and fitted t-shirts. They’re a striking group. No wonder the girls go nuts. Maybe I should take up Dan’s original offer…. Then I wouldn’t be the girl in the way.

I drop my gaze and focus on the cosmetics in front of me, my stomach clenching with anguish and distaste. I didn’t even get the chance to tell them the good news. I can’t fix this at all….

“Is anyone going to address the elephant in the room,” Lachlan asks, looking between Marcus and Theo. “He can’t go out there looking like that.”

Marcus obviously pissed somebody off enough to cop a punch last night. His face is swollen and bruised. Knowing how cocky he is, I’m sure he did something to deserve it. But he’s our front man, and he can’t go out there looking all bruised and beaten. Even if I am annoyed with him too.

“What were you thinking, man?” Jack asks, his question directed toward Theo. Wait. Theo is responsible for Marcus’s face? It doesn’t take a huge amount of deductive reasoning to work out that they were most likely fighting over me. Oh shit.

Letting out a huge sigh, I stand from my seat. “You two. Out,” I command, as I head towards the door, expecting both Bailey brothers to follow me.

I walk along the hall, trying doors until I find an open room. It’s filled with folded tables and broken down set equipment. But there’s just enough room for me to pace.

“This needs to stop.” I look at the brothers, my agitation buzzing under my skin as I shake my head occasionally and touch my hair while I try to work out what more to say. I feel strongly about both of them. But with each one it’s different. They’ve always meant something to me, and the past few months working with them has really seen our friendships grow as well as my attraction. As wrong as it is, under the right circumstances, and the right time, I could see myself with either of them. But after last night, all I feel is used. More than that, I feel confused. I don’t know if I want to stay on this path anymore.

“Do you know what Dan Stolle wanted from me last night?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips. “And don’t say ‘in my pants’ because I’ll slap you both silly.”

Marcus’s mouth twitches, and I know he’s trying not to smirk.

“He asked me to continue the tour with them. While you two were busy fighting in the dressing room, I got to go on stage during their encore. I played Vagabond and it was amazing. And you arseholes missed it. Then Dan offered me the opportunity of a lifetime. Touring the globe, collaborating on their next album. And I said no. Unless I could bring you. I told him he either takes us all or he takes no one.”

“What did he say?” Marcus asks.

“He said yes to the tour. And he agreed to help open some doors for us in the UK so we can play their festival circuit while I helped with his album.”

“Holy shit,” Marcus says, rubbing at the back of his head. “This is amazing.”

“Is it?” My eyes brim with tears as I look between them. Marcus’s demeanour has shifted from being wary to excited. And Theo looks like he’d rather set himself on fire than continue standing here. I need to look away and take a breath. I had hoped to offer this deal to them in trade. Theo and I would get the chance to make something more out of our relationship. And Marcus would take the opportunity as his compensation to back off. The man wants stardom more than he wants anything in this world—including me. So I thought it would work. I thought we’d all get something we want. But now I’m having to use it as a bargaining chip to make it all stop. Once again, I have to threaten to walk away because these two can’t sort their shit out. And I don’t like either of them enough to consider touching them right now.

“Of course,” he says. “You don’t think it is?”

“I don’t know. I’m reconsidering everything after the bullshit you two keep putting me through. And I promise you, I’ll take his initial deal and walk away from the lot of you if it doesn’t stop. I am not an object, and I am not a prize to be won. I am not a good enough reason for you two to fight. Do you understand me?”

Their heads bob in tiny nods.

“You,” I direct towards Marcus. “You don’t get to hold my hand, put your arm around me, fucking sniff at me, or kiss me on stage anymore. Is that clear?” I state, glaring at him until he nods his head in acquiescence.

“And you,” I say, moving in front of Theo, my words catching in my throat as my eyes start to sting. “Don’t do that again.” My voice shakes as I address him and barely cracks an audible level.

He looks at me beseechingly and lifts his arm as if to touch me, but I step back, causing him to freeze, drop his hand and nod. “OK,” he agrees in a whisper.

I shift my stance and address them both. “This is only our first tour stop. If this is what happens after only a few days then what the hell is going to happen by the end of it? I need you both to leave me the fuck alone. No touching, no hugging, and absolutely no kissing. I will not allow your sibling rivalry to ruin this band. Rein it in. This is too important for you two to be fighting over a girl.”

They glance at each other, and Theo tightens his crossed arms and releases his breath. Then they look at me and nod.

“As long as we’re on the same page,” I say.

Last night after Theo left, I realised there was a very good reason for that non fraternisation rule. Stupidly, we’ve all been skirting its boundaries the whole time we’ve been together. Its purpose was to stop things like this, to stop emotions getting in the way of what’s best for the band.

Years ago, I moved on from the Bailey brothers, and I can do it again. I can be their co-worker and maybe I can be their friend. But I don’t think I can be anything more. It can’t possibly work. I would ruin their relationship and in turn destroy the band. It doesn’t matter how important Marcus makes me feel or how glorious Theo makes me feel. I need to put that distance between us. I need to be professional.

My eyes lock, momentarily with Theo’s, causing my stomach to clench and my knees to go weak. Give me strength. I need to do this.

Snatching my eyes away from him, I clear my throat. “Let’s get back. I think I have something in my makeup kit that can cover that bruising.”

“No. I am not wearing makeup.”

“Don’t start me,” I snap. “Jack is right, you can’t go out there looking like that.”

The brothers exchange wide-eyed glances and I half expect one of them to tell me I remind them of their mother. Which would be a good thing. No one wants to fuck their mother. Well…except those freaks who do…

We get back to the dressing room just as we’re called to the stage. The others go ahead while I quickly apply coverup to Marcus’s face, trying to ignore the sadness in his eyes as he watches me.

“It’s all for the best, Marcus,” I say, dusting powder on him to set the concealer. “You’re never without a girl on your arm. You don’t need me there too.”

“Maybe I only want you on my arm. Maybe I’d give up every one of those girls for you.”

I drop my eyes as I place the brush and powder back in my makeup kit, unsure how to respond to him.

“And what would Theo do? Come to our wedding? Sit and eat Sunday dinner with the family?”

He frowns. “I…” he starts, but he doesn’t get further than that.

“See? It doesn’t work no matter how you look at it. And now you’re ready. Let’s go,” I say, deciding that avoiding any more conversation would probably work better right now.

We go out on stage and welcome the crowd. They don’t really know who we are, but once we’ve finished our first song they’re screaming for us, just like they were last night. Together we make magic. And no matter how hard it is to say no to something you want, sometimes you have to do it for the sake of something bigger. At least it’ll give us excellent writing fuel.

When we return to the dressing room, there’s no fighting, just quiet acceptance of a job well done.

Dan knocks on our door shortly after we’ve returned. “Hey guys, great show,” he says to the room before his eyes find mine. “Ready to play the encore?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Be ready to come on stage when we’re done. Oh, and don’t eat. I found a restaurant I want to try.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I say, completely ignoring the way both Marcus and Theo stiffen. I’m glad that Dan still wants to spend time with me. It gives me a great excuse to leave all the parties so I don’t have to watch Marcus and Theo fuck around. I need distance or I’ll never get over them.

Theo

“Looks like you two have lost her,” Lachlan comments a few moments after Naomi has left the room. I don’t really respond. I’m too busy staring at the door where I last saw her. “Guess you can’t blame her. Him being a big star and all. And who wouldn’t want to play Vagabond with Radio Silence?” He sniffs and clears his throat slightly as he focuses on his bass, plucking at the strings. “Hope he doesn’t convince her she’s better off without us all.”

“He already tried,” I mutter, looking at my palm as I try to breathe through a tight chest. “She said no. Got him to agree to taking us along on his world tour.”

“For serious?” He pushes his bottom lip downward. “Go Nomes.”

“I still think he’s trying to fuck her,” Marcus grunts, busy trying to wipe the makeup off his face.

“Meh, no reason she can’t do the rounds like the rest of us.” Jack shrugs. He’s been sitting quietly on a stool while we all sit around acting like someone just died. “Maybe when he’s finished with her, me or Lach will get a turn.” He laughs, and I don’t think he means anything by it. But his laughter is cut short when Marcus steps toward him and kicks the stool out from under him, sending him sprawling on the floor. “Dude. What the fuck?”

“You’re an idiot.” Lachlan laughs, watching Jack right himself and the stool. “These two are like her fucking guardians or something. You don’t have a chance with her. Hell, I don’t even think these two have a chance with her either. She’s better than the lot of us.”

“She’s better than everyone,” I say, my tone making out like it’s an inconvenience to me. Picking up my stuff and heading toward the door. “I’m out of here, guys. Have fun at the party.”

“Hang on. I’ll come too.” Marcus says, getting up to follow me out. I simply look at him and nod, knowing that this is his way of making things cool between us.

We drive back to the hotel in silence and it isn’t until we pull up in the parking garage that he speaks to me. “Listen. About last night. I was really pissed off when I saw you coming out of her room and I said that stuff just to get to you. I never slept with her. I…” He lets out his breath and shakes his head slightly. “I always saw her as the kind of girl I’d settle down with you know? I don’t know. I just really like her. I always have. I actually…I think I love her.”

“So do I,” I admit, focusing on the symbol in the centre of my steering wheel.

“Fuck man. What do we do about it?” he asks, looking over at me.

I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing. She doesn’t want either of us,” I say, as I get out of the car and head up to our room. Marcus doesn’t follow, he just stays sitting in the van.

Thirty-One

Naomi

Over the next couple of weeks, a few things happen.

The tour continues. We visit Darwin, Perth, Adelaide, and Hobart. Each of these cities only has one night booked, so it’s a huge amount of work to arrive, set up and prepare for one show, only to pack it all up and travel to the next city to do it all again.

I start spending a lot more time with Dan, he’s really nice and so normal. I wouldn’t expect a guy as famous as he is to be sitting around talking to me about movies and the music of other people. But, I’m really enjoying my time with him, and I’m looking forward to continuing our working relationship over the coming months. We’ve already applied for our working visas through his record label. Part of the deal is signing Matiari to make the process of getting us all over there easier. I like that it means Theo won’t be busting his arse so much. As a band, we’re getting everything we ever wanted.

On top of this, Theo and Marcus have started to act like human beings. This is kind of freaking me out, because I’m so used to them being strained around each other. And I’m used to Marcus going off after a show and getting drunk and sleeping with whichever pretty girl takes his fancy that night. But they’re even beating me back to the hotel most nights. I’ll come in after hanging out with Dan and I’ll hear them through the door of their room, talking and laughing together, sometimes I hear them working on songs.

A couple of times I’ve wanted to go in and join them. I even stood at the door, with my hand lifted and ready to knock, but before I could, they erupted into a fit of laughter. So instead of knocking, I just let my hand rest on the door, connecting with them that way as I smiled to myself, listening to their camaraderie, and happy that they’ve found each other again. This is what I wanted.

It seems I’m excellent at bringing other people together. But I’m terrible at finding connections for myself. And Dan doesn’t count, because I’m not interested in him like that.

I miss home.

“Finally,” Stephanie yells into the phone when I call her the morning we’re due to fly to Melbourne. “You know I’ve been calling your mother for updates? What happened to my best friend privileges? And what happened to my FaceTime call with Dan Stolle? There are photos of you two everywhere. Are you dating now?” I smile at her barrage of questions. It was exactly what I needed.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve seen your texts. We’re just keeping odd hours these days, and I didn’t want to wake you up,” I explain. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Same to you, Nomes. I’ve been missing you.”

“Me too,” I whisper, my voice cracking a little as all of my emotions burst out to the surface. Steph is the one person I’ll tell everything to, and just connecting with her over the phone makes me realise how much I need to talk.

“Hey, what’s going on? You sound upset.”

“It’s just…” I cry out the whole sad and sorry state of affairs I’ve found myself in. I tell her about what happened with Marcus on stage, what happened with Dan, and then Theo in my room, the deal I struck for the band, and how I told them they couldn’t touch me anymore and now they’re staying as far away from me as possible.

“Holy shit, Naomi. I've been so excited because of those photos of you with Dan Stolle, I thought you were out there having the time of your life,” she says when I finally stop.

“No. He’s just a friend. I mean, we kissed once, but that was as far as it went.”

“You’re killing me,” she mutters. And I laugh, wiping my nose with a Kleenex.

“He’s actually really cool and down to earth. I can talk to him. So he knows I’m caught between Marcus and Theo.”

“And what does he say about it?”

“That I should stay platonic. He thinks relationships ruin bands. I know he’s right. I just…”

“Can’t seem to stop thinking about them? Or perhaps one in particular? A goth boy perhaps?” she suggests, her voice calm and understanding.

“I don’t know, Steph. I wish we could all just go back to before the tour when Theo didn’t want to be around me and Marcus was just flirting for fun. It’s just so serious now. This is supposed to be fun, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way. I—”

She keeps talking, but I don’t hear the rest because there’s a soft rapping on my door.

“Oh, Steph, I’m sorry there’s someone here. I’ll have to call you back.”

“OK, well I’m proud of you. And I can’t wait to see you perform in Sydney. Gary and I are dying to watch you on the big stage.”

“Thank you. I’ll call you again as soon as I can.”

We disconnect, and I head towards the door as my visitor knocks again and says my name. My heart does an excited jump in my chest. It sounds like Theo. Smoothing my hair and my shirt, I breathe into my hand to smell my breath, noting that it’s fine. What am I doing? Rolling my eyes at myself, I set a smile on my face and pull the door open.

“Are you packed? It’s almost time to go,” Marcus says, looking serious.

“Um… sure. Do you need my bags for the car?” I ask, standing to the side to let him in when he nods. I’m not going to lie and pretend that I’m not looking past him in the hope that Theo is here too. But my heart sinks. It’s just Marcus. “I’ll just double check I have everything.”

“Are you happy, Naomi?” he asks suddenly, watching me as I open and close the cupboards and drawers.

“I…” I start, not fully understanding the question, or what he wants me to say.

“Because I’m not. I mean, it’s great I’m getting along with Theo again. But… this is hard for me.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marcus’s face look so severe before. All the usual fun and frivolity he displays is missing and he looks…tired.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m not trying to make you unhappy. I’m just trying to stop us all from fighting. I don’t want to ruin this opportunity for us. We have so much ahead of us.”

“Do you think that when this leg of the tour is over we can talk? Properly, you know? Lay it all out on the table before we head overseas.”

“Yeah. I think that might be a good idea,” I say, feeling terrible that I’m making him unhappy. That was never my intention.

As we ride the lift down together, we look at each other a few times and exchange a few uncomfortable laughs. Honestly, I don’t know about this chat he wants to have. I want to come to an understanding, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to give him what he wants. Just like I don’t think he can give me what I want. He’s not the right brother.

Thirty-Two

Naomi

“What’s going on with you and Dan Stolle?” Jack asks on the plane as we fly to Melbourne to play the next two nights at Rod Laver Arena. “You seem pretty close and you’re always in the papers together, holding hands and shit.”

“We’re just friends,” I tell him.

“So you’re not gonna travel with him and stay with his band instead of us when we head overseas at the end of all this?”

I laugh a little and close the cover on my kindle, giving him my full attention. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you play their encore every night, and he wants you working on their next album. You’ll have to tour with him eventually, you know.”

“I know. And Matiari will be their support act each time. It’s the only way I agreed to it.”

“So we’re like, the pity act?”

“What? No.” I frown. “Why say that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just we were going nowhere then you turn up and we’re going everywhere, but we’re riding your coattails.”

“Would you rather I leave the band and we give up this opportunity to tour and be signed by an international label?”

“No.” He knits his brow. “That’s not what I’m saying. I guess things were just easier before.”

“Yeah. I guess everything, even success comes at a price.”

“Do we wanna pay it? I mean, what about you and those two?” he asks, nodding his head toward where Marcus and Theo are sitting.

I look over at them and watch them as they speak animatedly, feeling my resolve slipping just that bit more. I can’t help but wish I was sitting there with them…holding Theo’s hand.

“I don’t know,” I reply softly.

“You know that if you pick one, they won’t be doing that anymore,” he points out as we both watch the brothers burst into laughter.

“It’s why I’m trying to stay away.”

“That’s not going to work forever, Nomes. The longer we’re on the road, and bigger we get, the more likely this is to blow up. I just hope I’m not in the room when it happens. We’ve got a long way to fall now, you feel me?” he says, sliding his headphones over his head and turning his iPad on. I guess this conversation is over.

I re-open my ereader and go through my books, my finger hovering over the one I was reading to Theo. A pang of longing thuds in my chest, and I look over to where he’s sitting, catching him watching me. His dark eyes connect with mine and I swear time just freezes. I don’t even think I’m breathing. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but it ends all too soon when he seems to realise what he’s doing and his brow creases just before he turns around and doesn’t look back.

My eyes prick a little, and I blink rapidly as I look down at the book we were reading. I press my finger on the screen until the menu pops up and hit delete. But when the confirmation message pops up, asking me if I’m sure, I can’t go through with it and power the device off instead. I can’t focus on reading now, anyway.

* * *

When we get to our next hotel, I settle into my room on my own again. As per usual, we’re all on the same floor. The men all have adjoining rooms, and I’m across the hall. I’ve become so fast at unpacking that I have everything away in about ten minutes. I’m slightly bored, and tired of being on my own whenever we’re not practising or performing.

Pocketing my key, I walk across the hall and raise my hand, listening to all four men talking on the other side. Butterflies swirl in my stomach as I stand there frozen. After the last couple of weeks, I feel a little awkward coming over to them all like this. I take a deep breath and knock solidly on the wood three times, fidgeting on the spot as I hear them on the other side of the door asking if anyone ordered something.

The door pulls open and I’m greeted by a smiling Marcus, his light brown hair has grown to the point where it constantly falls into his eyes. He reaches a hand up to brush it away. “Hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

I want to ask if I can come inside. I want to just bounce on in there and pretend everything is the same as it was before the tour, but I chicken out. Taking the safer road instead.

“I um… was just wondering what time we’re going,” I ask, now feeling a little like an intruder as he stands in front of me, blocking the door.

“I don’t know. Hey Theo,” he calls over his shoulder. “How long until we’re going?”

“I don’t know. A couple of hours,” he replies. I move my head slightly to the sound of his voice, but I can’t see him past Marcus’s broad frame.

“OK,” I respond quietly, taking a step backwards, getting ready to return to my room. To be on my own…

Feeling like the kid who doesn’t get picked for the sports team, I sit on my bed and sulk for a while before taking out my violin. I play Vivaldi’s La Follia, it’s something I haven’t played since I was at the School of Music, but for some reason, it’s the first thing that comes out of me when I put the bow to the strings.

Closing my eyes, I feel the music flow through me. It enters my ears, spreading through my veins like it’s being carried by my blood, mingling with my melancholy. When I finish, I feel my emotions buzzing along the surface of my skin.

A loud clapping shocks me out of my reverie, causing my eyes to fly open and focus on the figure leaning against my door frame.

“You left your key in your door,” Theo explains, holding it up for me to see.

“Oh, thanks,” I say, setting my violin on the bed beside me.

“I haven’t heard you play classical for a long time. Is something wrong? Trouble in paradise?”

“What?” I ask, furrowing my brow in confusion.

“With you and Dan.”

“There is no me and Dan. We’re friends. That’s it.”

“I just thought, since you’re always going out with him and the photos…”

“Well, you’d be wrong.”

He pulls his lips into his mouth as he takes a few steps into the room and places my key on a small table.

“You know, you never did finish reading that book to me. Maybe on the next flight… perhaps we could sit together?”

“Maybe,” is all I say as I put my violin back in its case.

“I’m so sorry, Naomi,” he says after a beat, his hands in his pockets as he meets my eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s easy enough to assume.”

“No. Not about Dan. I’m sorry about Brisbane. I was drunk and I… I messed up.”

Tears spring to my eyes as that night flashes to the surface. “Yeah. You really did,” I admit, wiping at my eye as a tear sneaks out of the corner.

“I just… I miss you.”

With a nod, I sit and stare at him, drinking in every detail. I’ve been missing him too. There’s something about him, something that makes me feel like I belong, something that makes me want to risk everything to be with him. Because he gets me. And I get him too. But I don’t know how to make this work.

“I’ll um, just…” he says, blowing out a charged breath as he backs away and places his hand on the door.

“Don’t go,” I blurt, my voice more of a burst of sound than actual words.

He freezes his movement and looks back at me, his dark eyes holding everything I know, and everything I want. Without giving it too much thought, I stand up and rush him, going up on my toes and throwing my arms around his neck.

“I miss you too,” I whisper, closing my eyes tightly as his arms encircle my waist and he lets out a relieved sigh. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you. But I didn’t want to ruin anything. I’ve just… I’ve been so lonely without you and I need you in my life. If we have to give all this up to do it, that’s OK. Because I don’t want any of this without you anymore. I’ll go back to working the bar. I’ll join another band. I’ll do anything. Just don’t walk away again. Don’t tell me no anymore.” I gasp, and bury my face in his neck, not wanting to let go.

“Naomi?” he says after I’ve finished babbling.

“Yeah?” I lift my head to look up at his face, my heart skipping a beat as our gazes collide. Please.

“Don’t slap me this time?” He slides his hands up so he’s cupping either side of my face, thumbs brushing away my emotional tears before he brings his mouth to mine. Cue the angels singing.

Glorious ripples of desire go zinging through my body as our mouths move sensuously together. It’s so much more beautiful than it was the last time we kissed, this kiss is filled with all the want and the need we’ve been harbouring for each other over the years. This is the kind of kiss that changes lives and forges destinies.

“I love you, Theo,” I say, not wanting to let him go.

He wraps his arms around me tightly as he breathes in deep. “I love you too, Naomi. You have no idea how much.”

Thirty-Three

Theo

She loves me. She misses me. She chooses me. She’s willing to give everything up for me. It’s unnecessary, but the sentiment is there. I just need to figure out a way to break this to Marcus without him losing his mind. I don’t know how to do that. She loves me. Fuck. Wow. Fuck.

“Marcus is in love with you too,” I say over her shoulder. I don’t want to let her go. And I don’t want to wreck this moment, but it’s a fact we need to face. Loving each other is going to hurt someone.

She pulls back and looks into my eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know. He wants to talk to me when we get back home. Lay all our cards on the table.”

“Maybe we can talk to him together then?” I suggest. “There’s only four shows left. A little more than a week. We can hold off that long, right?” The words leave my mouth, but they feel like a huge lie. I’ve waited for her my whole life. And another week on top of that just feels too long. I’m barely managing to contain myself as it is, my fingers itching for her bare skin, my tongue tingling for her taste, and my dick…let’s just say I’ve had more showers on this tour than a man has the right to have.

“A whole week?” She stumbles back and drops down on the edge of her bed. “How can I? How can we? I’m barely surviving without touching you as it is.”

I sit beside her and slide my fingers between hers, gripping her hand. “Barely surviving?” When she meets my eyes, we both break into laughter.

“Well it isn’t easy being on the outside,” she says, turning towards me and placing her palm on my face. I love it when she does this, raking her fingers over my stubble as she caresses my jaw. “All I want to do is wrap my leg around you and have you touch me again, and I can’t do any of it. All I get to do is watch you from afar and imagine you when I touch myself.”

And, now I’m hard.

Grabbing her by the waist, I flip her so we’re lying on the bed and I’m holding myself over her. I run my teeth along her jaw. “When did you become so forward?”

She pulls at my T-shirt, and I shift so she can lift it over my head. “I’ve always been this way. In case you haven’t noticed, most of the time, it’s been me trying to kiss you.”

I sit back on my knees and pop the button on her jeans, running my fingers along the smooth skin of her stomach. “Shit. You’re right.”

“How long do we have?”

“Before someone comes looking for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me a minute.” I get off the bed and send a text to the others, telling them to go eat without me, I’ve some shit to sort out. “All afternoon.” I smile as I turn back to her, my grin growing wider as I find her in nothing but her bra and panties. I was totally kidding myself when I suggested we should wait until the end of the tour. There’s no way I can continue saying no to this.

“You should lose the pants,” she says. “But keep the condom from your wallet.”

I lift my brow, chuckling at her bossy attitude. I like that she knows what she wants, but I’m a man who likes to be in control.

Naomi

Theo locks eyes with me as he slides his belt from his jeans. “Give me your hands.”

Oh. God. Yes.

Shifting to sit, I hold my hands in front of me, keeping eye contact as he winds his belt around my wrists then helps me lie back so he can secure them to the headboard. “So we know who’s boss.” He gives me a wink as he settles on top of me, still wearing his jeans.

“You can boss me around whenever you like. Just know that sometimes I’m gonna fight you.”

He grins as he dips his head and runs his tongue along the lace edge of my bra. “I expect nothing less.”

“But I won’t be fighting today.” I grin, loving the sight of his head bowed over my chest. “I like what’s happening here.”

“You do?” He pulls down the cup of my bra and takes my erect nipple in his mouth, sucking on it hard.

I inhale sharply, arching my back, pushing my breasts toward him. “God, yes,” I pant, my fingers tightening around the leather. “Just please. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” He pulls away immediately, causing me to whimper as he gets to his feet and drags my underwear down my legs. “We don’t need these.” He tosses them over his shoulder.

“Now what?” I ask, lying exposed while he stands there with only his shirt off and top button undone, his eyes raking over my body.

“I give you what you want.”

“And what’s that?”

He pulls his wallet from his pocket then removes the condom, dropping it on the bed with a flick of his fingers. Then he undoes each button on his jeans, pausing before he pushes them down. “Open your legs,” he instructs, and I comply, really getting off on everything about him. Although, I have to wonder if this is why we never saw him sleeping around. Any sort of control and restraint in the bedroom takes a certain amount of trust. That takes time to build. I’d never let a guy I’d just met tie me up like this.

“Beautiful.” With his eyes on my core, he releases a moan as he pushes his jeans down his legs, releasing an impressive looking cock that he takes in his hand and strokes back and forth and he climbs back over me, releasing himself before bracing above me and sucking gently on my lips, pulling with his teeth. I feel the weight of his cock on my thigh.

“Hold on.” He wraps his arm around me and flips us over so I’m on top. It’s a skilful manoeuvre, made that much more difficult with the restraints. But this guy knows what he’s doing, and he’s propped on the pillows in no time, his big hands guiding me so I’m straddling his length. “Slide along my shaft. I want to feel how wet you are.”

“I’m dripping.”

“Mmm. Then this is gonna feel good for both of us.”

He places his hands on my hips as I rock back and forth, gliding along his shaft so the ridge of his dick rubs against my clit. My insides ache from wanting him, and all I’d have to do is ride a little high and roll my hips a certain way, and I’d take him inside. But he hasn’t put on his condom. And we haven’t had that talk yet. Plus, that isn’t what he asked me to do. And I really like doing what I’m told with him.

“Theo,” I gasp, the pressure between my legs building as I continue to rock on top of him, his hands gliding over my skin, cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingertips.

“Are you going to come?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod, losing myself to the sensation.

“Don’t,” he instructs, and the gruff sound of his voice almost pushes me over the edge. “I said don’t.” He clamps his hands against my hips, holding me down so I feel his pressure against my core, but I can’t gain any friction. I whimper, because I really want to come. And I wriggle because I’m desperate. Then he hisses and lifts my hips, shifting me to the side as he slips from beneath me. “Stay on your knees.”

“Can I hold the headboard?” When I look his way, he's got the condom packet between his fingers, tearing it open with his teeth. His eyes shine with dark desire, and I squeeze my insides tight. Goth boy is the king of the bedroom.

“Yes,” he says, rolling the rubber down his shaft.

When I feel him returning to the bed, I get into position, eager to feel him enter me. He places a hand on my butt cheek then squeezes before pressing a kiss to the back of my hip, his hand sliding down between my legs, connecting with my wetness.

“Is this what you imagined?” he asks when his fingers slide into my depths.

“It’s better.” I moan and shudder, keening and wanting more.

“Better?” He rolls the tip of his drenched finger against my clit, his free hand holding onto my hip.

“Yes. I didn’t expect you to be so…so…commanding.”

“Even though I took from you.”

I shake my head, leaning back as far as the belt will allow, wanting him deeper. “You didn’t take. I gave.”

He moans and presses his erection against the back of my thigh as he touches and teases, bringing me close before backing right off. It’s blissful torture that ends with me begging.

“Please, Theo. Please.” I’m dying. If I don’t come soon, I will die. I know it.

“Not yet.”

I almost cry. “Please.”

He leans over me, hot breath on the back of my neck as he nips and sucks at that fleshy part he marked on me before. I moan and arch into him. “I want you to come with me inside you.” Then he reaches up and loosens the belt, freeing my hands. “Get on your back.”

Wiggling my fingers, I drop to the mattress, opening my legs as he leans over me, pressing himself at my entrance. “Naomi.” He stares into my eyes as if checking he has permission.

“Do it,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, loving the sudden freedom to touch him and feel his hair. It heightens my emotions and makes me grateful for the connection.

Groaning, he pushes himself slowly into me, rocking his hips until I’ve taken in all of him. “Naomi. Naomi. Naomi.” He hisses when I clench myself around him. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.” Our eyes are locked, and I’m sure his face is mirroring mine right now, lost in ecstasy. He looks beautiful leaning over me, his lips parted as he breathes with each thrust, his hair falling forward, surrounding his face like a dark halo.

I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling his face towards me. Our mouths meet with a furious passion as he moans and I whimper and his thrusting increases. I can’t hold on much longer and release his head, my hands flying to my sides as I grip at the sheets and throw my head back, letting out a load moan as I explode, my internal muscles gripping him tightly as my hips buck upward. “Theo,” I yell. “Holy fuck!” I’ve never come so hard in my life.

The moment my tremors subside, I feel him pulse inside me, letting out a guttural moan and thrusts himself into my depths, holding steady. “Holy fuck is right,” he mumbles against my neck before rolling off me and gathering me in his arms, touching, stroking and kissing.

“You’re not going to take off on me this time are you?” I whisper, running my fingers over the side of his face, enjoying the feeling of the course stubble beneath my fingertips.

“Not this time.” He smiles, bringing his mouth to mine and kissing me tenderly. “I’m crazy in love with you. I think I’ll stick around.”

My heart swells in my chest, close to bursting as I wrap my arms tighter around him. “Say it again,” I whisper.

He moves so he’s on top of me, looking down into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze enough to start my insides clenching all over again.

“I’m in love with you, Naomi,” he murmurs. “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.” His voice is like a soft caress, washing away all the shit and the hurt that’s gone on between us, clearing the slate for a new future. We’ll find a way to make this work.

Marcus

I think my heart just stopped beating. That or I’m about to explode. My skin is on fire, and I can hear my blood rushing through my ears as a pain forms in my chest.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

I try to breath. I try to calm down. But I’m struggling here. I came back up to be a good brother, bring Theo some food while he deals with whatever work shit he texted about dealing with. Mamma would kill me if I let him go hungry. So up I travelled, food in hand only to find an empty room.

Maybe I missed him? Maybe he was going down in the lift as I came up?  Nothing too alarming, I could put his food in our bar fridge and catch him later. No big deal. Except for that moment when I turned to leave. I’d shut our door, then heard something…disturbing…coming from Naomi’s room. It was—god, I can’t even bring myself to say it—moaning. I heard moaning.

Some sort of masochistic need propelled me towards her door. I pressed my ear against it, listening to the unmistakable sound of fucking. I thought maybe that guy Dan Stolle was in there with her. They seem to be pretty cosy these days.

But then, she yelled his name.

Theo.

Thirty-Four

Naomi

“Fuck,” Theo groans as his phone starts ringing from where he left it earlier. “That’ll be the guys.”

He climbs off me and the bed, planting a kiss on my forehead as he does. I lean up on my elbow to watch him walk naked and lean down to retrieve his phone.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks as he looks at the screen.

“Very much,” I smile, dragging my eyes unabashedly over his body, my eyes lingering on the tattoo on his ribs of what looks like lines of music bursting into flames. I haven’t studied it properly yet.

He holds his finger to his lips, signalling for me to be quiet as he swipes at the screen to answer. “Marcus,” he says in greeting. He listens for a moment, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m at the hotel… I had to make some calls… yeah… ok, I’ll meet you there.”

He disconnects the phone then drops it on the bedside table as he comes to sit next to me. “Marcus checking in. I was supposed to be getting something to eat with them,” he explains. “But I told them I had to some work to do.”

“I’m work?”

Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, he chuckles. “I wouldn’t call that work. But it’s probably going to be your name from now on. At least for the next week, anyway.”

“How do you think he’s going to take it?”

He shrugs then runs his fingers through my hair. “Who knows with Marcus. He could surprise us.”

“He could also up and quit the band.”

Theo shakes his head. “He wouldn’t do that. The band is his whole identity. He’d never walk away from it.”

“But he could make our lives a living hell until we did.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“And what do we do then?”

“We leave. And all the songs come with us.”

“You’d really take the songs?”

“I’m the one who wrote them.”

“That feels so mean.”

“Of course it is. But those songs are mine. Fragile is about you, you know? I wrote it about that night.”

“What?” He wrote a song about me?

“Yeah.” His mouth curves in a half smile. “You may have been the muse for a handful of songs.”

“I was the muse for all of them, wasn’t I?”

He leans down and brushes his nose against mine. “I admit nothing on the grounds that it may make me look creepy.”

“I could never think you were creepy. I think you’re wonderful, and I love that I meant so much to you.”

“Then it won’t weird you out that I made the school sell our piano to me.”

I bite my lip as I smile. “You didn’t? That’s the actual one?”

He nods then frowns. “I may have spent an uncomfortably long time being slightly…obsessed with you.”

“Did you stalk me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you weren’t obsessed enough.”

He chuckles then kisses me, softly at first. Slowly becoming more insistent, more passionate as his tongue demands entry and slides inside my mouth, dancing with mine. His arms slip beneath me and he stands, lifting me easily as he continues our kiss.

“Where are we going?”

“Shower. We have to get to rehearsal in forty-five minutes.”

“Forty-five minutes? How long is this shower going to take? We’re only ten minutes from the stadium.”

“I have plans for this shower. They’ll take some time.”

“Do they involve strapping me to the cubicle so I can’t move?”

“I like the way you think. But no, this is the part where I make sure every inch of your skin is lathered clean.” He sets me on my feet and switches on the water, waiting until it’s warm before he steers me inside with his arms around my waist.

“Does this mean you think I’m dirty?” I tease when he grabs my shower soap and works up a lather.

“In a good way.” He breathes in then hums. “So this is why you always smell so good?”

“Strawberries and cream body wash.”

“I like it.” He slides the thick lather over my body, starting at my shoulders, and working his way down my back. He kisses my mouth, my jawline and my neck, making his way around my body until he’s standing behind me.

Kissing behind my ear, he slides his arms around my stomach, gliding his hands through the suds, sending delicious chills through me. His fingers brush just under my breasts, causing me to moan and drop my head against his chest. He lathers over my breasts, his breathing deepening as his erection presses into me from behind, his fingers kneading my flesh and pinching my nipples.

“Theo.” Reaching back, I slide my hands behind his neck, moaning and whimpering as he glides one hand down south, skirting my throbbing need. “Tease.”

“Turn around.”

“Gladly.” I spin in his arms and writhe against him, covering him in suds as I slide one hand down toward his long hard shaft, stroking it as it stands to attention, telling me just how much I turn him on.

“Kiss me while you jack me off,” he whispers, leaning in.

I suck on his bottom lip before sliding my tongue past his teeth, my soapy hand working over his shaft. He moans into my mouth, cock pulsing in my hand. I love the way he responds to me, the way it feels to be with him. I’ve waited my whole life for this kind of connection, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste a second of it.

He moans again as his hand slides down, over my mound until he reaches my folds. The instant he touches me, my nerve endings jump to high alert, never quite recovering from their last orgasm.

“Oh god,” I cry out, working him with my hand as his fingers slip inside of me. They push in and slide out, back over my clit before he pushes his fingers inside me once more.  We rock, and we moan, touching and kissing, our hands working faster as our calls echo off the small tiled space. All the while, the water splashes down over us, encasing us in our own private cocoon, a place where the rest of the world doesn’t matter to us.

“You’re amazing,” he moans, spurting his hot juices out as he erupts into the torrent of water raining down on us. The moment I see him burst, my orgasm rips through my body, weakening my knees, causing me to press myself against him as his hand presses on my throbbing nub, keeping my orgasm steady.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper, nipping at his chin as I catch my breath.

We spend a little more time in our glorious little paradise before leaving it to return to reality and get ready for the show. To pretend we aren’t in love.

This week is going to be hard.

Thirty-Five

Theo

I love music. Every time we’re up on stage and the songs I write come to life, I’m on a high. I love the way the audience cheers and screams at the end of a song, but as soon as Marcus addresses them, a hush falls over them. They listen to each song with quiet reverence. It’s beautiful.

Although, nothing is as beautiful to me as the moment Naomi steps up to the microphone and sings the first part of It’s a Crime. She stands with her violin held at her side, ready to use it later in the song, and as always, she closes her eyes. I can tell she really feels the song, understands the lyrics and puts all of her emotion behind her words.

Please get out of the way

This is not what it looks like

I’m in the wrong place

I wasn’t looking for you

Hitting my foot on the pedal to create the echoing boom that sounds a bit like a heartbeat, I keep my eyes on her, knowing she’s about to play.

She’s amazing. Each time she holds herself, bow poised, head tilted, I get shivers. Her whole body moves and it’s as if she is the music. Every night I’ve watched, a deep ache inside of me as I’ve longed to be with her, to tell her how I feel. Tonight, I know she’s mine, and when the song finishes and the crowd screams, I’m the one she’s looking at. I’m the one she’s smiling at.

Marcus

I feel sick. Each time they look at each other it’s like I’m being stabbed. They do it briefly at the end of each song, so if I didn’t know what I do, then I probably wouldn’t even notice it. But I do. I see it clearly.

I can’t stand to see this. I need a drink. I need air.

The screaming of the audience is so fucking loud and my head is throbbing. I want to go, I want to walk off the stage. But I stay. I get through it. I plaster a smile on my face and I go through the motions. We’ve done this show so many times now I can do it on autopilot. If only I could stop looking at them. If only I could stop looking at her. She looks at me with a smile too, but it’s not the same one she gives Theo. Fuck. Kill me now. At least then this wouldn’t be so hard.

At least then I wouldn’t have lost the woman I love to my backstabbing brother. Fuck them.

The moment the show is done and we walk off the stage, I hand over my guitar and head straight for the dressing room and grab a beer. And when I finish that, I grab another. When that isn’t enough, I head into the other room and grab a bottle of rum. Tossing it back and drinking in thirsty gulps. My dry spell is over. I’m done being the good guy. I didn’t get the girl.

I played by the fucking rules and I lost. What’s the fucking point in caring when I’m surrounded by arseholes?

Thirty-Six

Naomi

“What are you doing” I ask, watching Theo as he pulls on his jeans. I’m still lying naked on the bed after a marathon love making session. We basically took off as soon as the show was over, knowing we wouldn’t be missed.

The gods were on our side tonight as Marcus seemed to be unable to ignore the allure of Melbourne’s night life and began drinking the moment we got off the stage. So it was easy for us to slip out. Everyone was used to me leaving with Dan, and they were used to Theo leaving early as well. No flags raised.

After that, well… you know what we did. And we did it over and over again. Until Theo decided to get dressed, of course.

“I’m getting my guitar. I’ll be right back.”

I pull a sheet over my body, just in case there’s anyone in the hall as he opens the door and races back to his room. There isn’t. It’s still far too early for the partygoers to come back yet.

He grins as he shuts my door, the guitar in his hand as he returns to the bed.

“What are you going to do? Serenade me? You don’t need to. You already have me. I love you dammit.” I grin, watching him as he readies the guitar.

“No. I want to show you the song. With your lyrics, it’s finished. You wanna play it with me?” His eyes twinkle and skim down the length of my body.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I say, standing up to fetch my violin. Returning to sit opposite him, poised and ready to play, boldly naked as I watch him and wait.

“I don’t know if I can play with you looking like that,” he says, his eyes glued to my chest.

“Just try,” I say softly, playing the first few notes of the song.

He’s quick to join in, and I can’t help but smile and watch his beautiful face as he sings.

Woke up this morning and I realised you were gone.

This house feels so empty, I never thought our time was done.

I know you asked me to write you a special song

You were my muse, writing without you seems wrong

The window’s open, and the wind is getting in

Without you with me, I just take it on the chin,

I loved your fire, and I loved every sin

I love everything you bring to our affair

Knowing the chorus, I join in and sing with him. I only sing softly, it’s not the easiest thing to do while you have a violin under your chin, but it’s possible, especially when I’m just singing the melody.

Oh, please know I loved you,

Even though I was unfair

Please know I still want you

I’ll show you that I care.

Each night I sleep without you,

I dream about your touch,

When I wake up I’m without you

And missing you so much.

He repeats the first verse and we sing the chorus through one more time, before ending on a hum.

“That sounds so beautiful.”

“It should. It’s about us,” he says, placing his guitar next to the bed and moving towards me. “Big shock there.”

“I know. I helped you write it. Just like I helped write that,” I say, indicating the tattoo covering his ribs.

“You recognise that, huh?” he asks, pausing his advance and sitting in front of me.

“Yeah. I do. It’s the music we were writing together in high school. The song we never finished. Is that why it ends in flames?” I ask, as he lifts his arm to give me a full view of it. His ribs are like the sheet for the music, the staffs holding the notes running over them in their horizontal lines, each note in its place until the very last line when the staff breaks up and bursts into flames, obscuring the final notes.

“I think you can guess why it ends in flames,” he murmurs, lowering his arm again, obscuring it slightly from my view.

“Were you that angry with me you branded your body with our unfinished song?” I ask, my voice a little quiet. Over the years, I have played this song. I’ve played it past the point he has it on his tattoo, and every time I’ve played it, I’ve wished for our friendship back. I wanted to show him what I came up with. It’s always meant a lot to me, so I guess it’s a little upsetting that he sees it as a bad thing.

“Yeah. I was. But that doesn’t matter now. We know none of it was true,” he reminds me, reaching out to take my hand. He lifts it and presses his lips to my knuckles, tugging me gently toward him. “We can finish it if you like. I can change the tattoo.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Can I play it?” I ask, pulling back from him slightly and reaching for my violin again.

“I’d like that,” he whispers, settling back against the headboard to watch me as I hold my violin and bow ready. “Do you need the sheet music?” he smiles, lifting his arm over his head to display the full tattoo.

“Why not,” I smile, knowing the song by heart, but liking him in that pose.

I take a deep breath and start, sliding my bow back and forth over the strings as the solemn tune fills every corner of the room and every corner of my heart. It’s always been a way I felt connected to him, it’s always reminded me of how much I missed him. Now, I play it, and I rejoice in the fact that he managed to come back into my life.

The music mirrors that fact, starting off calm, before becoming sorrowful and then light again, happy. There’s a beauty to it, an emotion that speaks to me and holds me in its arms. It’s all me and all him, and as I play the last note, I’m smiling.

When I open my eyes, he’s smiling too, a look of pure love fixed upon his features. “You finished it,” he breathes. “It was perfect.”

“We make a good team.” I put my violin and bow on the bed beside me.

“Yeah. We really do,” he returns, taking my face in his hands and kissing me before his hand drifts down to my naked breast. I giggle.

“I might need you to show me how great we are together one more time.”

He pushes me on the bed and climbs over me, capturing my hands either side of my head. “Gladly.”

Thirty-Seven

Naomi

“Shit, where is he?” Theo demands as he paces the dressing room before our final Melbourne show.

“I don’t know. He left with some chicks last night. I don’t know where he went,” Lachlan says.

“He was trashed too. But I just thought he was blowing off some steam. He’s been on the straight and narrow for most of the tour. I just thought that since Melbourne is a bit of a party city he was trying to have some fun. We had no idea he’d take off and not come back,” Jack adds, obviously feeling responsible.

“Fuck,” Theo yells, pegging his phone at the floor after yet another unsuccessful attempt to contact Marcus.

“Fifteen minutes, guys,” the stage manager says as he pokes his head in the door. Theo growls and runs his hand over his head, causing his hair to stick up all over the place. “Everything all right?” he asks, looking pointedly at each of us.

“It’s fine. We’re fine,” I say quickly, moving towards him and shutting the door before turning back to a freaked-out Theo.

“What the hell are we going to do?” he gasps, completely at his wits end.

“I’ll go and talk to Dan. Maybe they have someone who can drum, and you can front?”

Theo just looks at me, his eyes wide as beads of sweat break the surface of his skin. I grab his face on either side and look into his eyes, smoothing my thumbs over the creases above his brow.

“Calm down. We can fix this.” I lean towards him, kissing him softly, not caring what the others think at this point. This is too important.

His hands fly up to grip my face as well, as his kiss deepens and he inhales deeply, like he’s trying to breathe me in. I rest my forehead against his, breathing heavily.

Jack nudges Lachlan. “Pay up. She chose Theo. You owe me a hundred bucks.”

“Shit man,” Lachlan grumbles, pulling out his wallet. “I only have a fifty.”

As he holds it out, Jack snatches it from his hand and shoves it in his pocket. “Close enough,” he says.

Theo and I stand there, still holding onto each other as we watch our bassist and keyboardist settle their bet.

“What?” Lachlan bounces a shoulder as he notices our unimpressed expressions. “We knew she’d pick one of you.”

“And you bet against me?” Theo asks.

“Yeah. Sorry man. But well done and all that. What’s Marcus think of all this?” he responds.

“I’m guessing he’s pretty pissed off, mate. Since he’s not here and all,” Jack suggests.

“He doesn’t know,” Theo says before he looks at me and frowns. “He couldn’t know?”

I know as much as he does and offer a bounce of my shoulders. “How would he?”

It was at that moment Marcus decides to burst through the door. On each arm, laughing like some sort of gangster-pimp-wannabe, he drags in a couple of women who, from the way they’re dressed, would be more at home draped over the bonnet of a car than they would be backstage at a concert. I have never seen such large fake breasts on an actual person before, and it’s not until Theo lifts my chin to close my mouth that I realise I had it hanging open.

“Dude,” Jack says, looking Marcus over and shaking his head. “This is a whole new level of crazy. Get your fucking act together. We’re on in like, ten minutes.”

“No worries. I’m good to go. In fact, thanks to these ladies, I’m amazing,” he claims, kissing them both on the tops of their bleached heads as they giggle and cuddle up to him.

“What are their names?” I ask, unable to keep the disdain from my voice.

He looks at me and laughs.

“Listen, we don’t have time for this shit. Let’s just get our arses into gear and get out there,” Theo grumbles.

I lean down and pick up my violin, my body buzzing with anger as I think about what Marcus is doing and how he could have very well ruined the show for us tonight. After all the work Theo has put into this band, and all the work we’ve done together, he almost hung us out to dry.

Marcus leaves his bitches at the side of the stage, right near where I used to stand to watch Radio Silence. They wave and squeal while blowing kisses at him when he trots out on stage like the prized stallion. His cocky attitude just makes my blood boil more. What the hell has gotten into him?

“Hello Melbourne!” he booms into the microphone. “For those of you who don’t know us, we are Matiari. Thanks so much for coming out early to see us.”

He slips easily into his on-stage persona, and the crowd loves it. Especially tonight. He’s radiating energy, and I wonder if he’s actually taken something to make him like this. He’s a live wire.

After he introduces the first song, I calm down, he plays and sings as seamlessly as always, running through what now feels like a script. The same songs, the same words, night after night. We’re OK. He’s OK.

Every night we make more fans, and despite repeating the same performance, the adulation is enough that it leaves you wanting more. Just knowing that people love the music you’re making is enough to make you want to live up here, listening to screaming fans forever. I sneak a few glances at Theo, who winks at me, grinning and obviously feeling the magic up here just like I am.

I get my violin ready for the last song, expecting Marcus to go through his usual spiel, but he doesn’t. He goes off on a tangent. Oh god. Not this again.

“I’ll bet you guys are loving Naomi, right?” he calls out, heading over to my side of the stage. The crowd cheers, and I smile and wave at them before I frown, concerned about where this is going. It feels a lot like our first show when Marcus stuck his tongue down my throat in front of everyone, but it also feels different. The way Marcus looks at me, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, gives me a sense of foreboding. What is he going to do?

I glance at Theo, needing reassurance, but his expression darkens as his jaw clenches and he glares at his brother. I can practically feel the rage radiating off him from here. This isn’t good.

Marcus pulls my microphone from the stand and holds it to his lips. “Yeah. I love Naomi too.” His expression is calm and serious as he looks me in the eye. I feel a slight stabbing in my chest as dread fills my stomach. What the hell is he going to do?

He places my microphone back in the stand then takes a couple of steps away from me, returning to his mic before addressing the audience again. “Now, Naomi is a fan of Aiden Price.” The crowd screams at the mention of his name. “No, he won’t be here tonight, but I get that a lot of you are probably fans as well. Actually, I am too. A while back, as a bit of a treat, we did his song I Recall. But tonight, I’d like to do something a little different. I have a special song, just for Naomi. This one is called Weighted.”

Holy. Fuck. No.

Immediately, his fingers start moving over his guitar, playing the intro to the song. My mouth drops open and I look at Theo, who seems furious, but to save face he picks up the beat when he’s supposed to, shaking his head from side to side the entire time. Marcus leans into the microphone to sing.

All I wanted was you to let me in

To be true to me and not true to him

You can’t choose me now

It’s far too late

It presses on me

Like a heavy weight

All I want is for you to share your mind

If we shared our thoughts

Who knows what we’d find

We weren’t looking

There was too much on our plate

It presses on me

Like a heavy…

My stomach sours when Theo hits out the beat that means the chorus is coming, because I’m living my own personal, but very public, nightmare. Singing this song can mean only one thing. Marcus knows I’ve chosen Theo.

Strumming his guitar, Marcus throws his head back and sings with great passion.

Fuck you

You were never true

Fuck off

I can’t even look at you

You can blame me

Blame me all you want

Just fuck off

‘Cause you’re a bitch to be around

As he lowers his voice and repeats the last two lines, he looks over at me and commands, “Sing, Naomi!”

I jump slightly, swallowing a large lump in my throat and with a shaky voice, I attempt to sing the backing vocals.

I can’t believe this is happening, he’s trying to humiliate me publicly. But I don’t let him win, I sing along with him. I sing the next chorus and tell him to go and fuck himself because he’s a dick to be around.

The song becomes more intense and he screams ‘Let me go’ until the song reaches its climax and we start whispering to each other to ‘let me go, ‘cause you’re a bitch/dick to be around’.

The crowd erupts. They go fucking hysterical over it, and Marcus swings his guitar onto his back, unplugs it and walks over to me.

“I guess everyone really does love you,” he says, his eyes hard and unfeeling as he grabs the back of my head and slams his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue past my lips. It’s hard and it hurts. I hear the crash of the top hat toppling as Theo jumps up from his drum kit, and I push against Marcus’s chest with all my strength, just as Theo reaches us and grabs him by the front of his shirt, ready to punch him on stage.

“Fuck you, Marcus,” I growl, placing my hand on Theo’s arm, effectively calming him enough so he just pushes Marcus back.

Marcus stumbles then looks between us and laughs through his nose. “Yeah. Fuck, Marcus. I’m done with this shit,” he spits, taking his guitar off his back and flinging it into the audience as he storms off.

The audience roars and there’s this huge scramble of bodies as they all try to get their hands on it. But it’s all just noise to me. Tears steam down my face as I stand there in open mouthed horror. Marcus just exploded the band. How could he do that do us?

Theo’s strong arms come around my body as he pulls me to his chest, kisses my head and speaks into my ear, promising me that everything is going to be okay.

With his arm around my waist, he walks me off the stage, only to be confronted with a commotion backstage.

“You’re off the fucking tour. How dare you behave like that. I gave you the chance of a lifetime, kid, and you just blew it.”

It’s Dan Stolle with the other band members of Radio Silence standing behind him, nodding in agreement as he unleashes a verbal tirade upon Marcus, whose two female companions are now nowhere to be seen. I guess sleeping with a disgraced rock star wasn’t on tonight’s agenda.

Voices fly up and down as the yelling continues and threats are made. In the end, Marcus takes off without a word, leaving us to deal with the aftermath.

“Dan, please,” I beg as he paces the small hallway, letting out a long list of obscenities. “We can sort this out. Don’t throw us off.”

He stops and points a finger in my face. “I wanted you. Only you. I let you talk me into the rest of them. But I’m not having this shit follow us around the world.”

The tour manager steps into the hallway and calls Theo into his office. We exchange worried glances as he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before walking off to meet with what seems to be our end.

“You want in on this?” the manager asks Dan.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Dan says, taking me by the arm and leading me into their dressing room. “What just fucking happened?” he asks the moment the door is shut.

“I… I’m sorry ok. I never meant for this to get so messed up.”

“Did nothing I spoke to you about sink in? You went and fucked one of them didn’t you?” Although I don’t need to answer him, my refusal to meet his eyes is enough of an admittance. “Jesus Naomi. I like you, sweetheart, I really do. But that band of yours is a liability. I can’t bring them on tour. You’re welcome, but the rest of them are out. I mean, you don’t even have a frontman anymore.”

“Theo can do it,” I blurt out.

“Theo can what? Front?”

“Yes. They’re all his songs anyway, and honestly, he’s just as talented as Marcus. Maybe more.”

“He’s the one you’re fucking?”

My lips wobble. “He’s the one I love.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and studies me for a moment, thinking on what to do. A knock sounds at the door, and another member of his band tells him they have five minutes to get on stage.

“They can wait,” Dan tells him. “I won’t be more than ten.”

He stands up without saying anything more to me and leaves the dressing room. I follow him out, but stop when I realise he’s heading for the manager’s office.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Jack asks.

“I’m not sure,” I respond, staring at the now closed door. Praying that Dan listened to me, and that he isn’t going to kick us all off.

Thirty-Eight

Theo

“What a fucking night.” I rake my hand back and forth over my head as I ride in the elevator with Naomi by my side. She leans into me and rests her head against my arm.

“At least we got everything sorted,” she says with a sullen smile.

“I never thought I’d be glad you spent all that time with Dan Stolle.”

“Yeah, I think it definitely helped that we’re friends. Now we just need to find a drummer in the next few days,” she sighs.

“Do we know anyone who can drum on short notice?”

“I’m sure there’s someone from school. I’ll call Erica, she still knows everybody.”

“Good idea.”

“What about taking Dan up on his offer to find us a manager? Is that something you want?” she asks as the elevator pings, signalling our arrival on our floor.

“He’s already got us signed to his label, and if we take on his management too, are we going to lose total control?”

“I don’t think so. They started off independent. They don't want to clip anyone’s wings.

“Fuck. I’m not sure about anything. Although really, what choice do I have? I don’t think I can do everything I’m doing now as well as front. Hell, I’m still freaking out about fronting the band. I’ve never done that before. What if the fans we have flip out and leave us? Marcus could very well have ruined everything. I never thought he’d walk out on the band.” It’s possible I’m in shock after tonight.

Naomi slides her hand down my arm and takes my hand, curling herself into me as we walk down the hall. “They’ll love you because you’re amazing.”

I stop where I am and pull her into my arms, kissing her softly. Her body and her mouth against mine are the only reason I’m keeping calm.

After Marcus caused such a scene and stormed out, I was pulled into the manager’s office where I was subjected to a verbal ear bashing by the manager of Radio Silence, the tour manager and the venue manager. They were going to pull the band from the tour. Everything we’d worked our arses off for was being torn away because my little brother threw a temper tantrum on stage. Selfish cunt.

I told them I’d talk to Marcus. That I’d smooth things over. But they weren’t willing to risk that. It wasn’t until Dan Stolle intervened, reporting that Naomi had mentioned I could front, that they saw reason and calmed down.

After Radio Silence finished their show, they made me play for them. And being brothers, Marcus and I have a very similar singing voice. It was a night filled with debate and threats, and I will be forever grateful to Stolle for standing up for us. I almost feel bad for adding him to my hate-list. Almost.

“Do you think he’s here?” Naomi asks as we get closer to our rooms.

“He wouldn’t want to be,” I state, my anger towards him bubbling just below the surface of my skin. I think I’m capable of killing right now.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Just try and turn me away,” I murmur. “See where that gets you.” She inserts her card into the slot and pushes open the door. And I don’t waste time in scooping her up and carrying her over to the bed. I need to lose myself in her body for a while.

She leans in, brushing her soft lips along the stubble of my chin. “I can’t even see where your piercings used to be. The holes aren’t there,” she whispers, kissing where my lip ring used to sit at the corner of my mouth.

“They’re healed now,” I whisper, moving my mouth to capture hers. As my tongue slides in, she lets out this gorgeous little whimper that causes my body to forget how fucking tired I am.

“They were hot,” she whispers back, wrapping her arms around my neck as I position myself above her.

“How about I just get the one put back in my tongue?” I kiss my way down her neck as I lift her singlet up over her stomach and run my tongue around the edge of her belly button. “I’ll bet we can find a good use for that one.”

She moans and squirms in anticipation beneath me as I drag her skirt and panties down her legs. “You might have to show me first,” she pants, opening her legs and exposing her beautiful juicy pink lips to me. I feel myself go rock hard at the sight of her wetness glistening between her legs.

“I’ll do more than that,” I growl, dipping my head between her thighs and taking that first delicious lick.

She reaches down and slides her fingers in my hair—I fucking love how she does that—rocking her hips in time with my lapping. Before long, I’ve got her calling out my name, bucking against my face, her thighs tightening around my head.

I sit back, needing to be inside her, and circle my tip at her entrance, pushing into her tight wetness. “Naomi,” I moan, sliding myself back and forth as she clasps her walls around me. I’m so close to exploding. I never thought being connected with someone could feel so perfect, so right. Every encounter has been so meaningless until now.

“Oh god, Theo. Keep going.”

“Grab onto the headboard,” I instruct, holding back until she does, then thrusting more forcefully, her ecstasy-filled cries increasing with each fevered push into her depths.

“I’m coming.” Her walls grip me tightly, pushing me over the edge. I thrust myself inside her one last time and let go with her, enjoying our pulsing connection as I bow my head, resting my forehead on her chest. Loving her makes the world better.

Her fingers slide into my hair, caressing my scalp as we both catch our breath. I think about all the years we wasted. The years I wasted being angry at her. God, having her out of my life was like being locked out of heaven. She’s fucking perfect. She’s my paradise. If only I’d answered the phone when she’d called after that party. If only I hadn’t been such a jackass about finding her with Marcus. We could have been together all this time.

“I’m sorry for not answering,” I say abruptly, lifting my head so I meet her eyes.

“Not answering what?” she asks, confusion evident in her features.

“After that stupid party when you called. I listened to the voicemails, I read your texts. I knew you were upset, but I was so angry at Marcus that I took it out on you as well. I’m sorry.”

Tears well in her eyes as she runs her fingertips lightly over my face. She touches every part of me, my eyes, my nose, my mouth, before kissing me gently, tenderly. “The timing wasn’t right back then,” she whispers.

“Is the timing right now?”

She nods. “We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us.”

“Marry me,” I whisper suddenly. It just pops out, and I know it’s impulsive, but it feels right. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want her to be my wife.

She studies my features for an unnatural amount of time, and I start to worry I’ve scared her off. “OK,” she answers finally. Nodding her head and smiling. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Theo. I’ll marry you.”

Grinning, I take her mouth in mine again, and despite the exhaustion of the night we’ve had, and the fact that it’s now four o’clock in the morning, we both still find the energy to celebrate our engagement.

Thirty-Nine

Naomi

The next day we’re due to fly back to Sydney to do our final two shows of the tour. Theo has already been on the phone, trying to find someone who can drum for us. Although, I think given our time constraints, it might be best for us to agree to have a drummer found for us. We need someone professional enough to be able to do what Theo does. Drumming isn’t just about hitting out the rhythm. Theo manages to set the mood of a song with his beat. Each movement, each tap, each thump and clash are precise, deliberate. We can’t have just anyone.

“Any luck?” I ask as he disconnects from his last call.

“Maybe,” he says. “There’s a couple of possibles. I’ll meet them as soon as we get back. You might want to check them out too, see what you think?” he suggests.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” I smile, sliding my arms around his waist as he pushes my hair away from my face and kisses me.

“I have to go. They’re expecting me at the venue,” he sighs, wrapping me in his arms and holding me tight, like he never wants to let me go.

I know it seems crazy that I agreed to marry him after only being together for a short while, and I suppose in a way it is. But you have to understand that I’ve known Theo for a lot longer than the last few months. It’s not like we’re entering this relationship with sex and then learning about each other. We already know each other; sex was just the final step in a connection we made years ago. Even when I didn’t know Theo was Aramis, I still felt this great pull toward him, there was always something about him that drew me in. I see it as us finally giving in. Finally admitting that we’re soul mates.

Reluctantly, he leaves me at the hotel, taking Lachlan and Jack with him to help oversee the transport of our equipment. I can’t believe that this tour is almost over, so much has happened in such a little time that it feels strange that we’re about to go back home. Even if it’s only for a short while before we head overseas.

At the thought of home, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. It’s been on silent, but I have about twenty missed calls and a few text messages. They’re mainly from Stephanie and my parents. I feel guilty for not talking to them sooner and I’m about to call my parents when the screen lights up and displays Stephanie’s smiling face.

“Hey,” I say as we connect.

“Oh my god, Nomes. Are you OK? I’ve been dying to talk to you. You’ve been all over the news.”

“What? Why?”

“Marcus. That stunt he pulled on stage. It’s everywhere. You made the news headlines.”

“Bullshit,” I breathe, powering on the hotel’s TV. I flip through the channels, eventually landing on a newsbreak to see myself, standing on stage, clinging to Theo as Marcus launches his guitar into the crowd again. Shortly after that, a short clip comes on where reporters are trying to get a statement from Dan Stolle. He simply says that the tour will go on as scheduled and refuses to comment any further.

“Crap,” I say down the line.

“Yeah. So… I guess you chose goth boy then?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “I did.”

“What’s going to happen now? I mean with Marcus gone and all?”

I fill her in on the deal that was made after the disaster of a concert we had last night.

“Oh, and Steph–I’m engaged.”

“Fucking what?” she shouts.

I start laughing and fill her in on that too, and in the end, she’s congratulating me and making me promise we’ll all have dinner together soon.

When we hang up, I power the television off. The newsbreak has started to play again, and I don’t need to see it. I was there, I lived it. I don’t need the reminder. Besides, I need to focus on making sure everything is ready to go for the airport.

I’ve finished with my room, and I know that Lachlan and Jack were all packed before they left with Theo. So all that’s left is Marcus’s stuff. Taking a deep breath, I move into his and Theo’s room. Theo’s bag is packed and sitting on the end of his bed. He was planning on leaving Marcus’s things behind, but I can’t bring myself to do that, despite his recent behaviour. I guess it’s because when you get to the essence of it, this all happened because Theo and I hurt him.

Opening the wardrobe, I take out his duffel bag, noticing that he didn’t fully unpack. There’re only the few things he used while he’s been here to put inside. Hefting his bag on the bed, I place a few articles of clothing inside that I’ve found lying about the room before heading into the bathroom to collect his toiletries.

I open and close all the cupboards and drawers, checking to make sure there’s nothing left behind, feeling glad for my thoroughness when I find that Marcus’s side drawer has his iPod inside as well his music journal. I know I shouldn’t look in it, but curiosity gets the better of me. I sit down on the bed and leaf through it. I see the lyrics to a couple of his songs and smile, running my fingers over the page, feeling the indentations of the pencil marks with my fingertips. Most of his lyrics are quite light hearted, and they reflect Marcus’s personality perfectly. He doesn’t seem to run very deep.

I continue to flick through, seeing lots of songs I haven’t heard before, and songs we sometimes play. But it’s the last entry that catches my eye, because it has my name on it. The title says Only One (for Naomi)

My mouth opens a little as my heart thuds in my chest. Suddenly, this is exactly the same as reading someone’s diary, but I can’t seem to look away. My eyes read on to the lyrics,

I think about you, caring more every day,

Losing track of time as my body yearns to be close to yours,

I’ve known you for so long, I don’t know why I’m holding back

Because you’re the only girl I want

The only girl I’ll ever want.

I know in my heart, you’re the one for me,

I try to be worthy of your love

Deserving of your touch

Please give me the chance to prove to you

That I’ll love you forever

You’re the only one for me

“I was trying to find a way to tell you how I felt,” Marcus says from across the room, causing me to drop the book as I gasp in surprise.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have been reading that,” I stammer, my mouth feeling like it’s flapping about in my embarrassment.

He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He looks a total wreck, with two days’ worth of stubble growing on his usually clean-shaven face, deep dark circles under his eyes and hair that looks limp and lifeless compared to its usual healthy shine.

“It makes no difference now. You’ve made your choice,” he says, his voice emotionless as he moves towards me, pointing at his bag lying open on the bed. “I just came to get my things.”

“Marcus,” I start, although I don’t know what else is meant to follow. I’ve hurt him and he’s hurt me. There just doesn’t seem to be any words fitting for this situation right now.

“Don’t bother, Naomi. I lost. You chose Theo. We all knew something like this was going to happen. We’ve been fighting over you since fucking high school. I just… you know, it never crossed my mind that you wouldn’t choose me. I was sure we had something. Goes to show what I fucking know.”

He reaches out and grabs a hold of his bag, holding his hand out for his iPod and notepad. “Last night Marcus…” I start again, but he cuts me off.

“Save it, Naomi. I don’t need your apologies. It’s just words,” he says, taking the items from my hands and zipping up his bag.

“Excuse me?” I hiss, my eyes popping as my brow furrows. I can’t quite believe my ears right now. “I wasn’t going to apologise. I was going to ask you why you did that. Why would you humiliate me like that? You could have singlehandedly destroyed the careers of five people. You took the chance that was given to us, and for your own childish reasons, you made a public mess of something that was supposed to be private. How could you? This song claims that you love me and I’m the only one for you. Is that how you treat the people you love, Marcus?” I stand up from where I was sitting, my voice rising as I give voice to everything that’s stopped me from being in a relationship with Marcus.

“You are selfish, you are conceited, and you think everyone on this earth owes you some sort of a favour just because you choose to grace them with your presence. You use women like they’re pieces of gum, chewing them up and spitting them out. You treat your brother—who works his arse off for this band—like he’s some maniacal control freak. And Jack and Lachlan are just guys you can replace. It’s not fair, Marcus. You can’t behave like that and expect to win. People have feelings. And as for me, I have been stupid enough to carry a torch for you. All through high school, I doted on you. I wanted you to choose me, but I knew. I knew that the first time I gave into you you’d toss me out, just like all the rest. And you did. Whether you screwed me or not that night, you still gave me the friend speech the next morning, you didn’t give me one bit of caring, one bit of kindness. Nothing. You are a user, Marcus Bailey. And until you grow up a little and take a good long look at yourself, you are always going to be alone.”

By the time I’m finished, I’m screaming, and I’m crying, all the hurt and humiliation I’ve felt at his hands comes crashing down around me. He just stands there listening to me, his jaw clenched tightly as he glares at me, the only hint that he has any feelings about this at all is the glassiness that can be seen in his eyes.

“Are you finished?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes. I’m finished.”

“Good.” He hitches his bag on his shoulder and heads for the door. But as he rests his hand on the door knob, he pauses as if considering something then turns back to face me. “I heard you.”

“What?” I ask, shaking my head in confusion at his words.

“I heard the two of you fucking. That’s how I found out about you and Theo. Weren’t you wondering how I knew? It’s not like you did me the courtesy of telling me before you both started sneaking around behind my back, moaning and yelling at the top of your voice. How long was it going on for? Was that whole ‘leave me alone’ speech just a cover to keep me away? You could have told me, you know. I’m a big boy. I could have taken it. But no, you decide to sneak around behind my back while I’m trying to give you the space you asked for. Trying to be a better man in the hopes that one day you would change your mind. I thought that when you saw how I’d changed you’d realise I wasn’t interested in groupies anymore, that I’d do anything it took to be with you. I respected your decision, Naomi. I respected you enough not to pursue you while on tour—like you asked. And my fucking brother? Again? What the hell is it with you and him? What does he have that I don’t have?” He roars the last part, and when I blink, I’m shedding tears.

“He has my love,” I state, wiping at my face. His expression changes, and I immediately feel guilty for throwing that in his face.

“I loved you first,” he bellows, glaring at me. I just stare at him with my mouth open as my tears flow freely. I have no idea what to say. No idea how to fix this. It's far too broken and damaged for me.

“You know what?” he says, grabbing for the door again. “You two obviously deserve each other. Have a fucking happy life. You won’t be seeing me again.” Turning on his heel, he opens the door to the hotel room, slamming it behind him as he walks out of my life.

Marcus

“Hurry up.” I press the down button for the elevator repeatedly. I’ve got what I came here for, and I just want to get out of here and as far away from her as I possibly can. One thing Theo was right about, we never should have let her in the band. I was an idiot to think this could work.

I hit the button a few more times, wishing the lift would just hurry the fuck up. My mind can’t stop running through the argument I just had with her. I can’t believe she’s with Theo. I felt so sure that if I cleaned my act up and showed her I could stop sleeping around she’d choose me. I was positive. Goes to show what I know.

“Finally,” I grumble, as the LED display becomes a downward pointing arrow and the elevator doors open. Much to my despair, inside are Theo, Jack and Lachlan, and not one of them looks happy to see me.

“You’ve got a hide showing your face here, mate,” Lachlan bites out, his head shaking from side to side as he looks at me like I’m something you’d scrape off your shoe.

“I’m leaving OK? I just came to get my stuff,” I reply steadily, refusing to show any sort of weakness to these three. I know they’re angry with me for what I did last night. But I can’t deal with their shit right now. Not after what just happened with Naomi.

“Don’t come back,” Jack grunts. “We don’t need your crap, Marcus. You could have ruined us last night.”

My brother is strangely silent. I would have thought that he, out of all of them, would be the first one to start yelling at me for breaking up the band on stage last night.

“Don’t you have some sort of smart-arse comment too?” I demand from Theo. He just glares at me. I can feel the rage rolling off him, it’s mixing with my own, daring one or the other to pounce.

“No?” I say, stepping a little closer to him. “Nothing? You’ve got nothing to say to your only brother? The one you just stabbed in the back by fucking the girl we both promised not to touch.”

“I think you’re the only one who’s done any stabbing, Marcus,” Jack accuses.

“None of us would ever do that to you,” Lachlan yells. “You don’t know the shit we had to go through after you left. I think you’re lucky Theo isn’t ripping your throat out.”

“You have nothing to say to me, brother?” I yell, ignoring the others, furious at Theo for not reacting.

“Just go, Marcus,” he says coolly, stepping to the side to let me pass.

“What’s wrong, Theo? Are you so whipped already that you can’t fight your own battles anymore? She was happy to let rip at me before. Does she have your balls now? You’re not even going to do your usual and punch me?” Rage seeps out of me as my vision narrows and all I can see is red.

Naomi

The sound of raised voices catches my attention, and I just know it must be the guys. Quickly, I wipe at my face to dry away my tears of self-pity and run for the door. When I fling it open, it’s just in time to see Marcus roar like some sort of caged animal and dive at Theo, sending both of them rolling into the lift’s cabin.

“Holy shit,” Lachlan yelps, only just managing to jump out of the way in time.

Marcus has Theo by the throat, holding him against the back wall of the cabin as the lift doors slide closed. Fuck. Jack rushes to the button panel hitting it to open them again, but he isn’t fast enough.

“The stairs!” I scream, attracting both Jack and Lachlan’s attention. They nod and run for the stairwell with me following closely behind. We have no idea what floor they’re going to land on, so we head straight for the ground, hoping we’re the ones to make it there first.

Theo

“Oofff”

I don’t think that’s a word. But it’s the sound of the air being forcibly expelled from my lungs as Marcus lands a blow in my guts, followed by a quick head-butt to the face that sends me stumbling backwards into the wall of the lift. Pain radiates through my face and stomach as I hunch over, desperately gasping for breath.

“Fight back,” he demands.

I shake my head in the negative as words refuse to form from my lack of breath. I wipe at my mouth where it feels like my lip has been split.

“Fight!” he commands, shoving me harder into the wall. “You’ve never passed up a chance to punch me before, Theo. Fucking fight me now.”

“No,” I gasp. “I’m not doing this.”

“Why?” he screams into my face, his own red and twisted with pent up fury.

“Because I’m sick of fighting with you. I love her OK? I’ve always loved her, and I’m not going to fight about this. I’m not going to let you ruin it again. I got the girl, Marcus. After everything you did to try and keep us apart. It still happened. She loves me. She’s going to marry me.”

He grabs the front of my shirt, twisting the fabric in his hand as he pulls me towards him, his other arm cocked back, fist clenched, knuckles white, ready to punch.

“Do it. If it’ll make you feel better, just do it.”

The look of rage that set into his features falters as he glares at me.

“Do it,” I repeat, daring him to take a swing.

The lift pings to signal our arrival on the ground floor, and a second later, the doors open. Marcus blinks a couple of times as if he’s coming out of a trance, then relaxes his grip on me and lowers his fist.

“You know what? You’re not worth it,” he states, leaning down to pick up his bag. Then he strides off, crossing the lobby without as much as a backwards glance.

Still leaning against the wall, I watch after him until the lift doors start to close, feeling both relieved and saddened. The guy is my brother. He’s my family. But that doesn’t excuse the way he treated Naomi, the band, or me. If he’d just talked to us instead of making a public display of his anger, then maybe we could have sorted this out. We could have dealt with this like adults. But in true Marcus fashion, he chose a public tantrum and selfishly made it all about him.

“Theo!” A small arm and leg wedge themselves into the decreasing gap of the closing doors, causing the safety feature to engage and reopen them. Naomi bursts through, breathless and beautiful as always, closely followed by Jack and Lachlan. “Oh god, are you ok?” she asks the moment she sees me. “You’re bleeding. Does it hurt? Where is he?”

“I’m fine, and he’s gone. Don’t worry, he’s gone,” I tell her, sliding my arms around her and hugging her to me.

Her face crumples. “Everything is such a mess, Theo. I’m so sorry,” she cries.

“No, everything’s perfect now that you’re here,” I whisper as I tilt her head up to mine.

“Um, we’ll just take the stairs,” Jack informs us, hitting the number for our floor before he backs out of the cabin with Lachlan.

As we ride back up to our rooms, Naomi tells me how Marcus caught her packing up his things and confronted her about his feelings and the fact she chose to be with me.

“He’s so angry with us,” she whispers, shaking her head slightly like she’s trying to shake the hurt away. “This just… it wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. It wasn’t supposed to get this messy.”

“I know, baby, and I’m so sorry. I should have stayed away from you until we got home. I should have waited too.”

“No. Don’t ever be sorry for that. I love you now, and I want to marry you now. Don’t ever be sorry for how we feel about each other.”

“You still want to marry me?” I smile, loving the sound of those words.

“Of course, I do,” she assures me.

“Good,” I state, reaching into my pocket. “I actually spent a bit of time shopping.”

Forty

Theo

“Just breathe. You’re going to be great,” Naomi assures me as I prepare to head out on the stage. This is the first time I’ve ever fronted a band, and I’m about to do it in front of an audience of thousands.

Taking a hold of Naomi’s hands, I twist the engagement ring around her finger, focusing on the way the diamond sparkles to take my mind off what I’m about to do.

“I’ll be right there with you,” she assures me.

“Dude, it’s packed out there. This is going to be our biggest show yet,” Lachlan claims as he bursts through the door.

“Holy shit.” My heart beats even more wildly than it was a moment before.

“Good one, dickface,” Jack tells him.

“What? What did I do?” he asks innocently.

“Theo’s a bit nervous,” Naomi informs him.

“Oh shit. Sorry, man. You’re gonna rock though. No need to worry.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I growl through clenched teeth. The guy who’s going to be our drummer for the next couple of shows comes to the door to tell us that it’s time to get on stage.

We were lucky that one of the entourage that travels with Radio Silence is a capable drummer. He’d watched all of our shows and could play well enough to carry us through. But we’ll still need to find someone more permanent ourselves.

“Thanks, Ben,” Naomi says as she picks up her bow and violin then takes my hand. “Let’s do this.”

The crowd cheers for us as we make our way onto the stage at the entertainment centre. There are big screens set up on either side of the stage to project the show to those in the back seats. This is all a little out of my comfort zone. It’s a lot easier to be the one in back, writing and producing, and keeping beat. Being in the limelight isn’t my thing.

I look over at Naomi, who nods and smiles at me, urging me to start.

Slinging my guitar over my shoulder, I approach the microphone. “Bear with me, guys. This is my first time doing this.”

“Yeah, Theo!” I hear from the audience.

“Oh good. I’ve got one fan.” I laugh uneasily. A slight ripple of laughter rolls through the crowd as well. “You know what? We might as well get this out of the way. If you’re after a repeat of the Melbourne performance, you’ll need to watch YouTube. There won’t be any flying guitars tonight. I like this one too much.”

The audience laughs again, and I hear a couple of people dare me to throw it, anyway. “All right. Here goes. This one is called Fragile. I wrote this one about trying to have a relationship when one of you is scared to get your heart broken.”

Focusing on my guitar, I let my fingers move over the strings, plucking out the intro before it’s time for me to sing. I pour my heart into it, feeling every emotion behind every lyric.

The band plays perfectly together. I know we’re doing our best. I just hope it’s enough. I hope I’m enough. Will they still love Matiari without Marcus?

Why did you sing your song to my heart

When you knew we were fragile right from the start

As I sing the last two lines and play the final notes on my guitar, my heart gallops in my chest, nerves building because I know this is it. This is the moment where I find out if this band I’ve worked so hard on is still going to make it. It’s the moment I’ll find out if Marcus’s stunt ruined everything for us.

My fingers dance over the strings, and I wish I could just keep playing. I’m not sure if I want to know…

Forty-One

One year later

Theo

“Well, at least he’s doing well for himself,” I say as I drop the paper in front of me on the kitchen table. Naomi slides her hand over my thigh and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“He still hasn’t returned your calls?” she asks, leaning her head against my shoulder as she peers at the article in today’s paper. There’s this great shot of Marcus singing in front of a screaming crowd at a music festival, the headline states that he’s signed up to start his own world tour.

Leaving Matiari seems to have been the best thing that could have happened to him. His public airing of our dirty laundry was so popular it went viral online. I guess that’s what happens these days. There’s always someone filming you, and you never know what’s going to make you famous.

His instant popularity earned him legions of fans and a recording contract with a big label. His first single titled Lovers and Sinners was a huge smash, although I find it hard to listen to as its lyrics are obviously directed at Naomi and me.

I’ve tried to contact him to smooth things out between us. He’s my brother after all, and truthfully, I miss having him around. Naomi and I are still engaged, but we don’t want to tie the knot until Marcus and I are speaking again. Something about getting married without my brother present just doesn’t sit right with me. So, we’ll wait. Hopefully, he’ll eventually come around and return a call.

Matiari is still going strong. The Sydney show with me as the front man was a huge success. We finished the world tour with Radio Silence then spent six months living and gigging around the UK while Naomi worked with Dan Stolle on the next Radio Silence masterpiece. We’re going on tour again in a few months, but that’s another Radio Silence support show. We’re not a worldwide sensation like Marcus is, but in Australia and the UK we’re going strong. So, I’m not managing us on my own anymore, our label is doing all of that stuff for us now. I didn’t think I’d like giving up control, but really, it’s a load off my mind. Now, I can concentrate more on the music instead of worrying about booking venues and getting paid promptly.

Swallowing the last mouthful of her coffee, Naomi takes the paper from my hands and flips it over. After everything that happened in Melbourne, she still hasn’t quite forgiven him for the way he treated her. But she understands my need to sort things out and says she’ll be willing to forgive and forget as well.

Admittedly, after what he did, I spent a good six months wishing I could find him and rip his head off. But as time went on, I started to calm down. It also helps that my parents like to remind me how important family is. They won’t get in the middle of what is going on between me and Marcus, but they won’t put up with it either. Christmas is coming soon, and they’re expecting to see all of us. Although by the looks of today’s paper, Marcus will be busy overseas.

Naomi stands and takes her empty coffee cup over to the dishwasher. “All right, I’m going to get ready. Since they’re filming shots of tonight’s performance for the music video, I’m going to have to take some time to get my gorgeous on.” She smiles, batting her eyelids at me coyly.

As she walks past me towards the door, I grab her by the waist and bring her down on my lap, kissing her fervently. “You’re always gorgeous, babe,” I whisper.

“You’re not so bad yourself, goth boy.” She laughs, getting up from my lap and heading out of the room. Just as she gets through the doorway, she leans back in. “Are you coming?” she asks, swinging a shiny pair of silver handcuffs from her index finger. “Maybe you can show me how that tongue ring works again?”

She doesn’t need to ask me twice.

* * *

Naomi

Tonight’s performance is at The Metro in Sydney. It’s the first place I saw Matiari play, and the last time they ever played without me. So, tonight’s kind of special for me. I feel like we’ve come full circle, even if we are missing a member.

The guy we have playing drums is excellent. His name is Rob, and unlike a lot of drummers, he’s reliable and spends as much time as is needed to get the sound just right. He kind of reminds me of Theo a little.

Theo is a brilliant front man. I’d go so far as to say that he is even better than Marcus was, only because Theo has a lot more invested in our music. He’s the one that writes most of the songs, so the emotion of his music is more raw than it was before.

Tonight, we’re debuting a song that I wrote. So far, we’ve only played it in the studio while we were recording the album. This is the first song where I will be on lead vocals, so I’m nervous as hell as we stand up on stage and work through the songs that are leading up to mine.

OK. Nervous doesn’t cut it. I’m freaking out. I’m petrified that I’m going to forget the words, that I’m going to forget how to play and sing at the same time and… I’m just losing my shit.

When Theo introduces me, he walks across the stage and takes me by the hand, walking me to the centre of the stage to stand by him. Noticing my worry, he leans in close and whispers in my ear.

“I love you.”

I smile. “I love you too.” Those three words have more power to calm me than any other sort of encouragement out there.

I step forward to the microphone and take a deep breath as Theo stands by me, his fingers flicking back and forth over the strings. With my violin at my side, I lean into the microphone to begin…

I once swore to believe

In love’s conspiracy

My every affection

Was never reflected

Maybe I deserve to feel so lowly

But now you echo my heart beat.

Baby I felt you sweep in slowly

And now you resonate with me

Like a Beautiful Melody

I heard my own heart strings

Be pulled by dark and light

Triangle confusion

A ying/yang infusion

Maybe I deserve to feel so lowly

But now I echo your heart beat.

Baby I felt you sweep in slowly

And now you resonate with me

Like a Beautiful Melody

Theo strums out the music, looking at me proudly as I raise my violin and play a solo. He’s almost dancing around me as we play together, our music melding the same way our voices will when we sing the final chorus. It’s taken a lot of practice, but with his vocal assistance, I can sing the last part while I continue to play the violin.

Maybe I deserve to feel so lowly

But now you echo my heart beat.

Baby I felt you sweep in slowly

And now you resonate with me

Like a Beautiful Melody

When we finish, the crowd screams and whistles and my heart soars, knowing that I’m right where I need to be. On stage, singing with the love of my life. If heaven really is on earth, then I’m one of the lucky ones who’s managed to find it.

Epilogue

Marcus

“We’re chatting with the man of the moment, Marcus Bailey, on the eve of his world tour. Welcome Marcus, thanks for coming on the show,” the young blonde video DJ says from across me. I have no idea what her name is or who she works for. I’ve just been sitting in this chair for hours, answering the same fucking questions over and over again. I wish they would just film me and insert themselves in editing. Get it done in twenty minutes. Easy.

Despite feeling sick of sitting here, I put on my game face and smile broadly at the young lady. She’s pretty fucking hot actually, long slim, tan legs, poking out of a tube of orange fabric that’s been squeezed over her very curvaceous body to be a dress. She’s wearing those spike heeled ankle boots that all the girls seem to be wearing today. She’s my last interview so I might see if she’s up for it when the cameras are off.

“Any time,” I say to her, smiling.

“Now tell us about this crazy whirlwind you’ve been on since you left Matiari?”

“Yeah, it’s been a real trip. I kind of thought my music career would be over after that. But you never know what people are going to love do you?”

“Well, it was a very public way to break up with your band wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I agree, still smiling.

“For those watching who don’t know the story, you can go to our website where you’ll find a link for the YouTube video of Marcus’s very emotional rendition of ‘Weighted’. He chose the song specifically to send a public message to Naomi Prendergast, the band’s violinist after she chose to become romantically involved with Marcus’s brother, Theo Bailey, who is now Matiari’s front man.

“Now, that video, catapulted Marcus into the international spotlight, earning him appearances on countless TV shows as well as his own recording contract. So it’s well worth a look.” She turns back from looking at the camera and focuses again on me.

“Marcus, I’ve been listening to your new album On the Other Side, and I have to wonder if the song titled ‘He’ll Never Be Me’ is a direct response to the official announcement of Theo and Naomi’s engagement?”

“Ah, maybe.” I laugh. “Am I that obvious?”

“A little.” She laughs in return, flicking her hair slightly as her eyes drift down the length of me. My smile broadens, I know I’ve got her.

“The truth is, I had my heart broken that day, and the best way for me to deal with that pain is through my music,” I tell her, a sombre expression placed upon my face. Like I said, I’ve done this before. It’s all just an act now.

“I completely understand,” she sympathises, nodding her head as she makes eye contact with me.

“Listen. This is actually hard for me to talk about, do you mind if we move onto something else?”

“Of course. Tell me all about your tour. How many shows and how long will you be travelling?” she asks, her eyes filled with sympathy for my broken heart.

***

“Oh god! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” she yells as I pound into her, slamming myself inside her, harder and harder as her body thumps up against the dressing room mirror.

I used to think it was easy getting girls into bed before but add the word ‘heartbroken’ to ‘musician’ and you’ve struck gold. Panties fall to the ground as they all line up to be that one that turns my head and teaches me to love again.

But no matter what they do, or how kinky they get, I’m not going to be that dumb again. Falling in love was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Fucked if I’m ever falling for that shit again. There’s a huge line of girls around the globe, begging to share my bed. I’ll never be lonely again.

I’m a rock star now. I don’t need love.

Keep reading for an extra burst of beautiful with Commitment, Katrina and David’s wedding. It runs alongside Melody in the timeline, and gives you the chance to revisit our original couple.

The Side Story

Commitment - Katrina & David’s wedding

One

Katrina

“Are you ready?” David asks me from the doorway of the bathroom.

I’m standing in front of the mirror brushing my shoulder-length blonde hair and putting my concealer and makeup on. It’s been years now since my ex-boyfriend, Christopher, put me through a glass sliding door. But the scars are still there, running down the side of my face as well as a large one on my shoulder and light ones on my arms. I accept they’re there and they remind me more of David saving me than they remind me of Christopher, but people always stare at the one of my face, so I keep my hair cut with a side swept fringe and wear makeup to hide it.

“Just give me five minutes and I’ll be done,” I tell him, looking at him via the mirror.

He moves into the cramped bathroom behind me and slips his hands around my waist.

“You know you don’t need make up. You’re gorgeous without it.”

“Yeah?” I grin. We’ve been through this before, but it’s always nice to hear it.

“Yeah, so gorgeous that we might need to take an extra five minutes. Or maybe thirty. Even the rest of the day would suit me,” he murmurs, moving my hair to the side and nibbling gently, just behind my ear.

Immediately, my breathing grows heavy and I moan softly as curling waves of desire ripple through my body in response to his touch. He presses his body firmly against mine, and I can feel his arousal against my buttocks. We’ve been together for three years and engaged for two of those and he still drives me wild. I wonder if I’ll ever grow tired of his touch and sincerely hope not.

I drop the tube of concealer and it slides down the curve of the basin as I reach my arm up and curl my fingers into the thickness of his hair.

“I’d love to spend all day with you,” I confess, turning in his arms. I move to face him and bringing our lips together, brushing mine against his. I’m teasing him. Although, to be fair, he’s teasing me too. He knows we don’t have time for this.

David

Tightening my arms around her waist, I close the distance between our lips, and work my mouth against hers. For a moment she hesitates, we both know we don’t have time for this – not if we’re going to make it on time. But honestly, I don’t even want to go. I’d rather spend my day in bed with my fiancée.

I slide my hand up her back, my fingertips feeling for her zip. But she pulls back, her fingers still threaded in my hair, and looks at me.

“We’re going to be late,” she breathes. Her eyes have that lazy lustful look they get when she’s aroused and her lips are perfectly pink. I lean in and nip at her bottom lip then grin at her.

“They’re not going to care if we’re a little late,” I assure her.

She pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth. She’s driving me crazy right now. I want her. I always want her. I can’t imagine being this insane over anyone else.

Katrina

God I want him. My body screams for him and I’ll be in agony all day if I deny the release that’s coming. It won’t take long. We’ll still make it in time.

“As long as we’re quick,” I tell him, immediately reaching down to unbutton his pants. His cock bounces out eagerly and I run my hand over his firm length.

“Lucky you’re wearing a dress then,” he grins, with that dimpled half grin he has that always sends skitters of delight over my body. He slides his hands up my thighs and pulls down my panties. I’m only too happy to kick them aside as he lifts me up onto the vanity and drops to his knees.

I part my thighs eagerly, I know what’s coming. He always makes sure I am ready for him. He still worries he could hurt me.

As his masterful tongue slides its way between my folds, I drop my head back against the mirror and moan contentedly. The pleasure builds inside me and I slide the fingers of one hand into his hair as the other grasps at the tap which is dripping slowly. It’s the only other noise in the bathroom besides our own heavy breathing.

“Get inside me,” I gasp, knowing that I’m ready. I want to feel him in my core.

Wiping his mouth as he stands, he circles his tip at my entrance and then pushes in. As he groans, I gasp. Even after all this time, it takes a while to adjust to his size, but it’s amazing every single time.

He slides in slowly, watching between us as he disappears inside me. Once he’s made it all the way, he pauses, giving me time to adjust as he looks into my eyes. “I love you like this. You’re always so beautiful when you’re about to come,” he declares, placing his hand on the mirror behind me, he leans in closer and kisses me, his mouth tasting of toothpaste and me.

Moving his hips back, he glides easily through my juices and lets out a satisfied hum as he starts to move.

“Oh,” I moan as his rhythm builds. It’s like the gods made him specifically to push against my g-spot. Reflexively, I grip myself around him, deepening his brush against my nerves endings and sending ripples of pleasure coursing through my body.

My whimpers and moans mingle with his, and bounce off the tiled walls. Oh god, I’m so close.

David

I’m going to lose it, and I know she’s not there yet. She has a pussy like a vice, and the sound of her moans almost pushes me over the edge. I focus all of my energy on holding off and keeping the rhythm. I want her to come first. I need her to come first.

Moments later, she starts to call out. This is the only time she’s ever religious as she shouts to the heavens and says ‘yes’. My own pressure explodes out of me with her calls, pulsing deep inside her as she clenches herself around me, milking me of every drop as I slide myself in and out of her slick wetness.

I lean back a touch and slide my hands either side of her face, taking my time as I kiss her softly. Sliding my tongue around the sweet dampness of her mouth - I’m lost. I don’t want to leave.

For a while we just stay connected, kissing, embracing - enjoying the feel of being together. Although, eventually the sound of Katrina’s phone ringing brings us out of our reverie.

“That’ll be mum,” she whispers, dropping her forehead against mine as she breaks the kiss.

Sighing, I reach over to the towel rack and grab a hand towel before sliding out of her and placing it between her legs.

“I’ll answer it,” I tell her, planting a kiss upon her forehead as I tuck myself away and do up my trousers, and make my way into the lounge room to answer the ringing phone.

“Hi Carol,” I say as I bring the handset to my ear.

“David! Are you two on your way? We’re just about to leave with Tom and Jenny. Jim wants to make sure we’re all synchronised to arrive together.”

“We’re leaving in about five,” I tell her.

“What have you been doing? You should be on the road by now?” she demands, soundly slightly miffed.

I’m not going to tell her what we’ve really been doing – that would be weird. So I go with the easiest excuse I can think of. “Sorry, we just lost track of time. We won’t be long.”

Trina is still in the bathroom when I end the call, so I go back to her and lean against the doorway, watching as she leans close to the mirror and applies her mascara with her mouth in a slight O. A grin twitches the side of my mouth. I’ll never understand girls and makeup.

“Is she pissed at us?” she asks in between eyes.

“A little, but they don’t have to wait for us. They can go in on their own if they want.”

“No, she won’t let them. You know how she is – we have to arrive as a family.” She swipes some rose-coloured gloss across her lips, and fluffs out her hair while she checks herself in the mirror.

“I hope you’re not trying to impress anybody,” I blurt out, feeling instantly annoyed with myself the moment the words leave my mouth.

She turns around and faces me. Looking very unimpressed with her eyebrows high and her head tilted. “Seriously? We just made love right here,” she reminds me, pointing to the bathroom vanity behind her. “I can still feel you between my legs. Don’t insult me. Please.”

“I’m sorry baby girl, I’m an idiot. Forgive me? I’m just crazy about you is all.” I give her a pleading look and she rolls her eyes slightly, but cracks a smile anyway.

“Just go and grab my white cardigan from our room and all will be forgiven. I’ll meet you by the front door.” She walks past me, pausing to kiss my cheek on her way past, leaving behind a slight sticky feeling from her gloss.

I do as she asks and head towards the door where she’s standing with her bag and the keys in her hand.

Dread fills me, growing heavier in my stomach as I approach her. I so don’t want to go to this, but Katrina’s mum is insisting that we need to be polite. Personally, I don’t see what’s polite about going to a BBQ to honour the return of your fiancée’s ex with his new wife and baby, but Carol is best buddies with his mother. She and Jim have been like a second set of parents to me for the majority of my life. So, if they think we should go, then I’ll suck it up and go.

I am a little weirded out though, this is going to be the first time I have seen Elliot since I started dating Katrina all those years ago. I met him while they were together, he’s a nice guy. Even so, I really don’t think we need to be at his welcome home party. But, whatever…

Two

Katrina

“Holy shit. Look at the cars everywhere,” I say as we arrive at Kathy’s house. We’ve been here a couple of times for parties over the last couple of years, but there’s never been this many people here before. I’m really surprised at how huge this seems.

“You’d think the royal family had returned,” David laughs, driving further along the street in search of somewhere to park.

“There’s mum and dad,” I say pointing to their car. They’re standing beside it looking bored. Tom is leaning against it playing something on his phone. His wife, Jenny, is shooing away a fly as she chats to my mum.

I wave as we pass. Mum suddenly comes to life and waves back. I think she’s dying to go inside.

We have to enter a side street to get a parking spot and then walk back to my family.

“What took you so long?” my mother asks in exasperation as we make our way toward them.

“Traffic,” David lies. We can’t really tell them we had to get dressed and cleaned up after an impromptu love making session in the bathroom.

We share hugs and cheek kisses and make our way to Kathy’s for what seems like is going to be the BBQ of the century.

“So what’s this Elliot like? Your mum talks like he’s a living god,” Jenny asks me quietly as we walk along the footpath.

“He’s just a guy. A very good looking one. But just a guy,” I inform her. I’m actually really nervous about going today. I’m worried that it will be really awkward when we meet Paige. Plus I have no idea if Elliot is even aware we’re coming.

David

Katrina seems a little on edge. I don’t blame her, this is all a little weird. Although, if I’m honest with myself, I’m petrified that she’d going to see Elliot again and decide she made a mistake being with me. I mean, what if she only chose me on the rebound and because we were best friends all our lives, she now feels stuck with me. What if that’s the reason she keeps putting off the wedding?

My heart beats a little too fast and my palms start to sweat as we approach the front door. It’s open and people we’ve never seen before are going inside. I can’t spot Kathy or Steve anywhere, but figure we may as well just join in the procession of people and head inside.

I can see Elliot’s now shaved head above everyone else and nudge Trina who has already seen him. She gives me a worried look and nods, taking a deep breath before she pulls me toward him. My stomach churns, as my mind races. Oh god, she’s nervous. Why is she so nervous?

“Alright, lets get this done,” she says.

We have to wait a while as he’s talking to other people. Next to him is a woman with masses of curly dark hair. She’s very unusual looking – but in a good way. She’s smiling and talking to another woman and shortly after, they walk away together.

Elliot watches them and leans down to his much shorter friend to say something that makes them both smile.

They start to turn away from us, but his head turns when he notices Katrina at the last minute. Her face goes bright red and his looks really confused. My face just sweats as I force myself to stand still. I just want to grab Trina and drag her out of here. Who cares what everyone thinks of us.

His friend looks from Elliot to Katrina and takes a step back. I can only surmise that he’s met Trina before, because his eyebrows are almost in his hair line. I knew we shouldn’t have come.

Katrina

“Hello,” Elliot says carefully, the word is long and drawn out. He has no idea why we’re here.

Fuck, I think, wishing that I had listened to David and just said no. Better to have my mum annoyed at me than to make people uncomfortable. I take a deep breath and start to speak. I can feel my cheeks burning. I really want to go home.

“Hi Elliot, I hope you don’t mind – your mum invited all of us when she was at mum and dad’s place a couple of weeks ago. We’ll only stay a little while, I just didn’t want to be rude,” I say in a rush. I’m out breath when I finish and feel so grateful to David when he reaches boldly across me.

“How are you mate? It’s been a while,” David says, extending his hand in greeting.

“I’m fine. It's fine,” Elliot replies as he shakes David’s hand. Gary, who I met the last night I spent with Elliot, is just standing next to him, looking at me like I’m from another world.

Oh god. Why did I come? My stomach starts to turn sour. Elliot leans in and gives me a slight hug and kisses my cheek. I find it really strange that my body doesn’t react to him the way it once did. He’s still incredibly attractive, but he just doesn’t really do it for me anymore. A severe awkwardness that makes me wonder if we ever actually knew each other has replaced anything we once had instead.

“Uh, this is my mother, Carol. My dad Jim. My brother Tom, and his wife, Jenny,” I reel off, as I move to the side and point them all out.

They all take turns shaking hands and saying their ‘nice to meet you’s.

He steps back quickly and clears his throat, looking as uncomfortable in my presence as I am in his. I guess it’s one thing to say hi when we see each other running through a park – it’s quite another to attend a family BBQ together.

“Well, um, there’s plenty of food and drink outside. Feel free to help yourselves,” he informs us, effectively dismissing us as he waves his arm towards the back door. I grab onto David’s hand and practically drag him out there. Why am I here?!

David

“That was um… fun?” I comment as soon as Trina and I are outside. She drags me away from her family and focuses on getting some food while she tries to calm down.

I watch her, slightly amused but also a little worried. I didn’t think she’d get this flustered seeing him again.

“You ok?” I ask her, trying to keep myself calm as I tell myself that this means nothing.

She stuffs a piece of cabanossi into her mouth as she shakes her head quickly. “I’m fine. I just wish I’d listened to you. We shouldn’t have come here.”

Three

Katrina

“Katrina?” a voice says from behind me. I have a piece of cheese and a cracker jammed into mouth and I just slide my eyes, embarrassed that someone has approached me while I’m packing food into my face.

When I’ve cleared my mouth, I turn. It takes me a moment to realise that it’s Gary’s girlfriend. I only met her once and I struggle to remember her name.

“Oh. Hi,” I say from behind my hand, as I roll my tongue around my mouth. I’m worried that I might have food caught in my teeth.

“It’s been a long time, how are you?” she enquires kindly.

“Great actually, finished school so I’m working now and I’m engaged.” I pull David closer to me to present him to her. “To him. This is David.” I say quickly. I don’t want her to mention anything about my time with Elliot. Not when David is being so quiet, he’s obviously not comfortable here.

“Oh hi David. I’m Stephanie, I know Katrina from back when…um”

“When she was dating Elliot. Of course” he says. “It’s really nice to meet you.” He shakes her hand and I smile inwardly, thinking that he may actually be handling this better than I am.

“Oh and this is my friend Naomi, we went to school together and she was house mates with Elliot and Paige when they were all in the UK.”

“Hi” says a small girl with blonde hair and a really pleasant demeanour.

We stand around together awkwardly for a moment before I realise that Stephanie is pregnant. “Oh wow. You’re expecting? Congratulations!” I say indicating her bump.

“Oh thank you. We’ve been married for a while, so we thought it was time to start a family.”

“That’s great,” I tell her. “How long have you been married for?”

“A couple of years now. When are you two getting married?”

“Oh, um soon. Soon,” I tell her, even though we’re yet to set a date.

This revelation is met with shifted glances as we are either too polite to say anything, or too embarrassed to acknowledge the fact that we’ve been engaged for two years, and are no closer to planning a wedding than we were the day we met on that bus at nine years old.

We stand around and make idle chit chat for a moment longer before Gary comes wandering over.

“Katrina! It’s great to see you again, and this must be your?” he starts looking from me to David.

“My fiancé.”

“Fantastic. When’s the big day?”

“Soon,” is all I say pleading silently for everyone to please shut up about my impending nuptials. If I was ready, they’d be planned but life keeps getting in the way. We just don’t have time…

David

Soon. She’s always saying soon. I’d really like it if we could answer that question with an actual date, but two years later, I’m still waiting. If it was up to me, we’d be married already. I’m getting tired of waiting.

We love each other. That much is clear, so I have no idea what’s stopping her. She won’t tell me. All she gives me is vague reasons and lame excuses. It’s frustrating to say the least.

I’m struggling to pay attention as my own internal thoughts rage on, as the group settles into an awkward conversation. Catching snippets, I start to talk to Naomi who tells me that she and Stephanie went to a performing arts school together. Neither of them has a career in the arts, but Naomi tells me that she’s thinking of pursuing music again.

“That’s great. What do you play?” Katrina asks, starting to settle down and act like a normal human being again.

“I play a few things, but mainly the violin and piano.”

“That’s awesome. I wish I could play an instrument.”

“She can sing too. Can’t you Nomes?” Stephanie puts in. “Actually, you name it. Naomi can do it. She’s amazing. But she’s been wasting her talents away travelling the world and working crappy pub jobs for years.”

“It’s not that bad. I had a great time, and you know what? If it wasn’t for me pushing Paige to give Elliot a chance, none of us would be standing here right now welcoming them home.” She points out.

“Oh, so you know Paige as well? You were in the UK with them?” Katrina asks.

“Yeah, we were all roommates. Paige is great. She’s a little hard to get to know, but she’s a great friend once you break through those walls of hers.” She looks over Katrina’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil – here she comes now.”

Katrina

I look over my shoulder and see Elliot approaching with Paige following behind him. He has her by the hand and while he’s not dragging her, she isn’t exactly in a hurry to keep up.

We all move slightly to accommodate them.

“Paige, this is Katrina and her fiancé, David,” Elliot says. She’s still a little behind him, so he guides her so she’s standing properly within the group.

I have seen pictures of Paige before, but she’s even prettier in person. She has one of those beautiful curvaceous bodies that straight-up-and-down-girls, like me, would kill for. Her hair is out and falls in soft curls around her face. She truly is stunning and I can see why Elliot is so attracted to her.

She smiles tightly and holds out her hand, her movements are awkward and her face flushes red.

David and I both take her hand alternately and remark how nice it is to finally meet her. “Kathy’s been showing everyone photos of you both and little Grace, she’s very proud,” I say, trying to be friendly. She seems as nervous to meet me as I am to meet her.

“Congratulations to both of you,” David says. “On your marriage and the baby. I’m still trying to get this one down the aisle.”

I laugh and nudge David with my shoulder. There’s only so many times I can take being reminded about the wedding I haven’t planned, and I’m starting to reach my limit, but I can’t let it show. I try to gloss over it instead. “You make it sound like I’m avoiding it. David wants to elope but I really want the whole fairy tale thing, and that takes time to plan,” I attempt to explain.

“What did you two do?” David asks, ignoring me completely.

“Oh, we just had a small ceremony with a few friends. Kathy and Steve came, and my mother and father were there too. Then we went to a restaurant afterwards.” Paige tells us. She isn’t looking at me at all. Even so, I plaster a smile on my face. I don’t know why, but I don’t want her to hate me.

“It was great,” Elliot adds, his arm sliding protectively around his wife. “Small is good. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

His movement causes me to pay closer attention to his arm and I notice a vine, tattooed on his forearm. My eyes naturally drift over Paige as well - she has the same one around her wrist.

“Oh, you both have matching tattoos,” I point out, trying to make conversation and let Paige know I’m not a threat. “Elliot showed me a photo of the one on your back Paige – it’s absolutely amazing.”

Paige’s face changes and I’m not sure if I’m succeeding, but I’m nervous and I don’t know how to change the subject.

“Oh he did, did he?” she asks, exchanging glances with Elliot.

I nod. “How long did it take you to get?”

David

I love Trina. Really I do, but right now, I want to clap my hand over her mouth to stop her speaking. The words ‘foot’ and ‘mouth’ come to mind and I’m about to intervene and start talking about what life is like in the UK. We’re all saved though as Paige’s’ attention is taken when she hears her baby start to cry.

“Excuse me,” she says politely, her eyes flitting between Katrina and Elliot.

“Trina!” I moan, the moment she’s out of earshot. I’m chuckling slightly because I know she didn’t mean anything. Trina just has a habit of speaking without thinking.

“What? What did I do?” she asks.

“You didn’t need to mention the tattoo Katrina. I didn’t exactly show you that photo,” Elliot points out.

Suddenly it dawns on her and her face flushes a bright red. “Oh god, I’m such an idiot – let me go and talk to her. I’ll tell her it was my fault.” She starts to move, but I place my hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Trina, leave it,” I advise her. “I know you have the best intentions. But it’s better if you sit this one out, ok?”

She turns her head toward me and I can see the disappointment she feels toward herself in her own eyes. She truly didn’t mean to cause trouble, and I feel bad right now for feeling so annoyed with her earlier. As uncomfortable as this BBQ is for me, it must be even worse for her.

“Ok,” she agrees and I pull her close to me and kiss her on the head, whispering to her that it would be ok - she didn’t mean it. “I really am sorry Elliot,” she says.

“It’s fine, Katrina. Don’t worry about it. I'll talk to her.” He looks over his shoulder toward the house as Paige disappears inside with their baby. “Just give her a bit of time to calm down.”

Elliot stays and talks with us all for a while. Katrina and he still get along really well, and after a while, I’m feeling slightly redundant. My jealously starts to flare up again as I wish he’d stop paying so much attention to my fiancée and go spend some time talking to his wife.

I shove my hands in my pockets and start looking around for a distraction. But I don’t find one. From the house, I can see Paige looking down from the window toward us. She doesn’t look happy, perhaps she’s feeling much like I am. I wish we hadn’t come here.

Four

Katrina

Finally, we eat and it’s acceptable to leave. While it was great seeing Elliot again and getting the chance to talk to him like we were friends, I still wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable.

Paige obviously wasn’t either. After she met me, she disappeared for over an hour. She obviously wishes I wasn’t there too.

I’m relieved to get in the car and head home. I just want to curl up on the sofa with my man and forget this day ever happened.

Looking out the window, I’m quietly gathering my thoughts after such an uncomfortable day. David is quiet too. I suspect that he’s as worn out as I am.

“You’re very quiet. Everything ok?” David asks me, glancing briefly in my direction as he focuses on the road ahead.

“I’m fine. That was just really awkward. Elliot looked at me like I had two heads and I think Paige hates me,” I return, looking out the window at the passing scenery.

“Baby girl, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes it was,” I grumble. “Then on top of that, everyone’s asking why we aren’t married yet. I wish they’d mind their own business.”

Pressing his lips together, David lets out a heavy sigh. “Listen Trina, you can’t blame them. We’ve been engaged for nearly two years. Even I thought we’d be married by now.”

“I know, but work – ”

“Work is full-on – I know. But, so is mine. I don’t understand why you keep putting it off.”

David

“I’m not putting it off,” she argues, her voice rising defensively.

“Well who is then?” There’s an accusation in my words as I challenge her comment.

I’m met with silence and it stays that way for the rest of the drive home. The radio is playing, but I don’t really feel like humming along, or even listening to it. I’m actually pretty pissed off.

I know in my heart that Trina and I are meant to be together. For me, she’s always been the one. She’s the only relationship I’ve ever wanted.

Although seeing her today, the way she was so nervous about what her ex and his family and friends would think of her - really bothered me.

I think over the day, and I keep seeing how she smiled and laughed once she and Elliot got over that initial awkwardness from seeing each other again. It was as if the rest of the group wasn’t even there. I stood by having nothing much to add to the conversation and I really hated it.

It makes me wonder if she feels as destined to be with me as I do with her. It makes me doubt us.

I park the car in the underground garage and get out. I wait for Trina, but I walk a step ahead of her, as we make our way to the lift that will take us upstairs to our apartment.

When I open the door, she steps inside first out of habit and I follow, immediately turning left and entering our home office.

“You want a drink or something?” she asks, like nothing has happened and everything is normal, as she heads towards the kitchen.

“No thank you. I have some work to do,” I say and close the door of the office behind me.

I’m working for maybe 10 minutes before she comes in looking for me.

“Listen, about today, I’m sorry, ok? It was all just really weird for me,” she informs me. I’m glad she’s recognising that I’m annoyed. But she’s only addressing her feelings. What about me?

“Don’t you think it was weird for me too?” I shoot back, turning around in the desk chair to face her. “You used to love this guy. How do you think going there made me feel? How do you think standing there while you two caught up and had a great time felt?”

She plays with the corner of the bookcase and drops her eyes. “I wasn’t having a great time.” She says quietly. “I wish we didn’t go.”

“Why do you wish we didn’t go Trina? Because it reminded you how much you still like Elliot? Because people actually expected that you could possibly be married by now? Or - do you wish you just didn’t go there with me?”

“Of course not. None of that’s true. Why would you think I wouldn’t want to go there with you? Why would you think that I’m still attracted to Elliot? I don’t see him like that anymore!”

“Then why did we have to go? Those people are nobody to us. Kathy is your mum’s friends not ours. We could have just said no.”

“But she invited us herself. We go to every other BBQ she puts on. I didn’t think this one should be any different. I didn’t think we should be rude.”

“Who gives a fuck if they think we’re rude? Just admit you wanted to see him again!”

“It’s not like that” she argues “I promise you I don’t feel anything for him anymore.”

“Then marry me Trina. Let’s runaway. We’ll go to Vegas. We’ll go to Hawaii - anywhere we can get married straight away. Let’s just go, get married, and fuck everybody else. Please. I’m tired of waiting.”

“No David. I don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t want to run away or you don’t want to get married?”

She hesitates a little and suddenly my stomach turns sour and, my world starts to cave in.

“Answer really carefully Trina,” I caution, dreading what’s about to come out of her mouth. When she responds with an open mouth that moves with the shapes of words she’s too afraid to say, my hand fly up and grip either side of my head. “Oh my God. You don’t even want to get married do you? That’s why you keep putting it off! You don’t even want to fucking get married.”

I start pacing the floor, completely disbelieving of what’s going on with us right now.

“I…I do… I just…”

“Just what Trina?! Just what?”

“I…I don’t know?”

“Holy fuck! Why the hell did you even say yes then? Oh my god. I can’t believe this!” I grab my keys off the desk and move past her. “Fuck!” I yell as I storm out the door. I need some fresh air.

Katrina

Shit, shit, shit. I’ve just screwed this up so badly.

One barbecue. One stupid barbecue and everything just falls apart. I knew we shouldn’t have gone. I should have listened to my gut.

But why did I go? Why did we both go? I guess for me, I felt like I had to because Kathy asked me directly. I was over at mums having coffee and she and Kathy had played a tennis match earlier that day. Kathy was raving on and on about how excited she was that Elliot was coming back, and that he was bringing Paige and baby Grace.

She said that they were going to throw a big barbecue to welcome them home, and that she’d love it if we could all come. She even took me by my hands and specifically said that she’d love it if I could make it. I felt like I had to say yes – how could I say no?

On top of that, I guess I was curious. I had only seen photos of Paige and I really wanted to meet her. I wanted to meet the girl who Elliot was happy to chase around the world. But it wasn’t about me. It was never about me.

David didn’t take the news very well, obviously he didn’t want to go and really, I don’t blame him. While he and Elliott had come to an understanding when I was dating Elliott, they’ve never actually spoken since I David and I got together.

All my life, it’s always been David. I loved him for so long, but there came a point where I resigned myself to just being his friend. I was ok with that. As long as he was in my life, I could handle anything.

When I got hurt and David saved me, he became my world. It would have been so easy to turn our friendship into something more then, but I kind of felt as though he felt sorry for me and my pride took a big hit.

I guess I pushed him away back then. I forced him to stay at an arm’s length. There were little things that he’d do, that when I look back now, made it really obvious that he wanted more from me. He made innuendos, he touched me more than normal and he tried to tell me how he was feeling, but I know I didn’t let him. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want the reason we got together to be laced with the pain of what Christopher had done to me. I needed to find myself again first.

Then I met Elliot. There was this great attraction between us and it was the first time I was ready to act on my feelings. David took it all really badly. I confronted him. More than once I confronted him. Secretly, I just wanted him to say ‘because I’m in love with you.” I wanted that so much, whether I admitted that to myself at the time or not. In my heart, all I’ve ever wanted was for David to love me, but still, he said nothing.

I think the reason I threw myself into the relationship with Elliot was because I was so lost without David. We had gone to being a constant in each other’s lives to not talking at all, and I felt like I had this great gaping hole inside me. I think I used Elliot to fill that hole. We were never right for each other. Even when Elliot and I did break up, the one thing that had me crying the most – was that I didn’t have David to hold me and tell me everything would be alright.

When everything finally came to a head, it was as if the stars had finally decided to line up for us. We were meant to be. I always knew we were meant to be.

I still get shivers down my spine when I think about the moment he told me he loves me. Every time he says it, it fills me up. It lifts me up and carries me through my days.

I need to speak to him. He has to understand. I want him. I’ll always want him.

Picking up my phone, I press the picture of his beautiful face to call him. But, it goes straight to voicemail.

You know who you called, leave a message. I’ll call you back.

“David. Please call me. Come home. I love you.”

Five

David

“So you had a fight. It’s not the first one and it certainly won’t be the last,” my mother says from across the table. Her partner, Alex, comes over with steaming mugs of coffee for all of us.

“Here you go mate,” he says as he places it in front of me. He kisses my mother on the top of her head as he takes the seat next to her, and they share an intimate smile.

I really like Alex. He’s been living with my mother for a little over a year now. They started dating not long after me and Trina moved out together. I’m glad my mother found someone. She has given herself wholeheartedly to me as a mother, and it’s about time she focused on her own happiness - even if I am here whining about my own.

“But she doesn’t want to marry me. What’s the point of being together if we aren’t going to get married?” I complain.

“Well, Alex and I aren’t exactly planning on marrying any time soon. We’ve both been down that road before. Living together has all the benefits of marriage, without any of the legal ownership,” she explains.

“Ownership? That’s how you see marriage – as owning each other?” I frown. I had never thought of it like that at all.

“Well, yeah. Marriage changes things David. People talk like it’s just a piece of paper, but it’s not. It’s an institution.”

“Yeah, a mental one,” Alex laughs and my mum joins in.

I shake my head disbelievingly. “I can’t believe you two. What is wrong with getting married? I don’t want to own her. I love her and I want to be legally joined with her for the rest of my life. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. “

My mum reaches across the table and pats my hand. “There’s nothing wrong with it honey. But you both have to want it for the same reasons. Go home and talk to her. Give her time to explain instead of stomping off in a huff.”

Katrina

When I hear the lock turn in the door, I stand immediately. He’s home.

“You came back,” I say.

“Of course I came back,” he tells me, dropping his keys on the hall table.

“Can we talk?” I ask. He nods his response and I incline my head toward the couch. He comes and sits beside me. “Did you go to your mums?”

“Yeah. I needed someone to talk to.”

“You could have stayed and talked to me.”

“I was too angry. I needed to cool down and make sense of everything.”

“Fair enough.”

He’s clearly agitated. He won’t sit back comfortably. Instead, he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he bounces his foot vigorously.

“Can you just tell me exactly why you don’t want to get married?” he asks focusing on his hands as he clasps them in the space between his knees.

“It’s not even that David. I do want to get married. It’s just that there’s so much I want to do first. I want to have a career. I want to make sure we can afford something wonderful. I want it to be special. Not some slap-dash thing we do because we feel like we have to.

“And I’m a little scared. Part of the reason I felt so strange today was because I was freaked out by everyone getting married and having kids so suddenly. I mean - what if I had stayed with Elliot? Would I be a stay at home mum by now too? I want to make partner someday David. How am I going to do that married with kids?”

“Getting married isn’t going to stop you from making partner.”

“Says the man in the relationship. The women who are partners in my office are well into their forty’s when they get there, and they either don’t have kids or had them after they made it.”

“So you want to have kids when you’re forty? What if that’s too late?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. What if we decide we don’t want kids?”

“Are you serious? But, we’ve spoken about life with kids before. I thought we were on the same page.”

“And what page is that?”

“Get married, set ourselves up with a house and a solid career and then have kids.”

“David. How am I going to plan a wedding, then be a mother and have a solid career?”

“Plenty of women do it Trina. My own mother did it.”

“I know she did David. And I admire how she’s always managed to juggle work and family. But she’s a counsellor David. You know how competitive our industry is. You work at a much bigger firm than I do. Out of all the partners, how many are women?”

“I don’t know. A couple.” I concede. “But Trina, that means nothing. If you want to make partner you work hard and go for it. Kids or not. I’m not even interested in being a partner. I couldn’t give a fuck about that. If you need to work to make it, then I’ll do all the kids’ stuff. We’re a team. We don’t have to be traditional. Having kids doesn’t mean your career is finished.”

“Oh god, why are we arguing about kids? I don’t even know if I want them!”

“Seriously? I can’t believe you don’t want kids?!”

“I don’t know, but I definitely don’t want them yet. We have to be married first and to do that we need…” I stop speaking. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

He blows out a steady breath and rubs his fingertips across his temple. “Need what?”

I shake my head quickly from side to side. I’m not willing to speak the words. It’s all too ridiculous.

“Shit Trina,” he says, swiping his hand down his face. “You’re making it sound like getting married and having a family with me is going to ruin your life.”

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t believe that.”

“Will you please set a date then?”

“I can’t. The wedding can’t happen yet.”

“Why? Why can’t it happen?”

“It… It just can’t ok. Certain things have to be in place and they’re not. We can’t get married yet!”

“Alright,” he says getting up from the couch. Don’t tell me. That’s fine. You can have your career. Your secrets – whatever. But you’d better give me the ring back. I can’t imagine being engaged is helping your career options either.” His face is dead serious as he holds out his hand. I look from the ring to his hand, to his face. I think my heart just stopped beating.

David

“No,” she chokes out, shaking her head from side to side as her eyes glisten with tears. “No. I won’t.”

“Well what’s the point?!” I yell, my heart thudding through my ears, my mind in turmoil. “You don’t want to get married, and you don’t know if you want to have kids. What’s the fucking point Katrina?!

“You say you love me. You say you want to spend the rest of your life with me but as what? A successful attorney? That’s not who we are Trina. We’re supposed to be a couple first – before everything – WE, should come first.”

“I want to marry you. I want to marry you now. I want to have a family with you. It doesn’t have to be straight away, but it does have to be before we’re both too old to enjoy our children. What’s the point of having this great career and working our arses off if we don’t have a family to share it with?”

She looks down at her ring and twists it around her finger. I hear a slight sniffle as she fights her tears. She hates crying, and I hate feeling like I’ve made her cry. But we need to deal with this.

“I want to marry you too David. And I do want kids with you. I really do. I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“Then what the fuck are we fighting about?”

She closes her eyes, her face slightly furrowed as she lets out a great sigh. “The wedding,” she reveals.

“The wedding?”

“Yes,” she strangles out. Her pleading eyes meet mine. What’s going on?

I hold up my hands and scrunch my face in confusion. “What? I’m lost here Trina. I need more information.”

She closes her eyes and tears start to fall down her cheeks. “I… I don’t know enough people to invite to our wedding!” she wails as she puts her hands in her face and bursts into tears.

Six

Katrina

I can’t believe I just said that out loud. It sounds so ridiculous. But it’s true. Besides David, I don’t have many friends.

In high school, David and I kind of broke off from all of our groups when rumours and bitchiness got too much for us. From that point on, it just became he and I against the world - which has worked fantastically for us so far, but it doesn’t create much of a wedding party and doesn’t give us any guests besides family and a few work colleagues.

I feel like such a loser.

“What do you mean? You have your family and some of the girls from work don’t you?” David asks, his voice suddenly calm and soothing as he wipes at my tears. “Don’t cry baby girl. I’m sorry for yelling. We can work this all out. It’ll be ok. Just talk to me.”

“You are my best friend David,” I sniffle. “You. That means no maid of honour. No bridesmaids. No wedding party. I mean we don’t even know anyone with a little girl that we could use as a flower girl!” I cry, my tears start flowing all over again. I feel like such an idiot, but I can’t seem to stop. I’ve been avoiding this wedding for two years and now my excuses aren’t working. I have to be honest – no matter how stupid it sounds.

“Oh Trina,” David laughs kindly. “Who do you think is going to be my best man? No one. You will be my bride, my best man… well, best woman - best everything. There’s just you for me.”

“Well what are we supposed to do? We can’t have a wedding without people!”

“Of course we can Trina. Anyone can be our witnesses. We have family who can do that.”

“But I want to be a princess for a day!” I cry again. “I can’t do that by myself! I need people walking down the aisle ahead of me. I need a little boy to carry the rings and a little girl to throw petals. I can’t do all that on my own!”

“You won’t be on your own. You’ll have me. You’ll have your mum, my mum, Jenny. Are you telling me you wouldn’t invite Kayley? You still meet her for lunch once a month. Doesn’t she count as a good friend?”

“Of course I’d invite her. But she’s just a normal friend. We aren’t close – not bridal party close. And I can’t have our family do everything - that’s not what I dreamed of David!”

“Dreamed of? What did you dream of Trina?” he asks kindly.

I get up and walk to our hall closet. “I’ll show you,” I say quietly. I’m embarrassed to show him this. I’ve hidden it from him for years. But I’m already crying over a lack of close girlfriends. I might as well embarrass myself thoroughly.

David

I sit and watch her as she rummages through the cupboard and returns to me with her hands behind her back. She’s hiding something.

“Don’t laugh,” she instructs me, producing an old photo album that looks like it has a collage of magazine cuttings all over it.

She hands the album to me and I realise it’s a wedding scrapbook. An old one.

“Are you serious?” I smile.

“Don’t laugh,” she repeats. There is a warning note in her voice and she presses her lips tightly together to stifle the smile I can see playing at the edge of her lips.

When I open the front cover there are pictures of big flowing wedding dresses. They look like something out of that dance scene in Beauty and the Beast. I turn the page and the next one has a photo of the two of us when we were maybe ten or eleven, and all around the picture are lots of little love hearts and writing in a childish hand saying ‘Mrs David Taylor’, ‘David 4 Katrina’ and the symbol meaning ‘true love forever’.

A smile threatens to turn into a chuckle as I look over her declarations of love. It’s a good smile though. I think I loved her then too.

She’s pacing the floor nervously in front of me as I turn more pages and take my time looking at each one. On them are pictures she’s drawn, pictures she’s cut out of magazines, and lots of hand written ideas. She’s been planning some sort of wedding extravaganza since she was a kid.

Suddenly it all makes sense. She can’t have a fairy tale wedding without the bridesmaids and without the guests. She’s been avoiding the wedding because she feels like she can’t have her dream.

“Baby girl,” I say softly, closing the album and setting it on the couch beside me. “Come here.”

I hold my arms open and she rushes into my lap. She’s crying openly about it now. It seems really silly, but I understand. I understand.

Seven

Katrina

The next morning, I’m still feeling foolish. But I do feel much better. At least the real reason I’ve been avoiding the wedding is out in the open now, and I can stop making stupid excuses to try and get David to back off.

It’s Sunday, so we have the day to spend together which we really need after such an emotionally draining day yesterday.

I’m in the kitchen, cooking up an omelette and brewing coffee. My plan is to take breakfast in to a sleeping David as a sorry for being such a pain in the arse.

I realise I could have ruined our whole relationship yesterday. All because I was too scared to admit that I had been planning our wedding since we were ten, and I didn’t have enough friends to pull it off. I feel horrible for making him feel like I didn’t want the world with him. So I’m trying in some small way to make up for it.

“Good morning princess,” he says from behind me, his voice still gruff and sexy from sleep.

Smiling, I turn around to face him. “Princess now? I knew I shouldn’t have shown you that album.”

A grin spreads across his face and his eyes dance with amusement, as he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me against him. “I love the album Trina. I love that you always wanted to be my wife. I love that you still want to be my wife.”

He presses his mouth to mine and I slip my arms up around his shoulders and luxuriate in the feel of mouth. Morning breath and all.

Remembering the eggs on the stove I pull away quickly to check on the pan.

“It smells really good. Is that chorizo in there?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to make up for yesterday.”

“It ended well. So there’s nothing to make up for,” he tells me, dropping a kiss on the back of my neck as he reaches into the cupboard to grab two plates for us.

Using the spatula, I halve the omelette and slide it onto both of our plates. David has already poured our coffees and is carrying them to the table.

“You sure you don’t want breakfast in bed?” I ask, following him with the plates and some cutlery.

“Table’s fine. Although I’ll happily take breakfast here and then take you in bed. I wouldn’t mind an encore of last night’s stellar performance,” he suggests, eyebrows raised as he drags his eyes over my scantily clad body. I’m still in the singlet and tiny sleeping shorts I wear to bed.

“That could be arranged,” I tell him in my best sultry voice.

“Good,” he places his hands on either side of my chair and pulls me closer to him and kisses me. My head starts to swim with desire as he works his mouth, now tasting of coffee, against mine. When he pulls away, he brushes my hair back slightly and smiles at me. “I love you Trina,” he says seriously.

“I love you too.”

David

“I have an idea,” I start, as we eat our breakfast together.

“Is it a new sexual position?” Trina asks without missing a beat.

I laugh a little, covering my mouth as I’ve just put a piece of omelette in there then shake my head. “No. It’s an idea about the wedding.”

She nods her head slowly, she seems unsure, but she’s waiting for me to continue.

“Well, I know that you can’t have your dream wedding but what if we have my dream wedding?”

She starts laughing and almost spits out her coffee. “Are you serious? What’s your dream wedding? Bungee jumping off the Harbour Bridge as we say ‘I do’?”

“No, but that’s a great idea. I’ll keep that as a backup plan,” I tease.

“Oh god please don’t.”

“Trina – I’m serious. Would you let me plan the wedding? I’ll take care of everything.”

“I don’t know. What about my dress?”

“I’m going to choose that too.”

“Oh no. No. I don’t think so.”

“Come on Trina. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well then leave it to me. I won’t let you down,” I assure her.

I can see in her face that she’s not sure about this. She pulls her lips between her teeth and worries over it as she thinks.

“Come on princess. Give me a chance.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright. Do it. Surprise me.”

Eight

Katrina

“You’re letting David plan your wedding? Have you signed up for some sort of reality show or something?” my mother asks when I tell her over the phone.

“No mum,” I laugh. “He just made the suggestion and I thought ‘why not’. I’m actually kind of excited about what he might do.”

“But what about me? Don’t I get to help you plan?” she asks, her voice getting small and childlike.

“I’m sorry mum, but you were never going to be planning my wedding. Our taste is just too different,” I laugh.

“It’s not that different,” she objects. “It might have been a nice bonding experience.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll tell David you want to help though ok. He might need it somewhere.”

“Ok, I guess I’ll have to settle for that. Although this could be a disaster Katrina. Have you at least set the date now?”

“It won’t be a disaster mum, it’ll just be… different. It’s all a surprise. Even the date.”

“But you’ll have to sign your ‘intent to marry’.”

“Yeah I know, we’re going to do that really soon so we can get married at any point once the twenty one days are up.”

“Well Katrina. I sincerely hope that this will all work out.”

“It will mum. I have complete faith in him.”

* * *

David

“Do I get to help?” my mum says the moment I tell her that I’m planning the wedding.

“I don’t know ma. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Her voice travels up an octave as her excitement comes through her voice. “David. You know I never thought I’d get to help plan a wedding because I didn’t have a daughter. Please let me in on this,” she begs.

“I’ll let you help where I can. But you can’t breathe a word about any of it. I don’t want Trina to find out.”

“How are you going to get her dress fitted?”

“Blind fold.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I figured I’ll take her in to get measured up and when they do the fitting, she’ll have to be blind folded.”

My mother laughs. “This is going to be fun.”

“I hope so.”

Nine

Katrina

David is sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over his iPad and making notes on a pad of paper next to him. My curiosity is killing me and I try to sneak past him and take a peek at what he’s doing.

“Don’t even look in my direction,” he warns me, flipping over the paper and hitting the home button.

“Come on babe, just tell me something. Anything, and I’ll go away.”

“You’re going to be beautiful,” he tells me, grinning that sexy half smile of his.

I chuckle a little and shake my head from side to side. This is going to be torture for me. Moving closer to him, I place my hands on his shoulders, squeezing at his muscles and working out the kinks from the week of work.

He hums and leans his head against my arm, before taking my hand in his and kissing my palm.

“Come here,” he says, turning in his chair and guiding me so I’m standing between his legs. He lifts my shirt and plants a kiss on my stomach, just above my belly button. “Are you still worried that marrying me might ruin your career?” He kisses me again, his hands sliding underneath my shirt, up to my breasts. Only his fingertips brush the underside of them, just enough to make me ache for more.

“Not at all. I’m sorry I ever said it. And I’m sorry for behaving so badly. I should have just thrown the album out years ago. It’s all so unrealistic.”

“Hmmm, the page about the unicorn carrying you down the aisle was a bit out there. But I love the album. I’m glad you kept it, and I wish I had have known about it all along.”

“Really? It wouldn’t have scared you away?”

He pulls me closer and lifts my shirt higher, kissing along my chest until he takes my already erect nipple in his mouth. He sucks back and drags his teeth over it causing me to suck in my breath as he hums in the negative.

“I wouldn’t have wasted my time with other girls. I would have been with you all along.”

“I wish we could go back in time and skip all the crap that happened before us.”

He hums again as his fingers slip into the waist band of my yoga pants and pull down. “We could have been doing this a lot sooner,” he tells me as he slides his hand between my legs, teasing my clit as he works his way between my folds and brings my juices forward, circling the slickness over my already swelling nub.

I gasp. My knees weakening as arousal floods my body and his fingers enter me. Moving my hips against his hand, I steady myself by placing my hands on his shoulders. I’m quivering.

He continues to plant soft kisses across my abdomen as he pulses his fingers inside me then out and over my clit. The rhythm sends me over the edge and I grip onto him tightly with my hands to stop myself from dropping to the floor, lost in my own bliss.

When he removes his hand from between my legs, I drop to my knees and reach up, guiding his face so I can kiss him. I moan into his mouth as he slides his tongue over mine, small sounds escaping his throat as I slide my hands down his chest until I reach his pants. I undo his button, releasing his cock from its confines and sliding my hand over the smooth skin.

“And we could have been doing this,” I murmur, lowering myself down so I can take him into my mouth. He’s too large to take in all the way, and my lips have to stretch to make it around his girth, but I have learned how to lick and suck and work him with my hand until he erupts in my mouth.

David

I moan. God she’s good at this. She licks and sucks and slides her hands over me until I’m close to exploding. But I’m not ready yet.

“I want to come inside you,” I growl, arousal making my voice thick and throaty. She sucks hard and drags her mouth up until I pop out of her. Grinning, she looks up from my lap then pushes up, so she’s standing in front of me.

I take a moment to run my hands over her skin. I love every bit of her, even the scars that remind us both of what we almost missed out on. We almost missed out on us.

Placing my hands on her hips I guide her as she settles herself above me. She reaches between us and eases herself over my tip then lowers herself down, slowly, leisurely. Each time she takes me inside she lets out a gasp that sounds so erotic, it’s as if she wasn’t complete until I filled her. And each time I reciprocate by letting out a moan, because it’s true. I’m not complete until we’re joined. I need her. She’s everything to me.

With strong legs she pushes herself up and down my shaft, gripping me tight and dragging herself up to my tip then sliding down again. I keep my hands on her hips, watching as we move together. I love to see myself disappear inside her. I love being so thoroughly connected.

She lets out a tiny gasp, her moans filling my ears as she rides me. I want to come, but I want to stay like this, connected forever.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, leaning in close to my ear so she can run her tongue over my lobe. It sends shivers through my body and I’m so close, so close.

“Oh god!” I moan as I explode inside her. She joins me and calls out, her body shuddering as I hold her tight. I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her passionately. My arms wrapped around her as I press our bodies together. “I love you too princess,” I tell her.

Katrina

I sit back and smile at him. “That’s going to stick now isn’t it?” I ask.

“Yeah, it might even replace ‘baby girl’ as my all time favourite. Besides, I think you should be a princess every day. Not just for one.”

My heart swells in my chest and feels like it’s send waves of bliss through my body. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“You might have. But tell me again.”

“I love you… so much.”

Ten

David

“Ok, just keep a hold of my arm and I’ll guide you,” I tell Trina as I help her out of the car. We’re in front of the dressmaker who has agreed to do the blindfolded fitting.

“Oh wow, please don’t let go of me!” she laughs.

So far this whole planning thing has been great for us. Trina is excited for what’s about to come. She has no idea of the date or the location, or even the theme, so every day has an element of excitement to it as she waits.

It’s been almost two months since I started planning and everything is falling into place. Once the dress is finished, we won’t be far off the day.

I’m started to feel excited now too. It won’t be much longer until we’re husband and wife.

Katrina

I can’t see a freaking thing. So I clutch onto David’s arm for dear life. A woman with a slight Mediterranean accent greets us as we enter a store, and I’m ushered into what I assume is a dressing room.

“Just through here princess,” David directs, his voice soft kind and low. It tickles my ears and adds to the excitement I’m already feeling.

I hear the sounds of sliding metal and feel the light breeze as what I assume is the curtain to a dressing room closing.

“Arms up,” he instructs as he helps me remove my clothes. His fingers brush against my skin and send tingles all over my body. I kind of wish that he’d take me in here against the wall. This whole experience has me dripping with excitement.

As he undoes my black skinny jeans and pulls them down my legs, I giggle slightly as I stumble out of them. But he holds me steady. “It’s ok. I won’t let you fall,” he assures me. “Here, place your arms on my shoulders.”

He slides his hands over my arms and guides my hands so they rest on his strong, firm shoulders. I hear the rustle of fabric just before his hand gently touches the skin on my leg. He’s driving me wild. My breathing becomes heavy as he caresses my skin before lifting my leg and guiding me into the dress.

He slides it up my body, making sure he makes contact with my skin the entire way. The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s strapless. Planting gentle kisses on my shoulders, he stands behind me and zips me up. “Now, don’t touch it. That’s cheating,” he rumbles in my ear.

“Can I touch you?” I return, turning my head toward the sound of his voice. I can feel his breath on my cheek – it’s as heavy as mine.

“Soon,” he whispers, his lips lightly brushing against my ear as he speaks. A gasp sneaks out over my lips and I hear him chuckle lightly as he pulls at the curtain again.

The metal clangs and a gust of air fills the cubicle, feeling cool against my heated skin.

“This way.” He slides his arm around my waist and takes me by the elbow to guide me out of the change room.

I can feel the length and the weight of the dress as I move. Both David and the dressmaker have to help lift it as they guide me so I’m standing on some sort of platform.

“Now, stand very still,” he orders me. The dressmaker fawns over me, pinning here and measuring there, while she mutters to herself about what she needs to do. The entire time, David keeps physical contact with me. He holds my hand and gently strokes my skin, moving around me so he isn’t in the way. I still can’t see anything. All I can do it feel, and try to keep my breathing steady.

“You know, I’ve never had a blindfolded bride before,” she comments. I can hear the scratching of her pencil as she jots something on a notepad. “You think you’ve seen it all when you deal with people all your life, but this one is new to me.”

“I’m glad we could surprise you,” David says, causing her to laugh in that way that women do around him. He’s obviously won her over with his charm. He’s probably smiling at her – that dimple does it every time.

David takes me by the hand and helps me off the platform, guiding me once again into the change room to help me out of the dress. Each time his fingers make contact with my skin, I flinch – I’m that turned on right now.

The dress pools around my feet and I expect him to place my hands on his shoulders again. He does, but when he slides his hands over my lower leg, he doesn’t lift, he keeps sliding upward. As his fingers brush my thoroughly damp panties, I suck in my breath sharply.

“Shhhh,” he whispers, so quietly even I barely hear it. He slips his fingers underneath the fabric and moves through my juices. I hear his breath blow out slowly, he’s trying to keep calm and quiet. I try to do the same, but my heart is thudding so loudly in my ears that I feel sure the dressmaker can hear us.

He removes his hand and slides my panties down my legs, before guiding me so I’m leaning against wall in the corner of the stall. He pushes my legs slightly apart and returns his hand to my centre, slipping his fingers inside and massaging my core. I feel his breath against my mound and almost gasp out when I feel his tongue slip between my folds and over my clit.

My hips flinch and I bite down on my lip, riding him. My orgasm explodes within seconds and I shudder, holding my breath so I can’t be heard.

David withdraws from me and stands, pressing himself against me so I can feel how hard he is for me. “We need to go home. Now,” he growls in my ear.

He lifts me over to the other side of the cubicle and I hear the material sound again as he lifts the dress off the floor and hangs it up, before returning his attention to me to once again get me dressed.

“Where’s my underwear?” I ask in a whisper when he’s standing in front of me doing my zip up.

“In my pocket. One less thing to remove when I get you home.” My insides clench with excitement as we leave the change room and head straight for the car, barely taking the time to say goodbye to the dressmaker.

“Leave the blindfold on,” he tells me when he sees me reach for it in the car on the drive home. I lower my hands, and shift my weight, squirming in my seat.

I’m starting to think that every woman should let her man organise their wedding. All the anticipation and mystery has me in a constant state of arousal.

David is so ready, that the moment we get home, he gets me out of the car and throws me over his shoulder cave man style.

If this was any other time I’d be laughing over the fun of it all, but I’m so on edge that I gasp instead. I can’t wait to get inside…

Eleven

David

While I knew that organising a wedding was a big deal, I didn’t realise quite how huge it really was. Even just a small one. I’ve set the date, organised the venue, the dress, my suit, flowers, food, music, a photographer, and of course - a celebrant to marry us. Now all that’s left is the cake and the guest list.

I’m inviting our families and a few of our work and uni friends that we actually spend time with outside of work. We’re not massively social – we go out with other people once every month or two if we’re lucky. We prefer each other’s company above anyone else’s.

Scanning the list of names, I dial the first number and place the phone to my ear. I’m calling everyone personally since it’s a surprise and I need to swear them to complete secrecy. Plus, I can’t risk invitations being stuck to people’s refrigerators where Trina could accidentally see one.

She’s kept in touch with Kayley, who is now married herself to an Aussie guy called Chad. We probably see them as a couple three times a year, and get along really well together. Kayley and Trina have lunch once a month as well. So they are top of the ‘friends’ list.

“Kayley,” I say as she answers in her familiar Irish lilt. “It’s David. How are you?”

“I’m great. It’s unusual for you to call me. Is everything alright?”

“More than alright actually. I’m calling to invite you to Trina’s and my wedding,” I tell her. It’s so hard to keep the smile off my lips, so I don’t bother. I just grin like an idiot.

She lets out an excited little yelp. “Finally! I’m so happy. When is it?”

I fill her in on all the details, smiling the entire way through my description about what’s going to happen, and how I’m going to get Trina there without her knowing it’s her wedding day until the last minute.

“Sounds amazing David. I can’t wait.”

“Me either. It’s been a long time coming.”

When I hang up I’m still smiling. As I go through my list and make call after call I smile the whole time. By the time I’m finished – my face hurts.

Katrina

Today David is out doing wedding stuff. His actual words when I questioned him about it were ‘wouldn’t you like to know’. He then winked at me, grinned and walked out of the apartment without me. So it’s obviously wedding stuff.

While I’m loving the excitement of it all, I’m dying to have some sort of information. It’s like everyone around me has a secret and I’m left out of it. I only last fifteen minutes alone in the apartment before I go snooping. There has to be something in this house that will tell me what he’s planning.

First, I look through his drawers. I’m careful not to mess anything up, but besides some mobile phone and internet bills, I can’t find anything.

Pressing my lips together, I look around the apartment and try to think about where he would hide something. It dawns on me that he might use the same hiding places I would and I go through the hall closet. I’m not too careful looking through here as I can at least claim I was cleaning up if he notices things are moved… but nothing.

“Hmmm,” I say to myself. “If I was a secret wedding planned by David. Where would I hide?”

I have a light bulb moment and go into the office. We both use the office so there’s no way he’d leave a paper trail in here, although I do a quick check anyway while I wait for the computer to power up. Immediately I open up the browser and pull up the history. Surely there will be something in there that will tell me what he’s planning.

My mouth drops open and my heart sinks. All I find is page after page talking about getting married in Vegas.

“Oh no,” I breathe, my hand covering my mouth. This isn’t what I wanted. Why would he do this?

David

“You are so predictable,” I say from the doorway behind her. I’ve just walked in and she was so engrossed in spying on me that she didn’t hear me come through the door.

The moment she hears my voice she jumps in her seat and spins around to face me.

“David! I… I ah…” she stammers, trying to shut down the screen and explain herself at the same time.

“We’re not getting married in Vegas Trina,” I tell her.

“What? We’re not?” Her face is bright red from being caught out, but the relief is obvious.

“No princess. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But what about all the websites? Were you thinking about it?”

“No not at all. I did that on purpose because I knew you’d spy. You won’t find a single detail about our wedding Trina. There is such a thing as an inPrivate browser. You won’t find anything here.”

“Come on David. You’re killing me. Just give me something.”

I move closer to her and kneel at her feet, taking her hands in my own as I look into her eyes.

“Do you want me to tell you all about the wedding?”

“Um… yeah, I do. I can’t stand not knowing anymore.”

For a few moments I study her expectant face, she’s beautiful like this, her eyes shining with interest and her expression slightly creased from her stress. I reach up and smooth my fingers over her forehead which causes her to relax her frown, then I rise up a little higher on my knees and press our lips together. Then I whisper. “No.”

Her head jerks back. “No?!”

“No. I’m not going to tell you.” I push up to standing and lean down to kiss her on the top of her head. “You’ll just have to wait.” I stride out of the office and head towards the kitchen. “I’m making a coffee. Do you want one?” I call out.

“I hate you!” she calls after me.

“No you don’t,” I laugh. “You love me. True love forever remember? You drew the symbol enough times in your wedding album. I don’t think you can go back on that.”

She appears in the doorway of the kitchen behind me. “You’re right. I do love you. Even though you’re a shit stirrer who won’t even tell me the date of my wedding.”

“Well princess, you’re going to know it when you see it. I can promise you that much.”

Twelve

Katrina

The weather is starting to warm up and David and I are heading to Bondi beach to enjoy sun and the sand. It was all my idea, so no wedding surprise today. It’s just me and my man, spending some quality time together.

Since we moved to Surrey Hills, we’ve come to the beach a fair few times, although David still isn’t interested in surfing. I think he’d look really hot in a wetsuit, pulled down around his waist as he strolls along the beach with a board under his arm. It gives me shivers just thinking about it. But he’s adamant that surfing isn’t his thing.

“You’re lucky I swim at the beach. There’s freakin’ blue bottles, jelly fish and sharks to worry about close to shore. Why the hell would I want to swim even further out to surf? God only knows what’s lurking around out there.”

His fear of ocean animals makes me laugh. He would take down anyone or anything in his bid to protect me, but he’s scared of a blue bottle sting. Instead, he’s happy to spend most of his day laying on a towel and reading. He had to get a pair of reading glasses while we were still uni, so I love it when he reads, especially on weekends when he hasn’t shaved. There’s something about seeing him with his hair stylishly messy, his face scruffy and a pair of glasses that is so appealing to me.

“You should surf because it would mean that you were a definitely going to get lucky once we got home - especially after I’ve sat around watching you all day.”

“Princess, you can’t keep your hands off me,” he grins, looking at me over the top of his glasses. “I’m lucky all the time.”

I laugh and flick him with some sand and he gives me a half amused, half unimpressed look as it clings to the sun cream on his chest and refuses to move.

“Come and swim with me, I’ll wash it off for you,” I suggest.

He raises his eyebrows and lets his eyes wander over my bikini clad body. My body tingles under his gaze and I half think that maybe we should go home and shower together instead.

“David, Katrina. Hi,” a voice says from above us. I cover my eyes against the sun and look up to see Elliot standing in front of us, clad in a pair of board shorts and nothing else. His chest is still as defined as it always was. He really looks like he belongs on the beach, or at least on a billboard advertising it.

Behind him is Paige who is wearing a simple black string bikini that has little gold embellishments on the ends of the ties. With her curves, she looks amazing in it. I can see her standing right next to him in that billboard ad.

Looking at her body, I feel like I’m all bones and hard angles in my own royal blue Seafolly bikini, although I have to admit, this one makes me look like I have curves. The bodice is ruched, and twists in the middle to make you look a little fuller in the chest, and the bottoms are topped with a little ruffle that kind of gives me hips. So I shake the tiny insecurity away. I’m fine in my own skin.

“Hi,” David and I say in unison. No one speaks for a beat until I ask, “Where’s Grace?”

“Oh she’s with my dad and his wife Erica,” Elliot tells us.

“I think she might be taking her for hair extensions,” Paige puts in. She’s smiling, so I wonder if perhaps she doesn’t hate me after all.

“Seriously?” I say, crinkling my nose up.

“No,” Elliot laughs. “She just spoils her rotten and Paige likes to joke about it.”

“Oh. Ok.” I laugh a little. It sounds forced. I don’t know how to take Paige yet.

“So, um, mum tells me she’s having a BBQ between your family and ours at the beginning of December,” Elliot starts. “I was going to call you and maybe say hi. Get the ball rolling on this ‘getting along’ thing. But we saw you here and thought we’d come over instead.”

We all kind of just nod and look at each other, not really knowing what to say until David comes to everyone’s rescue.

“Listen, we were just about to go and get an ice-cream or a cold drink from across the street. You want to join us?” David says. I slide my eyes over to him – no we weren’t.

“Um. Sure, that’d be ok,” Elliot says glancing at Paige who isn’t showing any obvious yes or no signs.

David

Everyone seems fine heading off to get something to eat and drink together. I know it’s a little odd, but I figure we’re obviously going to see them or run into them occasionally. Especially when you consider how close Kathy and Carol are - it’s inevitable that we’re going to be in the same room. We may as well make friends as far as I’m concerned.

“So how’s life in the legal world?” Elliot asks me as we cross the busy street via the zebra crossing.

“It’s busy. I like it though. I get all my arguing out at work so I’m pretty calm outside the office,” I laugh.

“What area did you go in to?”

“Employment law. I’m all about fighting the good fight for the little guy, although half the time I find myself assigned to a case where we’re fighting for the multi-million dollar company. But such is life huh.”

“Yeah, I can definitely relate. You start off with great intentions and you get stuck doing what you’re told – good or bad.”

I nod my head in agreement. “How about you? How’s life as a personal trainer?”

“It’s great. I really enjoy it actually. I take a lot of clients here actually and run them along the shoreline. It’s a pretty nice office.”

“I reckon. I think I chose the wrong profession.”

We laugh a little and continue an easy conversation. I can tell that he’s doing the same thing I am though, we’re both half listening to each other and half listening to our other halves behind us.

Katrina

“Listen, I know it was a while ago now. But I really wanted to say that I’m sorry for mentioning the photos at your welcome home BBQ. I really didn’t mean anything. I was just nervous and well, I kind of started talking and couldn’t really stop,” I laugh uneasily.

Paige glances at me and wrinkles her nose slightly. “It’s ok. That was a really hard day. I was jet lagged and at the time. I still didn’t like people seeing it. It was very private to me for a long time.”

“You obviously don’t mind now,” I say nodding towards the bare skin on her back.

“No. I wear it proudly now,” she smiles. There’s a pause and I wonder if I should ask more questions, but she changes the subject. “So Elliot tells me you’re a lawyer.”

“Yeah, a solicitor. I work in a little office focusing mainly on family law. It’s a bit like living in a soap opera half the time. You can’t imagine what goes on in half of these marriages. So many secrets.” I tell her widening my eyes and shaking my head as I think about the stories I hear.

“Oh, I can imagine. Everyone has their secrets. I’m a hairdresser by trade and you wouldn’t believe the things clients like to tell me. It’s like I’m a confessional or something. I don’t get it, but they love sharing their problems with me.”

“Really? You know, I’ve never been chatty at the hairdressers. Is that bad?”

“No. Not at all. You’d be a good client, we could actually focus on cutting your hair.”

We laugh a little together, the atmosphere between us much easier than it was the first time we met.

David and Elliot wait up for us to enter the ice-cream shop and we split off into pairs while we order and then go back outside to where there are a few tables and chairs.

“So I hear you two are getting married soon,” Elliot comments between licks of his ice-cream.

“Soon?” I say immediately, hoping to get some information out of him before David silences him, but I don’t get the chance

“Don’t breathe a word to her. It’s all a surprise.” David butts in.

“Oh wow! So you have no idea what’s going to happen?” asks Paige.

“No. I don’t have a clue. I don’t even know what my dress looks like.”

Paige’s mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

“Yep. I know that it’s possibly strapless and made out of swishy sounding material and zips up in the back – that’s it.”

“I blindfolded her and took her for a dress fitting,” David informs them casually, like it’s a completely normal thing for someone to do. Although we exchange knowing glances, each of remembering how wonderful that day was for us.

“You are one very brave man,” Elliot laughs.

“Very,” Paige agrees.

We sit around talking easily for while after our ice-creams are finished. I think we’d talk for longer but Elliot’s phone goes off.

“That’s dad,” he says to Paige. “They’re on their way back to ours with Grace.”

“Alright, we’d better start walking,” Paige says standing.

“Oh you’re not far from here?” David asks.

“Yeah, I used to live around here when I first met you guys, but I moved out for a while. Dad kept the place though and when Paige and I got married, he and his wife did up the old flat and gave it to us a wedding gift.”

“Really? That’s amazing.” I say. “So you’re talking to your dad again?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re all good now.”

“That’s really good to hear,” I smile, and I mean it.

“Well, we’d better go. It was really great talking to you both,” Paige says with a smile as she slips her hand into Elliot’s palm. “Perhaps you can come and see the flat some time? I’m sure you’d be really surprised at how different it is Katrina. I saw photos of it before and you wouldn’t recognise it.” It surprises me that she’s being so welcoming and I don’t say anything at first. I just smile and nod.

David rescues me though - I’m pretty sure he can read my mind and knows what I want to say more often than I do. “We’d love to.” He stands up and shakes Elliot’s hand then leans over to kiss Paige on the cheek. I do the same except I just give cheek kisses. It’s like we’ve all known each other for ages. Things are feeling a little more normal between us now.

“Do you still think she hates you?” David enquires as we watch them walk, hand in hand down the street.

“No, and what’s more shocking is – I actually think I like her.”

He chuckles and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and kissing my head.

“My Katrina, actually getting along well with a girl. I think I’ve seen it all now,” he jokes. I elbow him playfully, although it’s true, I do really struggle making friends with other girls.

Thirteen

David

Disaster has struck. I left work today and the first thing that greeted me was a message on my phone, informing me that the celebrant can’t make it on the date I’ve booked everything for. Some sort of family obligation has come up.

My chest grips. I’m having a slight panic and when I meet Trina by the car to drive home, I almost tell her everything, just to share the burden.

“What’s wrong?” she asks me, concern etching lines in her face as she regards me.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out, and I’m grateful for that. If I tell her one thing, I won’t be able to stop. It will ruin everything. I clamp my mouth shut and press my lips firmly together.

The message said that I’d been emailed a list of other people who might be available, so I’ll spend the weekend calling all of them, and pray that one of them will agree to do it. But it’s getting so close to the date now. I’m petrified that this might be the one thing that can stop this from happening.

It’s times like this I wish we lived in America and could have a friend or family member ordained via the internet. But it doesn’t work like that here. There are only so many licensed marriage celebrants available. Everything has to be done the right way to make the marriage legal. No corners can be cut.

If no one can do it, I’ll have to cancel everything. That trip to Vegas is looking like it might become a reality after all.

Katrina

Something is going on and David won’t tell me what it is. It’s obviously something to do with the wedding. I ask him and he just says that he’ll deal with it - he’s not breathing a word.

Although, there is a moment when I think he’s going to share something with me. He looks at me, his face warring with his emotions as his mouth moves like he’s trying to form words. My heart leaps up in my throat. I’m both nervous and excited. I want to know. I want to be able to help him. But he shakes his head quickly, like he’s shaking the thoughts away, and tells me not to worry before getting the car and driving home without saying a word.

I rest my hand on his thigh and move my fingers soothingly as I worry. Of course I’m worried. Even though l have no idea what I’m worrying about.

Fourteen

David

Christmas time is upon us and so are the usual round of family BBQs. As Elliot mentioned, we’ve been invited to Kathy and Steve’s house in early December. Carol and Kathy have been taking turns hosting since they became good friends. Last year we were at Carol’s so logically it’s at Kathy’s this year.

After running into Paige and Elliot at the beach that day, I’m not dreading it is much as I thought I would. Hanging out with the guy who used to sleep with your fiancée still isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but if Paige can handle Katrina then I can handle Elliot. Besides, he is actually a pretty nice guy.

As strange as this all is, I’m really glad Katrina’s mum has found a good friend like Kathy. None of us have a lot of family, so she believes in spending quality time with close friends. I understand that, but I just wish there wasn’t that link there. It would be a lot easier to just pretend no one has ever been with Katrina before me.

Whether I like it or not, we’re linked through family, so I figure that I have to make the most of it. We all got along really well at Bondi. I’m sure we can all be friends.

Katrina

Even though we had a great time with Paige and Elliot when we ran into them at Bondi, I still kind of feel like the death march should be playing as we drive down Kathy’s street. The beach was over a month ago now, and while we said we’d catch up soon, none of us has made a call and actually done anything about it.

On top of that, the last time we came here, David and I had a massive fight and almost broke up. I know that the reason we fought doesn’t exist anymore. But I’m still nervous coming here and acting like we’re all one big happy family.

As luck would have it, we pull up outside the house at exactly the same time as Elliot and Paige do.

“Here we go,” I say quietly. I see Paige say something as she turns to Elliot and looks back at us. He leans over and kisses her, then they both get out of the car and start organising all of their baby things.

“Come on princess,” David says. “We’re all friends now remember?”

David takes my hand in his and holds it next to his face before pressing a kiss into my palm. I feel the slight prickle of his stubble against my skin and move my fingers to caress his rough cheek.

“Hi Guys, Merry Christmas,” David calls over to them as we both get out of the car. They both say hi and return the same festive greeting with a smile.

“Do you need a hand carrying anything?” I ask as I see Paige sling a nappy bag over her shoulder as well as her own handbag before she reaches in to lift out baby Grace.

“Oh um… yeah ok,” she concedes, handing me the nappy bag. “Thanks,” she says, smiling briefly.

“No trouble.”

“So, looks like it going to be a hot summer,” David comments, making small talk. He’s carrying the bowl of salad we brought as well as helping Elliot with an esky.

The men start talking about the benefits of air-conditioning and sea breezes as we all make our way towards the front door.

“Must be nice living so close to the beach,” I say to Paige who is carrying a very wriggly Grace in her arms.

“Yeah it is actually. I think it helps Grace sleep at night too,” Paige answers. Her words are a little stiff, and I wonder if I imagined her friendliness at the beach. Although she’s not ignoring me and she’s not being rude - I guess I’ll have to see how we go.

My parents are already there, as is my brother and his wife. The house is decorated festively with a big tree in the corner, and garlands and ornaments adorning walls and surfaces. We exchange hugs and cheek kisses and place everything we’re carrying in the appropriate places.

“Drinks?” Kathy asks us all, looking around the room at all of our faces.

We all accept various drinks, and then head outside where Steve is preparing the BBQ before he needs to turn it on and cook lunch.

David

A lot of fuss is made over Grace as she’s passed around and cooed over like a beautiful gurgling doll. Katrina’s mother insists on her holding the baby, and I have to laugh at the awkward look on her face as she tries to keep hold of the wriggly babe.

“You look good with a baby Trina,” I tease, grinning at her.

She looks at me and smiles, although I can tell by her expression that she’s telling me not to push my luck. I think she makes it maybe a full minute before she hands Grace back to Paige who’s laughing at how awkward Trina is.

“She’s not made of glass. You won’t break her,” Paige laughs.

“I don’t know about that, I’ve never really been around babies before.”

“I’d never been around babies either. But when you have a screaming baby thrust into your arms when they’re born – you learn pretty fast.”

“She really is beautiful Paige. She looks just like you.”

“She has my hair and her daddy’s eyes and mouth. She’s nice mix of us.”

“She is,” Trina agrees.

I just sit there, quietly smiling as Trina plays with Grace and chats to Paige. When Jenny comes outside carrying a tray of nibbles she doesn’t waste any time joining in as well. I find it amazing how something as small as a baby can make people forget their discomfort with each other.

Deciding to leave the women to it, I head inside to see if there’s anything I can help with. Kathy and Carol are in the kitchen talking up a storm while they’re handing trays of meat to Elliot and Tom. I line up alongside them on the opposite side of the bench.

“So Carol’s been telling me about the big plans,” Kathy says in a low voice. She slides her eyes toward the back door to make sure Trina isn’t in ear shot. “Not long now huh?”

“No, not long at all,” I grin.

“Have you got everything planned?” She asks.

“Yes, well – mostly. We’ve hit a bit of a snag on the celebrant, but I’m hoping to get it sorted in time.”

She looks at me thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind, I can make a few calls. I might know someone who could help you out.”

“Really? Oh Kathy, if you could you’d be a real life saver,” I gush. The mere hint of a solution is a huge relief to me.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I can talk to my dad too, he might know of someone,” puts in Elliot.

“That’d be great man, thanks,” I say.

“It’s not a problem.”

We all shut our mouths quickly as Katrina approaches the sliding door. She stops in her tracks when she sees us all looking at her. We must look guilty.

“Um, Paige was just after some sort of chew toy for Grace,” she states, causing a burst of laughter from those gathered in the kitchen.

“You mean a teething rusk. I’ll go and grab one for her,” Elliot says smiling.

I move next to Trina as I carry some of the food outside and lean in to kiss her cheek. “Chew toys are for dogs, princess,” I laugh.

Her cheeks instantly flame red. “Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Elliot walks past with a baby toy and a little packet containing the rusks. “It’s cool. I’m always commenting that she reminds me of a puppy.” He gives us a wink and goes outside to hand the items over to Paige. They have a short exchange during which Paige laughs loudly. When I look at them together, I see in them how I feel about Trina and regret ever feeling any sort of jealousy or animosity towards them.

I look at Trina and smile – I can’t wait to be married.

Fifteen

Katrina

A week later, we’re sitting together at dinner, talking about our work load over a glass of wine and a steak dinner when David’s phone starts singing. He’s set his ring tone as the wedding march to tease me. He loves that I have no idea what’s going on. Although I wish he would at least tell me the date, so I know how long we have to go.

When he checks the screen his brow creases slightly. “I have to take this. I’ll be back in a minute.” He taps on his screen and tells the caller that he’ll just be a second then rises from his chair and kisses me on the cheek.

“Sorry, I’ll be back soon,” he tells me in a low sweet voice. If he wasn’t being so loving I’d start to get really annoyed. But I love how happy he is lately. There’s an underlying sense of stress, but most of the time I find him smiling or whistling to himself. His mood is infectious.

I’ve made so many excuses to avoid this wedding – we need to save, there’s no rush, it takes time to plan, and finally, I’m scared it will ruin my career. I regret every one of them. We should have done this sooner.

David

“So my dad made a few calls,” Elliot says to me talking quietly. I wonder if Grace is sleeping near him or if he’s being quiet because he knows this is all a secret.

“Thanks man. Do you have good or bad news?” I ask, my voice matching his in volume.

“Great news. We have someone who’s agreed but she’s pretty expensive – given the date and all.”

“I don’t care mate, I’ll buy her a fucking yacht as long as she turns up on the day.”

Chuckling, he says, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll text you through her details and you can give her a call on Monday.”

“Thanks man, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem. I’m more than happy to help.” I’m about to hang up when he starts speaking again. “Ah, listen – Paige and I were wondering if you and Katrina would like to come around for dinner tomorrow night. We can show you the flat like we’ve been promising to. That is if you have time right now of course.”

“Um… yeah sure. I’ll set it up with Trina.”

“Great, I’m ah, not sure if Katrina remembers the address so I’ll text that through too. Around 7?”

“Sure. We’ll see you then. We’ll bring something for dessert.”

We disconnect the call and I look at my phone for a moment laughing at these new friends we’re making. If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be almost ready to marry Trina and taking her over to Elliot’s house for dinner with him and his wife, I would have called you crazy.

I’m busting to tell someone that everything is on track again, and I can’t tell Trina, so I dial my mum instead.

“The wedding’s still on,” I blurt as soon as she answers.

Laughing at my relieved tone, she says, “So you got a new celebrant?”

“I did, and you’ll never guess who sorted it out for us.”

“Who?”

“Elliot.”

“Elliot? Are you all talking now?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. We’re all getting along. His wife, Paige, seems to really like Trina too. It’s very surreal, but it’s good because Carol and Elliot’s mum are always together and organising BBQs that we all have to attend, so it’s nice that things aren’t uncomfortable.”

“Are they coming to the wedding?”

“No. Why? Do you think I should invite them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, isn’t Kathy and Steve coming?”

“Well yeah,” I admit, but we’ve spent a lot more time with them over the years. I then realise that everyone we know and spend time with is invited except for Elliot and Paige. “I’ll talk to Trina about it.”

“Alright. I only ask because you’re going to see them again and again. So you might as well include them.”

“Funny you should say that – guess where we’re going tomorrow night?”

Katrina

“I see a smile mixed with worry. Is there something I should know?” I ask as I watch him slide the glass door closed that leads to our balcony.

He laughs. “I can’t tell you about the smile. But the rest - um… how do you feel about going to Paige and Elliot’s for dinner tomorrow?”

“Was that who called you?” He nods and places his phone back in his pocket. “Well… yeah… I guess. We’ve gotten along with them the last two times we saw them. I can’t see why not.”

“Ok. Lucky, ‘cause I already accepted that one.” I roll my eyes and laugh. “Wait, there’s more - what about inviting them to the wedding?”

I pull my head back slightly, surprised he’s actually speaking about the wedding, but more surprised that he’s thinking about inviting them. I always thought there was a rule that you didn’t invite exes to weddings.

“I’m asking because I thought about the Christmas get together we had at Kathy’s and everyone that was there is invited except for them. Our family and their family are always going to see each other, and well, if they’re reaching out with a dinner invite then I think we should include them.”

I fold my arms across my chest and look at a blank spot on the wall as I think it over. I can’t see what harm it would do – it’s not like there’s anything between Elliot and me anymore. There hasn’t been on my side for years. Just like I am with David, he seems one hundred percent in a relationship with Paige.

“If I say yes, will you at least tell me the date?”

“No Trina. I won’t tell you the date. But I’ll tell you what flavour the cake is.”

I grin, I don’t care what flavour it is, but I’m happy to have this tiny deal. “Deal. Let’s invite them. Now what flavour is the cake?”

“Right now, it’s air. I haven’t ordered it yet.”

My mouth drops open. “That’s just mean!” I pick up a cherry tomato from my salad and throw it at him.

He deflects it and starts laughing his arse off. He’s so impressed with his own cheekiness. I can’t help but laugh too.

Sixteen

David

The next morning I tell Trina I’m going out to pick up something to take to Paige and Elliot’s house for dessert. It’s all come at a great time as I was booked in for a cake tasting today.

I’m meeting both mine and Trina’s mother at the bakery I’ve hired to bake the cake for us. Trina’s mum is also picking up the dress. We couldn’t have a final fitting because she’d be able to imagine it slightly based on wearing it. When I took her to the bridal shop for her fitting, we tried a mermaid shaped dress – they’re the ones with the love heart shape at the bust that fits the top part of her body, then flares out at the bottom. I think she’d look beautiful in something shaped like that. So we measured up a simple one, then my mum and Trina’s mum went together and chose a dress based on that. So in essence, we’re keeping with tradition because I don’t know which dress she’ll wear.

When I walk into the bakery, both mothers are already there waiting for me, sitting at a little table drinking their favourite cappuccinos and chatting. The moment the bell above the door dings, signalling my arrival, they grin broadly and rise.

“We were about to start without you,” my mother jokes.

“Ma, I’m five minutes early,” I point out, kissing her on her cheek before doing the same with Carol.

The woman behind the counter is smiling as we approach.

“This is Simone,” my mother tells me. “We’ve been telling her all about the wedding while we waited for you.”

“You’re the first groom I’ve ever met who’s planned the whole thing,” she comments. “You’re fiancée is one very lucky girl.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think she’s had more than one moment where she’s regretted agreeing to this.”

“Have you told her anything?”

“Not a thing. It’s all a surprise.”

“Well, I hope you’ll show me some photos afterwards. I’d love to see how it all turns out.” I nod to let her know that I will. “Are we ready to try some cake?” she asks.

“We sure are,” I tell her.

She turns around and collects a tray filled with a selection of bite sized pieces of cake. Trina and I aren’t huge cake eaters, so I’ve just asks to try a little bit of everything.

Simone explains what each one is as we test them. They vary in names like Dark Chocolate fudge, black forest, traditional dark fruitcake, mud cakes in dark and white chocolate, cherry and caramel. There’s carrot cake, flourlesss orange and almond, orange poppy seed, red velvet, sticky date, marble cake, something called croqembouche, butterscotch and of course, lemon.

I think my mum just loves that she’s eating cake before lunch. I’m not sure that she’s actually tasting them per se. But she’s enjoying them – so that’s a good thing.

“I can’t choose. They’re all good,” she says when she’s finished.

“Well, I think she’ll like the black forest one best. It’s always been one of her favourites,” Carol puts in.

“Agreed. It’s my favourite too actually. That one or the orange poppy seed.”

Simone brings out a full slice of each of the cakes we’re deciding between. I taste a bit of each and Carol does the same. As we’re talking about which one would be best to suit everyone in attendance, my mother slowly polishes off both slices.

“I still can’t decide,” she says around a mouth full of crumbs. “I just love cake. You can choose any flavour and I’ll be happy.”

Eventually we decide on the orange poppy seed with the citrus cream cheese filling. It’s nice and fresh tasting and suits the warmer temperature that summer brings.

“Great choice,” my mum says as I finish going over the details with Simone. I put my arm around her and kiss the side of her head.

“Thanks mum.”

I also grab a strawberry cheese cake to take for dessert tonight before walking outside with both mothers.

“Ok, so are we all set now? Is there anything else we need to organise?” Carol asks, her aging blue eyes filled with nerves and excitement. “I have the dress by the way. It’s beautiful. It’s in the car.”

“Thank you. And no, there’s nothing else to organise. All we have to do is get her there without her knowing what’s going on.”

“How are we going to do that?” my mother asks.

“Well, I have an idea about that,” I say, lowering my voice conspiratorially as I fill them in on the final part of my plan.

There isn’t long now.

Seventeen

Katrina

“That was the longest purchase of a cheesecake in the history of all cheesecake purchases,” I comment when David finally arrives home and shows me what he bought.

He’s been gone so long that I’ve already gone for a run, returned home, showered, changed, and had something to eat.

He puts the cheesecake in the fridge and comes to stand in front of me. “Don’t pout princess. You know I can’t tell you what I was doing.”

I pout anyway.

“Here, let me fix that for you,” he says as he brings his mouth to mine. I quickly forget to sulk as I feel my insides swoon over his kiss.

“I do love that you’re doing all of this you know,” I tell him, my voice sounds thick with desire as I wrap my arms around him and press our bodies together. “I only pout because I can’t wait to be your wife.”

He leans in and sucks my lower lip, gently into his mouth. “Do you want to go and practise for the wedding night?” he murmurs in my ear.

I answer him with my mouth as I press it up against his, sliding my tongue inside as he parts his lips and reciprocates, moving his deliciously against my own. That’s when I taste it.

My head snaps back and my eyes open wide. “You’ve been eating cake!”

Eighteen

David

We arrive at Paige and Elliot’s just before seven and park kerbside, not far from their block of flats. The façade leads me to believe they were built sometime in the late ‘70s or early ‘80s and the brown wood of the doors and the carpets on the stair case confirms my thoughts.

“What are they like inside?” I ask Trina as we climb the stairs.

“Well they said it’s all been redone, but it used to just be more brown. Even the white of the walls had a brown tone to it.”

When we knock on the door, Elliot answers with Grace in his arms. She’s looking a little grouchy but very cute in her purple pyjamas.

“Hi, welcome,” he says thrusting out a hand to shake mine and leaning toward Trina for a cheek kiss. “Did you find parking on the street ok?”

“Yeah. We’re just between this complex and the next one,” I tell him.

Katrina

From where we’re standing, I can’t believe this is the same flat I was in all those years ago. It’s just so different. The design is now much more modern and looks like it should be in a design magazine or something – one of those fancy coffee table magazines that people love buying.

“Wow, Elliot. Can I just say that this all looks amazing. I would never have thought it was the same place.”

Paige appears from the kitchen and calls out hi before walking down the hallway towards us. She’s wearing a pair of black capris pants and a fitted navy blue singlet with a long necklace hanging down. She has her hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head. Looking effortlessly beautiful – like she always does.

I’m wearing my usual summery dress. It’s white with tiny coloured flowers around the top of the bust and the hem. I wear minimal jewellery, just my stud earrings, my engagement ring and the bracelet David brought back from Bali years ago.

The men are dressed almost identically in cargo shorts and button up collared short sleeve checked shirts, open with a plain t-shirts underneath them. They look both look great. Although David always looks great – clothes or not.

Once Paige reaches us, a bit more cheek kissing goes on before we continue through the flat.

“Different, huh?” Paige directs at me.

“It’s amazing. Really beautiful.”

“Erica, Robert’s wife, designed it all herself. She picked everything,” she tells me as she leads me further inside.

“Robert? Is that Elliot’s dad’s name?” I ask. How strange. Robert Roberts?

She laughs, “Yes, and I know what you’re thinking. They have different surnames.”

“Roberts is my mum’s name, she and dad weren’t married when I was born, so mum gave me her name, and it was never changed,” Elliot informs me.

“Oh, well that makes sense,” I laugh.

“Come, I’ll show you around,” Paige says, inclining her head so I follow her.

As I walk down the hallway, I first come to a formal dining room with a square, chestnut-coloured table. It’s surrounded by eight leather chairs and there’s a high chair in the corner.

“This isn’t too weird for you is it?” she asks me. “I mean, being here. I know you and Elliot had a thing when he was living here.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine. It looks like an entirely new place and besides – that was years ago,” I laugh. It comes out a little higher pitched than I intend, but normally no one makes any references to the fact that Elliot and I once had a ‘thing’. We generally just go along pretending like nothing ever happened, and frankly, that suits me just fine.

She looks at me for a minute, as if she’s assessing whether I’m telling the truth or not.

“Ok, it’s a little weird,” I blurt out. “But seriously Paige. Whatever Elliot and I once had was never serious. It didn’t even get beyond the fling faze. I think we thought it was more than it really was at the time. But I know that for me, what I have with David is completely different, and from what I gather, Elliot feels the same way about you. It’s like you complete each other… you know?”

“Yes. I do,” she smiles. “I kind of just wanted to make sure that you weren’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable being here. But do you know what makes me uncomfortable? Having this conversation. It feels a little awkward. How about we forget about the past, because it has nothing to do with our lives now, and move on? I’d really like to see the rest of the flat.”

Paige laughs a little. “Yeah, that was really uncomfortable actually. I just wanted to get that conversation over with. I didn’t want there to be an elephant in the room.”

“Understood,” I say smiling. I kind of feel like I should hug her, but she doesn’t seem like the hugging type and well… neither am I.

“Come on,” she says with a slight grin, “I’ll show you the rest.”

In the lounge room, there’s a massive leather cream coloured couch in front of a large mounted flat screen television. There’s two matching book cases either side, and they’re artfully decorated with books, vases, candles and photographs.

The wall that separated the kitchen from the rest of the flat has been knocked down so it’s all open now. It’s been done up with all stainless steel appliances and a dark granite bench top. The bench has a small drop when it becomes a breakfast bar that looks out the window where a small table used to be.

The first bedroom is Grace’s. I never saw inside this one, but it has a beautiful white sleigh cot, and matching chest of drawers and change table inside. It’s been decorated almost entirely with butterflies.

“Did you guys rob a toy store?” I joke, looking around. There’s every toy a baby girl could ever hope for.

“No. That’s Erica and Kathy combined. I don’t think there’s a toy Grace doesn’t own,” she laughs.

Next up is the main bathroom. It has a sleek bath tub with spa jets inside and a glass partition to turn it into a shower. The large mirror has vanity lights around it which is so cool.

“I would kill for a mirror like that!” I tell her looking around.

“You won’t believe what she did with the main bedroom,” she tells me, grinning. I can tell she really loves it.

I gasp when I see it. It almost looks like a hotel room. Above the bed is a blown-up photo of Elliot and Paige, kissing on their wedding day. They look so happy and in love that it almost makes tears of joy spring to my eyes.

“Wait, you haven’t seen all of it yet,” she says pulling me towards a door that I assume leads to the en-suite. I’m surprised though, when it opens - it’s a walk in wardrobe which then becomes an en-suite.

“This looks like something out of a movie. I love that chair in the middle, it just makes you want to sit down and try on shoes,” I comment.

The en-suite itself is also gorgeous with his and hers basins and a corner mini spa bath and shower combined.

“I know, I love it,” she tells me. “I’ve never lived in something this nice before. I pinch myself daily over it.”

“Well it’s beautiful. Thanks so much for showing me,” I tell her, and I genuinely mean it. Seeing inside their house, and how happy they are together, just makes me more excited to get married and have a family myself.

David

“Thank you so much for sorting out the celebrant for me. You really saved my arse,” I say to Elliot while the girls are taking the tour of the flat.

“No trouble at all. It was all my dad actually, I was just the middle man.”

“Well even so, I’m really grateful and if Trina had any idea, she’d be really grateful too.”

He walks me into the kitchen and opens the fridge, offering me a beer which I gratefully accept. He also pulls out a bottle of white wine and pours a glass for each of the girls, which we both carry into the dining room where Grace is sitting and pulling random toys out of a little toy tub in the corner.

“Listen, I… well we were wondering if you two would like to come to the wedding. You don’t have to say yes straight away – talk it through with Paige, but just know that you’re welcome to come. When I invited everyone, we didn’t really know each other, but we’ve spent a bit of time together and we’d really like for you two to attend,” I tell him, talking rather rushed. I kind of feel nervous all of a sudden. “And of course, Grace is welcome too,” I add as she lets out a little squeal and babbles at a set of baby keys she’s playing with.

“Um… yeah, that’d actually be really nice. I’m sure Paige will be fine with it – she really likes Katrina, so I can’t see why not. I’ll check with her though,” he says, spinning his beer bottle around in his hands.

“What do you have to check?” Paige asks as she appears in the archway with Katrina beside her.

“Ah,” Elliot says glancing quickly at me. He’s obviously worried about saying something he shouldn’t.

“It’s cool” I say to him. “She knows I’m asking you.”

“Asking what?” Paige asks looking between us.

“We want to know if you two will come to the wedding,” Katrina tells her. “When it is, I have no idea so you’ll have to get the details off David. But we would love it if you could come.”

“Of course, we’d love to be there. Although, we do know when it is,” she smiles.

“Of course you do! Everyone knows except for me,” Katrina whines.

“Come on David. You have to tell her the date at least. A girl needs to prepare,” Paige puts in.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, it will ruin everything. She’s just going to have to wait.”

Katrina looks over at Paige and gives her a smile that says ‘thanks for trying’. They do a silent communication thing for a couple of seconds before Grace crawls over to Paige’s feet, and starts to pull at the bottom of her capris.

Leaning down to pick her up Paige says, “I think I should probably put this one to bed. I won’t be long if you want to serve dinner,” she directs toward Elliot as she moves closer to him so he can say goodnight to his little girl.

“Sure thing,” he says, kissing Grace’s head before getting up from his seat and heading toward the kitchen.

“Do you want any help?” Katrina and I both ask.

“Yeah why not, we can all huddle in there. Paige has cooked this great paella and there’s some bread in the basket over there if you want to carry that through.”

We all move around their kitchen and carry the food to the table while we make general small talk about how nice everything looks and smells. My stomach rumbles audibly and I blame the great smells that have been teasing my nose since we entered the flat.

By the time we have everything on the table, Paige has returned from the nursery and tells us that Grace is already asleep.

“That’s amazing,” Katrina comments. “You must be such a good mum.”

“Grace is such a good baby,” she replies, taking a seat next to Elliot.

“Don’t sell yourself short babe, you’re amazing with her,” Elliot says as he drops a kiss on her shoulder.

Over dinner we chat about our plans for Christmas and what we’re going to do for New Years, as well as a whole host of other things. The conversation flows freely and we don’t end up leaving until a little after twelve.

Katrina

“Isn’t it funny how things change?” I say as we’re driving home. I’m running my fingers through my hair in search for any remaining pins from my semi up-do.

“Like what?” David asks, glancing at me briefly. I let my eyes rest on him for a moment before I answer. I enjoy looking at his profile as it’s illuminated by the lights on the dash. I reach my hand toward him and run the back of my fingers down the side of his face and over his shoulders. I can’t help it, I just want to touch him.

He flashes a grin, and tilts his body towards me slightly, but keeps his focus ahead. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Well, I was just thinking that a few years ago, we’d spend our Saturday nights out getting drunk and dancing all night. But now we’re having civilised dinners that are counted as running late and it’s only a little after midnight.”

“Yeah well, we grew up I guess,” he says to me, reaching over and taking my hand in his to rest on his leg while he drives. We hold hands and listen to the music playing over the radio for a while before he speaks again. “Do you still want to go out dancing?”

“No. I’m not into nightclubs anymore, although I do miss dancing with you all night.”

When we arrive home, David takes me by the hand and leads me inside. He’s focused on his phone and I wonder what he’s doing as he walks us into the living area. But when he docks his phone on the speakers, Colorblind by Counting Crows starts to drift out of the speakers, and I realise what’s going on.

I smile at him as he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss on my knuckles. “Shall we?” he murmurs.

His arms encircle my waist as mine slide up over his shoulders and I lace my fingers across his back.

“This is nice,” I purr into his ear as I rest my head on his shoulder, our bodies pressed close and swaying together along with the music.

He hums and we keep moving in a slow circle, swaying together, holding each other. When the song ends a new one starts to play, although I’m not really listening anymore. I’m more focused on the hunger in the eyes of my fiancé.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his, nudging him gently. We take it slow, letting the music guide our movement. First it’s just gentle touches and soft sucking of lips. Slowly our mouths open and we give each other access, our tongues dancing together with the strains of the song.

I start to work at the buttons of his shirt, taking my time with each one as I start to trail kisses along his jaw, down his neck and between his pecs.

He grips my buttocks and presses me to him, showing me his arousal as it presses firmly into my abdomen. Placing my hands on his chest, I push back a little, freeing myself from him and then reaching down to the hem of my dress, pulling it over my head and dropping it on the floor so I’m standing only in my underwear.

“You are so beautiful Trina,” he breathes, his eyes dragging over my body in the dim light of the room.

“I thought I was your princess,” I tease him.

“You are. You’re my everything.” A slight skitter of excitement rolls around in my stomach as he approaches, and I watch him remove his shirt and drop it near my dress on the floor. The moment our skin touches, the skitter rolls down and causes a throbbing between my legs.

Sliding my hands down his well defined chest, I undo the buttons of his pants. I love to feel him, hard in my hand. At the same time, he undoes the hook of my bra and being strapless, it falls easily to the ground with our other things.

“Bed?” I suggest. I want some space to move around.

“Bed,” he agrees.

We move together, kissing and removing the last items of our clothes before landing on the bed. He slides his hand up my thighs, sending shivers of longing toward my core. Involuntarily, l roll my hips, I’m desperate for his touch.

When his fingers meet my centre, he lets out an appreciative growl. “You’re so wet. You feel like silk,” he comments as he trails kisses down my throat and along my collarbone. “I should dance with you more often.”

“You should. It makes me putty in your hands,” I utter, as I slide my fingers into his hair. I gasp, closing my eyes and luxuriating under his touch, as his fingertips spread my juices up over my clit. He circles the throbbing bundle of nerves as l writhe beneath him, rocking my hips, urging him on.

His kisses move down my body as he makes his way over the small mounds that are my breasts. When he takes my nipple into his mouth, he drives his fingers inside me, pulsing his hand as he drags his teeth and tugs playfully on my nipple.

Inside I’m a mess, that familiar pressure blossoms and builds, threatening to spill before I’ve had him inside me.

“Oh!” l call out, my orgasm making its way to the surface. “Oh! Get inside me! I want to come with you inside me!”

With an erotic grunt he obliges, pulling my legs either side him and circling himself in my juices. He drives himself inside and I yell out as he touches my depths.

Pulsing back and forth he strokes my core, pushing against all the right spots in a rhythm that has my eyes rolling back as wave after wave crashes through my body.

I cry out, calling his name as he drives into my wetness, stilling only after he has shuddered, spilling his juices deep inside me with a loud moan.

Breathing heavily, he kisses me leisurely. “I like it when you call my name,” he growls low in my ear as he nips playfully at my lobe. I reach over to the bedpost and grab a towel to press between my legs as he withdraws from me.

We lay together in a tangle of limbs gently running our hands over each other’s skin.

“What would you say, if a bit after the wedding, I stop taking the pill?” I ask him out of the blue.

He sits up suddenly and twists his body so he can properly face me.

“Are you serious? I mean, what about your job? I thought you wanted to make partner.”

“I do, but I can do that after we have kids. It might take a bit longer, but I’m sure I could still do it. Or… I was thinking, we could eventually start our own firm. Be our own bosses.”

“Trina, I…”

“What? You don’t want kids anymore?”

“I do. Oh my god, you just….” He sits up more and takes my face into his hands looking intently into my eyes. “I always knew you were the girl of my dreams and this… well, wow this is even better than I dreamed. Trina. I would love nothing more than to start a family with you. Nothing.”

“Good, because I want your babies David. I want the dream.”

He grins at me, his smile so wide that he almost has a second dimple.

“I love you Trina. So much.”

He takes my mouth in his, his tongue sliding over my lips as my body lets out a moan and calls for his touch all over again. I feel him stir against my thigh and hum my pleasure.

God, I love this man.

Nineteen

David

Christmas has come and gone and we’re now back at work, leading up to the New Year. While we did exchange gifts at Christmas, nothing compared to the gift Trina had already given me – she wants to have a baby.

I think I have this permanent grin attached to my face lately, as everything is falling into place.

And the wedding is soon. The wedding is really soon.

Katrina

“Oh my goodness. What a day!” I sigh as I drop my bag on the dining room chair and kick my heels off. I had to work overtime so it’s almost 8pm, but it’s still light and still hot, so I head straight for the air conditioner in the lounge room, and stand under its gust while I shake my sleeveless blouse to circulate the air.

David is sitting on the couch, his glasses perched on the end of his nose and a book on his lap as he watches me. His lips are curved up as though he’s amused and I pause my movement and turn to face him.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing. I just like watching you.”

“Is that so?” I ask as I move towards him. He’s shirtless and wearing only pair of short khaki cargo pants, his bare foot hangs over the side of the couch’s arm. Even though it’s hot outside, it’s cool in here, so I slide myself onto his lap and kiss him hello.

“Mmm. So tell me. What happened at work?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the amount of people we’ve had starting divorce proceedings this week. It’s like they woke up Christmas morning and decided they couldn’t stand each other anymore.” I shake my head, thinking about it.

“Since you’re surrounded by divorce and family drama all the time, does it ever make you worry that we won’t make it?” he asks after a moment of thought.

“No David. Never. My life is incomplete without you in it.”

I lean closer and kiss him to show him I mean it. He chuckles happily, then taps his hand twice on my thigh and asks me to hop up. “You hungry?”

“Famished,” I reply, standing up and then following him into the kitchen where he pulls a plate of cold bbq chicken out of the fridge and a bowl of salad.

I grab the dressing and two bottles of apple cider, then follow him to the table where the plates and cutlery are waiting for us.

“So I have a little bit of bad news,” he starts as he places chicken on both of our plates. I pause spooning out the salad and look at him with my brows risen in question. “I have to go down to Melbourne for a couple of days for work. One of the companies we’re representing has offices down there and I’m part of the team that has to go and see them.”

“Oh ok, that’s fine. I’ll miss you, but that’s not really bad news – you’ve gone away before.”

“Yes, but this will be in a couple of days. I won’t be back in time for New Year’s. They can’t get flights for us until the next day.”

“What? Oh that really sucks. What about that harbour cruise mum got all of us for Christmas? We’re going to miss out now.”

“No, don’t be silly. You go with your family. I’ll just make sure I’m on the phone with you when the clock strikes midnight.”

I drop of piece of cucumber in my mouth and lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t want to go without you.”

“Yeah but Trina, your mum paid for the tickets and it’s not fair on her if we waste both of them. Go. You’ll have fun. Just no dancing with strange men. You’re mine ok?”

I laugh and sit up again. “Alright I’ll go and I won’t dance. I’ll just sit and Snapchat with you all night.

He raises his eyebrows. “That could be a very interesting night. I remember the last time you Snapchatted with me while I was away. They weren’t the kind of photos you can send from a harbour cruise filled with people.”

I tilt my head and shrug one shoulder. “I have my ways.”

Twenty

David

It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m sitting in a hotel room on my own. I’ve just had breakfast and given Trina a call to say good morning. She only has a half day at work today, so she’s going out to her mum’s as soon as she’s finished. They’ll all head into the city to get on the boat together.

I flick my way through the channels on the tv in front of me, although nothing catches my interest. I wish I was with Trina right now. I don’t like spending time away from her.

Katrina

I haven’t had to catch the train out to Penrith station for such a long time. Normally David and I drive out on the weekends when we visit.

And it’s hot. It’s ridiculously hot. I hate the train in the heat. Even though they’re air conditioned, the seats prickle me on the backs of my legs and no matter how I adjust my skirt, it doesn’t seem to stop.

Dad picks me up from the station in his old beat up ute. The white paint is peeling off in sections, but it still runs well so he refuses to get rid of it.

“How was the train ride princess?” he asks as I climb in the cab.

“It was fine,” I laugh. “So you’re calling me princess now too?”

“Yeah, well – it’s catchy and you’re my daughter, so of course you’re my princess.” He curls his mouth up on one side and starts to drive.

My father isn’t a man of many words, but he’s unusually quiet as we drive along Castlereagh Rd, back towards my childhood home.

“Is everything ok dad?”

“Oh…yeah. I’m just a bit nervous of this cruise thing. You know I don’t like crowds, plus it’s hot and I’ll have to wear a suit.”

“It’ll be fun dad. You’ll see. Besides, it’ll be cool on the water.”

When we arrive home, it’s almost 4pm. Mum and Jenny are in the family room with another woman getting their hair done.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Oh this is Jenny’s friend Liz. She’s doing our hair for the cruise. It’s formal you know.” My mum states.

“Yes I know. I have a formal cocktail dress – see?” I tell them holding up the garment bag with my emerald green knee length flowing chiffon dress with a band of beading just below the bodice. “I even have ridiculously high heels to wear.”

“That dress is beautiful Katrina. You’re going to look gorgeous in it.” Jenny says. “Do you want your hair done too? Liz – can you fit in one more?”

“Oh I don’t want to be any trouble,” I say to Liz who smiles and tells me that it’s no trouble.

“It won’t take long. I’m just about finished your mum so I can do yours in about ten minutes.”

“Ok, well I’ll have a quick shower so I don’t stink of sweat all night,” I inform them, heading to the bathroom and grabbing a towel from the linen press.

My hair isn’t very long, so Liz pins curls around the base of my head so it looks like my hair is longer. It looks like a low thick bun. She pulls the hair back softly from my face, but still enough of it falls forward so my scars are covered.

“That looks really nice. Thank you Liz,” I say as she shows me all the views of it between two mirrors.

“You’re very welcome.” She tidies up the tools of her trade and wishes us all a good night, although I can’t help but wish David was coming.

I’ve sent him a bunch of Snapchat messages today but the app tells me when he’s seen them, and they’re all unopened. I take a selfie of my hair and curl my tongue up so it’s touching my top teeth in one of those silly seductive poses girls like to take of themselves. I know that if David looks at it, he’ll have a good laugh.

Once we’re ready, we all pile into Tom’s car and head to what I expected to be the train station but he keeps driving through.

“We’re driving into the city? On New Year’s Eve? Are you crazy?” I ask him.

“Relax sis,” he says. “Me and Jenny have a hotel room for the night, so we’re going to park there and walk to boat.

“In our formal wear?”

“Yes, in our formal wear.”

“It’s really not that far. Plus there’ll be the whole boat full of people dressed up. We won’t be the only ones,” Jenny tells me.

“True, I’m just wishing I wore lower heels now.”

By the time we get into the city and park the car, it’s almost 7pm, which is when we’re supposed to board the boat. We all walk as quickly as three women in heels can, and reach the small cruise boat that looks beautifully decorated, even from where we stand on the wharf.

We walk up the ramp leading from the wharf onto the boat and enter what appears to be a reception hall or dining room. I’m surprised when I look around and see… no one.

“I thought we were running late? Where are all the people?” I ask. It was that moment that the well-known notes of Bruno Mars’ song Marry You starts to play. “What the hell?” I mutter, looking around the grandly decorated dining room. My eyes land on the tall man standing at the doors leading out to the deck at the bow of the boat. “David?! You’re not in Melbourne? What…? Does this mean? Oh my god! Is it today? We’re getting married today?!” I’m squealing and bouncing up as I watch him grin and nod. I rush over to him and throw my arms around his neck, raining a shower of kisses over his face out of my excitement.

“I can’t believe it, how did you do all of this? This is amazing!” I gasp. It’s then that I notice that his eyes are closed. “What are you doing? Open your eyes,” I laugh.

“I can’t see you before the wedding,” he smiles, keeping his eyes firmly closed. “It’s bad luck.”

“David. Don’t go all traditional on me now. You chose the dress. I don’t think that stuff matters anymore.”

“No, I didn’t choose the dress. Well, not technically anyway. I chose the style and our mothers decided on the final one.”

Noticing movement over his shoulder, I see his mother and her partner standing and smiling, watching us excitedly. Her hands are clasped in front of her like she’s praying and she has tears in her eyes.

“Surprise!” she says to me when our eyes meet.

I move over to hug her and then rush around the room, hugging everyone. I’m jumping like an excited school girl. I can’t believe this is finally happening!

When I finish attacking everyone with my excitement I return to David. “So what do we do now?”

“Now we get ready. You have one hour.”

I’m whisked away to a private room where my dress is hung up and waiting. It’s white silk and has a heart shaped strapless bodice, which is gathered around the bust and has a strip of gold beading, just below the breast line. The waist gathers toward the right and swirls around the dress before meeting on the left hip and falling into a full skirt, covered with evenly spaced trails of beautiful gold flowers and vines. They fall where the skirt curves, extending the length and down the mermaid train. It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.

“Do you like it?” my mother asks, looking slightly worried as she watches me run my fingers over the detailing.

“No. It’s absolutely breathtaking. You chose well,” I tell her turning to embrace her. “You both chose well,” I say to David’s mum over my mother’s shoulder before I move over to her and hug her as well. “Thank you Helen. Thank you mum. Thank you both so much. I don’t know how you all managed not to talk about it, but I really had no idea. This is just amazing.” The excitement suddenly starts to overwhelm me and I start to choke up.

“Oh don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup and we’ll have to start again.” Helen says, dabbing at the tears that are forming in the corners of my eyes.

“I’m just so happy. I can’t believe this is finally happening.” I look upwards to stop my tears and wave my hands frantically at my eyes.

“Alright, calm down. We’ll help you into your dress and then I have to go and check on David.”

I have to step into the dress so my hair doesn’t get ruined, so I hold onto my mother’s shoulders as she and Helen hold the dress open for me. When it’s on and zipped up, I turn to admire it in the mirror. It’s fits like a glove and is more than perfect. I look like a princess.

“I love it so much,” I gush, turning from side to side and drinking it in. I swish the skirt, feeling a little silly but not caring one little bit. I’m deliriously happy.

“Perhaps you’d like a champagne to calm you down a little,” my mother suggests laughing at my antics.

“That would be wonderful,” I sing song, still spinning around in my dress.

“Oh! Before I forget. Since you don’t have a maid of honour, I thought I should cover all the superstitions for you,” my mother says, fetching her handbag and reaching in to pull out a small velvet box.

When she hands it to me she explains. “This is your something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

Opening the box, I gasp at the beautiful antique looking hair comb that’s contained inside. It’s silver, and is decorated with small flowers. Each one has intricate petals and leaves that are dotted with sapphires and emeralds for colouring.

“I got it at an antique store, so it’s old. And since I bought it only a week ago, it’s still new. Unfortunately, I can only lend it to you for today so it’s borrowed – but I’ll give it to you for your birthday,” she says the last part behind her hand in a lower voice, like the wedding police might call her out and say it doesn’t count. “And of course the sapphires make it blue.”

“It’s beautiful mum. Can you help me?” I ask, removing it from its box and holding it out.

“I thought it would look really pretty, just above your curls.” She removes the comb from my hand and slides it in above the pinned curls. I twist my head from side to side to see. She’s right – it does look really pretty there.

“Thank you. This is perfect. Everything is perfect,” I tell her. I think I may need to pinch myself.

David

“Is she ready? Is she ok?” I ask at lightning speed as my mother enters the room I’ve been given to dress in. Her partner, Alex, has been sitting with me and trying talk to keep me calm, but I’m so obscenely nervous that I feel like I might need to take another shower.

“Just relax darling. She’s fine - she’s dressed and will be ready soon. How are you doing?”

“I just… has she got the flowers?” I ask, now that it’s all coming to a head, I’m petrified I’ve forgotten something or that something will go wrong.

“I’m going to take them to her once I leave here.”

“It’s just that the timing has to be perfect mum, or this is all going to blow up in my face.”

“I know. I know. It will be ok. Everyone knows the time. We’re going to be ok.”

She smooths her hand over the side of my face and straightens my silver and royal blue striped tie.

“You look gorgeous,” she says to me, kissing me lightly on the cheek and then rubbing it with her thumb to remove the lipstick she shared with me. “I’ll go and get everybody into their places.”

She leaves the room and I blow out some air so I can suck more in. I’m so nervous I might need a paper bag soon.

Katrina

A gentle knocks sounds at my door and my mother rushes over to see who it is.

“It’s your father,” she says opening it and letting him in.

“Oh hi dad,” I say, walking over to him and giving him a hug. “I guess I understand why you were so nervous now.”

“Well, it’s not every day your only daughter gets married. You look beautiful honey. A real vision.”

I thank him while I take his hand in mine and squeeze gently. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad look so proud.

He clears his throat. “Well, I think it’s almost time for us to go out there,” he says.

“Not without these,” David’s mum says as she opens the door, carefully sliding inside so she doesn’t drop the flowers she’s carrying.

“Oh Helen! They’re beautiful. Is this my bouquet?” I ask, moving over to the white orchid and blue delphinium arrangement. “It’s just gorgeous!”

Helen smiles kindly at me as she hands over my bouquet.

“I must sound really funny today,” I laugh. “All I’ve done is gasp and giggle since we got here.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t” she imparts, rubbing her hand down my arm before taking my hand in hers. “If I don’t get the chance to say it before tonight is through – I’m so glad that you’re going to be my daughter. I know it’s kind of been like that all along, but I’m really glad that it’s becoming official.”

“Thank you Helen, that means a lot to me.”

“Ok, well your dad knows what to do so he’ll take you out there soon,” she says moving towards the door.

“See you soon honey, you look absolutely beautiful,” my mother says, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she clasps her hands together and then follows Helen out.

“Champagne?” I ask my dad.

He checks his watch and shrugs. “Sure, we’ve got time.”

David

Everyone we’ve invited is gathered around, waiting for Trina to appear. We’re all set up on the deck at the bow and so far everything looks perfect. The sun has recently gone down and there are still slight hues of pink and orange in the sky. It’s the perfect setting for a wedding. I just hope it’s enough of a fairy tale for Trina - I want this all to be perfect.

One of the staff members is standing near the door on the lookout for Trina and her father. He raises his hand to signal that they’re there, and the coordinator looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I nod, butterflies fly about madly in my stomach. She’s coming.

Music floats through the air and everyone quiets down to shift their attention to the door.

I steel my breath and wait.

Twenty-One

Katrina

We stand just outside the doors of the reception hall and Adele’s rendition of ‘Lovesong’ starts up. I take a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” my father asks.

“I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”

“You look beautiful.”

The lyrics start and he tells me that’s our cue.

Slowly we walk up the pristine white carpet that is our aisle, as it leads us through the group of friends and family who have come to witness our union. But I don’t see any of their faces. I’m focused solely on my man, standing beneath a white archway decorated with blue delphiniums to match my bouquet and fairy lights. It all looks so beautiful against the dark of the night sky and the lights of the city surrounding us.

David

I chose this song because the lyrics say exactly how I feel about Katrina. Watching her walk towards me, on the arm of her father, I almost start to cry like a fucking baby. She’s stunning, an absolute vision as she walks through our friends and family.

Around her is a blur. She’s all I can focus on. My heart swells in my chest as Adele’s voice cries out with emotion. She’s singing that no amount of distance, time, or harsh words could ever change how she feels. The lyrics are so true to me - Katrina is my home, my joy, my life, my freedom.

I watch her intently, drinking in every detail. I want to remember this moment, it’s the moment we’re to become permanently joined.

As the music fades out, she is standing right in front of me. Our eyes are locked. My heart thuds loudly in my chest. This is it.

Katrina

My dad takes David by the hand and shakes it firmly. There’s a glint in his eyes where tears are forming and as he kisses my cheek, then places my hand in David’s. I swear I see his lip quivering.

He takes my bouquet and then moves aside to stand with my mother. Now it’s just David and me, holding hands and grinning stupidly at each other.

“You look amazing,” he whispers.

“So do you.” He’s wearing a charcoal grey suit with a silk white shirt and a silver tie with diagonal blue stripes. He’s even wearing cufflinks. I drink in every detail. He looks like every meal I could ever want or need. Delicious.

The celebrant, a woman of around 40, with long dark hair held elegantly on her head in a French roll, moves so she’s standing between us as we hold hands. She’s wearing an ivory suit with a blue delphinium attached to the breast. She matches the setting perfectly.

When she begins the ceremony by introducing herself and saying a few lines she’s legally required to. It makes the wedding official. Those gathered stand so quietly that we can hear the lapping of the water against the side of the boat.

“Welcome everyone, we’re all gathered upon this boat on a beautiful New Year’s Eve to witness the union of David and Katrina. They are each important to you all for many reasons, and I believe this is an especially happy occasion because you’ve all waited so long for it. As I understand it, David had to resort to trickery to get his bride here today. But let’s pretend I didn’t say that – I wouldn’t want anyone to get into trouble,” she jokes, a small rumble of laughter goes through our audience. David and I gaze intently into each other’s eyes as we listen. Smiling happily and absorbing every word she says. He squeezes my hands gently, in silent communication as she continues.

“When I look at this young couple before me, I see something very special between them. They stand here today committed to nurturing the love they have between them, and continuing their life long journey together as husband and wife. Today is the day when they will formally and publicly make their promises to each other.

“While the wedding is truly one of the highlights in a couple’s relationship, it is but a drop in the great ocean that will be made up of the moments you will share.

“If we think of each moment like a drop of water, each on its own may be seemingly insignificant, but when collected over a lifetime they become something so vast and all-encompassing that an ocean of moments can be created. It surrounds us, filling us up and reminding us how important we are to each other.

“Every act of kindness, every loving touch, and every tear that is wiped from a cheek, holds in it a drop of love to add to our ocean.

“Today is but one moment, one drop of the vast ocean that will represent David and Katrina’s life and love for one and other.

“David has planned vows for Katrina that he would like to read out in front of you all, and Katrina, has also prepared vows that were sent to me in a sealed envelope with strict instructions that I wasn’t to let David even peek at them. So here they are, still sealed tight,” she says to me, handing me the envelope that I had secretly given my mother for safe keeping. I wanted to be sure that I got to say what I wanted, so I prepared my vows early and asked her to make sure they made it here.

David

I lift Trina’s trembling hand to my lips as she takes hold of the envelope. I can’t believe she’s prepared her own vows and I’m fighting tears as I release her hand and watch her tear open the envelope and remove the paper from inside.

Taking a deep breath, she looks at the paper, then at me. “David, by now I’m sure you know the truth. But if that wedding album I’ve been harbouring all these years didn’t tell you, then I’m going to do it now - I have loved you for as long as I can remember.

“From the moment we met on that bus as kids, you captured my heart.

“I was yours, and you were mine.

“When I think of all the years we spent being only friends, I wonder if they were wasted or whether they were needed to help us grow close and to understand how important we are to each other.

“Not one day passes by where I don’t think of you, wish to see you, or feel saddened in the moments we’re apart. I can’t breathe without you David. You are my air, you are my sustenance. You are my life, the one person in this world that makes me whole. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I never want to.

“For the rest of my life, I promise to stand by you, to love you, to back you up in your decisions, to have your babies and to never give up. I love you David,” she finishes, her voice catching toward the end as she struggles against her tears.

“That was beautiful,” I whisper, leaning forward to kiss her. The emotion is bursting out of my chest and propelling me forward.

“Whoa there big boy. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself,” the celebrant cuts in. Our audience chuckles in response. “David would you like to read out your vows to Katrina?”

I nod and take the cards she hands to me. I can’t stop my hands from shaking the words about. I blow out a breath to get a hold of myself and flex and fist my hand, trying to regain some control.

“God, I can’t hold them steady,” I laugh.

Trina reaches for my hand and holds it to her chest. We’re only inches apart. “It’s just me and you. Focus on me,” she whispers.

I breathe out again and give her a quick nod. I just want to kiss her, but I get a grip on my emotions and I start to speak.

Katrina

I’ve never seen David so nervous before. It’s a far cry from the usual self-confident man I see on a daily basis. Right now he’s actually shaking and has broken out into a light sweat. I hold his hand tightly and stand close against him so he can forget about what’s going on around us. My heart beats wildly in my chest as he draws his breath to begin. I can’t wait to hear what he’s written.

“Katrina, I’ve been waiting for more than sixteen years for this moment. I have never said the words ‘I love you’ to any woman but you.” He looks up and me and pauses, then grins that gorgeous grin of his and adds “except my mum of course, but that’s different.”

It causes laughter to ripple through those gathered and seems to help relieve his tension. My confident David returns before me, his eyes sparkling. I can practically see his love for me radiating off him in waves. Nothing can describe this feeling. I’m just so… full.

“I promise to be your husband, your friend and your partner for life. I promise to give you the best of myself, to keep myself open and honest and to grow along with you, and most importantly, I promise to love you with every piece of my heart and soul.

“During our life together, we have endured things that have tested us and driven us to our limits. But no matter how much the world pushed, we always pushed back harder and have become forever stronger and united because of it. I know that in the future, whatever may come at us isn’t going to change things because we will conquer it – together. Just like we always have.

“I um, actually came across this poem that I wanted to read to you. I don’t know who wrote it, but it made a lot of sense to me.

“Love is a friendship that has caught fire.

It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving.

It is loyalty through good and bad.

It settles for less than perfection,
and makes allowances for human weakness.

Love is content with the present.

It hopes for the future and it doesn't brood over the past.

It's the day-in and day-out chronicle of irritations, problems,
compromises, small disappointments, big victories,
and working toward common goals.

If you have love in your life,
it can make up for a great many things you lack.

If you don't have it, no matter what else there is,
it is not enough.”

He looks up at me when he’s finished and shrugs a little. “I truly believe Katrina, that you are the spark that lights up my soul and shines on my path to keep me strong. You are my heart, my reason for living, my everything and I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side, as my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and of course, my wife.”

I wipe at my eyes, my tears are falling and I can’t seem to stop them. David helps by brushing my tears away with his thumbs. I can’t stop them.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

The celebrant steps forward again and takes a breath to begin the next part of the ceremony.

“Katrina. Do you come this day with the intent to marry David - for him to be your wedded husband, living together in the state of matrimony? Will love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others keep only to him as long as you both shall live?”

I smile, noticing the slight fleck of worry cross his eyes before I say, “I do.”

“David. Do you come this day with the intent to marry Katrina – for her to be your wedded wife, living together in the state of matrimony? Will love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others keep only to her as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” he says immediately.

“The promises that you have made to each other today, are inscribed forever in your minds and in your hearts. These rings are tangible symbols of their commitment and their emotional and spiritual connection.”

She holds out her leather folder and lays out two rings.

“When you wear these rings, you announce to the world that you belong to one another. They are a reminder and a celebration of the promises you have made today and knit your two lives together.”

She nods her head towards David and offers him my ring.

“David, take Katrina’s ring and place it on her finger then repeat after me:

“I give you this ring as a sign that I choose you to be my lover, my partner and my best friend, to the end of my days. Wear it, think of me, and know that I love you.”

He slips the ring on my finger. It’s the partner to my engagement ring and curves slightly so they’ll fit snuggly together. I wiggle my finger, admiring the shine of the diamonds as they sparkle against even the light provided by the wedding arch.

My cheeks are actually starting to ache from smiling so much as she offers me David’s solid platinum band.

“Katrina, take David’s ring and place it on his finger and repeat after me:

“I give you this ring as a sign that I choose you to be my lover, my partner and my best friend, to the end of my days. Wear it, think of me, and know that I love you.”

I slide the ring over his finger, twisting it slightly so it makes it over his knuckle and hold on tight. I know what’s coming.

“Congratulations!” the celebrant calls out, “You may now seal your union with a kiss.”

I fling my arms around David’s neck and press my mouth against his, delighted in the fact that we are now husband and wife while our audience claps and cheers us on. The nine o’clock fireworks erupt from the side of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and it’s as if they’re exploding to celebrate us.

We’re surrounded by happiness. I couldn’t have asked for anything more wonderful.

“I love you so much Mrs Taylor,” David beams at me when we finally part lips.

“Not as much as I love you,” I murmur.

“Let’s just call it even,” he winks. “I don’t want to start this marriage off in a fight.”

Laughing, we follow the celebrant over to a small table where we sign the legal documents that officially recognise us as legally married. Lots of photos are being taken as we smile and take turns signing. My mother signs as my witness, and David’s mother signs as his. It’s fitting, because no person could stand in to be ‘best’ anything to either of us. We are all of that and more to each other.

As we stand from the table the celebrant officially pronounces us husband and wife. We hold hands and beam at each other. All the while shaking hands and accepting kisses and well wishes from our friends and family members.

I feel like I’m in a dream. I can’t believe I’m actually married!

Twenty-Two

David

Since the wedding is in the evening, I didn’t book a sit down dinner. Instead I sprung for an open bar and plenty of canapés while music plays and we can all spend the rest of New Year’s Eve partying and relaxing. The formal part of the wedding is over.

There isn’t a sullen look on anybody’s face, and I’m really pleased that it all came together so well. Everyone is really complimentary as they mingle about, dance and just enjoy themselves in general.

“This is probably the best wedding I’ve ever been to,” Kayley says to us, while we take a breather outside. “It’s like a wedding slash New Year’s party rolled into one. Brilliant!”

“That was the goal,” I reply, nodding contentedly.

Paige appears beside her, smiling and dragging Elliot along behind her. “You certainly pulled it off David! Although we’ve all been dying to tell Katrina what was going on. I’m so sorry I couldn’t. We were sworn to secrecy,” she says. Everyone seems to be mingling and really getting into the spirit of the night.

“It’s ok, I’m glad no one told me. Tonight has been magnificent!” she laughs.

“Congratulations to both of you,” Elliot says. “This has been a lot of fun.”

“Come and dance with me,” Paige says as she leans against his shoulder, smiling up at him.

“Great idea. I want to dance too. Now where’s my husband?” Kayley adds.

They all move off either in search of a husband or a spot on the dance floor. Trina and I turn to look over the railing at the water beneath us, taking the opportunity to enjoy a few moments alone.

“You know, I’m completely amazed by you,” she says to me.

“You are?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe you did all this. And the timing of those fireworks – wow David, just wow!” she leans back slightly and pulses her hands in the air for emphasis. “I feel like I’m dreaming. How did you do all this?”

“A gentlemen never tells,” I wink. Moving closer to her, I slide my arms around her waist and kiss her softly. “So you liked the fireworks while we kissed huh?”

“Yeah I did,” she breathes. “It was so wonderful.”

“Well, there’s another set of fireworks you know. I can think of a really great way to bring in the New Year,” I suggest, my voice low in her ear as I run my teeth over her lobe.

“Really? You think we could get away?”

“Well, they’re leaving us alone right now. If we hurry, we’ll get away before they find us.” I hook my pinky in hers and tug lightly. “Come on, it’ll be midnight in about five minutes.”

Lacing my fingers with hers, I lead her quickly around the side of the function room and down to the room I was using before the ceremony.

As soon as we’re inside, I flip the lock. “I love that dress,” I growl at her. “But do you know where it will look better? On the floor.”

She grins, laughing openly as she turns around so her back is to me. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as she looks over her shoulder. I can’t help but admire her flushed cheeks as she lowers her eyes and beckons me using only her body language.

Dropping kisses on her neck, I pull on the zip, pushing the dress off her arms and letting it slip down her body onto the floor in a pile of white fluff. “Told you it would look good down there,” I say in her ear as I slide my hand over her stomach, kissing and nibbling on her neck and shoulders. My hand travels lower until my fingertips reach her panties and I run my fingers along the elastic, gently teasing her skin.

“Are these lace?”

“They are,” she breathes, rolling her head back so it’s resting on my shoulder so she can kiss my jaw.

“Hang on, why are you wearing lace underwear when you thought I was going to be in Melbourne?”

She turns in my arms and lowers her lids, looking at me through her lashes. It’s so fucking sexy when she does it that I feel my cock jolt just from looking at her.

“Check your Snapchat,” she purrs.

The idea of sexy photos of her drives me wild and I want her, I want her now.

I groan as I take her mouth in mine, my tongue taking complete control of hers as I push at the waist of her panties, urging her to slide them down her legs. She takes my cue and wriggles them down her legs, kicking them off to the side.

I walk her over to the dressing table and lift her up so she’s sitting on it, our mouths are still joined and our tongues still dancing.

Her hands work at my pants as she opens her legs wide to pull me close. I slide my hand between her legs and moan when I feel her wetness.

“Oh my god. You’re dripping.” I can feel myself pulsing slightly, the mere touch of her slick juices is almost tipping me over the edge.

“It’s because you drive me wild,” she gasps, pulling at my hips and guiding me to enter her.

We hear our guests start to chant together, counting down towards midnight as I push myself inside her hot wet core. She’s so tight around me that I almost blow immediately.

Katrina

I’ve been watching him all night, thinking of all the things I was going to do to him when we got home, to thank him for planning such a wonderful wedding. So I’m already on edge when he enters me.

The sound of the chanting excites me more as he pushes into my depths and we grind together. It’s almost the New Year and the first thing I’m going to do is come. Hard.

“Faster David,” I gasp, clutching at his hips as he rocks back and forth, gliding in and out of me. “Harder!”

Four! Three! Two!

“Harder!” I cry.

One! Happy New Year! Everyone shouts outside, it’s immediately followed by the popping sound of fireworks and my call of ecstasy and David’s low groan.

“Oh David. Yes!” My internal muscles grip as he throbs and pulses inside me. David growls and slows his strokes, working himself down from the high we’ve just experienced.

“Happy New Year, Mrs Taylor,” he murmurs against my ear breathlessly.

“Happy New Year husband of mine,” I return, turning my head so our lips meet.

“You’re my wife,” he states grinning, his forehead pressed against mine.

“I know - we’re married,” I smile, wrapping my arms tightly around him.

As we hold each other and spend the last moments of our wedding party blissfully connected, I feel like the luckiest girl alive. I’ve just married my best friend. Who could want anything more than that?

Epilogue

ONE YEAR LATER

David

“Trina, babe, just hold on, it’s almost midnight.”

“Oh god! I don’t think I can,” she groans.

“Just try, it’ll be the first of the New Year.”

“Oh god!” she yells, her eyes wide and her face contorted as she bears down.

“It’s coming,” says Corrine, the midwife who’s positioned between Trina’s legs. “I can see the head. Do you want to look?”

I go to move to see the head of our baby crowning out of my wife, but she grips at my hand hard. “No, don’t do it. You don’t want to see what’s happening down there,” she grunts, bearing down again. “Oh!” she yells. She grabs me with her other hand. She’s crushing my fingers and digging her nails into my forearm, so I stay close beside her, even though I really want to see our baby the moment it’s born.

“Argh! Not again!” she screams as her body forces her to push. Her face turns bright red as she bears down, her eyes slightly glassy and unfocused. Suddenly she gasps out a deep breath and the room is filled with crying.

“It’s out, the baby’s out,” I say to her, smoothing down her damp hair and kissing her firmly.

“Congratulations,” The midwife says “You’ve just delivered a baby boy!”

My heart feels like it just grew to double its size. We have a baby boy. I’m a dad.

Katrina

Our little bundle howls as he’s placed on my chest. Tears fill my eyes as I look over his body. It’s as if all the pain I was just in has drifted away. I feel a kind of euphoria as I hold him in my arms - he’s so small and perfect and we made him.

“You did it princess,” David murmurs against my forehead as he presses kisses in my sweat soaked hair.

“Happy New Year,” Corrine says, indicating the clock on the wall of the birthing suite. We didn’t make it to the New Year, but I don’t care. We have a baby. I’m a mum. “Have you got a name for this little bundle?” she asks.

“Yes we do. His name is Zachary,” I say, touching his tiny bald head as I shush his cries. He’s calming down now and I hand him over to David. “Your turn daddy,” I smile.

David grins as he looks down at our babe and bounces him in his arms. He speaks to him in hushed tones and tells him about how wanted he is and how loved he is.

It brings tears to my eyes to watch him be so loving towards our son. Our son. I love the way that sounds.

“What a day this is for us. It’s a happy anniversary, Happy New Year and now a happy birthday too. We’ll have to have very grand parties from now on,” I laugh. I rest my head against the pillow. I’m feeling exhausted from the birth, but I’m happy.

“Yes, a grand party of three. We’ll have one every year,” he agrees.

Corrine asks if she can take Zach to do all of his newborn tests, so David hands him over and comes to sit beside me.

“Thank you so much Trina,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me the world. Loving you has been the best thing I’ve ever done, and now just look,” he says looking over at our baby. “Our love has produced a little human. A little us. I’m just enamoured with you and with him. I love you. A thousand times, I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, holding either side of his face as he kisses me. His kiss sends ripples of joy through my body and I smile inwardly, knowing that this is how it is and always will be. Ours is a bond that only grows with time. We’re connected. Forever.

Next in the Beautiful Series - Rock

Be careful what you wish for, my mother said. I wished to be a rockstar. And my wish came true.

I am the biggest musical talent Australia has ever exported.

And I've never been more miserable.

Constantly on the road, singing to packed stadiums, having any woman I want; it’s supposed to be the dream. And at first it was cool—it was epic—but now it’s… hollow. It’s an endless sea of faces screaming by name and not a single one of them knowing the real me.

I’m lonely.

I miss the band.

I miss my brother.

I miss her....

She was the first girl I wanted for more than one night. I think I would have wanted her forever if she wanted me back. But she didn’t. She wanted my bandmate; my brother. And it was exploding their world that made me famous.

I bet they still hate me...

Needing some time on my own, away from the crowds and the noise, I find myself on home soil for the first time in two years. But the quiet is hard to come by. My label wants an album, the press wants a piece of me, and the public makes going anywhere without a disguise a nightmare. Then I meet Lisa and she changes everything.

Closed off and unimpressed by everything about me, she's the obvious choice when I want someene to be real with. I make her my unauthorised best friend as a result—which she hates, mind you—but she's cool to hang around because she makes me feel normal. And I like her dog, too.

The problem with Lisa is she hates everything there is about the fame game, which makes me a problem for her. She freaks out around cameras and takes the paparazzi on a mad car chase to avoid being seen. She says she doesn’t want knowing me to mess with her quiet life. But I don't know, maybe she's hiding something. Or maybe she's just playing hard to get... because seriously, who doesn’t want to date a rockstar?

Follow our cockiest Bailey brother as he discovers fame isn’t worth a thing if he doesn’t have love in this gripping rockstar romance featuring new and extended scenes from books A Beautiful Rock and Commitment, republished as Rock: Beautiful Series, Three.

Rock

Book Four

Foreword

How do you redeem a cocky bastard? Well, it’s something I thought I did the first time I wrote A Beautiful Rock. I gave him a girl who wouldn’t fall for his bullshit. However, this time around, I feel that I’ve managed to capture his essence in a way that wasn’t there before. Lisa and Marcus’s relationship is a thousand times more intense and dynamic than it was before. Originally, they kind of just were. But this time there’s more to it. Have a read and see what you think.

And if you’ve picked this up as your first book in the Beautiful Series, don’t stress. It stands alone, so you don’t have to catch up unless you want to.

Happy reading.

Prologue

Marcus

“We’re chatting with the man of the moment, Marcus Bailey, on the eve of his world tour. Welcome Marcus, thanks for coming on the show,” the young blonde video DJ says from across me. I have no idea what her name is or who she works for. I’ve just been sitting in this chair for hours, answering the same fucking questions over and over again. I wish they would just film me and insert themselves in editing. Get it done in twenty minutes. Easy.

Despite feeling sick of sitting here, I put on my game face and smile broadly at the young lady. She’s pretty fucking hot actually, long slim tan legs, poking out of a tube of orange fabric that’s been squeezed over her very curvaceous body to be a dress. She’s wearing those spike-heeled ankle boots that all the girls seem to wear today. She’s my last interview so I might see if she’s up for it when the cameras are off.

“Any time,” I say to her, smiling.

“Now tell us about this crazy whirlwind you’ve been on since you left Matiari?”

“Yeah, it’s been a real trip. I kind of thought my music career would be over after that. But you never know what people are going to love do you?”

“Well, it was a very public way to break up with your band wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I agree, still smiling.

“For those watching who don’t know the story, you can go to our website where you’ll find a link for the YouTube video of Marcus’s very emotional rendition of ‘Weighted’. He chose the song specifically to send a public message to Naomi Prendergast, the band’s violinist, after she became romantically involved with Marcus’s brother, Theo Bailey, who is now Matiari’s frontman.

“Now, that video, catapulted Marcus into the international spotlight, earning him appearances on countless TV shows as well as his own recording contract. So it’s well worth a look.” She turns back from looking at the camera and focuses again on me.

“Marcus, I’ve been listening to your new album On the Other Side, and I have to wonder if the song titled ‘He’ll Never Be Me’ is a direct response to the official announcement of Theo and Naomi’s engagement?”

“Ah, maybe.” I laugh. “Am I that obvious?”

“A little.” She laughs in return, flicking her hair slightly as her eyes drift down the length of me. My smile broadens, I know I’ve got her.

“The truth is, I had my heart broken that day, and the best way for me to deal with that pain is through my music,” I tell her, a sombre expression placed upon my face. Like I said, I’ve done this before. It’s all just an act now.

“I completely understand,” she sympathises, nodding her head as she makes eye contact with me.

“Listen. This is actually hard for me to talk about, do you mind if we move onto something else?”

“Of course. Tell me all about your tour. How many shows and how long will you be travelling?” she asks, her eyes filled with sympathy for my broken heart.

* * *

“Oh god! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” she yells as I pound into her, slamming myself inside her, harder and harder as her body thumps up against the dressing room mirror.

I used to think it was easy getting girls into bed before but add the word ‘heartbroken’ to ‘musician’ and you’ve struck gold. Panties fall to the ground as they all line up to be that one that turns my head and teaches me to love again.

But no matter what they do, or how kinky they get, I won’t be that dumb again. Falling in love was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Fucked if I’m ever falling for that shit again. There’s a huge line of girls around the globe, begging to share my bed. I’ll never be lonely again.

I’m a rock star now. I don’t need love.

One

one year later…

Marcus

Rock star. For most of my life, it’s all I wanted to be called. To me, it meant making my dreams my reality, that I could click my fingers and anything I wanted would appear in front of me. And I was right. Being obscenely famous is as close to magic as you can get. I’m thirsty. Click. I’m hungry. Click. I’m cold. Click. I’m horny. Click.

All needs are taken care of the moment they arise. I don’t have to think or ask. I just demand and someone runs. It’s a powerful feeling. Hell, during my last tour, I demanded the entire floor of the hotel be allocated to me alone—I worked on my golf swing down the hall while drinking tiny bottles of Grey Goose vodka because that’s all I allowed in the bar fridges.

My rider chops and changes depending on my mood. But one thing that has been the same since my first solo show—no one on my staff can go by the names Theo or Naomi. My brother got the girl, and I got the stardom, I don’t need to be reminded of them when every fucking song I write is born from the pain they put me through.

I’m a sore loser.

I’m an arrogant winner.

For the past two years, I’ve travelled the world, singing to audiences in every country imaginable. I’ve fucked more girls than I can possibly count. Done every kinky thing I ever imagined—and a whole bunch of other shit I didn’t even know existed. Every step of the way, I smirked and thought, Fuck you, Theo. You don’t control me. You don’t get a say in how I live my life. I’m bigger and better, brother, than you will ever be. Keep your precious Naomi. I don’t need either of you. But the problem with building a career on hate and pain is it’s hard to sustain. You find new reasons to be angry, new ways to lash out and hurt. The hate slowly eats away at your insides, stripping away your values until there’s only one thing left for you to hate.

I hate myself.

I’m not even OK with looking at myself in the mirror anymore. All I see is this shell of a human being with empty eyes looking back at me. I don’t know if it was the drinking, the drugs, or the sex—or the fact I sold out my own blood to get where I am—that did it to me, but somewhere along the way, I lost who I was. I gave up on myself.

I’m lonely as fuck.

Lonely. I used to have friends. I used to have family. I even thought I was in love once. Now, all I have are hangers on and staff who are paid to nod their heads and make sure I’m happy.

But I’m not. I’m not happy at all.

This all started with that fucking video where I threw a tantrum on stage because I wanted my brother’s girl. I loved her. For me, she’s the first and last woman I’ve had real feelings for. And she didn’t want me. I gave her my heart, and she didn’t love me back. Now my heart is cracked.

Love. I sing about it all the time. But in my entire over the top, gregarious life, I haven’t had the chance to experience the real thing. I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never cared enough for a person to put their own needs above my own. I take and I cast aside and sometimes I destroy. All because I can. All because people let me.

My mother cries into the phone whenever I call her.

She’s ashamed of me. I’m this huge star but she’s ashamed of me as a son and a brother.

In the beginning, I refused to call her at all. I mean, who needs that kind of stress bringing them down? These days I call once a week and let her wail at me for thirty minutes. Why? Because there needs to be a time when a man quits pointing his finger at others. Mamma often said that when you point your finger, there are three more pointing directly at you. I thought the analogy was stupid at the time—just another thing parents say to kids—but now I understand it for what it is. Our lives are reflections of our choices. How we handle our hardships depends on our strength of character. Do we tear others down so we can step on them to climb up? Or do we lift ourselves along our own path without damaging others on our journey?

I built my career tearing my brother down. My brother built his after picking himself off the ground, climbing while helping others climb with him. And so my mother cries.

To be honest, I’m sick of seeing my face plastered on screens and billboards. I’m tired of seeing myself on the side of a bus, tired of my face on the covers of magazines, in newspapers and online. I’m sick of myself. I’m sick of my name. I’m sick of hearing it chanted, hearing it moaned, seeing it in print. I’m even sick of my own voice, my own bullshit.

I need a break.

I need to be a regular person again.

Both are impossible now. I can’t be regular when I’ve become one of the most recognisable faces on the planet. If I don’t hide my face, I get mobbed walking down the street for fuck's sake. And I can't take a break because I’m locked into a five record deal. Between writing and recording, I'm promoting and touring. It never ends.

Although, a man can dream. I’m home in Sydney for a brief stint while we hit the recording studio to wrap up my third album. It almost feels like a holiday after months of non-stop travel. I can sleep in my own bed, shit in my own toilet, zone out in front of my own TV. I'll even get the chance to visit Mamma and Pappy. My mother can cry at me in person while my father lectures me about respect and blood bonds. He'll tell me I have to apologise to Theo then I'll make some excuse and head back to my place, enjoying how it feels to drive myself along familiar streets. If I have time, I can swing past Theo’s and park across the street, watching the lights turn on and off as they move around the house—Theo’s always been a stickler for conserving energy. Maybe I'll catch the old band at rehearsal and get the chance to listen to them play. Or maybe I'll drive straight home, telling myself they're all better off without me. They probably are. But am I better off without them?

Funny how life works out. But that’s another thing Mamma always said; be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

I wanted to be a rock star. Now that I'm a rock star, I want to be the guy in the garage band. Not that I’ll ever apologise for my actions or admit that I miss my old life. No way, I’d rather die first.

A buzz filters through the audience as they murmur to each other while I take a seat on the stool in the centre of the stage. A stage hand brings me my guitar, and I slide the strap over my head while he adjusts the height of the microphones.

"Thanks," I say as he finishes up. Then I run my thumb over the strings on my acoustic and clear my throat. The audience goes quiet. "Good evening. This is the first time I've done one of these intimate unplugged shows. No band. No backing vocals. I’m kind of nervous." I let out a short laugh as I adjust on my stool. The audience laughs with me. It’s filled with invite-only guests curated by my label. There are industry people, fans who’ve won competitions, and anyone else lucky enough to get their hands on a ticket. Maybe fifty in total. The atmosphere is… reverent. Which is a little disconcerting. I’m used to the screaming when I walk on stage. This quiet… it's surreal.

For the first time in two years, I'm sweating.

“This one’s called, He’ll Never Be Me.”

The room claps as I play the intro, and a female voice yells over them all. “Whoo, Marcus.” I find the familiar set of eyes immediately, grinning when she hoots and sets off the room. Some things never change. They clap and yell as much as a room of fifty can manage, and I play the intro twice over to accommodate. “That’s more like it. Thank you, Amy.”

She salutes me from across the room. I’m surprised she’s here. Amy ran the Instagram fan account when I was a member of Matiari. She and her friend, Erica went on to create their own social media marketing company off the back of that. But they made it known they wouldn’t affiliate with me after my onstage stunt almost ruined the band. Amy left me a long expletive voicemail about her thoughts on my behaviour, and I haven’t heard from her since. Still, I’m happy to see her here now. I could use a friendly face. Failing that, I could use an honest one, and Amy has never been one to mince words.

“I wrote this song during an angry moment in my life. It’s about losing out on the chance at love and watching that person move on with someone you feel is wrong for them.”

When you come

I’m sure it’s my face you see

You don’t belong with him

You know you belong with me

While he is dark

I am your light

He’ll never be me

He’ll never be me

I’ve sung it so many times it’s lost some of the meaning it originally had. I wrote it to be spiteful because I always thought I was better than my brother. I couldn’t fathom why Naomi would choose him when she had the option of me. And when I learned of their engagement, I set pen to paper, and this is the first song that came out of that rage. I couldn’t stand the rejection. And I hated them for being happy.

When you kiss

I’m sure it’s my lips you feel

You don’t belong with him

What we had was real

They say that success is the greatest form of revenge. I’ve had plenty of it. Far more than they ever could. Normally when I sing this song, it’s like this huge middle finger sticking up at them. But lately when I sing it, I feel hollow. I’m tired of being angry. But I don’t know how to stop. It’s all I have left.

Let me be your lover

Let our hearts beat as one

You can’t possibly feel alive

With the sorry beating of his drum

Leave him.

Be with me.

He’ll never be me.

He’ll never be me.

As I finish the song, I place my hand over the strings on my guitar to silence it. The room erupts in applause and a few wolf whistles. I nod and thank everyone for coming. Out of habit, my eyes scan the crowd, looking for a face that captivates me.

A pit forms in my stomach when my eyes land on Naomi. She’s sitting a few seats away from Amy. How didn’t I see her there before? My chest tightens and my mouth turns dry.

Water. I need water.

Reaching for the bottle set beside me, I busy myself with taking a drink as my mind reels. Who the hell let her in here? I’m sweating. This feels a lot like guilt. I don’t like this at all.

I’m about to signal my manager to tell him to get her out of here, but I stop myself. There are cameras rolling and flashes firing. If I react publicly, the whole thing will be caught on camera. And although my public break up launched my solo career, I’m not interested in the media becoming obsessed with my relationship with my brother and his fiancée again. I don’t want to be angry anymore.

I force myself to look at her. She’s smiling. After everything that’s happened, everything we’ve put each other through, why is she smiling at me? She should hate me. But that isn’t who Naomi is. She’s all about love and happiness, I don’t think she believes in hate. What about Theo? My eyes drift to the surrounding seats, expecting that maybe he’s with her. But she’s with a group of women. My chest thuds. What is that? Is it…disappointment?

Fuck him then.

Tearing my eyes away, I clear my throat and lean into the microphone. “This one is called, Dreams on Fire.” I should be explaining the song, interacting with my audience a little more. It’s why they came—An Intimate Evening with Marcus Bailey. But seeing Naomi has me shook, and I’m lucky I can remember the words to the song. Just make it through the set, Marcus.

When I’m done, I’m going to find out how the hell she got tickets, and then I’m going to fire whoever was responsible. No Naomi’s allowed. It’s on my goddamn rider for fuck's sake. In bold fucking letters. How much clearer do I need to be?

I don’t want to be angry anymore. But anger is all I fucking have left. I can’t let go.

* * *

“Marcus? Great show tonight. You sounded amazing.”

A pang thuds deep in my chest as I turn to face Naomi. “Yeah. Thanks for coming,” I state dismissively, giving her a gentle touch on her shoulder as if she were just another fan and not the woman responsible for stomping on my heart. Her expression falls as I move past her, expecting more with a history like ours. But she doesn’t get more. She made her choice. This is me living with it.

“That’s all you’re going to say to her?” Amy asks, blocking my path. All I want to do is say my obligatory hellos, thank the right people then go bury my cock in some random.

“How are you, Amy?” I enquire, giving her my most charming smile. “Where’s Erica?”

“She doesn’t like you. So she’s not here.”

“Fair enough.” Can’t please everyone. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” I plaster a fake smile on my face and shift my eyes to the group of women with Amy and Naomi. One I recognise from school. But the other two I haven’t met before.

“Sure.” She turns and touches the redhead on the shoulder. “You should remember Stephanie from school.”

I nod once “I do. How are you Stephanie?”

She grins. “Your voice is amazing,” she gushes, causing me to smile. Hoes over bros except when that bro is a rock star. Interesting.

Amy jabs her in the side with her elbow.

“What?” Stephanie frowns like she has no idea what she did wrong.

“This is Paige and Katrina,” Amy continues, indicating a voluptuous brunette and an exceptionally tall blonde. “They’re both married to beautiful men, so keep your sleazy eyes off them.”

“Nice to meet you both.” The blonde—I think she’s Katrina—smiles politely while the brunette—Paige—stands quietly off to the side. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“We did. Thank you,” Katrina says. Paige shrugs and says ‘yeah’ like it wasn’t anything special. I like her already. I’m so used to people gushing about their excitement. A little indifference is actually refreshing.

“Well, be sure to stay and enjoy the party,” I say, moving past them once again. I don’t even take a second glance at Naomi, but I hear her hiss at Stephanie to ‘leave it’ as I’m pulled into a conversation with a couple who won tickets on the radio. They’re raving about the show.

“You are by far my favourite artist,” the woman says. “To hear your songs live and unplugged was so special.”

“Thanks for coming. Enjoy the party.”

I’ve done this a thousand times before, smiling for photos, offering platitudes. It’s part of the job. But tonight, my mind can’t focus on what anyone is saying because my ears keep searching out the sound of Naomi’s voice. Betrayers.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me. Let’s just go.”

Yes, Naomi. How about you just go? I tip my head back and down the glass of scotch that somehow ended up in my hand. Being who I am, it’s replaced instantly.

“Thanks for coming,” I say to the next person, the flash of a camera phone spotting my eye. “Enjoy the party.” I down my second scotch, scanning the room for a target. I need to get out of here.

“Marcus.” Naomi’s voice calls from behind me.

I keep moving, and a busty brunette in a barely-there top and skin-tight jeans thrusts herself in my path. Ah-ha. Escape.

“I loved the show,” she coos, twisting her fingers around the end of her long ponytail. Word got out a while back that I’m into pulling hair and love a good ponytail, so this happens all the time now. I don’t even carry a hair-band anymore.

“Wanna get out of here?” I ask, not bothering to pull any punches. I’m pretty sure I could just say ‘wanna suck my cock?’ and she’d follow me wherever I want her to. There’s no chase anymore. Pussy is way too easy. But I appreciate it more than ever in this moment. Naomi has never approached me once a groupie was on my arm. They’re like insect repellent but for tiny blondes who prefer my brother over me.

“Where are we going?” the girl asks, gasping for breath as I pull her towards the exit.

“My hotel,” I say, and she squeals. Jesus.

She follows me into the backseat of my waiting car, and without even bothering to give me her name, she’s unzipping my pants and preparing to wrap her shiny red lips around my shaft.

“I have dreamed about this moment, but I never thought—”

“Believe it,” I say, cutting her off while my fingers spear into her hair. Less talking. More sucking.

The compartment between us and the driver slides up to block his view, and I drop my head on the back of the seat and try to let the sweet warmth of her mouth overcome me. Although it’s hard when the only image my mind wants to focus on is the hurt look on Naomi’s face.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart,” I say, as I lift the girl’s head out of my lap.

“Hmmm?” Not much comes out of her since her mouth is full of my cock.

“I need you to stop.”

“Wharruhmph.” Her eyes look up at mine, wide and confused while she continues her earnest bobbing.

“Think you can take my cock out of your mouth?”

She releases me with a pop. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No.” I place my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back enough so I can tuck myself away. “You were doing great.”

“Then why did we stop?” she asks, blinking at me blankly.

“Go back to the party, love. I need some time to myself tonight.”

“But…”

“Go,” I say more sternly, as I zip my pants back up. Her face falls, but she gets out of the car as instructed.

“Make sure she gets back in safely,” I tell one of the security guards stationed nearby. “And find out how Naomi Prendergast got in, and fire the person responsible.” I can’t even enjoy a head job because of her.

He nods then takes the brunette by the elbow and ushers her back into the party. I lean back and rub my hands over the top of my head. I can’t believe that after all this time I’m letting Naomi get to me. It’s been years, and I shouldn’t give a fuck if she’s disappointed or hurt because I didn’t want to talk to her. She hurt me. I shouldn’t feel a shred of shittiness for not wanting her around.

“I used Erica’s ticket since Naomi’s are banned wherever you’re meant to be.”

Speak of the devil.

“Naomi. I’m not in the mood.”

“You haven’t been in the mood for two years, Marcus.” She gets in the car next to me and shuts the door. “Meanwhile, your family is missing you. Your brother misses you. Why won’t you take any of Theo’s calls? Why have you banned us from attending your shows?”

“Probably because I don’t want to see you.”

“Well, your family wants to see you. They miss you so much.”

“And what about you? Do you miss me?”

“Of course. I miss being your friend.”

I release a burst of air through my nose, pressing my teeth into my bottom lip. “I think we both know I’ve never been interested in being your friend.”

“Why do that? Theo loves you. He spent his entire life in your shadow, lifting you up. Why begrudge him his happiness?”

“Because he stole that happiness from me.”

She frowns, pulling her head back like she thinks I’m fucked in the head. And maybe I am.

“I was never yours, Marcus. You never loved me. You loved the thought of winning, of beating your brother once again. It was always a competition with you. But to me, there was never a question. You were my friend. Theo has always been my heart.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” I spit. “We could have been something. There was something between us.”

She presses her lips together in a pitying smile and I almost crack a tooth. “How? You were obsessed with putting your dick into everything with a pulse. How was that behaviour going to make me choose you?”

She’s so fucking self-righteous. I narrow my eyes at her. “I didn’t fuck around that entire tour.”

“Yeah. For two weeks you acted like a decent human being before you threw it all away when your brother got what you wanted. You’re a child, Marcus. Perhaps it’s time you took a good long look at yourself.”

“I’m just fine. Thank you very much.”

“Hey, if fucking an endless line of girls is what you really want, then great. The best of luck to you. But if you could stop being angry at your brother for five seconds, you might find a soulmate of your own.”

I scoff. “You’re soulmates?” Of course they are.

She nods. “Theo didn’t steal me. I was always his. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have more than any of us could have possibly dreamed of and you’re just using it to stay miserable. I came tonight to remind you that you have parents, and you have a brother. All of whom love you despite your shit dick attitude. Call them, Marcus. Go and visit your parents at least, and if you ever truly cared about me; forgive your brother. For some reason, despite proving you don’t give a shit about his, he still cares about your feelings. He isn’t willing to marry me until you’ll give us your blessing.”

I shake my head and scoff again. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Then I guess we don’t have anything else to say to each other.” She sets her jaw and opens the car door, getting out before leaning down to say one last thing. “I hope your fame keeps you warm at night.”

“It doesn’t. Naked women draped over my body do,” I retort, feeling mighty.

She looks at me, narrows her eyes and shakes her head. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Don’t. I have everything I ever wanted.”

“Yeah. Except love.” And with that she spins on her heel and stalks off, leaving the car door wide open while I sit there like a fuckwit with my mouth open. Ouch.

Two

Lisa

Bang, bang, bang.

With my head under the hairdryer, I’m not sure if I heard the door or imagined it. I switch it off to listen.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. Who the hell turns up at someone else's house at seven in the morning? I place the hair dryer on the vanity and try to smooth my dark brown hair with my hands so I look somewhat presentable.

My visitor bangs again. "Hang on. I'm coming," I call out.

When I make it to the door, I peer through the peephole to find my friend Sandra on the other side. Why didn’t she just call? Or text. Texting would be significantly better.

“Open up, Lisa. I’m desperate, and I need your help.”

The moment I turn the lock, she tumbles through the door, almost knocking me off my feet. “What the hell? What’s wrong?”

She turns to me, breathless, her blue eyes wide and frantic as she clutches a manila folder to her chest. “I need you to do an interview for me.”

"What? No way. I'm no reporter," I say, shaking my head as I walk past her to return to the bathroom and continue getting ready for my actual job—in the advertising department of the magazine she reports for.

Sandra follows me to plead her case as I decide my hair is dry enough and begin applying my makeup. “Come on, Lisa. I’d do it for you.”

“That’s really awesome, Sandra. But you’d never have to do it for me. I don't interview people for a living, remember? Why are you so upset about doing the interview, anyway? Did you sleep with the guy or something?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately, and my mouth falls open.

“Oh, my god. I was joking when I said that!”

She grabs my arms and looks at me pleadingly. “Please. It was this random thing I did. It was a year ago, but I’m so embarrassed by it. It happened when I was working for that music show and I don’t want to interview him again.”

“Who was it?”

“Marcus Bailey.”

I shake my head and pick up my black eyeliner to accentuate my honey-coloured eyes. “I have no idea who that is.”

“Which is what I love about you and why I’m asking you. I know you can interview someone as famous as he is without going stupid over him.”

“That’s because I don’t go stupid over anyone. Who’s his manager?”

“Craig someone. It’s in the file. Just, please. Pretty pleeeaase.”

I sigh. “Not taking away from your sexual prowess or anything, but if he’s a famous musician, it’s likely all the women he sleeps with are just one big blurry face with a pussy.”

Pressing her lips together, she reaches up and pulls her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and smooths it over as she gives me a slightly unimpressed look. “I don’t care if he remembers me or not. This is about me feeling like a fucktard because I screwed him like a groupie. I'm scared that he'll remember me and expect me to do it again. But I'm even more afraid that he’ll have absolutely no idea who I am. And that will feel so much worse.”

“Oh honey,” I say, feeling my resolve slipping.

“Don't feel sorry for me. Just help me out… please?”

I lean towards the mirror and concentrate on applying mascara to lengthen my already dark lashes. “I'm not saying no. But why can’t you ask one of the other girls to do it for you?”

“Because, I still want the story. If I get one of the others to do it, they’ll snag the by-line too. Please do it for me.” She holds the folder out while she pouts her full lips and bats her eyelids. She looks like a cute puppy and I can’t resist.

Reaching out, I take the folder from her. “Fine.”

“You'll do it?”

“Yes, Sandra. I’ll interview your rock star for you so you don’t accidently screw him again,” I deadpan.

She throws her arms around my neck and squeals. "I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What time do I have to be there?"

"In forty-five minutes."

"Forty-five minutes? Are you fucking mental? How the hell am I supposed to get there in time?"

“It’s not far. If you leave now, you’ll make it there with maybe fifteen minutes to spare.”

My eyes bug out and I almost ruin my mascara. “Fucking hell, Sandra. This isn’t cool. Why couldn’t you have asked me this last night instead of dropping it on my lap this morning?” Feeling rushed, I select a pale rose lipstick and run it over my lips before twisting my slightly damp, wavy hair into a bun on top of my head.

I look in the mirror. That will have to do.

“Because I thought I could do it. But look at me. I’m all splotchy just thinking about it. I’ll fuck it up and start accidentally saying ‘cock’ or something.”

As I spritz my perfume in the air and let it fall over me, I take a moment to look at her properly. She’s right; she does look all splotchy. To the point where I think she might have given herself hives. Instantly my annoyance dissipates as I realise how distressed she really is.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. Just do me a favour? Lock up for me and let the office know I might be a little late. Tell them I have an appointment or something.”

“Done. Thank you, Lisa.”

“Hey, what are best friends for?” I slip my feet into my black peep-toe heels, check my appearance in the full-length mirror then grab my bag and car keys and head out the door. As I walk to my car, I open the folder to get the address I need to drive to. The moment I’m in the driver’s seat, I press the voice command button on my phone and tell it to navigate to the studios where Marcus Bailey is supposedly filming a music video.

Great. Just what I need to start my day; a cocky muso who thinks he can bed any woman he pleases. I fucking hate famous people.

* * *

Marcus

“How many interviews do I have today?” I ask my manager, Craig as we leave the set of the latest music video for my single ‘Animals’. We’ve been staging a massive costume party and I’m the entertainment, singing on stage while the partygoers gyrate in front of me. It’s the typical storyline; there’s some hot chick who catches my eye and we’re drawn in by each other’s ‘animal magnetism’.

Doing this kind of stuff used to be fun. But after my recent bout of self loathing, I’m tired of the fanfare. I was already feeling crappy about my life choices before Naomi threw a few truth bombs my way. And now I can’t stop hating everything about this job I so desperately wanted.

When I first started in this industry, I never dreamed there would come a day when I’d grow tired of the constant parties, tired of the constant women, tired of the fake friends. That’s the part I hate the most. Fake friends. I need people to be real with me, but when you have all the money and the power, people tell you whatever they think you wanna hear.

As badly as I reacted to Naomi, seeing her the other night reminded me of everything I used to have. I may not like what she said to me, but at least she was real. Honest. I don’t get a lot of that these days.

And there’s nothing real about what's been in front of me all morning. My ‘love interest’ for the music video is a plastic Barbie-doll model with the personality of a gnat. I’m not even sure what her name is, but she’s been giving me the look all morning. I’m starting to wonder exactly when my music career started being more about sex than music. When I think back, sex has always been what I saw as a perk of the industry. But it wasn’t my driving force. These days, it seems all I do is fuck. Even my dick needs a break.

“You have five reporters coming,” Craig explains after consulting his smartphone. “They’re spread throughout the day between shooting. The first one should be here any moment.”

“And what time are we finished here?”

“Four. Maybe five. Then I have you booked to do a radio interview and spend some time in the recording studio.”

“Can’t I spend tomorrow in the studio?” I’m sick of having every moment scheduled. I’m like a puppet with somebody else’s hand up my arse.

“You have more interviews tomorrow.”

I drop my head back and groan. I’m so sick of this.

“Everyone wants a piece of the golden boy. You’ve barely been in the country this past two years. They’re all lining up to talk to you.”

“Can’t we do one interview and send it out to all of them?”

“You know that’s not how it works, mate.”

Mate. Looking around the room, it’s packed with people. All of them here for me. But, I can count on one hand how many of them are actually my friends. Zero. So I guess I don't really need a hand for counting at all…

“I’ve had enough,” I blurt, placing my hands on my hips.

Craig splutters. “What? Enough what?”

“Of this.” I gesture around the room. “I’ll wrap up the album. But I want some time off. No shows. No interviews. Nothing.”

“But…” Craig holds up his phone and points at the screen.

“Sort it out, would you?” I drop my stance and take a step away.

“You’re under contract,” he blusters after me.

“Yeah. And I’m rich enough to pay it out. Don’t threaten me with that shit or I’ll go independent.”

“You’re not that rich.”

“I don’t care. Sort it out or I’ll go AWOL, and then you’ll be fuckin’ sorry.”

He releases a few strangled vowels while I offer him a smile and a salute then walk away, feeling lighter already. Time off is exactly what I need to get my head straight. I went over my contract last night and it asks for five albums in five years. We’re at the two-year mark, and I’m wrapping up the third. I’m not the greatest at maths, but I’m pretty sure that puts me ahead of schedule. Craig can just deal with it. It’s what managers are for.

I stop moving when my eyes land on a woman who looks lost. She seems out of place in her business attire. I’d guess she’s around five-foot-eight when she doesn’t have a pair of heels on. She’s wearing a navy business skirt and a crisp white blouse. Dark hair, piled on top of her head, gorgeous eyes—I can see them from where I’m standing because they’re really light and kind of shine out of her—nice looking body too. She’s not rake thin like most of the girls I see. There’s a bit of meat to her, but in a good way if you know what I mean. A guy likes something to grab onto. So curves are hot, and this chick is definitely hot. She’s rocking the sexy office manager look. I wonder if she’s a lawyer or something, but then I notice the ID around her neck announces she’s press. Interesting.

Pausing, she opens the folder she’s holding and scrutinises something inside before scanning the room again with her eyes. I should go and help her out, but honestly, I’m enjoying watching her flounder. Does that make me an arsehole too? Probably.

She moves across the room slowly and elegantly, looking for some sort of guidance. She reaches an arm out to get someone’s attention, but they walk right by her, obviously too busy feeling important to bother with a woman who looks like she’s from HR. Keep walking, sweetheart. I see you.

My dick twinges a little in my pants. Maybe it doesn’t need a break as much as it needs a change of scenery.

You know those women who carry themselves really well? The ones who don’t even know how gorgeous they are? Yeah, that’s what she’s like. I can tell by the way she's walking. She's not strutting like a lot of these other girls do, and my god it’s sexy as hell.

Craig is next to me again, saying something that I’m not paying attention too. I'm too busy waiting to catch her eye. I haven't thought this for a long time, but I want to know who this woman is. Like, have a conversation with her person to person. Crazy.

“Are you even listening to me?” Craig demands, just as the brunette meets my eyes without showing a hint of recognition.

I place my hand on his shoulder, dazed. “No, mate. I haven’t heard a fucking word,” I say, breaking into a grin. I don’t think she knows who I am.

Lisa

Oh god. There are people everywhere. Each one seems busy doing something, and I can’t seem to get anyone’s attention to ask where the hell I’m supposed to go for this dumb interview.

As I move across the room, I find two men talking quietly to each other, but as I approach, one of them glances at me and breaks into what most would consider a ‘million-dollar smile’. He’s probably one of the best-looking men I've ever laid eyes on. He’s tall and well built, perfectly tanned with fashionably messy brown hair and shining light-brown eyes, a perfect smile, a strong jaw and a roman nose. He’s the whole package of gorgeousness women go for. He’s not covered in tattoos and leather like every rock god I’ve ever seen, so I don’t think he’s this Marcus guy. I’m thinking he’s an actor or model with something to do with the actual music video. But since he’s not running away, seems he’s my best bet for directions.

While I move closer, his eyes scan my body, showing obvious interest. Jesus. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I didn’t come here to get hit on by some wannabe.

I can appreciate his looks, but I’m not a fan of overly attractive men. They always know how good-looking they are, and they take advantage of women because of it. They seem to think they can do whatever and whomever they choose, just because they were blessed at birth with attractiveness. Well, that's not how it works in my book. Not anymore.

My last boyfriend was one of those beautiful men. I was naïve enough to think he only had eyes for me. For two years I believed my bed was the only one he shared. How stupid can one girl be?

Eventually one of his 'women on the side' educated me on his 'business meetings'. He'd been sleeping around on me the entire time. It makes me sick to think how foolish I looked. How gullible I was. I'll never allow that to happen to me again. I’d rather be single than insecure in a relationship.

“Hey there, you look lost,” Model-boy says, his smile touching his eyes.

Instead of smiling back, I just focus on the business of why I'm here. “I’m looking for…” I check my notes again to make sure I have his name right. “Um, Marcus Bailey. Can either of you point me in the right direction?”

The man who had his back to me, turns and scrunches his brow so tight I think he might go cross-eyed. “Are you serious?”

The other one starts laughing and places his hand on the annoyed man’s shoulder. “Don’t mind, Craig. He thinks the entire world revolves around his clients. What do you want with Marcus?”

Butterflies threaten to take flight in my stomach as my gaze connects with his. But I squash them down, imagining a pair of heavy boots jumping up and down and keeping them firmly in place.

“I have an interview with him. I’m Lisa Russell, from Voyeur Magazine.”

“You’re here to interview Marcus and you don’t know who he is?” Craig asks, and suddenly I’m cursing Sandra for pressuring me to do this. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull this off.

“Um, yeah. I’m kind of covering for a friend though. Sandra Haegen? She was supposed to come today, but she had a last-minute appointment… We can reschedule if you want. I’m just trying to help her out.”

“No, it’s fine,” the first one says, running his hand over the top of his hair. “Come this way.”

“Thanks,” I say, grateful as I follow him over to an area where two chairs and a small table with a jug of iced water are set up.

“Would you like some water?” he asks, gesturing to the jug.

“That would be lovely. Thanks.”

I take one of the seats and accept the glass he hands to me, taking a sip. “Can you tell me how long Mr Bailey will be?” I ask while he pours water in the second glass and drinks. Oh dear. Rock stars don’t like it when there aren’t any water glasses for them.

“You in a hurry?” He watches me over the rim of his glass as he drinks.

“Well, yes and no. I have a meeting today, and since I’m covering for a friend, it’s already being pushed back.”

“I see.” He nods. “We’ll get started then.” He takes the seat across from me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my eyebrows creasing as my confusion sets in.

“I’m Marcus,” he states, leaning back in his chair with a cocksure grin on his face. OhmyfuckinggodI’mgoingtokillSandraforthis.

My mouth drops open and my face flames. Why didn’t he just say something in the first place? Now I look like a fucking idiot. Great. He’ll never accept an interview with Voyeur again and it will be all my fault. I probably just got Sandra fired… shit. I knew I should have taken an extra five minutes before arriving to look him up.

This kind of stunt proves me right yet again. Good-looking men can't be trusted.

I swallow my discomfort. “OK. I um… guess we should get started then.” I open the folder across my lap to find the list of questions I’m to ask him.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

I snap my eyes up to meet his, my face burning from this awkwardness. I just need this done and over.

“I don’t. I’m sorry, OK? As I said, I’m covering for a friend last minute. I have her questions though, so I hope that will work. I just don’t listen to much current music.”

“What do you listen to?”

I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to talk to this cocky man who thinks it’s funny to play jokes on complete strangers. “I’d rather do the interview, thanks.”

“We will. After you answer the question.”

I stifle an eye roll. “Sixties stuff, you know? The Beatles, The Doors, Cat Stevens, Janis Joplin—stuff like that. I don’t think today’s music holds a card to any of it. It’s just noise with recycled melodies being passed off as new ideas.” I’m not even looking at him as I waffle on, so it’s not until I make the comment about today’s crappy music that I catch the way his expression changes. Excellent. This is exactly the reason I stay away from most people. My opinions easily offend. And I don’t know when to shut up. “Oh god… I’m sorry. I don’t mean any offence to you. I mean, you could be the exception to the rule, right? I haven’t even heard your stuff.” I bite the inside of my lip and wince. “Can we start again?”

“Let’s just get this interview done.” He presses his lips together in a tight smile.

Great. I've pissed him off. Taking a deep breath, I pull out my phone and start the voice recorder before I run through the list of questions Sandra gave me. I barely make eye contact the whole time, and I swear I’m shaking noticeably. Most of the time, I just wish the ground would open up and swallow me.

When the questions are finally over, I stand and hug the folder to my chest. “Thank you so much for your time. And once again, I apologise for not doing my homework. I meant no insult to you, or your music.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was kind of nice to talk to someone who wasn’t trying to kiss my arse the entire time.”

I nod in response. “Thank you.” Will my cheeks ever stop burning? “I’m sure if there are any issues with the interview, you or your people will get a call, but I think I got everything I was supposed to.” I turn to walk away, but stop when he reaches out and touches my arm.

“Lisa?” My breath catches at the skin-to-skin connection. Shit. Those butterflies are trying to take flight again. I turn to face him and force my breathing to stay steady as he moves closer and leans in to speak quietly to me.

“Y-yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight?”

I step back, increasing the distance between us like a shock sent me reeling. “With you?”

“No. That guy over there with the plumber’s crack.” I turn around to see who he means and he laughs. “Of course I mean me.”

“Oh. Um…” I grip the folder tighter, avoiding eye contact. “No. I don’t think so.”

He frowns, taken aback by my refusal. “Can I ask why?”

“Because I don’t date attractive men.”

“You’d prefer the plumber’s crack guy?”

I look around the room nervously, hoping no one is listening in to this. “Listen, it’s nothing against you. I’ve been around long enough to know how this works.”

“How does this work?”

“Guys like you get used to clicking your fingers and having girls drop their panties. It’s too easy and you get bored. Then a girl comes along who doesn’t seem impressed by you; she piques your interest, so you chase her down until she gives in.” He’s looking at me like I have rocks in my head, but I know I’m right. I’ve lived through this before. I saw that same look in my ex’s eyes when we first met.

“Wow.” Marcus laughs without humour and folds his arms across his chest. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Who knows what truly goes on in a man’s head? I just know I’m not interested, and I’d like you to respect that. It was nice to meet you though.” I give him a curt nod as I spin on my heel and head towards the exit with quick steps.

“I’ll see you around, Lisa,” he calls out, and I falter slightly in my step. He’ll see me around? I literally just told him no.

“Just so we’re clear,” I call back, not caring this time who hears. “I’m not saying ‘no’ so you decide to chase me. I’m not playing some sort of game. It’s just a plain ‘no’. OK?”

“Don’t two negatives make a positive?”

“Technically, I said it three times. So we’re still in the negatives. It’s still a no.”

He laughs, and I wince because I just said no for the fourth time.

“No,” I say, making it five. His eyes are actually sparkling, loving that I’m getting flustered. Goddamn famous arseholes.

Knowing I’m wasting my time, I roll my eyes then turn to leave again, feeling his eyes on me the entire time I’m heading out of the studio.

I tell myself not to look back. I force myself to keep my eyes focused on the exit sign. But as I round the corner, I can’t help myself. I glance back to where he’s still standing, still watching me. My breath catches as our eyes lock. He throws his head back and laughs. A deep loud belly laugh.

Shit. Not again.

Three

Lisa

“So? How did it go?” Sandra asks, rushing me at my desk when lunch time rolls around. The moment I got into work, I was called into a meeting with a new client and haven’t had the chance to get the interview recording to her.

“It was fine. Everything was fine,” I say. “I’ll email you the voice recording from my phone before the day is through.” I hand her the folder she gave me that contained a brief biography and the interview questions. “Although, you could have included a photo in that. I made bit of a fool of myself when I walked up to him and asked if he knew where I could find Marcus Bailey.”

Her hand covers her mouth as she laughs. “You didn’t? Oh, my god! That’s hilarious. What did he say? Was he pissed?”

“No. He just laughed and said to follow him. I thought he was just some guy taking me to meet Marcus, but then he sat down and announced he was Marcus, and I spent the rest of the interview with my face burning with embarrassment.”

“Well… I’m sorry he embarrassed you. But thank you for doing that for me. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s OK. I just don’t want to do that again. So no more banging rock stars unless you’re willing to interview them again.”

She laughs. “Deal. My knees shall stay firmly pressed together from this moment on.”

I pick up my bag, ready to go out for some fresh air and something to eat.

“What did you think?”

I pause and look at her. “Of what?”

“Of him. He’s pretty easy on the eyes right?”

“He’s OK.”

“Did he um… try anything with you?”

I shake my head and avert my eyes. “He didn’t try anything. He was all business.”

* * *

Marcus

Lisa. Lisa. Lisa. I like the way her name rolls off my tongue. I like the way the memory of her face feels inside my head. Lovely Lisa. Lustrous Lisa. Lithe Lisa. I’ve spent the entire day distractedly thinking up adjectives to suit her that start with L, and that’s all I’ve come up with. I could probably do with a thesaurus on this one…

Needless to say, I like her. And I want to see her again. She’s easy on the eyes, but there’s something more—I liked talking to her. I don’t know if it’s because she didn’t know who I was, or if it’s because she told me no in front of everyone. She just seemed so… genuine. No one has spoken to me the way she did in years. It was refreshing, and even though I’m slipping into the exact cliché she warned me away from, I’m fucking keen. She’s piqued my interest. I’m going to chase her until she gives in.

In my dressing room, I pull out a pad of paper and a pen and scrawl a note before calling out to my assistant, Karen.

She appears in the doorway, her greying eyebrows raised in question as she looks at me over the rim of her glasses. I purposely hired a woman who was old enough to be my mother. She’s the one who keeps my life organised. I didn’t want her to be a distraction to me at all.

“Send this to Voyeur Magazine, care of Lisa Russell. Include two tickets for the show this Saturday and VIP passes,” I say as I fold the piece of paper and hand it to her.

“Of course, Mr Bailey,” she says with a smile, taking the folded note from between my fingers. “Are there any particular seats you’d like me to give her?”

“Front, centre.”

“Of course.” She nods politely, keeping her opinion private. But she knows what this is about. It’s not the first time she’s sent one of these notes off for me. VIP passes and front row tickets are a sure winner when I’m interested in a woman. Lisa won’t be able to resist.

* * *

Lisa

Marcus Bailey has been connected with more women than there are stars in the sky. A quick search on Google shows image after image and rarely do I see him pictured with the same woman twice.

That’s why, when I scroll further and spot the same woman several times, I pay attention. She’s a tiny blonde who looks similar to Sandra, actually. There are photos of them together and photos of them with three other people. As I continue to look, I find images of her and Marcus singing on stage together. Ah, that explains it. They were in a band together called Matiari.

I don’t know why I’m spending my lunch break looking him up on my phone. I’m telling myself it’s only because I should have looked him up earlier. But I know it’s more than that. He’s been on my mind all day. I feel stupid doing this. But I console myself with the thought that no one needs to know. I’ll do a little cyber stalking and move on. No big deal.

I enlarge a few of the photos of him when he was in the band. He seems a hell of a lot happier in the old band photos than he does in his new shots. I wonder what made him leave…

There’s a shot that shows him singing at the blonde. When I zoom in on their faces, she looks mortified. Whoa. What’s going on here? I zoom out to read the caption: ‘Radio Silence Support Act Loses Lead in Onstage Scandal’. Scandal? I click and I’m taken to YouTube, to a video with 614,355,346 views. Well, 614,355,347 now.

A video filmed from within the audience loads on my screen, showing the band on stage. At first there’s just a huge amount of excited screaming then Marcus leans into the microphone.

“I’ll bet you guys are loving Naomi, right?” he calls out. The crowd all screams in agreement as he walks over to the blonde from the photos. She’s holding a violin at her side, but she looks confused. She smiles and waves for the audience then looks over her shoulder towards the drummer. I have a terrible feeling about this. I’m not sure I want to keep watching.

Marcus stands right in front of her and speaks into her microphone. “Yeah. I love Naomi too,” he says, his voice calm but aggressive.

She’s looking around in a panic while he returns to his microphone.

“What are you doing to her?” I mutter at the phone screen, my anxiety peaking just watching this.

“Now, Naomi is a fan of Aiden Price.” The crowd screams at the mention of his name—even I know who Aiden Price is—then Marcus shakes his head. “No, he won’t be here tonight, but I get that a lot of you are probably fans as well. Actually, I am too. A while back, as a bit of a treat we did his song I Recall. But tonight, I’d like to do something a little different. I have a special song, just for Naomi. This one is called ‘Weighted’.”

I place my hand on my chest. “Oh, you didn’t?” I say to no one in particular. I know this song. Aiden Price is one of the few modern artists I actually listen to. His music is raw and emotive. It isn’t that same four-chord bullshit that dominates the charts.

‘Weighted’ is about a relationship gone wrong. One where the singer can’t stand to even look at his lover any longer. It’s about a love that’s turning into hate. I can’t imagine what this woman could have done to him to make him feel warranted by singing this. But I can’t watch anymore. He’s publicly humiliating that girl, and I want to cry for her. No one deserves this. She’s trying to act professional and play the song for the audience, but it’s so obvious when he sings ‘Cause you’re a bitch to be around’, that he’s directing it at her. How cruel.

A sick feeling rises in my throat. I tap the screen to pause the video and shut down my phone. I wish I hadn’t looked him up now.

* * *

"This came for you while you were at lunch," the receptionist, Erin, informs me, handing me a white envelope as I re-enter the building.

“Thanks.” There's nothing on the envelope except for my name, so I have no idea what's inside. I open it straight away, expecting it to be something work related. But it’s not.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. Why couldn’t he just leave me be?

Erin’s eyes grow wide as she watches me remove two tickets and VIP passes that clearly state ‘Marcus Bailey’ on them.

“You have VIP passes to Marcus Bailey?” she gasps, while I pull out the accompanying note.

Perhaps I’m the exception to the rule.

Marcus

Keeping my expression neutral, I slip the note into my pocket and replace the tickets and passes inside the envelope. "Would you like them?" I say to Erin, holding the envelope out to her.

Her hand flies out to grab it, but hesitates. “You don’t want them? Are you sure?”

“Then they’re yours.”

“You can’t be serious. That show was sold out months ago. I am such a huge fan of his.”

I thrust the envelope into her hand. “Have a great time.”

“Oh wow. I will.” She immediately spills out its contents and holds the passes against her chest. “Thank you!” she squeals, reaching for her phone. “I have to tell my friend.”

I smile and mouth ‘you’re welcome’ as her call connects, and she hysterically tells her friend about the tickets. Then I laugh, because I’d love to see Marcus’s face when he looks down and sees I didn’t take the bait. I’ll show him who’s the exception to the rule. It’ll take more than a couple of tickets to get this little black duck to swoon over the likes of Marcus Bailey.

Four

Marcus

I was born to be on stage. There’s a lot about the music industry I don’t like, but performing will never be one of them. When I’m centre stage, it feels like the whole world is screaming my name. I’m not lonely here. I’m the man they want, the man they paid hundreds to see. On stage, I feel like a god. It’s when the lights turn off and the music stops that I have a problem with my life.

But I’m hoping to take steps towards fixing that when the show ends and Lisa makes her way backstage. I haven’t looked forward to an after party for months.

I’ll see her as soon as she walks in, feeling out of place. Then we’ll lock eyes and she’ll probably blush the way she did when she realised I was the Marcus Bailey. I’ll make my way through the crowd, and she’ll feel really important when I take her by the hand and tell her I have something special planned just for her. Which I do. I’ve booked out Zephyr, the rooftop bar at the Hyatt Regency. It has views of the harbour for days and we’ll have it all to ourselves.

We’ll spend the night talking about 60s music, and why she shouldn’t give up on modern artists when some of them have a lot to offer. She’ll immediately realise I’m talking about me because she’s smart like that, but she’ll smile and lick her lips and I’ll know I have my opening. I’ll signal to the staff that they need to leave, and I’ll have my way with her then and there. Maybe I’ll get us a room and we can talk some more and fuck a whole lot. And if I’m not bored by the end of it, I might even ask her out again. This could be the start of something. Naomi didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Thank you all for coming out this evening,” I say into the mic as the crowd quiets. “This final song is called, Incredible.” Cue the crowd screaming.

I purposely chose this to sing last because the spotlight is going to sweep over the first few rows of the audience and I’ll get to see her. Lisa, sitting in the front row with a smile on her face and a tingle between her thighs.

If I’ve played my cards right, she’ll think I’m singing this song for her. We’ll make eye contact and when she comes backstage, she’ll be putty in my hands.

She’s been in the front of my mind all week, and I need tonight to go well so I can figure out if this is just some weird infatuation, or there’s actually something there. There’s also the possibility that this is all a setup and she knew who I was all along—it’s so hard to trust people these days.

As I strum out the intro, I do my normal thing and introduce the band members, thanking them all for playing for me tonight. Then I close my eyes and launch into the ballad.

Your eyes

Oh, they’re always shining

You make me feel

Without even trying

You’re so beautiful

You make me want to stay

I know

When I flatter you, you never believe me

I know

That in the mirror, you don’t see what I see

If I have to

I will tell you every day

Two backing singers join in on the chorus. At this point, I’m putting as much emotion into the words as I can, timing the point where I open my eyes so she’s the first person I see.

Let it be known, Marcus Bailey knows how to woo a woman.

You’re incredible

In every way

I wouldn’t change a thing

Everything about you

Is heart stopping

I open my eyes for the last line, the most powerful line, because all the music stops for a few beats and all there is is the power of my voice.

Everything about you

Is heart stopping

Cue the swoon. I lock eyes with the centre front-row seat, and my fingers stumble slightly over the final cords of the song. She’s not there. There are two young girls I’ve never even seen before here instead. What the fuck? Thankfully, I recover quickly and I don’t think anyone notices my slip up.

“Thank you, Sydney!” I yell, hand above my head as I back away then walk off the stage. The crowd roars but I’m reeling.

Why the hell didn’t she come? Who the hell says no to a rock star?

* * *

Lisa

“Come on, Perry. Surely you’ve pissed on every tree in the neighbourhood by now. Consider your territory thoroughly marked,” I say to my golden retriever as I tug at his lead.

Every morning, we go through this same routine. I swear that if this dog pees any more, he will become so dehydrated that he’ll turn into a dusty husk and blow away on the next gust of wind.

I walk him so we both get some exercise, but this constant stopping doesn’t do much for either of our cardiovascular systems.

Giving his lead one last tug, he follows along beside me, panting happily as his tail swings gaily in the air for the last twenty metres back to my house without further incident.

Well… not really. I stop dead in my tracks when I find none other than Marcus Bailey sitting on my front porch.

“What the hell? How did you find out where I live?”

“There are surprisingly very few ‘L. Russell’s in the directory and even fewer within commuting distance to the studio,” he replies.

“Thanks for that, Sherlock, you’ve just given me the perfect reason to become unlisted.”

Perry, the traitor, wags his tail happily at Marcus and tries to run towards him. I grip the lead solidly at my side, but I’m struggling to maintain my balance against my big strong puppy.

“Wait,” I command, and he sits for about two seconds. In a move that would make Houdini proud, Perry slips his collar and bounds up my front steps, jumping on Marcus who seems only too pleased to pat him and give him all the attention he’s after. “Perry!” Whose dog does he think he is?

“G’day, big guy. Aren’t you fluffy? Yes you are,” Marcus coos, scratching him behind the ears. Perry pants and rolls on his back for a belly rub.

“He’s not allowed to jump on people. You’re rewarding him for being bad.”

“Did you get my note?” he asks, ignoring my objections while he continues to lavish Perry with attention.

“I did.”

“You didn’t want to see my show?”

“I told you. I’m not interested.”

His blue eyes level with mine, like he’s trying to read whether I’m telling the truth or not.

“I’m staying in town for a while. My home is here and I haven’t seen my family properly for the last couple of years. I’ve decided I need a break from all the attention.”

“Good for you,” I say, wondering where this is all going and why he’s at my house.

“I think we should at least be friends,” he announces, a decision he’s obviously not planning on consulting me over.

“Friends? I stood you up last night and that made you want me as a friend?” This guy’s insane. He’d probably get along great with my dad.

“Yes. I like you. I like your no bullshit attitude. I also like that you don’t seem to give a fuck about who I am. So, I’d like us to be friends.”

I hold my thumb over my shoulder and point next door. “Mr Melnic probably doesn’t know who you are either. He can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles. I’m sure he’d welcome your friendship.”

Marcus laughs and stands up, Perry faithfully at his side. “See. That’s what I‘m talking about. This is going to work out great.” He walks down the stairs and stops just in front of me. I freeze, not knowing exactly what he’s planning to do. He leans in and my breath hitches involuntarily, causing his eyes to crease with a knowing grin. Something about his nearness is making me shake as he holds my eyes and reaches down to take the lead and Perry’s slipped collar out of my hand. I struggle to let it go. I can’t even think of anything to say as I watch him secure my dog. I’m just working on the breathing part while my cheeks burn with my body’s betrayal.

“I’ll see you soon, Lisa.” His voice is a gentle murmur as he returns the lead to my hand, ensuring his fingers brush lightly against mine at the same time. A ripple of electricity shoots up my arm and I clench my jaw, wishing it would fuck off.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” I force out, trying to regain a little composure and control.

“I genuinely hope not.” He winks then walks straight past me, climbing into his silver Porsche 911.

For what feels like the billionth time since I met him, I’m rolling my eyes at his entitled bullshit. Who does he think he is waltzing in on my life uninvited? Still, I can’t help but release a chuckle as I watch such a tall man fold himself up into a tiny sports car. It just looks comical.

“What a douche,” I mutter as the Porsche rumbles down the road. Perry barks once and I take that as him agreeing with me. Although based on his earlier reaction to Marcus, I think it was more a ‘come back’ bark than anything else. Traitor.

* * *

“Lisa. Lisa!” I hear from behind me as I enter the office on Monday morning. I turn to find Erin bounding down the hallway towards me. “I just wanted to thank you again for those tickets. Saturday night was absolutely epic. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun. You wouldn’t believe all the celebrities we met backstage. I spoke to Kurt Marx.” She bounces on her toes. “Do you know him? He’s on that MTV reality show about his dad, Jimmy. You have to know him. Ohmigawd. It’s my favourite show, and Marcus Bailey is my absolute favourite singer. And I got autographs from them both. Thank you so, so much! It was just—”

“It was my pleasure.” I hold up my hand to interrupt her gushing. “I was never going to go, so I'm glad the tickets went to someone who enjoyed it.”

“Oh, I did. Very much. So did my friend.”

“Excellent.” Lifting my briefcase to show her I still haven’t made it to my office, I tilt my head to indicate that I'm about to leave.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry. Have a great day. I just wanted to say thanks, and let you know that if you ever need anything from me—and I mean anything—just ask.” She lifts her hand up to cover her mouth conspiratorially. “Like if you need me to mark you here when you're running late just let me know. I’m more than happy to help you out. Anything you need. Anything. Just ask.”

I can't help but laugh. "Thank you, Erin. I'll make sure I remember that."

As I walk to my office smiling, I realise I’ll never have to take a call I don’t want as long as Erin is on reception. With Marcus Bailey on the chase, she can be my gatekeeper. That’s a pretty sweet deal as far as I’m concerned.

“Good morning.”

“Holy shit,” I gasp as I enter my office and find Sandra sitting behind my desk. “What are you doing in here?”

“Waiting for you, obviously,” she replies.

She doesn’t appear very impressed with me. “What’s up?”

“Oh. Nothing…nothing important anyway.” She lowers her eyes and scratches at something non-existent on my desktop. I place my bag on the floor and sit down in the visitor’s chair.

“Alright. I give. What’s not important but has you sighing petulantly?”

“Like I said, it’s nothing. I just typed up the recording you sent through to me this weekend and well… I thought you said he didn’t try anything.”

“Who? Marcus Bailey?”

“Yeah. You didn’t stop the recording when you finished talking to him because it recorded him asking you out to dinner.”

“Did it also record me refusing him?”

“Yes, it did. But why didn’t you tell me he asked you out?”

“Why does it matter? It’s not like I went. It’s not like you dated him… right? He’s just some guy who took advantage of his fame with you because you look a lot like that Naomi woman he was obviously in love with. You aren’t actually hung up on him are you?”

“How do you know about Naomi Prendergast?” She narrows her eyes.

I shrug and look away for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable. “Because…I Googled him. I was embarrassed after the interview and wanted to see if he’d cause any trouble because of it.” Now I’m pulling some vague reasoning out of my arse because I don’t want to admit the man intrigues me. I mean, who asks a woman out, gets knocked back and stood up then shows up at her house deciding they want to be friends? I’ll give him one thing, he’s persistent.

Sandra sighs. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just thought you would have told me is all. We could have laughed about it. It was pretty funny the way you rebuffed him. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me.” She drops her eyes, looking genuinely hurt.

“I didn’t tell you because you were so upset about seeing him again. I didn’t want you to know he hit on me too.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to feel cheap. Because that’s what rock stars do, they use women like napkins and throw them away, forgotten.”

Her brow pinches together. “I’m not stupid, Lisa. I know he probably has no idea who I am anymore. I know he’s probably done exactly what he did with me with at least a hundred other women since. But Lisa…he’s amazing.” Wait. What? “I have never had a man with his skills before. After the interview, he hit on me. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but there was something about him. He seemed… I don’t know… vulnerable. I ended up falling for it and I had sex with him in the dressing room. But it didn’t end there. He took me back to his hotel and we spent the whole night talking, and… well… it was mind blowing. I ended up spending the whole weekend with him, and as much as I know I’m probably not the only one he’s done that with. I still don’t want to know for sure. I guess I’ve been hanging onto it. Hoping I was special, but hearing him ask you out too… well… it just confirms what I knew all along; I was just another girl to him.” She stands up and touches her fingers to the corner of her eyes, making sure that it doesn’t smudge her make up. “I don’t know why I’m upset. I guess I just thought you’d be honest with me.”

I stand up. “I’m sorry, Sandra. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I just didn’t know the extent of your time together.”

She shakes her head. “It’s OK. I’m being an idiot. He’s a rock star for fuck’s sake. As if he’d really give a shit about a couple of girls working at a magazine right?”

I think back to Sunday morning when he was waiting for me on my front porch and bite at my bottom lip. Is that him giving a shit? Or is that just what he does? Either way, I don’t want to find out. “Exactly. I’m sure he’s moved on twenty times already,” I tell her, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to tell her he’s continuing to pursue me. “We should probably forget he even existed. I think that’s only fair.”

She laughs and gives a little sniff. “Yeah. Get our own back.”

I reach out and give her upper arm a squeeze. “For sure. He’s not worth it.”

With a wan smile, she rises from my desk and heads out the door, telling me she’ll talk to me later.

“Bye, Sandra.” When she’s gone, I sit and stare at my hand, remembering the way it felt when his fingers brushed against mine. It’s cruel that men like this exist. They run around making women feel like they’re the centre of the world, then they just…disappear. Or worse, they stay and fuck everything that moves on the side. “I don’t want you,” I whisper to the feeling beneath my skin. “Go away.”

God, what is it about these men that makes women go stupid? I have a genuine fear right now that Marcus Bailey is going to make a complete mess of my life and destroy one of the closest friendships I have. All because he can’t take no for an answer.

Five

Lisa

Spending two weeks looking over my shoulder is exhausting. I keep expecting Marcus to pop up again and get in my way. Thankfully, all has been quiet on my end. No random notes or visits to my home. Maybe he’s bored already? A girl can hope.

Marcus is lucky I don’t want him in my life, or I’d be feeling particularly pissed about now. He went to the trouble of finding me then… poof. Nothing. I’m glad he’s gone, but I’m feeling put out over the anxiety he’s caused me. I jump when the phone rings, I hold my breath when I open my front door, grind my teeth when mail comes for me at work. If he wasn’t planning on pursuing this ‘friendship’ he should have left well enough alone. I don’t need his brand of bullshit in my life. He’s disrupted my calm.

I have half a mind to track him down and give him a piece of my mind. Teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. But I don’t. I’m not about the revenge life. Well, not anymore…

Forcing thoughts of bloody Marcus from my mind, I prepare myself for my Friday night. This week, I’m planning a quiet night in for a change. Who am I kidding? I plan pretty much every night in. I don’t go for whole nightclub scene. I never really have. No… I’m lying. Once upon a time, I was a bleached-blonde party girl who could drink all night and sleep all day. My family was pretty connected, so bouncers would turn a blind eye, letting me into clubs and bars well before I was legally allowed. It all got very boring and repetitive by the time I hit my twenties and I was working all the time. I never understood how my friends could keep reliving the same night out, over and over. It felt like Groundhog Day. Eventually, I stopped accepting invitations. I guess that’s how my ex found it so easy to cheat on me. While I was at home, enjoying the simple things, he was out partying, enjoying other women…

It still hurts to think about it. Jon and I became an item just before my career started taking off. There was this huge New Years Eve party at some club one of my parents’ business associates owned. My friends begged me to go, and I relented since I didn’t want to spend New Years Eve alone. Jon was a friend of a friend of a friend. He was at the beginning of his career, attending a party with all the right people. At first, I was wary of his motivation behind talking to me, but then he took care of me when I got a little too drunk. He was the perfect gentleman, taking me back home and tucking me safely into bed without trying to cop a feel. The next day, he called to make sure I was OK then came over and took me to lunch. He was beautiful to look at, exciting to talk to, and took his time getting to know me.

He wooed me, expertly, and he slowly became my world, my one. When he proposed, I cried and said yes straight away. I seriously thought we would be together always. He was perfect for me, and I was perfect for him. I was going to take some time away from work so we could have kids who didn’t have to travel constantly like I did. There would be two perfect children and we’d be the best parents ever. But it was all bullshit. The man liked the way I made him look and the doors knowing me opened for him. He never loved me.

The last I heard, he was engaged to some girl who could easily be my doppelgänger. She looks exactly how I did back then. The man has a type. Well… two types. He wants a ‘good girl’ to wait for him at home, while he ‘sows his wild oats’ with his other type—anything with a pussy and two legs.

I shake my head, and for the second time tonight, I force thoughts of self-indulgent men out of my mind. I broke up with Jon over a year ago. He’s nothing to me now. Really, I should thank him. He opened my eyes and taught me that romance, love and a happily ever after are all just piles of shit we’re fed as kids to give us hope that the world is still magical when it isn’t. It’s full of lies, deceit and disappointment, and the faster we get used to that, the better off we’ll all be. Dogs are better than boys in my opinion.

Picking up my remote, I power on the television and flop down on the couch. Perry immediately climbs up next to me and rests his doggy head on my lap. I select a Jason Statham movie on Netflix then reach out for my glass of wine while I wait for it to load.

I take a sip, enjoying the cool, sweet liquid as it tantalises my taste buds and slides down my throat, that first sip of relaxation after a long week dealing with picky clients.

Absentmindedly, I sip at my wine and scratch Perry’s head as the movie starts, opening with a fight scene in the middle of a London street. Perfect. No love stories for me. I don’t believe in them anymore…

* * *

Marcus

“You know what you need right?” Craig says, as he walks with me to my car.

I flip my key over my finger and let it slap against the palm of my hand. “I know you’re about to enlighten me.”

His blue eyes reflect the lights of the car park that also makes his strawberry blonde hair look even redder. He’s an odd-looking man with a soft jawline and shrewd eyes. But he’s a good manager, and hasn’t done me wrong since we started working together at the start of my solo career.

“Are you ready for this?” He turns to me and rubs his hands together as if he’s warming them up so he can use them to talk. Craig is a big hand gesturer. I swear that one day he’s going to knock someone out with those flailing arms of his. I often wonder if it’s because he’s a bit on the short and freckly side, so he tries to compensate for his lack of height and looks with an over the top personality and lots of money.

“I am.” I nod, waiting for his deep insight into my needs.

“A ton of pussy.”

“Pussy?”

“Tons of it. I can’t help but notice you’re a little on edge lately. And I also can’t help but hear the rumours about you saying no to more than a few girls. That’s not good for a man, Marcus. Your balls are so used to ejaculating that they’re gonna swell and explode.” He holds his hand up and opens his fist for emphasis, mimicking an explosion in his throat. “Do you want to be a soprano?”

Chuckling, I shake my head as I open my car door. “I don’t need a ton of pussy, Craig. I’ve had a few ton’s worth of pussy in my lifetime already. Maybe I want to try having one pussy for a while.”

Craig laughs and shakes his head. “You? With just one pussy? That’s like saying… I don’t even know. It’s so fucking wrong that I can’t even think of an analogy for it. You’ve lost your mind, mate. You’re not a one pussy man.”

“Goodnight, Craig. I’ll see you Monday,” I say, ignoring him as I climb into my car and shut the door. Craig continues to shake his head as I drive away.

I guess I can’t blame him for laughing at me. It’s not like I’ve ever had a steady girlfriend. I don’t even know if I’m capable of having a relationship. The closest I ever came to commitment was when I gave up groupies to try and show Naomi I was worthy of her. Not only did that not work out, it only lasted two weeks.

Naomi.

I hope your fame keeps you warm at night, Marcus.

I can’t get her parting words out of my head. It’s been ringing in my ears since she accosted me in the limo after my unplugged show. She’s always had this uncanny ability to see past my bullshit and cut me to the core with a few well-placed words. Now, as I step back and take a look at my life, all I can see is a man who has everything, and no one to share it with. Touché, Naomi. She’s got my number, even though my brother has her.

Maybe I’m just tired. When I think about it, I’ve been screwing around since I was sixteen years old. I’m now twenty-six. That’s ten years of senseless fucking. I know, I know. It’s most guys’ dream come true. And, until recently, I loved it. I mean, who doesn’t want to get lost between the legs of a beautiful woman every night? But like everything in life, repetition breeds boredom, and boredom breeds contempt. I’m tired of going through the same routine, day after day, night after night. I need something different, a new focus.

That’s why when I pull up outside Lisa’s house, I’m glad to see the inside lights on. It’s time for me to experience something real for a change. With her voluptuous curves, and her fiery attitude, Lisa feels real to me.

I hope she doesn’t slam the door in my face.

Lisa

Engrossed in my movie, it isn’t until Perry jumps off the couch and starts barking that I realise someone knocked on my door. Picking up the remote, I hit pause and shoo Perry out of the way so I can see who’s there.

Glancing through the peephole, I close my eyes and wish away my visitor. Nothing good can come of this. “I’m not home,” I call out, feeling slightly annoyed that he’s here. Again. What part of ‘I’m not interested’ isn’t he getting? I thought I got rid of him…

“That’s OK,” Marcus replies. “I’ll just wait out here until you get back.”

Despite my annoyance, I can’t stop my mouth from quirking in a slight smile at his response. “You’ll be waiting a while. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back,” I reply, watching him through the peephole.

He smiles and leans against the door. “OK,” is all he says, as he pushes back and moves to sit on my front steps.

I assume that he won’t stay there for too long and move back to the couch to continue watching my movie.

“Perry,” I call, trying to get my preferred companion to re-join me on the couch. But he won’t budge from the door. He just sits there, looking at it, then at me as his tail wags impatiently. “I'm not letting him in. You’re wasting your time.”

Perry whines then scratches at the door. “Seriously, Perry, what is your deal with this guy?” Perry responds by looking at me with his sad doggy eyes and continues to whine.

I roll my eyes and walk back over to the door. “Perry, if you still had your balls we’d be taking a trip to the vet after this. You’re supposed to be loyal to your owner. Not to some guy you’ve only met once.”

Seeing me place my hand on the doorknob, Perry’s tail wags like crazy. I’ve never seen him so eager for me to let a visitor in.

“You might as well come in. My dog would like to see you,” I say as I open the door.

Marcus stands immediately and turns his charming smile my way. “Your dog?”

“Yes. My dog.”

I stand aside as he walks in and immediately kneels down to scratch Perry behind the ears. “Oh, you’re a good dog. Aren’t you?”

As I shut the door, I realise I’m not really dressed for visitors. I’m just wearing black lounging pants, a white singlet top and an oversized cardigan with my UGG boots on my feet. My hair is twisted up in a lopsided bun and I don’t have a scrap of makeup on my face. Oh, my god. Why am I worried about how I look?

“I’m going to finish my movie,” I say, leaving Marcus and Perry to their love fest. I walk back to the couch and take a seat before pressing play again.

“Is this the one where he’s into the nun?” Marcus asks, as he sits down beside me. Perry, the little traitor, jumps up beside him and lays his head on Marcus’s lap. Once again, my eyes roll.

“She’s not a full-on nun. She was forced to become one. It’s not quite as sordid as you think,” I reply.

“If you say so.”

We sit quietly for a while, watching the movie together. This feels strange. There’s a man I barely know in my house, and my dog would rather be pet by him than by me. Uncool. I’m a third wheel in my own living room. I take a rather large gulp of wine and sigh.

I catch Marcus watching me as I set my glass on the coffee table. “I suppose I should offer you a drink. I mean, you’re officially hanging out with Perry, but he doesn’t like sharing his water bowl.”

He grins. “Sure. I’d like a drink.”

I hit pause again and head to the kitchen to fetch a glass and fill it for Marcus. I also return to the lounge room with the rest of the bottle to refill my glass. I’ll need more wine if I’m going to get through this visit. “I only have wine.”

“Wine is fine.” He accepts his glass and proceeds to watch me refill mine. My hand is shaking.

“Do I make you nervous?”

I lift my now very full glass and gulp down almost half of it. “Are you asking this me, or the me who’s at the bottom of this glass?” I ask, tilting my glass toward him.

He chuckles and takes a sip from his own glass. “Both.”

Perry lifts his eyes and looks at me. He seems so comfy right now. I wish I could be comfortable around Marcus.

“Then yes, I’m nervous having you here. When I finish this glass I won’t care much. “I remain standing, still holding my glass while I use the other to wrap my cardigan tighter around my body.

“Why are you nervous having me here?”

“Because I don’t know you. I don’t know why you’re here.”

“I told you. I want us to be friends.”

“Why? You can be friends with anyone.”

“That’s not true. It’s actually very hard for me to find a friend. Everyone wants something from me.” I know a little something about that feeling.

“Is this because I didn’t know who you were the other day?”

He shrugs. “That’s part of it.”

I move and sit on the single lounge seat instead of right next to him, tuck my legs up and take another drink from my wine. My head is starting to feel the dizzying effects of the alcohol, helping me to relax during this odd visit. I don’t like the way he’s barging into my world, but I can understand how a man like him could be tired of fake friends. Back when I still lived with my parents, I came in contact with a few of their business associates who had famous ties, and many of them spoke of the same feeling; it’s hard to find people you trust who don’t want something from you. They were some of the most messed up people I’ve ever known too. Being famous isn’t for me.

“I looked you up,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes a little. “So, I think I know who you are now.”

His brow lifts. “Who am I?”

I blow out my breath slowly. “Existentially. I don’t even think you know the answer to that question. Your life seems too fast-paced for even you to have any idea.”

“Who am I theoretically then?” he asks, watching me over the rim of his glass.

“Theoretically, you’re a typical rock star. Your life seems to revolve around parties and women—neither keeping your attention long. You’re constantly on the move, and besides knowing you’re in your hometown now, I’d hedge a bet that you’ve spent a hell of a lot of time not knowing where in the world you are at any given moment.” I’ve heard a lot of rockers write the name of the city they’re in on the top of their set list so they don’t accidentally say the wrong one on stage.

He drops his attention to Perry, running his fingers over the dog’s golden coat. “Call me Carmen Sandiego.” He smiles, making light of my assessment.

“You also seem…” How do I say this without being completely insulting? “um, immature.”

His eyes snap to mine. “Immature?”

Oh dear. “Childish?”

He frowns. “That isn’t any better.”

“Well, it’s the best I can come up with. I saw the YouTube video that launched your career. The one with your old band.” He drops his eyes again. “Why did you humiliate her like that? Did she cheat on you?”

“There’s a thousand articles out there explaining what happened. If you looked me up, you would have seen them.”

“In my experience, the press tells a different kind of truth.”

He lifts his brow. “Don’t I know it.”

“Why don’t you tell me your truth then? If you want to be my friend as much as you say you do, why don’t we start with some honesty?”

“Is this conversation on the record or off?”

“I’m not a reporter. It’s always off the record.”

“Then why did you interview me?”

“I told you. I was helping a friend. I work in advertising normally.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Mm-hm. But you’re getting off track.”

He sits back and runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “There’s not a lot to say. For once, the papers got it pretty right. I was in love with her, but she chose my brother instead.”

“My ex cheated on me,” I confide. “I totalled his car in retaliation.”

“Nice car?”

“Maserati.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Guess he deserved it.”

“Cheaters deserve whatever they get.”

“She didn’t cheat on me. Not exactly, anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“It all goes back to high school. I always had a thing for her. So did my brother. When she joined the band, we all agreed to abstain. But being on the road, things got heated anyway. I did everything she wanted, trying to prove I was the kind of man she needed, then I overheard her and Theo…” He pauses and clears his throat. He doesn’t need to elaborate for me to realise he heard them in bed together. “I lost it. I didn’t expect it to turn into this crazy career I’ve had. I just wanted to hurt them, and the best way I could think to do that was to ruin the band, set the world on fire.” He tips his glass back and drains it. “It didn’t work. We’re all more famous than we ever were. Naomi works with Radio Silence, and Matiari is their official supporting band. They’re together and happy, and I’m…” He looks into the bottom of his empty wineglass. “Really, really rich.”

“And lonely?” I offer, because there’s no way this man would be hugging my dog on my couch if he wasn’t. This is a pure human need for company and understanding. It has little to do with me, and everything to do with him feeling trapped in this world he’s created for himself. Fame isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.

He sits back and rubs Perry’s belly. “Nah. I’m not lonely. I’ve got Perry.” He flashes me one of those million dollar grins, and my heart goes out to him. There’s nothing worse than feeling alone in a room full of people.

“Listen. If you’re going to push this friend thing on me, then I need this to stay on the down-low. No more grand gestures of tickets sent to the office. I don’t want anyone to know we know each other.”

He studies me with wary eyes. “I thought I was only here for Perry.”

I shrug. “Well, it doesn’t help Perry if I refuse to get along with his friends.”

He laughs, and the sound is almost musical. “I suppose it could make things awkward, and I can keep things on the down-low.”

“Thank you. I live a simple life, Marcus. And I like it that way. I don’t want my face online or in print. If someone asks you if you know Lisa Russell, I want you to say ‘who?’ I don’t need my life turned upside down just because you need a friend.”

“I can accept those terms.”

“And no funny business. Friends only, OK?”

“Deal.”

“Good.” I get up and move to sit next to him, Perry sprawled on the couch between us. “Because I want to finish watching this movie, and I can’t see the screen properly from over there.”

“No funny business,” he repeats, letting out a deep breath. I press play on the movie. The nun is drunk and giggling, but I don’t get to see much more when Marcus turns to me again. “I bet I can get you to change your mind.”

I glance his way, my mouth turned up slightly in an amused grin. “Is that so?” He has no idea how stubborn I can be.

“No mortal woman can resist my charms for too long.”

I drop my head back and let out this massive throaty laugh. He’s delusional. “Perhaps I’m the exception to that rule.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, voice soft enough to pebble my skin.

My eyes find his and they lock. Something passes between us, and I look away feeling as though I know him far more than I should. Perry makes a contented sound and snuggles in, his head on Marcus’s lap, feet and tail on mine. No mortal woman can resist my charms for too long.

“I think I’ll surprise you, Marcus,” I say. After all, I’m the exception to the rule.

Six

Lisa

When the movie finished, Marcus stayed a while longer and we just talked. Surprisingly, it was nice. And extremely normal since rock stars are just people at the end of the day. Their shit stinks the same as everyone else.

I appreciated Marcus telling me the real reason behind the blow up with his old band. He hardly knows me, so it took guts for him to open up like that. It made me see him as more human than cocky rock god. And the fact Perry loves him is a huge tick in his favour. Perry likes people, but he never likes people like he loves Marcus. Dogs are good judges of character, so I’m willing to give Marcus a chance just because Perry wants me to. But only as a friend. I can’t stress that part enough.

Most girls would think I’m insane for friend-zoning a man like Marcus Bailey. But it’s with careful consideration that I continue to rebuff him. I think he’s stunning. I think he’s charming. I think he’s sexy as hell. But he’s famous, a rock star. I don’t sleep with men I’m not dating, and from what I can tell about Marcus, he doesn’t date. And even if he decided to give dating a try, I can’t afford to give my heart to a man who’s slept with more women than I’ve even met in my twenty-eight years on earth. On top of that, I like my life. I like living on my own, doing my own thing. I don’t want the noise Marcus’s rock’n’roll life would transfer to mine. I value my quiet. I can’t let him in.

As I do my daily walk around the neighbourhood while Perry marks out his territory, I can’t help but run our conversation through my head and come to the conclusion that Marcus needs to fix his relationship with his family. He admitted to seeing Naomi since he returned to Australia, said she was trying to get him to call Theo and sort things out. His parents have been begging for the same resolution.

“Have you spoken to him at all since the band split?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s more that every time I try, this anger boils up and reminds me why I left. We both agreed not pursue her, and he broke his word. I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you never had a chance?”

He frowned, the idea of any woman rebuffing his advances an obviously foreign concept. “If I’d gone after her, I would have had her.” Had her. Just those two words gave me great insight into the size of his ego. I think the only thing in Marcus’s way is himself.

I’ve always been a firm believer that people come into your life for a reason then leave when that reason is fulfilled. I have a feeling my friendship with Marcus is the universe’s way of getting Marcus to look at his life and make some changes so he can reconnect with his family. It also might be teaching me to stop being so judgemental of people. I mean, I immediately decided Marcus wasn’t worth my time because of who he is. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind that there could actually be a real person underneath that façade who is starved for some sort of meaningful human interaction. That was cruel of me.

My only problem with this whole ‘friendship’ thing is that I don’t really know what I should tell Sandra. I know there’s nothing going on between the two of them, and I know Marcus is unlikely to even remember her. But I also know she remembers him very well. And to my eyes, she seems hung up on him a little. If I let her know he’s been visiting me, it could really damage our friendship. I don’t want that. I’ve only known her for a year, but she’s become my best friend in that time. I don’t want a fleeting acquaintance to get in the way of that. I don’t think she can handle knowing Marcus is spending time with me, and since I don’t think I can get rid of Marcus until he’s reconciled with his brother, I think it’s best to keep our involvement a secret—unless she asks me a direct question. I don’t see the point in upsetting her, especially when Marcus will go on tour before long and be nothing but a faded memory.

Perry stops at yet another tree and cocks his leg. I stand there patiently, lost in my thoughts, and wonder what I'm even worried about. I’ll hardly see Marcus. The last visits were two weeks apart, I can pretty much guarantee he’ll treat me like a therapist, visiting only when he’s feeling down in the dumps. He’ll spill his guts and leave then I won’t see him until the fucking and partying get boring and he wants to feel normal again. Each time, my advice will be the same: call your family. It’s what he needs.

Perry pulls at his lead, snapping me from my thoughts. I start walking, and he settles in beside me at a happy trot, panting and sniffing at everything. As we near our house, he lets out an excited yelp then surges forward, almost reefing his lead from my hand in his bid to reach home faster. Instantly I see why. Marcus’s car is parked out the front of my house again.

Seriously?

My heart beats a little faster, and I ignore it. “Looks like your man crush is here to see you,” I say to Perry as soon as we’re within Marcus’s earshot. He’s looking very casual sitting on my front step in a pair of well-worn jeans, a faded red retro looking T-shirt, and a baseball cap for some team I don't even know. In his hands, he holds a pair of Ray ban Aviators that he swings side-to-side by the arm.

“Hey.” He smiles.

“Didn’t I just see you last night?” Perry pulls forward, so I release the lead and let him run to Marcus.

“Yeah. But I missed my buddy.” He scratches Perry everywhere, and Perry makes tiny joyful whining sounds.

“I feel like we’ll end up fighting for custody over him one day,” I joke.

Marcus takes a hold of Perry’s lead and stands when I pull out my key. “I thought maybe we could do something today? Go for coffee or something?”

“Um.”

“I would have called first—to check if you have plans—but I forgot to get your number.”

I scrunch my face up a little. “I don’t know. I’m a private person for a reason. I don’t want to be spotted out with you and draw attention to myself.”

“I’ll wear the hat and glasses. No one even notices me when I wear a hat. I promise. Let me take you out for breakfast. It’s the least I can do after gatecrashing your movie and drinking half your wine.”

“You could have just sent me a new bottle of wine.”

He crouches then retrieves a bottle from inside a green bag stashed next to my steps, holding it up triumphantly. “There’s some other stuff in here too, but I have no clue what it is.”

“Let me guess, your assistant packed it for you?”

He slides the bottle back into the back. “Sure did.”

“How thoughtful,” I say, accepting the bag as I slide my key in the door to let us in.

He unclips the lead from Perry’s collar then follows me into the kitchen where I make quick work of unpacking the green grocery bag. “What did your assistant think you needed the wine for?” I ask, pulling out sliced meat, olives and cheese with crackers and quince paste.

He shrugs. “I told her I owed someone a bottle of wine. She asked what the wine had to go with. I said a movie. This is what she gave me.”

“Well, I hope you pay her well. You left here at midnight, and you’re back again at eight the next morning. She’s gone above and beyond here.”

“She always does. And I pay her well. She puts up with me and manages my life. She’s worth three times her weight in gold.”

“Well, tell her I said thank you.” Returning from the fridge, I grab the remaining items and stash them in my pantry.

“I will. She’ll appreciate that.”

“And, um, how old is she?” Shit. “I mean, what’s your assistant’s name?”

He grins. “Karen. She’s a gorgeous shade of grey. Old enough to retire.”

“And she chooses to follow you around the globe?”

“She’s a young sixty.”

“OK.” I wipe my hands on my sides and look around the kitchen for something else to do. “I suppose we should get moving.”

“You’re letting me take you to breakfast?”

I bite my lip. “Sure. But if you take that hat off, I’m running the other way. I don’t want even one photo of us to end up online somewhere. If we’re caught, you’re going to have to break up with Perry and leave me alone forever.”

“Wow. You really hate this fame game don’t you?”

“More than you know.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’ll just put Perry in the backyard,” I say, not wanting to elaborate at all. Talking about my dislike for famous people would mean explaining why I dislike them, which would lead to discussing my family’s connections to them. And I hate talking about my family—particularly my dad. So that’s a no from me.

Herding Perry through the laundry, I check to make sure he has fresh water in his bowl before I grab my purse and head towards the living area. Just before I get there, I see a flash of myself in the hall mirror and freeze, taking in my appearance.

Shit. I should probably change. I’m currently in a pair of leggings, an oversized t-shirt that has ‘Wicked 66’ printed on it and, a pair of running shoes. My hair is in a high ponytail, and once again, I have no makeup on. I hardly look decent enough to go out to breakfast.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I call out, taking a take a step towards my room to change. Marcus tells me to take my time, but I stop myself. This isn’t a date. I readjust my course for the bathroom, splash some water on my face, spray some deodorant on, then head for the front door. “Let’s go.”

“That was fast,” Marcus says with a smile, sliding from my kitchen stool to follow me outside. As I lock up, he hits the button on his key chain to beep his Porsche open.

“Were you expecting me to change?” I ask, wondering if going out in public with me looking like a sloth is a problem for him.

“No.” He laughs. “I was just expecting you to take longer. Girls normally say they’ll be a minute and you’re waiting a half hour.”

“I did say I was the exception.”

“That you are,” he says, pulling the passenger door open for me. “And your outfit is perfect. Inconspicuous and arse hugging. I love it.”

The burn hits my cheeks before the snark hits my mouth. “Friends don’t check out each other’s arses, Marcus.”

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip as he makes a show of letting his eyes move down my body while he slides his aviators over his eyes. Fuck. I hate that I’m feeling nervous right now.

“Just get in the car, skippy.”

I do as he asks. I’ve never been in a Porsche before, and I immediately regret getting in this one. “Um, do you think we could take my car?” I ask when he gets in. I’m trying to adjust in my seat so my head isn’t pressed up against the roof at an odd angle. This is ridiculous.

He looks over at me and starts laughing. “What the hell? I’m taller than you. Why is your head pressed up against the roof?”

“It’s not my fault that all my height is in my body,” I retort, feeling indignant. Seriously, who makes cars with such small interiors anyway? “I don’t even know how the hell you’re fitting in here. What are you doing? Driving from the back seat?”

He laughs again. “Almost.”

I open the door and get out. “I’m sorry. I can’t sit in there. I feel like I’m on that episode of the Simpsons when that really tall man has a tiny car because that’s all he can afford, and Nelson laughs at him. Every time we’re at a set of lights someone is going to look over and go ‘Har Har!’ and then I’ll have to embarrass each and every one of them for it. It’ll make for a very long day, and we’d never get the chance to eat because I’ll be too busy wreaking vengeance upon all those who had the audacity to find my abnormally long body, squished into a tiny Porsche hilarious.”

“All right. We’ll take your car,” he says, his eyes bugging after my ridiculous rant. “I’m driving though.”

“Whatever, dude.” I dig into my handbag and press the button on my key fob to open my garage before tossing him the keys. “I hate driving anyway. You can drive all you want.”

“You have a LandCruiser?” he asks as the door lifts to reveal my car.

“Yeah? So? I like to sit up high. You’ll find that even at your height, you’ll be able to sit in the front seat of this car.”

“It’s more a truck than a car.”

“Yeah, well… one day I might decide to go four wheel driving on a beach somewhere. And then I’ll be high-fiving myself for being awesome enough to buy a LandCruiser beforehand.”

“Have you ever taken it four wheel driving?”

“Nope,” I reply.

“Then why would you buy a top of the line four wheel drive.”

“Because it looks badarse.”

“Fair enough.” He opens the car door and climbs into the cabin. When he starts the engine, The Doors, Break on Through blares out the speakers. I make a move to turn it down but he stops me.

“Leave it,” he yells over the sound. “It’s much better than that modern shit people are playing these days.”

I can’t help but laugh as I relax in my seat and he reverses us out of the driveway. I’m surprised he isn’t singing along, actually. He’s just tapping out the beat on the steering wheel with his fingers instead. When the track ends and 20th Century Fox starts playing, I’m the one who sings along. It’s actually been hurting me not to because I freaking love singing in the car.

“She’s a…” Tipping my head back, I yell out the chorus line. I can sing just fine. I’m actually capable of playing an instrument or two as well, but there’s something about yelling to really loud music that feels so good.

Marcus is grinning, alternating between watching me and the road, so I yell the song at him until it gets to the point where we’re both laughing so hard I can’t even sing anymore.

“What’s so funny? Don’t you like being yelled/sung at?” I ask, forcing my words through my laughter.

He responds with more laughter, and I find myself just watching him and admiring this moment of happiness with a person I never thought I’d want any moments with. He’s everything I promised to steer clear of, and here I am, breaking my own rules and creating secrets no one will ever learn. Slowly, my laughter fades and my expression grows serious as the song comes to an end. I force myself to look away from him. He’s just… too bright to look at sometimes.

Shifting my attention to the passing scenery, I realise we’re on the highway near Springwood. Since leaving Blaxland, we’ve passed a stack of cafes already.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I lower the volume of the music so I can be heard.

“For breakfast.”

“Where?”

“Katoomba.”

“Katoomba? Are you serious? That’s half an hour away. I’ll die of starvation by the time we get there.”

“If we were in my car, I could offer you a protein bar. But your freakishly long body cancelled out that option.”

“It’s not freakishly long. It’s elegantly long. Get your adjectives right, dude. And protein bars aren’t food. They’re soap mixed with dirt and plasticine.”

“What?” He laughs out the word.

“You heard me. Whoever came up with those things has no taste buds. I prefer to keep this tex-mex mix in my car for snacking,” I say, opening the centre console and pulling out the bag of nuts and corn and pretzels and whatever those other crunchy things are, and dig in.

“What the hell are you eating?” he asks with a frown.

“Tex-mex. It’s like cheesy barbecue flavoured nuts and crunchy stuff. I think they deep fry these corn kernels. They’re great.” I pull one out and crunch down.

“Do you know how many carbs are in that?”

“Nope.” I throw another handful in my mouth. “And I don’t care.” He eyes me while I continue eating. “Want some?”

“Maybe just a couple of nuts.”

“Dude, you have to eat the lot of it together. It’s a cornucopia of texture.” I tip some in my hand and hold it out to him. “It must be experienced as a whole.” He glances at my cupped hand and grimaces. “You’ll still have abs after it. I promise.”

With a roll of his eyes, he holds out his hand and takes the snack mix, shotting it into his mouth before crunching down. “It’s good,” he says when he swallows.

“It’s great,” I correct, refilling his waiting hand.

“It’s delicious.”

“Better than a protein bar.” I seal the bag and tuck it away before we end up eating the whole lot and ruin our appetites. “What’s in Katoomba that’s worth driving all that way just for breakfast?”

“Lots of cafés and lots of quiet. I find if I go where no one expects me to be, no one bothers me at all. People think celebrities hang out at trendy restaurants in the city. They don’t think you’d drive into the mountains for a quiet cup of coffee.”

“Good point. I’ll go with your judgement then. I’m sure you’ve got this down pat by now.”

“I do. If you look at the photos of me online, they’re all photos I knew about. Each one is posed for. There isn’t a single image of me walking down the street or sitting in a restaurant. I know how to Clark Kent my Superman.”

I think back and realise he’s right. Every photo I looked at was at an event or concert, and he was obviously aware of the cameras. He’s obviously careful and cautious about how he spends his time.

“You know, Marcus. I’m starting to think there’s more to you than a pretty face.”

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

“Previous to this I’ve been trying to get rid of you. This is the first time I’ve paid attention.”

He chuckles. “You weren’t paying attention when I showed up at your house the first time?”

“No way.” I wave my hand about. “That kind of thing happens to me all the time.”

“Men on your front step?”

“Celebrities on my front step. I’m very well connected, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” He laughs, continuing to focus on the road.

I look over at him, studying his profile, wondering if he had any idea how well connected I am. I feel like he’d be one of the few people who’d understand why I keep the information to myself. But then, I can’t be sure he’d keep the information to himself. He obviously has impulse control problems. And you can’t trust people like that not to slip up and—

“What?” he asks with a grin and a quick glance in my direction. Oh, my god. What if he does know exactly who I am, and he’s targeting me to get close to my parents? “Lisa?”

“Huh?” I blink, clearing my head. What if…

“You’re staring.”

“I was?”

“You sure were.”

“Oh. I guess I was just thinking.”

“About me, I hope.”

“Kinda. Did you ever…” I bite my lip, trying to work out how to ask this without giving out unnecessary information.

“Did I…” He glances at me, brows raised.

“When was the first time you saw me?”

“What?” Now he’s frowning.

“I know it’s a weird question.”

“Have we met before?” he asks, a slight edge to his voice.

“No. Never. I…shit. I’m not making any sense.”

“No, you aren’t. Did you lie about not knowing who I was?” OK. Based on that reaction. Maybe this is just a coincidence.

“What? No. I’m just asking why. Out of all the people in this world, why did you chase a friendship with me?”

He shrugs. “I like that you don’t like me.”

“’Cause that’s the perfect basis for a friendship.”

“Of course it is. If someone doesn’t like me, I can win them over. If someone likes me instantly, I’m wary of their motivation.” I know what you mean.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll leak everything you tell me to the press?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t exist online.”

“You Googled Lisa Russell?”

“Fair’s fair.”

“I suppose. But not having an online presence doesn’t mean much.”

“Sure it does. Especially these days. It means you have zero interest in attention. And that summation is backed up by the fact you’ve repeatedly told me to leave you alone.”

“And yet you keep coming back.”

“I can tell I’m already wearing you down.” He flashes me a grin, and I can’t help but smile back. Maybe he’s genuine…

“It’s possible I don’t hate you as much as I thought I would,” I say, pulling out my phone when it vibrates with a call in my bag. I swipe at the screen to reject the call as soon as I see who it is.

“Boyfriend?” Marcus enquires. And it strikes me that with all his flirting and innuendo so far, he’s never found out whether I’m attached or not. Cocky much.

“No. It’s my mum calling for her Saturday gasbag.” I open up the messages to text her.

Me: Busy. Will call later.

“You can talk to her. I don’t mind.”

Mum: ur neva busy

I laugh as my thumbs tap, glad I invested in a privacy screen so Marcus can’t see what I’m about to type. “I do. I’m grateful to have an excuse.”

Me: do any of you know Marcus Bailey?

Mum: Dad or K mite. I don’t

Me: can u ask K?

Her: Will ask when he wakes up.

Me: thx

Mum: y

Me: Work interviewed him and I’m worried he recognised me. But not sure.

Mum: u look 2 different now. I reckon its ur imagination.

Me: probably. Just check.

Mum: He’s hot.

Me: I’m not interested.

Mum: we could arrange it. I hear he likes the ladies…

Me: I will block you. I swear.

Mum: ur no fun 😢

“Thought you didn’t want to talk to her,” Marcus teases.

I stuff my phone back in my bag. “Ugh. I don’t. She’s chatty. Wants to know why I’m busy because the world revolves around her, and I’m not supposed to have a life.” I’m only elaborating slightly. We would have had that exact conversation if I hadn’t asked about Marcus. It was probably a dumb thing to do, maybe I’m being overly suspicious, but now that the thought has entered my head, I won’t be able to shake it until I’m sure. Mum’s probably right and this is just my imagination going wild. I changed my hair, and I’m nowhere near as thin as I used to be. He probably has no clue who I am, or who my father is, and this friendship is a genuine coincidence brought on by Sandra’s need of a favour. Besides, I have zero connections, and I don’t speak to my father anymore, so he has nothing to gain by befriending me. But still, I need to know if his motives truly are about friendship, or if he’s playing some other angle. I won’t be able to relax until I know for sure. I went to a lot of trouble to separate myself from my old life, I don’t want some guy on an ego trip trying to out me.

* * *

Marcus

“This place looks as good as any,” I say, adjusting my hat as we walk down the main street of Katoomba. I love the older style buildings here. Everything looks like it was frozen in time in the fifties or something. It’s quaint, relaxing.

“As long as they have chocolate croissants and coffee, I’m all over it,” Lisa says, walking ahead of me. She pushes through the wood and glass door of the coffee shop and a little bell jingles to announce our arrival. “Oh wow. Smell that.” She inhales, sniffing at the air greedily as her eyes light up at the sight of the all the bakery items to choose from.

“It smells like butter and coffee,” I comment, watching as she presses her face against the display cabinet and asks the girl behind the counter about custard and gelatine and glaze. I could listen to her ask about every ingredient if it means I can continue to stand behind her watching her arse. It’s round and pert, and my palms ache with the need to grab a handful of cheek.

“Marcus?” She clicks in front of my face and I look up to find disapproving eyes. “Tell the girl what you’d like. They all have carbs.” I notice she has her purse in her hand open and ready to pay.

“Put your purse away,” I tell her. “I’ll pay.”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Dude. Not gonna happen. This is my shout. Order what you want.”

“Um… OK, I’ll have the same, I guess.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?” She smiles, handing over a fifty dollar note to the cashier. We’re given our table number—a wooden spoon mounted on a small square with the number ‘26’ handwritten on it—and head outside to take in the sunshine and breathe in a bit of fresh mountain air.

“Maybe we should have brought Perry up here too,” I say, noting a couple of other people with dogs walking up the main street.

“Yeah. You really should have thought of him since he’s your best mate and all,” she teases, smiling at me. “He’d love it up here.”

Lisa laces her fingers together over her waist as she leans back in her chair and lifts her face to the sunshine, taking a deep breath. She’s amazing, completely comfortable around me when most women talk incessantly—unless they have my dick in their mouth—and go out of their way to impress. I like this normalcy. I like that her hair is a mess, and her face is free from makeup. I like that she’s dressed in comfortable clothes, and isn’t flashing her body for all to see. I like that there’s no pretence. She’s just Lisa. I like Lisa.

She lets out a contented sigh that draws my attention to those rather large breasts of hers. Up and down they go hypnotically. I imagine burying my face in them, holding them in my hands, sucking on th—

I clear my throat. “Why did you call him Perry?” I ask, needing a topic change before I can’t fit inside my pants.

She cracks one eye and looks at me before she sits up straighter. See ya, boobs. “Perry Mason. You know that TV show from forever ago?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen it.”

She shrugs. “I spent a lot of time travelling as a kid, and daytime television was my friend. Perry Mason was an attorney who always got to the bottom of things. Nothing escaped his keen eye. Just like my dog. There’s no crumb too small. You also may have noticed he’s pretty cluey. He’s also a good judge of people.”

“Is he?”

“Yeah, well, he got you in the door didn’t he?” she says, just as our croissants and danishes and almond pretzels and raisin buns and eclairs and coffee are delivered.

“Wow,” I say, looking at the spread in front of me.

Lisa grins. “That’ll teach you to listen to what I’m saying instead of staring at my arse in future.”

I wipe a hand over my face to hide my chagrin. Busted.

“Enjoy,” the server says, smiling at our conversation but not giving me a second glance.

When she walks away I tilt my head towards Lisa and tap my hat. “See? No one pays me any attention.”

She rocks her head from side to side thoughtfully. “They give you a little bit of attention. If you didn't want any you’d have to do something about that pretty face of yours.”

“You think I’m pretty?” I bat my eyelashes and pout.

She giggles and picks up her croissant, taking a giant bite that sends chocolate filling oozing out the other end. “Whoops,” she says, flinching forward so the mess lands on her plate.

I take a mouthful of coffee as I watch her amusedly. “You’re a mess.”

“I’m trying to gross you out.” She laughs as chocolate runs down the side of her hand. “Is it working?” When she slides her tongue over the melted thread, my tongue feels thick in my mouth. I want to lick chocolate off every inch of her body.

I swallow hard. “Why don’t you pass me your phone?” I say, nodding at her bag.

“What do you want my phone for?” She frowns, her entire demeanour shifting. Now I want to scroll through the whole thing to see what she’s hiding on there.

“To give you my number.”

“Why do I need your number?”

“So we can call each other. Maybe text. You know, like friends do.”

“Oh. Of course. Um…” She wipes her hands on a napkin then digs in her bag, tapping at the screen so it’s already in the contacts section when she hands it to me. “Here.”

Saving my info as just M, I ring my phone so I have her number as well. Just as I’m about to tease her about going through her secrets, the screen lights up with a call from ‘K’. What the fuck? Why does she have another guy on her phone saved as just a letter? Assuming it’s a guy, of course. “Who’s K?” I ask, showing her the screen.

Her eyes go wide and she grabs the phone, shooting out of her chair before she pauses and meets my eyes. “I have to take this.” I nod and watch her walk away, straining my ears to try to hear what she’s saying. I catch something about a party and photos. Now I’m wondering if K has something to do with work, or if there’s more to Lisa than meets the eye.

She sits down with a smile and a sigh, and a humming sensation buzzes underneath my skin. “Who’s K?” I ask again.

“Jealous?” She slides her phone into her bag then reaches for her coffee. Without realising what I’m doing, my hand shoots out and catches her about the wrist, knocking the coffee so it rocks and splashes a brown puddle in the saucer.

“Who is K?” I repeat, slower this time, my teeth clenched.

Her eyes flash, and she tugs on her arm. I don’t let go. “Marcus.”

“Answer.”

She sets her jaw and meets my eyes. “My brother. K is my brother.” I release her instantly.

“Your brother?” Shit.

She nods, rubbing at her wrist with her other hand.

I rub at the back of my neck. “I didn’t realise.” The words come out absentminded as I look at the mess on the table, coupled with the distress I’ve caused. Fuck.

“You know, Marcus, there’s this saying I’ve come to love. ‘When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.’” I’m a jealous arsehole.

My chest thuds, and I sit back like someone just shoved me. “I’ll get you a fresh coffee,” I say, rising from my seat.

“Don’t,” she says, grabbing her bag and standing with me. “I just want to go home.”

* * *

Lisa

“I’m sorry,” Marcus says when we’re halfway between Katoomba and Blaxland. We’ve barely said a word to each other since his outburst at the café. My wrist still hurts.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, even though it isn’t fine at all. He had no right to react that way. We barely know each other, and we aren’t even dating. And even if we were dating, he’d still have no right. I owe him nothing.

“No. It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. It was wrong of me.”

“Well, as long as you recognise that.” And as long as I recognise how his jealous reaction made me all hot and bothered… Holy fuck. I press my knees together to try to calm the throb his manhandling caused. I didn’t think I went for that kind of thing, but it turns out, I do.

Marcus’s phone rings, and he immediately rejects it. “I recognise I’m a jealous arsehole who’s letting his past dictate his reactions.” His phone rings again, and he rejects it again. “Fuck off.” He grips the steering wheel and sighs. “What I’m trying to say is I like you. And the last time I liked a woman beyond—” His phone rings again. “Take a fucking hint, Craig.” Marcus has control issues…

“Maybe you should answer?” I say, hoping we can avoid the rest of this conversation. He’s moving into dangerous territory, and I’m not ready to hear this from him. It’s too soon. I’m too confused. He’s too much for me.

“It’s my manager,” he replies flatly. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Well, if he’s calling you on a Saturday, it must be important.”

“It’ll be about going to some event tonight. I’m not interested.”

“Isn’t that part of your job?”

He glances at me. “Do you want me to go?”

“I don’t know. Who the hell am I to decide what you do with your time?” I don’t want him to go.

“Who do you want to be?” He meets my eyes for a beat, and the butterflies in my stomach beat their wings so hard I feel it in my throat.

“No-one. I don’t want to be anything to you.” Except underneath you, screaming. Holy shit. Shut up!

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but I know you’re feeling this too.”

“I’m not feeling anything but annoyed and bombarded.” And aroused...

“Bullshit. I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I know women. And you like me, Lisa. You’re fighting like fuck against it, but you want me just as much as I want you.” Maybe more.

“You’re delusional. And you’re a bully. A delusional bully.”

“No,” he states as we pull up at a set of lights. “I’m a man who knows what he wants.” His eyes lock with mine, dark and intense. “What are you, Lisa?”

“I…” His phone rings again, giving me a reason to look away so I don’t admit to something I’m going to regret. “I think you should answer your phone. It seems important.”

He grips the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s important,” he growls, picking up the phone and switching it to silent, throwing it into the back seat before the lights change and we’re moving again. “Don’t you get it, Lisa? I’m so sick and tired of that sort of shit. I just want one normal weekend. One normal person in my life. I don’t feel like I’m Marcus Bailey with you. I actually prefer to be called ‘dude’ by you than Marcus by anyone else. You’re real. Do you understand that? I want real.”

The problem here is he doesn’t know me. It doesn’t matter if I think he’s hot, or if I want to be fucked by him. He’s a threat to me. He needs to leave. Today was a mistake.

“No, Marcus. I don’t get it because I’m not normal. You’re not normal either. This friendship you’re trying to force into existence, isn’t going to work.”

“I don’t want friendship, Lisa. I want you. And I know I was an arsehole today. I know I overreacted, but you have to understand, this is not normal for me. The last time I felt anything remotely like this, my world blew up in my face.”

“Oh my god. You’ve spent like, twelve hours in total with me. The only feelings here are in your imagination.”

“It’s not like we met yesterday, Lisa. I’m not imagining any of this. Unless I am, and you’re happy for me call Craig back and go to some party where I’ll get my photo taken with some random chick who I’ll fuck into oblivion before the papers are even printed in the morning.”

My chest jolts, and I have to swallow before I can respond. “You can do what you like. I’m not your keeper. I’ve made my position very clear.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I can see it in your eyes, Lisa. I can smell it on your skin. The idea of me fucking another woman bothers you.”

“I don’t care what you do,” I yell, my emotions getting the better of me.

“Like fuck you don’t.” He pulls up in front of my house, and I scramble to get out of the car. He hits the button on the driver's door and locks me in.

“Let me out.”

“Tell me you don’t want me to go. Tell me you don’t want me fucking anyone else. Tell me you want me and I’m yours.”

“You want to know what I want?” I yell, my entire body shaking with frustration and need and a bunch of other things I shouldn’t even be thinking about right now.

“Yes.”

I lean a little closer and speak between gritted teeth. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“Fine.” He pulls his head back on an inhale then clicks the door open.

Grabbing my bag, I jump out then turn back to him. “You know what, Marcus? Seems to me you’re so used to getting what you want you can’t stand that I’m not willing to spread my legs for you. You’re so conceited you can’t fathom how a woman can say no to the almighty rock god you are. And now you’re acting like a sulky child who’s not getting what he wants. Well, news flash, Marcus; I’m never giving you what you want. Ever.” I step back and slam the door, holding my arms out as I yell, “I am the exception to mother-fucking rule!”

Before I know it, he’s roaring off down the road, squeaking tires and burnt rubber in his wake. I look at his Porsche parked in front of my house then back to the cloud of smoke. Oh fuck. “You’ve got my fucking car, you douche!” Which means he also has my house keys. “Shit.” I kick the side of the Porsche and the alarm goes off. “Fuck.”

With my hands balled at my sides, I turn towards my house, catching sight of my neighbour standing in his garden with a set of shears and an open mouth.

“Oh, hey, Mr Melnic. Nice day to garden.” I offer him a pained smile as I yell over the noise. He just shakes his head in disapproval, and I hang my head in shame, slinking towards my house to see if I can break in.

Seven

Marcus

“What?” I grind out, finally answering my phone when I pull up outside my building an hour later.

“Where the hell have you been all day?” Craig snaps. “You’ve been asked to do Triple J’s Like a Version.”

“And?”

“You know how they get hot artists to do a cover version of past hits then you all go on an album together?”

“I know what it is, Craig. I’m not a fucking idiot. I want to know why you needed to bombard me with calls on a Saturday.”

“Because I organised for them to record you tonight so they can air it during your time off. I need you in the studio, like, half an hour ago.”

Half an hour ago? I glance at the time on the dashboard. I’m at least twenty minutes away. I’ll be a full hour late by the time I get there. I’m going to look like a right cunt. Fuck. I turn the car back on, expecting the Bluetooth to kick in on my phone, but The Doors starts playing instead. That’s when it hits me; I took off in Lisa’s LandCruiser. Shit.

“Marcus?” Craig yells in my ear. “Marcus?”

“I’m here,” I say, dazed. How the hell did I manage to drive all this way in the wrong car and not notice?

“Can you get here or not?”

I shake my head. Fuck. Lisa has really managed to get under my skin. I’m jealous, and I’m agitated, and all I want to do is lock her in a tower so she’s mine and no one else’s. That sounds creepy, but she’s driving me to distraction. I’m a compass and my needle keeps pointing to her. That’s a good lyric. I should write it down…

“Marcus?”

I put my call on speaker and open notes to type the lyrics in so I don’t forget them. “My schedule was supposed to be clear all weekend, Craig,” I say as I type.

“Well, now it’s not. Get your arse to Studio 26, they’re waiting on you.”

I clench my jaw. My life isn’t mine. “Fine. Tell them I’m a half hour away.”

He says something more, but I disconnect the call and open messages to text Lisa.

Me: I took your car…

The dots bounce immediately.

Her: I noticed…

Me: I’m sorry about today. I’m sorry I overreacted about your brother. I’m sorry I can’t seem to behave like a normal human being around you.

Her: that’s a lot to be sorry for.

Me: I fucked up.

Her: You also took my house keys…

Shit.

Me: Are you locked out?

Her: I have a friend with spares. I’m OK.

Me: I’ll get the car back to you asap.

Her: You’re coming back?

Me: I can’t. I have a thing at JJJ. I’ll get Karen to bring it to you.

Her: Maybe she can share the wine and cheese with me…

I smile, feeling calmer already.

Me: I think she’d like that. 😅

The dots bounce, and I hold my breath as I wait for her response. But the dots pause, dance, then stop without starting again.

Me: Can I call you when I finish work tonight?

Her: Is that what you call it?

Me: I’m doing Like a Version. It’s work.

Her: Cool. What song?

Me: Not sure. I’ll tell you when I finish?

For the few seconds it takes for those dots to bounce, I feel sick to the stomach. What the hell am I doing here? Marcus Bailey doesn’t get tied up in knots over women. Women go crazy over me. Unless they’re named Naomi or Lisa…

Her: OK

The grin that spreads over my face tells me I’m acting like a crazy person. But I can’t help it. I like her, and I’m not going to fuck it up this time. I waited with Naomi and she found someone else. I won’t wait with Lisa. And I won’t give up either—I’ll also refrain from locking her in a tower since it’s illegal and all. But these two letters are progress.

She said OK.

* * *

Lisa

“Lisa?” Sandra’s voice sounds from the front of my house just as Marcus’s text comes through. I’ll tell you when I finish.

“I’m out back,” I yell, throwing the ball so Perry gets up from where he’s relaxing on my feet. “Give me a sec.” I type a quick OK to Marcus then click my phone to silent and shove it in my back pocket.

“Who’s Porsche is that?” Sandra asks, her arm hanging over my side fence with my keys dangling from her fingers.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I say reaching for the keys and avoiding the Porsche question. “Come inside for a coffee?” I haven’t had one all day and my head is starting to ache. Although I don’t know if that’s from rock star-induced stress or a lack of caffeine.

“Sure. I’ll meet you at the front door. I’m not dressed for climbing fences.”

When I let her in, she keeps looking over her shoulder at that damn sports car. “It’s a bloody nice car. You wouldn’t catch me leaving it parked on the street like that. I’d be petrified someone would steal it.”

“I don’t even know whose it is,” I lie as I move inside and change topic by asking how her weekend is progressing so far.

“It’s been OK. I went out with that guy I met in the lift last week. He was nice enough…” She shrugs as she settles herself on the same stool Marcus was sitting on this morning, her eyes moving around the kitchen. Is there any evidence he was here?

“You met a guy in an elevator?” Nerves swirl about in my stomach as I switch on the coffee machine and do a quick sweep of my surrounds. I think I’m safe. “You didn’t tell me you met someone?”

“Really? I can’t believe I didn’t tell you about it. It was hilarious so I had really high hopes this guy would be a lot of fun. Basically, I was running late for work, so I was the only one in the elevator. Just as the doors are about to shut, this guy hits the button and makes them open again. When he gets in, I’m thinking, ‘yeah, this guy’s pretty cute.’ A little bit of designer stubble, decent looking body, nice eyes. And it turns out I was openly ogling. Anyway, he notices me looking and he looks at me. Then he says ‘hi’ so I went, ‘Oh my god. Can you see me?’—you know, like I’m a ghost or something—I expected him to look at me like I’m crazy and ignore me, but he didn’t.”

“What did he do?” I ask, becoming engrossed in her story.

“He pulled my hair!” She laughs. “He reached out and tugged at a piece of my hair and said ‘yep’. And he timed it perfectly too, because next thing, the lift pings and he gets off without saying anything else.”

“OK. So how did you end up going out with him?”

“Oh, I saw him leaving the building at lunchtime and chased him down. We just went for drinks after work on Friday. His name is Brad. How funny is that? Who’s called ‘Brad’ these days?”

“Him I guess? And Brad Pitt.”

“Yeah, well he’s no Brad Pitt, but he is good looking enough to be on TV. Kind of Jonathan Masters hot, but with dark hair.”

“Oh, I hate that guy.”

“Why? He’s a great actor.”

“If you only watch rom-coms. Which I don’t.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “You hate love and pretty things, so your opinion doesn’t count. Anyway, the date was all right. He’s a chef. And there’s a tiny bit of a spark, but I don’t know. I don’t feel that… thing. You know? That pain you get in your guts when you’re around someone?” Oh, I know. I currently have a pain in my guts, my head, my chest…and also my arse; all thanks to one Marcus Bailey.

Tell me you want me and I’m yours….

I take a deep breath as a shiver runs through my body. “Yeah. I can see how that’s important.” Marcus has me twisted up in knots. He’s intense and he’s pushy, and god knows why he’s interested in me. I thought maybe we were thrown together to learn a lesson, but there’s too much sexual tension to learn anything. Then I thought maybe he was trying to get to my family, but my brother assured me they have no personal connection. He’s met him, but they didn’t spark a friendship therefore no personal details or information about family members have been shared. That just leaves one possibility—he likes me for me. That makes no sense. The woman I am now has nothing to offer a man of Marcus’s status. Perhaps he’s just slumming it for a while?

That would make sense…

As I carry the coffees, I incline my head towards the kitchen table to get Sandra to follow. She settles in the chair across from me and takes a sip of her coffee. “So… that’s my weekend so far. A date with Brad the chef. What’s about you? Are you going to tell me how you got locked out?”

“I leant a friend my car and forgot to get my house keys off the chain,” I start, telling myself that was close enough to the truth.

“That was silly. I thought I was your only friend,” she teases.

“Har, har. I do know other people. I just like you best.” I give her a wink before getting out of my chair in search of food. A couple of bites of a croissant wasn’t very satisfying. “You hungry? I have a bunch of cheese and shit. I can make a plate and we can pretend we’re fancy.”

“Sure,” she says laughing. “I like being fancy.”

I pull out two types of cheese, prosciutto and salami slices and arrange it on a plate with crackers and olives, sun-dried tomatoes and capsicum.

“Hope you’re hungry,” I say when I set the plate on the table.

“Well. This is fancy. It’s like those pesto-thingy plates they have in restaurants. What are they called again?”

“I have no idea.” I laugh. “I prefer Cheetos and Tex-Mex to this stuff.” Antipasto. It’s called antipasto. I lie a lot these days to fit in.

“Then why do you have all of this?”

I bounce a shoulder. “Gift from a client.”

Without needing further explanation, we tuck in, eating and talking. I ask for more information about the new guy she’s seeing—he was in the building to be photographed for a spread Voyeur is doing on the future of food—as well as any other topics that come up. This is what I love about Sandra, ten minutes can turn into two hours of non-stop chatter. She’s an avid reader of newspapers and magazines and fills me on everything she finds interesting on top of some office gossip. Things are much more competitive in the journalism bullpen than in advertising where there are only four of us.

“So, I told him if he wants a better byline, he’ll need to do more than sit around the office whining about me getting the big stories. Some kids are so damn entitled. He’s barely out uni.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes as my doorbell rings.

“You want another coffee?” I ask as I stand to go answer it.

“No. I should probably head off. I’ll just visit the loo first.”

“You know where it is.” I take our empty cups and plates into the kitchen on my way to the front door. Perry runs circles around my legs in excitement. “It’s not him,” I say as I put my hand on the door handle. “He’s working.”

Perry plonks his butt down in a huff.

“Yes?” I ask as I open the door to an older woman. She’s a good foot shorter than I am, stylishly dressed and made up, her dyed blonde hair coiffed back and held neatly by a metallic clip.

“Lisa Russell?” she asks, and I have this feeling that she’s about to hand me an envelope and say ‘you’ve just been served’ so I hesitate with my answer. “I’m Karen, Mr Bailey’s assistant. I’m here to return your car and pick up his.” She holds out my keys.

“Oh, thank you.” I thought she had grey hair? Marcus obviously pays no attention to her colouring habits.

“He also said to bring you this.” She lifts a bag of tex-mex. “He ate the rest of yours.”

I can’t hide my grin as she plants the bag in my hands. This is better than flowers. “Tell him thank you,” I say and she nods, about to turn away. “And tell I’m sorry for yelling at him.” She nods again, her brow lifted like she wants to say something but doesn’t feel it’s her place. “That’s why he took off with my car. He had the shits because I gave him a serve.”

The corner of her mouth curves up. “A little advice?”

I nod.

“Don’t apologise. Mr Bailey is the kind of man who needs a good ‘serve’ occasionally. He’ll walk all over you otherwise.” She gives me a wink.

I bite at my lip as I grin. “Thank you, Karen. Drive safe.”

“Enjoy your evening, Ms Russell.”

When I close the door, I turn around to find Sandra looking at me with her mouth open and her expression… hurt. Shit. How long was she standing there? So much for watchdogs. I give Perry a nudge with my foot for not reacting when she came back from the bathroom. He snorts and rolls onto his back.

“Mr Bailey? As in Marcus? That was Marcus Bailey’s car out there?” Her voice rises in pitch with each question.

“Sandra.”

“You said you didn’t know whose car it was. You said nothing was going on between you two.”

“It’s not what you think. I’m not dating him,” I flounder, trying to rescue the situation. I had hoped to have this conversation when I understood Marcus’s and my relationship better. I don’t know how to explain the situation when I don’t even know how I feel about it or how long it will last. Or even what it is.

“Then why hide it?”

“I’m not hiding it. I’m just not ready to talk about it. He showed up a couple of weekends ago, and we’ve hung out twice. I’ve made it very clear nothing will happen between us.”

“He told you he’s interested in you?”

“No. Yes. Shit. I don’t know. It’s just really complicated right now. He thinks he wants me, but I think he’s just tired of touring and I’m as normal and boring as it gets. The moment he realises that, he’ll go on tour and forget all about me. I’m a flight of fancy.” I’m rambling. This feels like when my teenage bestie wanted to date the new DJ in a club we frequented. He came over and asked me out and even though I rebuffed him, our friendship ended. Being a girl can really suck.

“And you’re OK with that? You’re OK being just another girl on his conquest list? Didn’t you learn anything from my encounter with him?”

“I’m not a conquest. We’re just friends,” I argue, even though our heated argument suggests we’ve moved beyond just friends.

“I don’t think a man like Marcus Bailey can do ‘just friends’, Lisa. You’re being naïve.”

“I’m not naïve, Sandra. I know who and what he is. But he’s pushed his way into my life. I’m totally out of control in this entire—I don’t know what it is—thing!” I throw my hands in the air, unable to find a better word for the intense push and pull between us.

“And what happens if this ‘thing’”—she uses her fingers to air quote—“turns into something more? What are we going to do? Sit together and trade stories about how hot it is when he touches you a certain way in bed?”

My stomach twists and sours. “It’s not like that. I haven’t even touched the man.” My face burns with discomfort. Even though I knew, it’s only just hit home with me how many women in this world have that kind of intimate information about Marcus. I sit down to stop myself from becoming dizzy. “I don’t…” I can’t even find words to explain how I feel right now. “Maybe you should go. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”

Perry comes over and places his head on my thigh, lifting his eyes to look at me with as much concern as a dog can muster. I sit back and let him jump on the couch next to me. It’s not that I’m some paragon of virtue. I’m just not interested in competing with every other red-blooded female with two eyes in their head.

Sandra kneels in front of me and places her hands on my knees. “I’m sorry, Leis. I don’t want to fight with you. And I know I must sound crazy right now. I have no right to tell you whom you can and can’t see. I just… I want you to be careful with him, OK? I know you don’t pay any attention to the who’s who of this world, but being around a guy like Marcus means something, you know? He’s used to getting who and what he wants, and he’s used to women being disposable. I don’t want you hurt the way I was. You’re not used to dealing with these kinds of men, and I feel responsible for putting you in his crosshairs.”

“It’s OK. I know your heart is in the right place.” I place my hand on top of hers and swallow down the lump in my throat. She has no idea how used to these kinds of men I am. I’ve been surrounded by them most of my life. Hell, I almost married one….

Eight

Marcus

“Thanks, man. That was an epic cover.” The producer shakes my hand when I stand to leave the studio.

“It was a great song choice.” After recording the short interview with the DJ, I was given some time to prepare my cover version of Dire Straits Romeo and Juliet before we recorded that too. I’m familiar with the song, but the trick to these things is making the song my own and not singing an exact replica.

As annoyed as I was when Craig sprung this on me, I have to say I’ve had a pretty good time. I remember listening to Triple J when Theo and I first started out. It was a dream of ours to do Like a Version, and now I’m here doing it without him. Like all our dreams of fame, I’ve achieved them alone. I left my brother behind.

Shit. There goes my conscience again, the niggling voice in the back of my mind telling me this would have been better with Theo and the guys. Shut up.

“I knew you’d do Dire Straits justice. I love what you did at the high point; the way your voice cracked on the word ‘place’. Magic.”

“Thanks. And thanks for recording me early. I know you usually do this live. But I appreciate your understanding and all.”

“Hey man, we all need a break every now and then.” He claps me good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Listen, there’s a bunch of us going to see a few up and coming bands early next month. I’m sure you have big plans to relax, but it would be great if you could come along and lend your support to the little guys.”

I can see he doesn’t expect me to say yes, but honestly, I wouldn’t mind going to a small gig. It’s probably just what I need to remind me where I came from so I can appreciate where I am before I’m forced back into touring.

“Yeah. That could work.”

“Awesome.” He nods, sounding cool but looking a little surprised as he pulls the flyer for the gig out of a pile of papers on a nearby desk. “We’ll probably get there around nine. We’ll be up on the Mezzanine level. Do you want me to tell the door guys you’re coming?”

“No, I’ll go in the same as everyone else. I’ll find you.” I hold the flyer up. “See you then.”

We do a handshake/back slap combo, sealing the deal then I leave the studio to find Karen sitting in reception.

She holds out my car keys. “She said thank you for the bag of cholesterol,” she says as she drops them in my outstretched hand.

A stupid smile curves my lips. “I’m glad she liked it.”

“She also asked me to tell you she was sorry for yelling at you.”

“Wow.” I didn’t peg her for the apologising type. Plus, I deserved it.

“I advised her against apologising since you’re a cocky bastard who needs a woman who’s unafraid to put you in your place.”

I’m still smiling as I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. “You would know best,” I say. Part of what I love about Karen is her no-nonsense attitude.

She reaches out and adjusts the collar of my leather jacket. “Of course I do. I’m the only female you keep around for more than five seconds.”

“Give me some credit, Karen, I last longer than five seconds.”

“Fine. Ten seconds,” she teases, causing me to laugh.

“Gee. You’re too kind.” I gesture to the exit, and we start walking to our cars.

“I wonder if maybe you should try taking things even slower with this one. I think she’ll be good for you.”

“You think?”

She nods as we reach her car and she opens the drivers' door. “I’ve never seen you like this. Ever since you met her you’ve been smiling. It looks good on you.”

“That could be terrible for my bottom line. These brooding good looks sell my brand.”

She chuckles. “I think you’ll be fine. But can I offer some advice?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

“Keep it private. She’s a regular person who doesn’t understand your world. Try to keep her safe from the crazy fans. The last thing she needs is some jealous mob attacking her via hate mail.”

“I couldn’t agree more. And she’s already expressed her desire to keep our connection on the down-low. We even have a caveat that if her picture turns up in a gossip column, she’s out.”

Karen nods, her lips pressed together, impressed. “Smart girl.”

“Right? What the hell is she doing hanging around with an idiot like me?”

She laughs as she gets into her car. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not giving her much choice in the matter, Marcus.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Can you blame me? I can’t afford to let another one get away.”

“I understand. Just don’t smother the poor girl, either. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“Duly noted.” I lean forward and drop a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for your help today.”

“I’ll make sure tomorrow stays clear so you can rest.”

“I appreciate that.”

She turns the key, and I shut the door, stepping back as she backs out of her space, waving as she exits the parking lot. I stand there for a moment, watching the red of her taillights as she turns and drives down the street and out of sight. I have no idea what I’d do without a Karen in my life.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, eager to call Lisa. I really messed up when I grabbed her wrist at the café. I should have kept my cool instead of getting aggressive and demanding. And I really shouldn’t have taken off in her car the way I did. I fucked up today, more than a packet of tex-mex can fix. But I have hope. She said OK. She said thank you. She said sorry. Not that she has anything to be sorry about…

I am the exception to mother-fucking rule.

I smile as I bring her number up. Yes, she fucking is.

Lisa

I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I can’t risk being in your world. Please respect my wishes and don’t call, don’t visit. This is what’s best for both of us. Goodbye

I stare at the text message I’ve written and rewritten a thousand times since Sandra left. It’s for the best. It’s definitely for the best. But still, I haven’t managed to send it. No matter how I word it, it either feels too harsh, or not harsh enough. Not that I think he’ll listen even if I do send it. I’ll have to relocate if I want Marcus Bailey out of my life before he’s ready to leave.

When Sandra called me naïve, she hit a raw nerve. Not because I was being naïve about who Marcus is, but because I was being naïve about what having him in my life would mean. I had started to convince myself that we could skulk around, let our unwanted attachment fizzle out before anyone noticed. But I’ve been kidding myself. There’s a reason famous people are called stars. Get too close, you’re bound to get burned. I don’t want to get burned again. I’ve had enough social carnage brought on by celebrities to last a lifetime.

Shit. I’m over thinking this. I should just send the message and turn off my phone. Maybe go stay with extended family for a couple of days until he quits looking for me.

Just send it!

Taking a deep breath, I hold my thumb over the green arrow. Now or never.

My phone jumps to life in my hand and the M for Marcus flashes up on my screen. Holy fuck. Did he see the dots moving and realise I was messaging him? Crap. For a while, I just stare at the letter, telling myself to ignore. Ignore.

My thumbs swipes across the screen. “Hello.” This is the opposite of ignoring! I hate myself right now.

“Dire Straits. Romeo and Juliet.” The rich depth of his voice simmers below the surface of my skin. Nothing good can come of this. A smile curves my mouth and I close my eyes. I am a moth and he is the flame.

“Can you play it for me?” I did not just ask that.

“I don’t have access to the recording. I’m driving.”

“Oh. Maybe you could just sing it for me. I can imagine the music.”

I swear I hear him smile. “You want me to sing to you?”

“Uh-huh.” A pressure builds in my chest, making it hard to breathe. What is going on with me? I’m smarter than this.

“OK.” I wait a beat as he clears his throat then hums the intro before launching into the lyrics. I lie back on the couch, the smooth velvet of his voice filling my ears, my body, tingling in my veins and hurting my heart. He sings about poor timing, tears while making love, a forever outside their grasp. It’s beautiful, and he’s beautiful. But it only serves to remind me that he and I are all wrong. As friends, as lovers, as anything at all.

“Thank you,” I whisper, wiping a tear as it falls from my eye.

“Are you crying?”

“No. I’m happy. It was beautiful. I think that maybe you have real talent.”

He chuckles, and I have to take a deep breath to keep my emotions in check. “How’s your wrist?”

“Better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

A beat passes before he sighs. “I’m not very good at this.”

I grin. “At treating a woman like a human? You’re terrible actually.”

He chuckles again, and I decide it’s my favourite sound. “I’ll work on it. When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know if I can handle you.”

“Worried you’ll go back on your word and give me what I want?”

“I don’t want my world to change.”

“I promise to protect your world, Lisa. Give me a chance and I’ll create a world for you.”

Placing my hand against my forehead, I fight the swelling of my breast and the flipping of my stomach. I focus on the drama and the insanity of our brief time together.

“Marcus…”

He releases his breath slowly. “I won’t let my world hurt you, Lisa. I’m not going to hurt you either.”

“But it will happen anyway, our worlds will collide whether we want them to or not.” I close my eyes.

“But we can prolong it. Ease you into it. Hell, we can ease me out of it.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know I want you.”

“You can’t build your life around wanting, Marcus. There’s a lot about me you don’t know. I think it’s best for us both to end this here and now. You go live your life, and I live mine.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Please don’t be difficult. I don’t want a life in the spotlight.”

“I’ll keep you out of it.”

“You can’t. You’re Marcus Bailey for fuck’s sake. Please don’t fight me on this. I’ve made up my mind.”

“No. I’m not letting this go. Lisa, you’re the first woman I’ve wanted to spend time with in… forever.” Oh my god, he’s so pigheaded.

“You and I both know that isn’t true. You’ve spent plenty of time with plenty of women.”

“I fuck women, Lisa. I don’t talk to them. I don’t call them. I don’t sit beside them watching movies with their dog or having coffee with them.”

“That’s not true either. What about Naomi Prendergast? You must have known her. You said you loved her.”

“She’s always said I was in love with the idea of winning her. And on reflection, I think she was right. I didn’t take the time to know her, I spent all my time trying to fuck her just like every other girl. With you, it’s different. I like spending time with you. I like sitting on your couch with a dog in between us. I like listening to the sound of your voice, knowing there’s a chance I could win you over. Even if you never return any sort of affection, I will still like you.” And, my ovaries just exploded. He’s saying all the right things, and if he was a regular guy, I’d be putty in his hands. But he isn’t regular. Stick to your guns, Lisa.

“What about Sandra Haegen?” I have to force the words out of my mouth, like I’m the lone soldier hefting up the drawbridge to protect the castle.

“Who?”

“Sandra Haegen.”

“Isn’t she the reporter you covered for?”

“Yes. She’s also my best friend. And one of your conquests.” The deafening silence on the other end of the line tells me this was the gut punch I intended. “You spent an entire weekend getting to know her, made her feel like she was the centre of the world. And now you don’t even remember her, do you?”

“I…” he starts, and I can feel him sweating in the static. “I’m sorry. No. I don’t remember her.”

“She remembers you. It’s why she asked me to cover for her. She was scared to see you again. Scared you wouldn’t remember and she’d feel used. Scared you would remember and you’d use her again.” My stomach twists, and the backs of my eyes burn as I force myself to go on. “I don’t date men who fucked my best friend, Marcus.”

“Fuck.” There’s a scuffling noise then a crackle before the line clears and I hear him clear his throat. “I’m sorry your friend is upset, but I have never given a single woman the impression we were more than a moment. It was a different time in my life, Lisa. I’m not gonna lie and pretend there aren’t hundreds of girls out there I can’t remember, and maybe some of them feel the same way as Sandra. But I can promise you it’s behind me—hell, I can apologise to Sandra if you think it’ll help—the only woman I’m interested in is you.”

“No, Marcus.” A tear escapes my eye and slides down my cheek. “You only want me because I’m saying no. If I’d slept with you the moment we met, you wouldn’t have given me a second thought. I told you not to pursue me, Marcus. I told you this wasn’t a game. But you did it anyway. Please. Just listen to me for once and let’s end this. I don’t want you.” I bite my knuckle, fighting the flow of tears. We barely know each other and already my emotions are in a tailspin. I can’t trust myself to keep fighting if he keeps pushing.

He inhales, a slow intake of breath that fills his lungs and creates a pause filled with tension. I should just hang up. I should block his number and pack my things, run for the hills because I can’t do this. I can’t.

“I’m sorry, Lisa,” he says, just as a knock sounds on my door.

“So am I.” I wipe my hand down my face as Perry rushes to the front window. “But I know it’s for the best. We could never work.” I’m about to hang up, say one final goodbye as I follow Perry to the door and greet my visitor. But then Perry barks, and I hear it echo back at me. “Marcus?”

“Yes, Lisa?”

Perry barks again. I press my lips together when I hear him over the phone. “You’re here?”

“Yes. Open the door.”

I cover my eyes with one hand, a sob escaping as I press my phone to my ear, hands sweating. “I can’t.”

“Open the door. Tell me you don’t want me to my face.”

“No. I already did that. You never believe me.”

“That’s because I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then open the door. Tell me again. Maybe this time I’ll believe you.”

Pressing my lips together, I end the call and slide my phone in the pocket of my track pants. My entire body shaking as I reach for the handle and turn. Heart thundering, breathing shallow, I pull. And there he is, looking like my favourite dream mixed with my worst nightmare.

“I…” I start, meeting his soulful brown eyes. “I don’t…”

“Want me?” He steps forward, capturing my face in his hands, thumbs on my cheeks, fingers in my hair. “I still don’t believe you,” he whispers, bowing down until his lips brush mine.

“Marcus.” I close my eyes, overcome by his proximity. How can I deny this when we both know it’s a lie? I’m powerless.

“I have never understood want until I wanted you,” he whispers, and my body trembles. I’m mush. Trembling mush, held up only by his hands. Then his lips touch mine and lights explode behind my eyes. Holy fuck.

He tastes. He sucks. He teases.

I shake. I whimper. I…succumb.

My lips part, inviting him in, the intensity of his emotion clear with each gentle stroke of his tongue. My head spins. His mouth moulds against mine like we’re made to fit together, and I step back, fingers curling against his shirt to bring him with me.

He lets out a low moan as he deepens the kiss and kicks the door closed, walking with me until we hit the entrance of my bedroom and he kicks that door closed too. Perry huffs on the other side, scratches at the door. Sorry, Perry. Grownups only.

Marcus’s hands move over my body, our tongues tangling as he walks me until the backs of my legs connect with the foot of my bed. I moan into his mouth, pressing my body against his ridiculously firm chest. “What are we doing?”

He pulls my shirt over my head. “Everything we said we wouldn’t.” Rough fingertips travel down my spine as his mouth hovers over mine, chest heaving.

“This is crazy. We should stop.”

His fingers wrap around my ribs, thumbs caressing the underside of my breasts. “I don’t want to.”

My hands go into his hair as his lips move to my neck, teeth grazing against my collarbone as he presses himself against me, the undeniable hard length of his cock pressing into my lower stomach, causing my insides to clench with longing. I gasp. “Marcus.”

“Don’t ask me to stop, Lisa. I can’t.” He hooks his fingers into the back of my bra, flicking open the clap and releasing my breasts as he urges me to sit, and I do, my fingers still in his hair as he lowers to his knees and buries his face in my cleavage.

I drag my nails down his back, pulling his shirt until it bunches around his arms. He sits back and helps me remove it, and I drink in the tanned muscle, salivating with a need to run my tongue over every single one. “We should definitely stop,” I gasp, dropping his shirt on the floor with mine.

His breathing laboured, he cups a heavy breast in his hand, brushing his thumb over my erect nipple. I mew, my body and actions completely belying my words. “We could.” He leans in and takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking back and running his tongue around the hardened tip. My hands move over his taut shoulders and into his hair, clinging to him for dear life. “If that’s what you want.” He bites. And I drop my head back, crying out as his tongue laves the tender bud, adding pleasure to the slight pain.

“Marcus.”

He shifts from his position on the floor, gripping my hips as he climbs over me, dragging me up the bed then running his tongue between my breasts, kissing and sucking upward, his teeth grazing over my chin before he captures my mouth and kisses me until I can barely breathe. “Tell me you want me, Lisa.” He holds himself above me, the softness of my breasts jammed against his chest. He’s so beautiful.

“No,” I whisper, meeting his eyes as I roll my hips against his.

He groans, his eyes losing focus before he pulls back, fingers dragging down my body until he pauses at the waist of my pants. “Then get up and walk away.”

My chest heaves, my core aching with desire as my skin tingles from his touch. “This is my room. You go.”

“No.” He hooks his fingers over the elastic and pulls, cool air sweeping over my body as I’m completely bared to him. “Last chance to run,” he says, sliding an arm beneath my knee as he lifts my leg and drags his teeth along my inner thigh, his hot breath sweeping over my core when he’s in position.

“Oh god.”

“Not god, Lisa. Marcus.” His mouth collides with my pussy, sucking back on my clit with such force I grab onto his hair and scream out.

“Holy fuck.”

His tongue works in rapid circles, the intensity causing my back to arch as my mouth falls open with a long, deep moan. He hums then slides two fingers into my welcoming entrance and I lose my mind.

“Marcus.” My hips lift, my body rocking with my release as I call out and writhe beneath him, wave after wave of pleasure undoing me completely.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, withdrawing from my body and placing his two fingers in his mouth, sucking off my juices. Holy fuck. I’m about ready to come all over again. I sit up slightly, resting on my elbows as I watch him unbutton his jeans and drop them to the floor. My insides clench at the sight of his big cock, standing straight and proud, tip glistening. I lick my lips as Marcus takes it in his hand, giving himself a few pumps as he looks at me through slitted eyes. “Still want me to leave?” he asks, running his thumb over his tip.

“More than ever,” I gasp, opening my legs wide, inviting him in.

His tongue snakes between his lips as he focuses on my opening and places a knee on the bed. The tip of his cock drags along the inside of my thigh as he climbs over me. “Are you on the pill?”

“Yes.”

Pressing his teeth into his bottom lip, he positions his cock at my entrance, teasing me without pushing in. “Do you want this?” he asks again, his hands entwining with mine and holding them either side of my head.

“No,” I whisper, rocking my hips to capture the tip of him. I gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling. Then he thrusts forward, filling me with one swift movement. I cry out from the size of his intrusion, stretching around his girth, my insides quivering as he pumps in and out, driving me further into ecstasy than I ever thought possible. Sex has never been this good. I don’t know if it’s him or the both of us combined, but something about our bodies joining has me soaring.

I don’t want him. But I think I need him. That much seems clear. We’ve known each other only a short time, but the pull between us is undeniable. I don’t know how this is going work. Our lives won’t mix no matter which way we look at things. But our bodies don’t seem to care about trivial things like logistics and messy pasts.

“Marcus.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling his thrusts even deeper as my fingers dig into his back.

“Lisa.” His mouth finds mine, tongue pushing between my lips as he kisses me with a force that matches his thrusts. I can taste myself on his tongue, sweet and earthy. I moan and our teeth clash. Slick bodies rolling together as heat pools in my lower belly, tightens then bursts.

“Holy fuck.” I break the kiss upon my release, pulling back as Marcus holds onto my bottom lip with his teeth, sucking our mouths together as he grunts and spills inside of me.

“Holy fuck,” he echoes, dropping his forehead to mine as he stills and releases my fingers and mouth. “Holy fucking fuck.” He pulls from my body and rolls to the side, his warmth spilling between my legs. “Did I hurt you?”

I pull my lip into my mouth running my tongue over the swelling. “No,” I whisper, looking up to the ceiling.

“Fuck. I was supposed to go slow with you.”

A smile forces its way on my lips. “There were slow moments.” I turn and meet his eyes as he chuckles and turns to me. My chest jolts at the connection, and the smiles fall from our mouths. His hand slides against the curve of my neck, moving to cradle my head.

“Have you felt like this before?” he asks in a startling moment of vulnerability. My eyes prick and I shake my head. “We’re fucked up, yeah?”

I nod and lick my lips. “Yeah. You can’t listen and I can’t tell the truth.”

His thumb moves along my cheekbone, and my eyes flutter closed as longing flows through me. “Do you still want me to leave?”

Reaching out, I place my hand on the centre of his chest. “Yes.”

Pulling me closer, he closes the gap between us, his nose brushing against mine. “I still don’t believe you.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” I whisper, just as his mouth covers mine and we refuse each other all over again.

Nine

Marcus

“You should probably go,” Lisa murmurs, her voice sleepy as she drapes herself across my chest and I run my fingers up and down her spine.

I frown. “I’m not fucking you then leaving like you’re some groupie.” She lifts her head so she’s looking at me. “Besides, I have tomorrow off. I’m spending it with you.”

“No, Marcus. I’m not mixing my life up with yours.”

“Spending Sunday in bed is hardly mixing our lives together.”

She sighs as she pushes away from me, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath.” She pulls a hair elastic off her bedside table and winds her hair into a bun. I love watching the way her skin ripples with her movement. “You’ll just do what you want, anyway.”

My eyes drift to her arse as she stands. “I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding.”

“If you can call it that.” Pressing her lips together, she gathers the top sheet and balls it up in her arms. I stand and help her pull the bottom sheet off the mattress. Note to self, use a towel next time.

“I need you to know I’m clean,” I say as she takes the soiled sheet from my grip, seeming flustered. “I’ve never gone without protection before.”

“I’ve no doubt, Marcus. Men like you, they’re so very careful. Then they meet someone and they say all the right things, make all the right promises. Then the girls like me are left feeling stupid, changing dirty sheets and wondering if anything that man said was real.”

“Men like me?” I point to my chest, not understanding where this scenario is coming from.

“Yes. Men like you.” Hugging the sheets to her chest, she makes a beeline for the bathroom, dumping them in the laundry basket before pulling a terry towel robe off the back of the door and covering herself with it.

“Have I given you any reason to doubt me?”

“Not yet.” She pulls her wardrobe open, taking a new set of neatly folded sheets from the vertical shelving and dropping them on the end of the bed.

“Not ever.”

“How can you say that with such confidence when you’ve only known me for three weeks?”

“Because in those three weeks I haven’t even thought about another woman, let alone looked at one. Yours is the only face I see.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she pulls her robe tighter. “I know you don’t like to hear me when I tell you what I want, but can you at least promise me one thing?”

“Anything.” I’d promise to donate a kidney to her at this point. I’m so damn smitten by her.

“Don’t pretend we’re something we’re not. Fuck me all you want, get me out of your system any way you can. But the moment you find yourself scanning that front row looking for a pretty face, walk away from me. You don’t even have to say goodbye. Just go back to your life and leave me in mine.”

“You’re talking like we’re water and oil,” I say, frustrated by her defeatist attitude towards us while I pick up the clean fitted sheet and shake it out.

“You don’t think we are?” We tuck in opposite corners then move on to the top sheet. “Look around, Marcus. This is my world. This is my life.”

“And?” I lift the end of the mattress as she tucks in the excess sheet.

“And it’s not yours. It’s not expensive apartments or waterside properties. It’s not personal assistants and staff who do everything for you. It’s regular, boring life. I don’t collect stamps on my passport. I don’t have to wear a hat and glasses every time I go out in public. I don’t have to watch my behaviour everywhere I go. This is me. It’s not you.”

“You think I don’t know that? I grew up in a place like this. With immigrant parents who worked their arses off to make ends meet. I never appreciated it as a kid, but now I look back and it was the best part of my life. Don’t tell me what you think I want, Lisa.”

“Why not? It’s what you keep doing to me.”

“That’s because you’re too scared to admit what you want. I’m the only one of us brave enough to grab hold and refuse to let go.”

She sucks in a breath, her eyes dropping to the floor before she turns away and clears her throat. “You might want to put some pants on. I’m about to let Perry in. He sleeps at the foot of the bed, and you don’t want him thinking that thing’s a chew toy.”

I just manage to get my boxer briefs on before she pulls the door open and Perry comes bounding in, making a commotion as he spins excited circles while I rub his sides. “I’m sorry, buddy. I walked right by you,” I say, scratching him behind the ears before he steps onto his dog bed and hurumphs as he lies down.

“Since you’re staying, you can make yourself useful. Refill his water and make sure the house is locked up. I’m going for a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a salute as she disappears into her ensuite, obviously needing a moment alone to process. “Where’s your water, buddy?” Perry jumps up and stands at my feet, panting with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out the side of his face.

Figuring it’s either in the laundry or outside, I head in that direction, hearing the shower switch on as I do my rounds.

“Look at this, Marcus Bailey locking up at night and filling the dog water. Who said I can’t be normal?” I say as I kneel to place Perry’s water bowl back in his tray. He has this little picnic table looking thing that holds a water and food bowl. He laps at the cool liquid and I scratch the back of his neck. “She’s pretty closed off, huh?” He lifts his eyes to me. “And what has she got against famous people?” Perry licks the side of my face and I laugh. “You don’t know either? Figures.”

Letting out a sigh, I sink to the ground and lean against the wall, scratching the dog’s chest as he pants and I ruminate out loud. “She’s crazy about me, you know? Not as crazy as you, but still, she’s feeling this…pull that’s going on between us. And I know I’m coming on strong, but who has time to wait around and play games? I have two-and-a-half months left in the country, if I don’t go after what I want when I want it then who’s to say it’ll be here when I get back? Who’s to say some other rock star won’t come along and sweep her off her feet? It could happen. I’m not the only famous musician in the country, and she works for that magazine.” Resting my head against the wall, I chew on the inside of my lip. “Do you think that’s what it is? She met some famous guy through work and he fucked her around?”

“He’ll never talk,” Lisa says from the doorway, looking fresh and smelling of warmth and floral scents.

“I’m beginning to realise.” Rising to my feet, I move so I’m standing in front of her, my hand snaking around her waist as I pull her flush against my body.

“You haven’t showered. You’ll make me all dirty,” she says, a grin teasing her mouth as her fingers play against my chest.

“I’m covered in you. I can smell you every time I breathe in.” I inhale deep then hum my pleasure. “I can’t get enough.”

She lifts her hand and plants it over my mouth before I can move in for a kiss. Lifting my chin, I capture the tip of her index finger in my teeth and bite on it playfully. “It was an actor,” she says, eyes meeting mine as she runs her fingertips down my chin.

“Anyone I’d know?”

She shakes her head and bounces a shoulder. “It was a long time ago. He drew me into his world, promised me everything, but forgot to tell me I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see. That’s why you don’t want to trust a known womaniser like me?”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to trust a known womaniser like you. I promised myself I’d be smart about who I fall for in future.”

I grin and pull her a little closer.

“What’s so amusing?” she asks, hands running over my shoulders.

“You’re falling for me.”

Now she’s smiling. “I am not.”

Leaning in, I press my lips against hers. “Liar.”

“I don’t even like you.”

I lift my hand, sliding it from her waist to the exposed skin of her chest, pushing past the fabric until I can feel the swell of her breast. “I can feel your heart. It’s beating so fast. Do I excite you?”

“Not in the slightest.” The glint in her eye tells me she’s playing, and damned if I don’t get off every time she tells me no and I take what I want, anyway.

“And yet”—I slide my hand further inside her robe, palming her breast and rolling her nipple between my fingers—“you came looking for me in nothing but a robe.”

“Perhaps I came to the laundry looking for clean clothes.”

My hand slides further downward, wrist catching against the sash, causing it to loosen, the robe opening like a curtain. “No.” I continue my downward mission, over the soft flesh of her stomach, past her neatly trimmed mound to the silken heat below. “You’re here because you can’t get enough of me.” I dip my head and press my lips against her shoulder as I move my fingers through her juices. “I’ll bet you were in the shower, touching yourself”—I push two fingers inside her deliciously wet opening—“hoping I’d come in there and fuck you against the tiles.” I thrust my fingers in and out to punctuate my words, loving the way her mouth falls open and her fingers dig into my biceps.

“No. I’ve never wanted you like that,” she teases, rocking against my hand as I bring her closer to climax, stopping just as her eyes lose focus.

“Then you’ve never wanted me like this either,” I grunt, freeing my cock as I hoist her against the wall and push inside. Her hot walls envelop me, her muscles gripping me as I tip her over the edge, the pulsing of her orgasm gripping my dick like a vice as I thrust some more then come inside her.

“Marcus. Oh god.”

“Lisa.” I take her mouth with mine, my mind blown because I have never had sex this good. This is next level.

* * *

Lisa

Coffee. I smell coffee.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Marcus sits on the edge of the bed, a sexy grin on his face and a takeaway coffee in his hand. God, he’s gorgeous. It hurts my chest just looking at him.

“What time is it?” I force myself to sit, my entire body aching from the delectable workout it got last night.

“After ten.” He hands me the coffee which I gratefully accept.

I wipe a hand over my face to try to clear some of the grogginess away. I haven’t slept this late in years. Perry normally wakes me to feed him at seven. “Where’s Perry?”

“He’s in the backyard. Fed, walked and watered. We took a trek to the local bakery, and I bought one of every pastry. Plus coffee.”

I frown. “Did anyone see you?”

“There were definitely people around.”

“You know what I mean.” I take a sip of the deliciously hot and strong coffee, touched he paid enough attention yesterday to get my order right, but concerned he was recognised out in the wild on his own.

“No one recognised me. I wore my cap and glasses and paid with cash. I’ve purchased coffee incognito before.”

Releasing the tension held in my breath, I relax into my pillow. “Thank you. And thanks for taking care of Perry and letting me sleep.”

“My pleasure. Gotta convince you I’m worth the risk somehow.”

Pressing my lips together, I hum. “We’ll see about that.”

He grins, reaching out and brushing the hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear before threading his fingers through the mass of it and cupping the back of my head. “I need you to understand something,” he says, his voice low, soft yet commanding as he leans in and closes his fist within my hair. “I’m keeping you.” He yanks my head back as he brushes his stubble against my jaw. “No matter how hard you push, I won’t be walking away.” My heart hammers in my chest, my core flooding with need.

“That’s a bold statement coming from a man who’s longest relationship has been with his mirror.”

He releases an amused burst from his nose then crashes his mouth against mine, the hand in my hair controlling my movement as his tongue takes over my mouth. I can barely breathe as he devours me, dominating my senses. The coffee falls from my hand, the heat from the spilling liquid hot against my thigh.

I cry out, and he releases me immediately. I right the cup and he scoops me in his arms, spiriting me into the bathroom and setting me on the vanity beside the sink. “Did it burn?” He inspects the reddened skin on my thigh, grabbing the tan washcloth and running it under cold water. He presses it against my leg.

“I don’t think so. It was just the shock of something hot against my thigh. I didn’t realise I dropped the cup.”

His mouth curves in a half grin. “You are so affected by me.”

“That’s a load of shit. I was bored and falling asleep.”

Even I’m smiling as he laughs and lifts the cloth, squatting down to inspect my injury closer. “Does it sting when I do this?” He brushes his lips lightly over the area, and I shake my head. “I think you’ll survive then.” He places the cloth back on the sink as he stands. “Think you can hobble into the kitchen and have breakfast with me?”

“I might need a new coffee to entice me.”

“You can have mine. I keep making you spill yours.” He takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen where he’s set up a plate of pastries in the middle of the table. He pulls out a chair for me to sit, then he places his full coffee in front of me before transferring a custard and apricot danish to a plate and putting that in front of me too. “Eat.”

I bite my lip to fight a smile. How did he know that’s the exact pastry I wanted? “You’re good at reading people, Marcus.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an observation.”

He sits across from me. “Maybe I’m just good at reading you?”

“Maybe.” I lift the danish and taste the delicate pastry, sweet and buttery on my tongue.

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That I know what you want more than you do?” He sits back in his chair, eyes gleaming as he watches me eat. It’s an odd thing to say, but he’s right. I’ve refused him in every way I can think of, but he doesn’t hear my words, he only reads my body language, and my body doesn’t believe my words either. Like my dog, my body’s loyalty is swayed whenever Marcus is around.

I lick my lips and take a sip of coffee before I can answer. “I don’t know yet. But I do know that if you keep showing up here, you can’t keep driving that Porsche. It sticks out like a sore thumb.”

He nods slightly. “I’ll get a new car.”

“A normal person car. Not a luxury one.”

“No problem.”

“And when you show up here, you need to put your car in my garage.”

He grins like he’s twelve. “I’ll happily put my car in your garage.”

“I’m serious. I want you to park in there and enter the house through there too. You never know who’s watching. And if Sandra shows up and sees a car out front, she’s gonna ask questions, and I already feel bad enough as it is.”

He leans his elbows on the table and picks up an apple danish, tearing off the corner before chewing it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you come to my place then?”

“Because I’m more likely to get my photo taken walking into your place.”

He narrows one eye. “This actor guy really did a number on you, huh?”

“He messed up my life. And since you won’t listen to reason, I at least need you to respect my privacy.”

“That’s fine. On one condition; tell me who he is?”

“Why? What difference does it make?”

“Because I wanna track the bastard down and beat the shit out of him.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Marcus would never get near Jon. They’re both famous, but they’re in different leagues. It’s like comparing the popularity of the Hemsworth brothers. Liam is a star in his own right, but Chris is the one with the power and sway.

“You think I couldn’t take him?”

“I’m sure you could, but you’d both be petrified of damaging your pretty faces,” I tease, tossing a piece of danish across the table. It lands in the floor.

“I don’t give a fuck about my face. Theo’s punched me in it several times.”

“Have you spoken to him?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

He reaches across the table and takes the coffee, drinking before returning it to me. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“You don’t miss him?” Perry saunters in and finds the bit danish I threw.

“Sometimes. But I don’t even know what to say to him.”

“Maybe you could just say, hey.” Finding nothing more on the floor, Perry jumps onto the couch and rests his head directly on the TV remote. MTV comes on. “He does that all the time,” I say. “I swear it’s on purpose.”

“Smart dog. He likes the classic rock too, huh?”

The screen fills with the hunched over figure of Jimmy Marx, probably the only Aussie music export in the last forty years whose international popularity rivals Marcus’s. His guitar riffs are legendary, his throaty lyrics known by young and old. He’s a national treasure. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a total arse hat. My hatred of famous people runs deep.

“Oh god. Turn it off, Perry,” I say, even though Perry never listens to me.

“You don’t like classic rock?” Marcus asks.

“This is the intro to that stupid reality show he does, parading around how brain dead he’s become and how broken and dysfunctional his family is.”

“Sounds like a hoot.”

“Well, it’s not,” I say, getting up to turn it off myself. “Reality TV is the lowest form of entertainment. It’s embarrassing to watch them cling to the vestiges of their fame like people don’t think they’re a total joke.”

“Didn’t he get this show after his daughter went crazy and posted all his sex tapes online?”

“I wouldn’t know.” My ears burn as I shut off the screen and put the remote on the side table where Perry can’t get it.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what put him in the limelight again. She drove a car through some movie star’s living room and nearly killed the guy. Then she set her sights on ruining her father.”

“She must have had a very good reason.”

He shrugs. “Infidelity if I remember correctly. But it all backfired, everyone’s more famous than ever and she’s gone to ground. Shame, she was a great musician.”

“Did you ever meet her?”

He shakes his head. “Saw her at a festival once, but I wasn’t in the big leagues until after she disappeared. She was this tiny little thing with bleached hair and black shit around her eyes. Kinda weird, but cool, you know? You should give her a listen. I reckon you’d like her stuff.”

“I’ll do that,” I say as I run my hand over Perry’s head.

“I actually got an invite to go on that show.”

I snap my head up. “You’re not considering it? You can’t. No. I won’t let you.” I touch my forehead, my skin buzzing slightly with annoyance. Shit.

“You won’t let me?” Marcus rises from his chair and stalks towards me. Oh fuck. This isn’t going to end well.

“Well, I…I…I’d rather you didn’t,” I stammer, feeling oddly warm as he stops in front of me.

“Why?” My mind gallops through the fog, desperately grabbing for a legitimate excuse to explain my outburst.

“Because you’re better than those people,” I try, hating the way my voice tilts, making it sound like a question.

One of his eyebrows lifts. “Then tell me you’re all in.”

“What?”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me you’re mine and mine alone, and I won’t do it.”

“I…” I open my mouth, but I can’t say it. I want him, yes. But I can’t tell him I’m his. No matter what this is between us, he can never own me. He’s too temporary in nature and personality. “I’ll do you one better.”

His eyes widen, interested as I pull open the drawer in my side table and take out a small black and green remote with a key attached to it.

“What’s this?” he asks when I hand it to him.

“The garage remote and the key to that door.” I point to the door that connects the garage to the house. “You can come and go as you please. Have me whenever you want.”

He looks from the remote to me before he shoves it in his back pocket. “Deal,” he says, grabbing me by the back of my neck and crashing his mouth against mine.

“This doesn’t mean I want you,” I say when he lets me up for air.

He grins. “Yes it fucking does,” he says before having me exactly when and how he wants. And I love every second of it.

Ten

Marcus

The last thing I wanted to do was leave Lisa’s. But all I had were the clothes on my back. I’d happily stay naked, but if I show up to the studio Monday morning in the same clothes Craig saw me in on Saturday, there’ll be questions. Then there’ll be prying and background checks, and I’ll be called into a marketing meeting to discuss if she’s good for my image. And since the one thing Lisa’s been adamant about since we met is not wanting to be involved with my work—she doesn’t mean it when she says she doesn’t want me—I want to respect those wishes and keep her the hell out of it. If I fuck up and Craig gets in her face, she really will mean it when she tells me to go away. And I don’t want that. I’m nowhere near done with her yet. So to protect our private little bubble, I tore myself away with a plan to get my arse back to her, extra clothes and all, as soon as I’m finished in the studio Monday night. I’m literally counting seconds here.

You know how it is when you find a great pair of jeans that are so comfortable you could live in them? That’s how it feels around her, how it feels when I’m with her. She fits me. And it’s not because the sex is out of this world, it’s because she seems to get me, and she’s not afraid to call me out, and she doesn’t try to fit some preconceived idea of what she thinks I want like every other girl I come across. She’s just her. Like it or lump it.

I prefer to hump it, but that’s probably the worst thing to be thinking in this moment. I’ve stopped in to visit my parents on the way home, and my mother is ranting at me in Italian, crying because I’m home, crying because I didn’t visit sooner, crying because I haven’t given up my gripe with Theo yet. She curses my stubbornness and makes the sign of the cross about twenty times. I’m surprised she’s not dressed in mourning.

“Mamma, English, per favore. My italiano non è buono. You’re speaking too fast, and I’m struggling to understand.”

“Why won’t you call your brother, huh?” she cries. “I’m getting old. I want to see my boys together before I die.”

“You’re fifty-seven.” I fight a smile. She does the dramatic Italian mother well. “And you’re fit as a fiddle.”

“It’s the stress. It’s ageing me. I want to see my oldest boy married. I want my youngest boy to come home and find a nice girl—preferably Italian—to settle down with. I want grandchildren. I want family meals. I can’t live with this tension, Marcus.”

“Listen to your mother, son,” my father intones.

I lift my shoulders and sigh. “Fine. You win.”

Mamma’s eyes go wide. “I do?” Then she grins before her expression falls and she frowns. “Wait. Which part?”

“All of it.”

“What?” She exchanges glances with my father and he just shrugs.

I sit forward with a smile. “I can’t promise to stay in the country. But I’ll come back as much as I can. I’ll also find a nice girl to settle down with.” Once I convince her to quit freaking out about being seen with me. “Grandchildren will have to be up to her. Same as the family meals. And I’ll talk to Theo.”

“You will?” She turns to my father and starts speaking excitedly in Italian. I catch the drift of what she’s saying. She’s telling Papa that nagging works. After twenty-six years she’s nagged me into submission.

Papa rolls his eyes and mutters, “Dio ci aiuti tutti.” God help us all.

I take that as my cue to leave and promise to come and see them soon.

“Bring that girl of yours to dinner,” Mamma says, squeezing my cheeks like she would when I was a boy.

“I didn’t say there was a girl, Mamma.”

Her eyes shine as she beams. “You didn’t have to. It’s written in your eyes. My baby boy is in love.”

Love?

Fuck. How did that happen so fast?

* * *

Lisa

A grin creeps over my face when I open the garage door after work and another car is in there. It’s a Toyota Corolla, one of the most common car models around. And it’s not even new. Wow. This boy’s serious.

I’m half expecting him to be buck naked with a rose between his teeth when I walk in, but instead, I find Marcus sitting on the couch with his guitar. He’s hunched over with a pencil in hand, scribbling something in a book he has open on the coffee table.

“This is nice to come home to,” I say, slipping out of my heels and walking over to him.

“Careful. I might start thinking you want me here and lose interest in the chase.” He closes the book and sets his guitar to the side before holding his arm out for me, pulling me onto his lap to greet me with a hair pull and a passionate kiss.

I slide my arm around the back of his neck and smile. “If that’s all I need to get rid of you, I’ll start worshiping at your feet.”

“No.” Gripping me by the waist, he tips me until I fall back on the couch and he’s holding himself above me. “That’s my job.” He grinds his hips into me, his hand sliding down my thigh, igniting my senses until he sits back and takes my foot in his hands, pressing his thumbs into my arch. I moan.

“Oh god, that feels good.”

“Not god. Marcus.” He winks, and I giggle, letting the ache of the workday leave my body as he expertly massages my feet. As I relax against the couch, I let my arm drop to the side, knocking the coffee table. The book he was writing in flips, but I catch it before it falls to the floor.

“Is this your lyric book?” I ask, setting it back on the table where it was.

“Sure is,” he says, shifting to my other foot. “You’re not gonna try to read it?”

I shake my head. “That would be like reading your diary, wouldn’t it?”

He grins before he nods and picks up the well-worn journal. “When I was in Matiari, the bass player Lachlan never understood how sacred these things are. If you left yours lying around, he’d pick it up and leaf through it like it was a magazine. We were always clobbering him for it.” He licks his lips, releasing an amused burst of air at the memory as he opens the book and runs his fingers along the torn edges of missing pages. “I haven’t even opened this since I left them. I started writing on my phone instead. But half the songs I release aren’t even mine.” He meets my eyes. “They think my originals aren’t mainstream enough. So they make me rework them until they fit that four chord mould you dislike so much.”

“How would your songs sound if you could choose yourself?” I ask, sliding my feet from his lap so I can sit up.

“Less noisy.” He flashes a smile and a glance my way before dropping the book back on the coffee table with a sigh. “When I first went solo, the noise suited my anger level, and it worked while I was still angry. But I was in the recording studio today and I realised it’s not there anymore. I don’t have anything left to be angry about.”

“Do you think you need the anger to perform?”

He shakes his head. “No. But my manager would say I need it for my brand. Happiness doesn’t sell records.”

Resting my arm on the back of the couch, I face my body towards him, tucking my legs beneath me. “Is that what you were working on when I got home? A happy song?” Do I make him happy?

He drops his head to the side as he laughs a little, seeming much younger than the man he is. “Sort of.”

“Can you play it for me?”

“Asking me to sing for you again? Sure you’re not a closet fan?”

“Busted.”

He runs his teeth over his bottom lip and picks up his guitar. The strings squeak a little as he positions it on his lap then plucks out a tune, producing a melodious sound like it’s second nature.

Memories of long ago fill my mind and I close my eyes as a swell of emotion builds in my chest. I’m reminded of a time of hope, of playfulness, of child-like wonder. But then I grew up… “That’s beautiful,” I whisper, needing to swallow.

“I visited my parents last night,” he says, still playing his tune.

“Yeah?” I open my eyes to watch his profile as he nods, face forward and thoughtful.

“Mamma was crying about the rift between me and Theo.”

“She wants you to make up?”

He nods. “She had a whole list of things she wanted for me.”

“Mums will do that.”

“Well, I decided she was right. It’s time to grow up.”

“Yeah?”

He nods again. “That’s where this song came from.”

His fingers dance with rapid ease and velvet comes out of his mouth as he sings the lyrics to accompany this beautiful melody.

I took my time creating the distance
that has grown between us

I cut my ties and I realise

I left scars with all my meanness.

I gave my mind to an endless sea

That somehow wouldn’t let me in

I lost my soul

I lost my way

In the ocean when I can’t swim.

He hums before breaking into a strum for the chorus which is surprisingly upbeat and joyful.

Keep your friends close,

Keep your mind strong.

Hmm.

Keep your family close,

Bring your girl along.

Oh, yeah baby.

Keep your friends close,

Keep your mind strong.

Oh, oh, oh.

Tell them all you love them always,

And sing your girl a song.

He laughs through the last couple of words, and I’m surprised to see a blush on his cheeks. I also can’t stop smiling at the glimpse of a boy I’m seeing before me. He’s so cocksure of himself and manly, seeing this openly innocent side of him makes my heart happy.

“It’s not finished,” he says, picking up his pencil to make a quick note in his book. “But I thought, since music was always our thing, it could be an olive branch of sorts.”

“Or you could just call him.” I rest my head against the back of the couch, his song making me feel warm and cosy. “But that doesn’t seem your style.”

Setting his guitar to the side, he rests his head next to mine. “You’re right. I’m a grand gesture kind of person.”

“Marcus Bailey, a man who wears his heart on his sleeve.” I lift my hand and place it against his jaw, my thumb sweeping against his smooth lips. How does this happen? How does the one person I didn’t want in my life manage to slot themselves in so quickly and thoroughly? How am I supposed to give this up?

He kisses the pad of my thumb then catches my hand, running his teeth over my wrist before pressing his lips against my palm.

“I’m a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say so.”

“And what you want is me? A girl to sing your song to?”

His mouth curls up with a grin. “I’m scaring the fuck out of you, aren’t I?”

I inhale a sharp breath and sit up, pulling away. “You don’t scare me, Marcus.” He petrifies me. “But I hope you’re also a man who knows what he wants for dinner?” Changing the subject, I stand and move into the kitchen, shaking off the heady cloud of desire and need he brings out in me. “We’ll need food if you plan on keeping me up all night again.” Opening the freezer, I dig through my selection of meat, looking for something that will easily feed us both. “I have lamb. And I can probably pull together a beef stir-fry.”

His hands snake around my waist. “Put the meat back in the freezer, Lisa.”

“But we need food.”

“Already taken care of. It’ll be here at seven.”

“You ordered?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“Menulog.”

“So they know your name?”

“They know Karen’s name. My account runs through her.”

“Oh.” I breathe a little easier.

“I know how to do this, Leis. You need to trust me.”

I close my eyes. “You’re making it really hard for me to push you away tonight,” I say, closing the freezer as I twist in his arms.

His lips quirk. “How about you tell me to fuck off and I’ll ignore you then bend you over the bench top and pound you so hard you scream?”

My insides coil at the thought. He knows me too well. “Fuck off, Marcus,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to meet his.

He winds his hand within my hair. “Say it like you mean it.”

I take a breath, filling my lungs and voice with conviction. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He grins, eyes shining as he tugs my head back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eleven

Lisa

“I’m taking you out.” Sandra leans both hands on my desk and looks down at me like she means business.

“Right now?” I lift my eyes from the ad copy I’m working on and look at the time. It’s 3:37pm, and this needs to be formatted and sent to my boss by four.

“Tonight, silly,” she says, dropping her butt into the visitor's chair. “You’ve been distracted and a little off these past few weeks, and I can’t help but think I’m to blame for that. I lost my head over that Marcus Bailey thing, and I don’t want it to be the reason we stop being us, you know? I mean, the man has probably left the country by now. I feel seriously stupid and cringe every time I think about how I reacted. So I’m coming over tonight to pick you up and take you out. It’ll be an apology and a best friend date.” She beams like this is the best idea anyone has ever had. “What do you think?”

“Ahh.” I stare at her open-mouthed, not sure how to respond when I know for a fact that Marcus hasn’t left the country. Hell, he’s barely left my house this past few weeks. Especially since his album wrapped a couple of days ago. I almost called in sick today just to stay in bed with him. The man can fuck even better than he can sing. And he has a beautiful voice.

“Say yes. Please? You can’t still be upset with me.”

“Ahh.” I’m not upset with her. I’m avoiding her because I’ve broken girl code in the worst way possible and I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it over and over and over again—not that Marcus would let me stop seeing him even if I wanted to. That man has decided I’m his port of calm in his whirlwind of a life. And I’m OK with that. Even though it’s feeling increasingly harder to face the fact that soon he’ll be back on the road and I’ll lose him to the groupies. No rock star can stay faithful on the road. Just like no actor can stay faithful on the set…

She puts her hands together and bats her lashes, pleading. “Please.”

I shake my head. “I’m really not in the mood, Sandra.” And going out with her will mean I have to miss out on welcome home from work sex. And I love welcome home from work sex.

“I’m begging here. I miss you, Leis. We haven’t talked properly in almost a month. And I’m worried you’re upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you, Sandra. I promise. It’s just been a long week and I would like to go home and curl up with a glass of wine.” And a rock star’s face between my thighs.

“But you can have wine with me. There’s this great show on tonight in a tiny little venue that will be right up your alley. The place does dinner and a show, and it’s totally low-key. You’ll be completely comfortable.”

“What kind of music?”

“The main act tonight has a bluesy jazzy kind of sound. I think you’d love what this chick does. She’s completely modernising the genre, and it gives you goosebumps. Please say you’ll come.”

I sigh, feeling that familiar tug at my heartstrings that tells me I’m about to cave in. “Where is it?”

“In the city. I’ll pick you up at 6:30 so you can drink as much wine as you like.”

“Fine,” I concede, lifting a shoulder. “6:30 it is. But I don’t want to be home after midnight, and I need to finish what I’m working on so I can leave on time or I won’t be ready.”

“Done!” She jumps up with an excited squeak, tapping her hands together. “I’ll leave you to it. I can’t wait.” She bounds out of my office, her blonde ponytail swishing as she closes the door.

I wait about five seconds then pull out my phone and text Marcus.

Me: I need you to make yourself scarce tonight. Sandra is coming over.

Marcus: tell her you’re busy. 🍆 💦

Me: 😅 I tried that. She must’ve taken pushy lessons from the same person you did.

Marcus: She knows my mother? 😲

Me: Very funny. Can you stay at yours tonight?

He takes a few moments to reply, but comes back with:

Marcus: I had something to do tonight anyway. I was going to blow it off to do you, but… 😒

Me: I’m just excited to get rid of you for a night…😜

Him: You’re gonna regret saying that 😈🍆💦💦💦

Smiling at his use of emojis, I slip my phone into my bag, also appreciating that Marcus types out full words and uses punctuation in his texts. Whenever my mother or younger brothers message me, I feel like I’m reading hieroglyphs.

While I return to working on my ad copy, I wonder if spending a night away from Marcus will be a good thing. We’ve become so used to each other’s company that sometimes I forget who he is, who I am. It’ll be nice to have an evening that doesn’t involve him. It’ll serve to remind me that when this is over, life will go on and I’ll be just fine without him.

Shit.

I miss him already.

* * *

Perry barks happily when I walk through the door and set my handbag on the couch with a sigh. Once upon a few weeks ago, Perry’s gorgeous furry face was all I needed to come home to. Now, I look around the empty living area, devoid of any signs that Marcus has spent almost a month here, and I feel like a part of me is missing. There’s no guitar propped against the wall, no giant shoes lined up by the door. No devilish grin to tighten my core and coax me into a quivering mess.

A pang hits me in the chest and tumbles into my gut. Jesus. I’m falling for him.

“Fuck.” Kicking off my shoes, I head straight for the shower to get ready for tonight, stripping while getting the water ready to hop inside. The last time I was in here Marcus bent me over and fucked me so hard my head hit the wall. Heaven.

Ugh. This won’t do. I’m falling for a man who I know will break my heart. And if he doesn’t, the moment he finds out I’ve been hiding who I really am will surely do the job. I was supposed to be smart this time. I was supposed to keep my feelings out of it. Fuck him and forget him. But then he started writing songs and bringing me coffee and ordering me food, walking my dog, taking care of me even better than I can for myself. I haven’t cooked a single meal since he decided to ‘keep me’. My house is always tidy and I never seem to run out of milk. And let’s not forget the multitude of orgasms he gives. Holy mother of god that man can fuck. He’s basically moved in and taken over and… I fucking love it. I love feeling worshipped.

But I can’t let myself get used to it. Our days are severely numbered. And not just because he’ll go on tour, but because I can never be with him honestly. I’ve burned a lot of bridges to create this life I have, and to protect myself, Marcus will have to be one of them.

Finishing with my shower, I head into the bedroom, my eyes drifting towards the neatly made bed and the side table that’s missing his phone charger, watch and song journal. He wakes in the night and writes. Sometimes I wake to find him in the living area with his guitar while Perry lies at his feet. He’s passionate and unencumbered, and I like curling up beside him, listening to him work. It feels like home…

Slipping into a black sheath dress with cap sleeves, I run my hands down my sides as it settles against my body before I fix the zip. Even this makes me think of him. I always have to allow extra time to get ready for work these days because he’ll inevitably come up behind me and pull the zip back down. I sigh. I’m going to have to end this.

Pulling a string of pearls from my jewellery box, I secure them around my neck and put in matching earrings. Then I head back to the bathroom where I twist my hair into a French roll and fix my makeup. All the while wondering how; how do I end this? Both my body and my heart are in a rebellion against my mind. Not to mention Marcus’s inability to listen when I tell him no. It’s because he knows what I really want. No. What I need. And that’s the scariest thought of all.

Shit. How am I going to survive him?

Checking the time, I move into the living area and make sure I have everything I need for tonight in my handbag. All that’s left to do is miss Marcus and wait for Sandra to arrive. I’m just about to head into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine when I hear the garage open and a car pull inside and cut the engine. What the hell?

I position myself in front of the entry door with my hands on my hips and my lips pursed as I wait for it to open. But I’m not going to lie, my stomach is doing backflips in excitement. He’s here.

The handle turns and my chest tightens, nipples budding in appreciation of the stunning view that fills the doorway. He’s dressed in a pair of dark jeans with styled tears at the knees, a dark grey shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and an inky black waistcoat that accentuates his small waist and broad shoulders. His brown hair is sexy and tousled and his chocolate eyes simmer upon meeting mine. And I think I just came.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, although my voice is thick with desire and I don’t sound annoyed at all. “You said you wouldn’t be here.”

“I said I’d go out tonight. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to fuck you first.” His eyes darken as the corner of his mouth pulls up and he stalks towards me.

“Sandra will be here in twenty minutes,” I argue, stepping backwards with my hands in front of me. “I don’t have time to get dressed again.”

“Then maybe you should blow her off. Better still, maybe you should be blowing me.”

I land against the wall. “It’ll ruin my lipstick.”

He twists open the button on his jeans. “Get on your knees.”

“Marcus, please,” I say, lowering myself to the floor, my entire body alive with excitement and nerves. “She can’t see you here.”

“She won’t,” he says, shoving his fingers into my hair and loosening the coiled bun I so painstakingly secured. “Now, suck my dick.”

A jolt of heat pools between my legs as I lick my lips then stretch them around his girth. He groans as the warmth of my mouth envelops his shaft, my tongue working his underside as I hollow my cheeks and take him as deep as I can.

“You can do better than that.” His voice is like gravel as his fingers tighten against my roots and he tugs me closer, pushing his cock deeper.

My eyes water as I resist the urge to gag, but the raggedness of his breath and the way he swivels back and fucks my face has me losing my mind, reaching between my legs to find my own release.

“Kiss the base,” he commands, pushing a little harder, a little deeper with each pulse of his hips. I press my body against the wall, my legs spread as my fingers work against my damp panties, giving me the friction I need as he enters my throat and cuts off my air supply, my lips touching the base of his dick. I come, making strangled noises as I try not to black out.

He pulls out of my mouth, the sudden burst of air in my lungs making me lightheaded as I sag against the wall, the only thing keeping me up are his fingers in my hair. “Lord,” I gasp, sucking in air as I look up and meet his hungry eyes. That was something else.

“Hmm. I don’t mind it when you call me that.” He hauls me up by my hair before grabbing my hips and shoving my dress up to my waist, his mouth crushing against mine as he grips my arse and lifts. My legs go around him and he shoves my drenched panties to the side, filling me violently with a hard thrust. I moan at his intrusion, my mind reeling as he works his hips back and forth, fucking me so hard it almost hurts. Almost.

“Marcus!”

“Are you gonna come, Lisa?”

“Yes.”

“Then say it. Let me hear it.”

“No.”

“Say it, Lisa. Admit it or I swear to god, I’ll answer that door with my dick out.”

“Oh my God.” My body coils tight, so close as he works me with expert thrusts, keeping me riding the edge without allowing me to tip over.

“Say it.”

My eyes go wide as I shake my head, fighting the urge to give in.

“You know what I want to hear.”

“Marcus.” I whimper.

“I keep my promises, Lisa.” He increases his speed and force, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die here.

“Tell me you want me in your life,” he grinds out through his teeth. “You’ve got until you come to admit it.”

“I don’t.” I let out a shriek as my body explodes, gripping him so tight he hisses and groans, driving himself deep as he spills inside me, his head falling forward to rest beside mine on the wall. We still. Our hearts thundering in our chests, his breath heating the curve of my neck. My fingers slide into his hair as I cling to him, my mind and body spinning while my heart is the only one that can speak. “I don’t want you, Marcus. I need you. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He lifts his head, meeting my eyes and searching as if he’s not sure whether to believe me. And who can blame him? We’ve been playing this game for weeks, and each time I’ve refused him. Until now.

“I’m in love with you,” he says finally, making my heart jolt and my eyes sting.

I look away. “You can’t love me, Marcus. You don’t even know me.”

He opens his mouth to speak just as a horn toots in my driveway.

“She’s here,” I whisper, about to cry because this is not how tonight was supposed to go at all. No day was supposed to go like this.

“I don’t care.”

“Marcus.” A car door slams and I can hear heels clacking along the path. “Please.” She can’t see him.

His eyes harden as he inhales a slow breath then withdraws from my body and lowers me to the floor. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“Fine,” I say, just as a knock sounds on the door. “Give me five minutes.” My eyes lock with Marcus’s as I call out to Sandra. He works his jaw. Great. He’s pissed.

“Don’t you want to invite her in?” he whispers, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Don’t,” I warn, recognising his tone from the YouTube video that made him a star.

“Do you want me to wait in the car?” Sandra asks through the door. My heart thumps in my ears.

“Tell her you’re staying home.” I can’t. If I don’t go out tonight, I’ll fall into him forever.

“Yes, please. I won’t be long,” I call out.

He breaks eye contact and looks away, shaking his head.

I slide from between him and the wall and go straight for the bathroom to tidy myself up so I don’t go out looking like I’ve just had a dick in my mouth. “Holy shit.” I look like I just woke up after a bender, I pull two makeup wipes from the packet and run them across my mouth and under my eyes.

Marcus follows, standing behind me silently while pulling the pins from my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it because I know I’ve hurt him. He just declared his love for me and I told him he was wrong.

“I’m not.” He picks up my hairbrush and runs it through my hair so it sits neatly over my shoulders.

“I don’t know what to say to you to make you understand.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m asking you to choose me, and you’re choosing to go out with your friend instead. I can read you loud and clear.”

“It’s not like that.” I pick up my lipstick and swipe it across my lips. “I’ve asked you not to get in the way of my life. You promised.”

“I promised not to pretend with you. Hiding away so your friend doesn’t see me, that’s pretending.”

“You also promised to keep us a secret.”

“That was before I fell in love with you.” I meet his eyes in the mirror, hurt and vulnerable while mine are pained and confused. He’s pushing my limits and I need him to stop.

“I have to go,” I say, breaking eye contact before I head to my room to change my underwear.

“Leave them on,” he commands, filling the doorway.

“I’m not walking around with your cum in my underwear all night.” I take a pair from my drawer and lift my dress to pull the soiled ones down.

He’s in front of me in a flash, grabbing my wrist to stop me. “I said, leave them on.”

“No.”

“I want you to feel me between your legs all night so you can’t ignore what I know is in here.” He taps a finger against my chest.

“I don’t want you there.”

He releases my wrist. “No. But you need me. We belong, Lisa. Whether you like it or not.”

Belong. I close my eyes against his words; they hurt and they heal, and they’re everything I’ve ever wanted while at the same time they’re the last thing I want to hear.

I hold the clean pair of panties out to him. “Because Marcus Bailey always gets what he wants, right?” As he reaches for them, I toss them at his chest and storm out of the room. “Fuck you.”

“Call me when you’re finished,” he calls after me. “You’re staying at my place tonight.”

I answer by slamming the front door.

Twelve

Lisa

“Lookin’ hot there, mama,” Sandra says when I get in her car, feeling close to tears while hoping I don’t stink of sex. “I like your hair out.”

“Thanks.” I tuck it behind my ear while I search through my bag to pull my glasses out. I don’t wear them often but I need a shield between me and the rest of the world tonight. “You look great too. Very hip.”

“This old thing.” Sandra smiles and flips her shiny blonde hair. “I actually bought it at lunch today.”

“The colour looks good on you. Brings out your eyes.” She’s wearing a fitted royal blue dress that hugs her curves and shows off her shapely legs. The neckline is a see-through lace that stops just above her breasts.

“Why thank you,” she says, throwing the car into reverse then backing out of the driveway. “It was actually on sale at Portmans. I wasn’t going to get it, but the price was too good to pass up.”

I do my best to listen while she rattles on, but as we drive away, I stare longingly at my house. I think my heart is on the floor in there somewhere. Goddamn rock stars.

“Are you OK?” Sandra asks suddenly, and it takes me a minute to realise she’s talking to me.

“Yeah. Absolutely fine.” I turn to her and smile.

“OK. It’s just that your glasses are on upside down and you’re staring out the window like a soldier going off to war.”

“Oh my god.” I grab my glasses from my face and spin them around. “How the hell did I manage that?”

She giggles. “You really did have a long week.”

I sit back in the seat and sigh. “The longest.” And one of the greatest. “I’m just drained. Tell me what’s happening in your world. I want to know if the sexy chef has called you.”

“He has. But he’s travelling at the moment. He’s great to talk to though.”

“Still not sure if you’re into him?”

She shrugs. “I’ll tell you something interesting he told me,” she says, launching into a story about squid and how we shouldn’t be eating them because they’re incredibly intelligent animals.

I half listen while my mind wanders back to Marcus. It’s always heading for him, but when I can feel him clinging to my body, the pull is too hard to ignore. He loves me. Marcus Bailey loves me. But how is he going to react when he finds out I’m not the regular girl he thinks I am? What happens when he learns my real name and the scandal I ran away from? Will he feel betrayed?

God. This is too complicated.

I thought he’d be like all the others. But he’s not. He’s different…

“Do you think two famous people can have a successful relationship?” I ask when we make it to the city and Sandra finds a vacant parking spot. She’s been chatting constantly the whole ride, and since her job is to interview celebrities, this question doesn’t seem out of the blue.

“Well, Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell made it.”

“Out of how many who didn’t? Remember how perfect Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston seemed for each other?” We get out of the car and continue talking as we walk towards the venue.

“I reckon they should ban celebrities from marrying until they’ve made it ten years as a couple. Then they’re allowed tie the knot. Oh, did you hear our very own Jonathan Masters’ latest engagement is on the rocks again? How many is that now? Two? Three?” Two.

“I really wouldn’t know,” I say, stomach knotting as I instantly regret my question. Of course celebrity couples never make it. Fame messes people up.

“He’s a man who should never be allowed to marry. Too busy dipping his pen in other ink pots.”

“Ink pots?” I laugh as we walk along the crowded street bumping shoulders.

She smiles. “You like that one? That’s one of my dad’s sayings.”

“I like the sound of your dad.”

“Oh, he’s a riot. You’d love him. He could teach these celebrities a thing or two about how to treat a woman.”

“Set a high standard, huh?”

“He sure did. If you ever need an example of devotion, it’s my dad. He would break out of Heaven to get back to my mum if he left this world before her.”

“That sounds kinda beautiful.”

“What about your folks? Are they still together?”

“Ah…yes and no. They’re still married but they have a complicated relationship.”

“Is that why you don’t talk about them much?”

“Well, my dad disowned me a while back, and my mum, well… it’s also complicated.” I flash her a smile, not sure why I’m bringing this up now. Guilty conscience, perhaps? I’ve been lying to her too.

“That’s a shame. My mum and dad are two of my favourite people.”

“I envy you that.”

She flashes me a smile as she gestures ahead of us to a neon-lit entrance. “Here we are.”

My eyes go wide. “Mary’s Underground? Didn’t this used to be the Basement?” I can’t be here.

She beams. “Mary’s rescued and reopened it awhile back. It’s so much cooler now.” She slips her arm in mine, tugging me towards the entry.

“This isn’t low-key,” I say. “This place is a Sydney icon. Everyone comes here. Hell, my dad even pl—” I stop myself before I go any further. “Came here when he was young.”

“Well, it’s low key tonight. Belle Adams was the winner of Triple J’s Unearthed competition last year. She’s headlining a few acts who are on the radar in the local scene, nothing huge.”

“The amount of people streaming in there says it’s big.”

“Not noisy then.” She laughs, having no clue why I’m so uneasy walking into a music venue like this. I thought she was taking me to a little blues lounge or something. Not Mary’s fucking Underground. Thank god I put my glasses on. Marcus isn’t the only one who can Clark Kent his Superman.

Sandra approaches the front of the line and gives her name, nominating me as her plus one so we’re allowed inside.

“Why are we on the door?” I ask, my nerves getting worse by the second.

“Because I know people. I’m interviewing Belle. So I’ll have to slip away a bit after the show.”

I stop walking. “This is.” I look around wildly, clocking a sign that says ‘Private Function’. “It’s a work thing?”

She nods and rubs her fingers together. “Free dinner, baby.”

“Ah…” Shit. “This is an industry night?”

She’s still grinning and nodding. “Isn’t it great? No general public to deal with.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. I look around the dimly lit room once we’ve made it to our table. I recognise more than a few faces. Fuck.

“I can’t be here,” I whisper, a little panicked my cover will be blown in a room full of music industry professionals and reporters. I’ll be headline news before morning.

“Nonsense. No one knows you’re not a reporter. And I’m sure others brought friends as their plus one. Just relax and enjoy a free night out. Here, I’ll order you a wine.” She waves a waiter over who places linen napkins over our laps as I pull my hair forward, keeping my face as hidden as possible. You look different now. No one would recognise you. My mother’s words enter my mind, reminding me that it’s been two years, fifteen kilos and a hair colour change that separates me from these people. In the world of entertainment, I’m irrelevant. I don’t know what I’m worried about… As long as I keep my head down and don’t make conversation with anyone, I’ll be fine.

When she finishes ordering, she looks at me and gasps. “Oh my god. I just twigged what’s got you so worried. You’re worried Marcus will be here, aren’t you?” I wasn’t ten seconds ago, but now I am! “Well, even if he is still in the country, I doubt he’d stoop so low. Look, his brother is here. Those two don’t talk.”

My eyes flick to where she indicates, and I spot Naomi Prendergast and Theo Bailey sitting together looking just as attractive as their photos make them. No. No. Marcus has been wanting to play his song for Theo to help mend their relationship. What if this is where he was going tonight? What if he sees me? What if he can’t control his need to prove I’m his? Fuck. I’ll lose my freedom, my best friend and my lover all in one night. Will Perry even want me after this?

“I think maybe I’m not feeling so great. I think I should get an Uber or a cab. Or…” My eyes catch someone watching me from across the room and I think I might have a heart attack.

“Jesus. You do look a little pale.” Sandra turns to see what has me spooked. “How about you see how you feel after the first course? Maybe your blood sugar is a bit funny from the long drive?”

“Maybe.”

Looking down, I frown and shake my head a little, trying to signal across the room. I don’t want to be approached. When I glance back up, he lifts his glass and nods, message received. I breathe out slowly, grateful when the waiter brings our wine.

“Looks like you’ve caught the eye of Kurt Marx,” Sandra says from behind her glass. “He keeps looking over here.”

“Ah, which one is he?” I ask, deliberately looking elsewhere.

She grins. “The one you were making eyes at, obviously. He’s cute. My age, I think; twenty-six? Although, I’ve heard he has a thing for older women.” I offer her a ghost of a smile. Of course he does. My little brother was screwing his tutors before he was old enough to drive a car.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” I tease.

“Neither. Just giving you the rundown.”

“Well, I don’t know who Kurt Marx is,” I lie, taking a large mouthful of wine as my phone buzzes in my bag. When I glance at Kurt, he lifts his phone to show it was him.

“I, um, need to use the bathroom,” I say, grabbing my bag as I stand with my head bowed.

“Ah, sure. They’re over there,” she says, pointing them out. I thank her and pull my phone from my bag so I can stay hunched without drawing attention, and so I can read my text.

K: r u mental?

Me: I didn’t know we were coming here. Save me.

K: how?

Me: run interference? If anyone recognises me tell them they’re wrong…. And above all, don’t approach me.

“The rest I can do, but it’s too late for that last one.” I stop just outside the toilets, turning towards the sound of my brother’s voice. “I never see you anymore, big sis.” He grins his big white celebrity grin and holds out his arms.

“That’s because Jimmy is a cunt and I can’t stand him,” I hiss, pushing his arms down and moving us so we’re as far out of sight as possible. “And don’t call me big sis here. Someone might hear.”

He leans close and speaks near my ear. “Well, I can’t call you Leisel, and I don’t remember your fake name. So I went with what I knew.” His honey eyes, the same as mine, crinkle with a cocky squint and I want to pull his messy blond hair like I used to when he annoyed me as a kid. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“My friend is a reporter—”

“Jesus.” He laughs. “You’re friends with a reporter?”

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“Well, you did always like living on the edge, L.”

I fold my arms. “Not always. I was reformed until…well, you know.”

He grins. “Everyone knows about that. Classic Leisel.”

“Oh my god. Don’t call me that.”

“Relax, you lost your heroin-chic looks once you gave up the cigarette and Diet Coke diet. No one’s gonna know it’s you outside the family. Unless they’re obsessed with you or something. Did you know your fans have a find Liesel website and social media? People can post photos of random chicks they think might be you and everyone dissects it. It’s like you’re big foot or Elvis.”

“That’s insane. Why would anyone even care? I was no Jimmy.”

“You were better.”

I fold my arms and look away, not enjoying the reminder of my old career. Do I miss music and performing? Yeah, actually, I do. But the competition, the backstabbing and the false friendships I can do without. No one stood up for me back then. They can all go and eat a dick.

“How is the family?” I ask, changing the subject.

“If you’re asking after dear old dad, Jimmy is, as you say it, still a cunt. We’re not allowed to say your name without him ranting about how ungrateful you are.”

“Well, we can’t all follow in his footsteps forever.”

“Well, his disappointment in my lack of international success is a common conversation topic. But, you know, I only do it for the pussy.” He grins and tugs on the lapel of his jacket.

“Ew.”

He chuckles. “You know that Bailey guy you were asking about a few weeks back?”

“I do.”

“Dad tried to get him on the show.”

“I’m not surprised.” Primarily because I already know.

“He’s followed his entire career, shoved it in my face because I’m a year older, and with the opportunities I’ve had, I should be bigger than some immigrant kid.”

“That’s what he called him? He’s so awful,” I say, screwing my face up. As far as I’m concerned, Marcus is far more talented than my father ever was or will be. “How’s mum?”

“Taking Xanax like Pez. She’s great.”

“And Phil?” My youngest brother is only nineteen. Out of the three of us, he’s seen the worst of my father. And he wasn’t good to any of us unless it was in front of cameras.

He shrugs. “I think being on a reality show is getting to him. You should call him. He’s nineteen, but he’s still a kid.”

I release a breath and nod. “OK. I’ll call him tomorrow. But I should go before someone recognises you then sees the family resemblance.”

“Behind those stunning wire frames?” he says of my glasses, teasing. “Never.”

“Stop. I’ll call you too, OK?”

“OK, big sis,” he whispers, giving me a wink before he squeezes my arm and we part ways, my heart aching more than it was before.

I miss my family. Not my dad. But my mum and my brothers are the same collateral damage to Jimmy Marx’s fame that I am. The difference between us is I got out. It was the hardest but most necessary decision I’ve ever had to make.

When I head back to the table, I hug the wall where the room is darkest, pausing to look at a few signed black and white photos of artists that have played the venue over the years. My heart quickens when I spot one of Marcus with his old band, Matiari. Even though it’s dated only a couple of years ago, he seems so much younger than he is now. Endless touring has obviously hardened him.

“I was so nervous that night,” a female voice says from beside me, pulling me from my thoughts and giving me a whole new reason to have a racing heart.

“Th-that’s you?” I ask, pointing to where she stands with her violin on her shoulder, the movement of her playing captured in her stance.

“Yes. I’m Naomi.” She gives me a friendly smile and holds her hand out to shake mine in greeting.

“Nice to meet you.” I try to smile back, but it doesn’t come out as easily as hers.

“Ah, the night I told you not to fuck it up or you were out.” Theo Bailey comes up behind Naomi, slipping his arms around her middle and planting a kiss on the side of her face. Oh fuck. I need to call that Uber.

“Oh shoosh. You wanted me then, don’t even lie about it.” She looks at me, pointing to the drummer in the picture. “That’s my husband-to-be right there. He pretended to hate me in the beginning.” Naomi pulls a face at Theo which only makes her look more adorable. She’s petite and blonde with lovely brown eyes and a tan so golden she looks like she should be running along a beach somewhere. Theo is the exact opposite of Marcus. He’s just as good looking, but where Marcus has light brown hair and eyes, Theo is darker and a little more angular.

“Are you still playing together?” I ask, acting clueless even though I know everything about them.

“We are,” Theo says. “We had to reshuffle a little when my brother left the band. But the rest of us are all still together.”

“Theo fronts now,” Naomi adds with pride.

“Oh, you’re like Dave Grohl? Came out from behind the drum kit to be the main guy. Cool. What happened to your brother?”

They exchange confused glances. “He’s Marcus Bailey,” Theo says.

I give them a blank look. “I’m sorry, my music knowledge begins with the sixties and ends in the nineties. I’m here with a friend.”

“Oh,” Naomi says, laughing. “Well, that’s really cool. Maybe you’ll discover something new tonight.”

“Hopefully,” I say. “It was nice meeting you. Good luck with your band.”

“Yeah,” Theo says with an amused grin as he and Naomi head off arm in arm.

I breathe a sigh of relief while hating myself for lying yet again, denying Marcus yet again, denying myself yet again.

I can’t stay here.

Pulling my phone out again, I type out a text to Sandra and continue along the back wall.

Me: Sorry to ditch. I’m too sick. Heading home xx

Just as I hit send, I glance up and find myself face to face with my father. Well, a black and white version of him. He played here back when The Basement first opened in the seventies before I was born—and before Jimmy Marx was a full-blown legend who helped define the term ‘sex, drugs and rock’n’roll’. Now he’s a brain dead reality star and I’m his greatest disappointment, ditching my music career the moment a massive label signed me. All because of a boy…

My phone buzzes in my hand, letting me know my Uber is on its way. Time to go.

“Leisel?” My eyes widen as I turn at the sound my real name. As much as I’m used to answering to Lisa, I don’t think I’ll ever manage to ignore Leisel. “Leisel Marx. I thought it was you. Your hair is different and well”—he gestures to my body—“you’re different. But even behind the glasses, I knew it was you.” This skinny man with vibrant blue hair isn’t even a person I recognise. Why the fuck does he recognise me? “Shit, I haven’t seen or heard from you since you went bat-shit-crazy over your bust up with Jonathan Masters. No one’s gonna believe me when I say I saw you. How the hell are you? Where have you been? Can I get a selfie?” He lifts his phone, ready to take a picture, but I push away.

“I’m not Leisel,” I mutter, searching the crowd for Kurt and hoping he can come to my rescue.

“Sure you are. Don’t you remember me? Colin Lucas. Our parents know each other. My mum is Sophie Lucas from the 80s band Twister. I’ve been to your house, like, twice. But I’m in my own band now. Tender Trap, have you heard of us?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. No. I don’t remember him. I have no fucking memory of him, but he fucking remembers me. Superman is a liar. There’s no way Clark Kent could roam the city unrecognised. How the hell does Marcus manage this?

“I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong person.” Hitching my bag on my shoulder, I tuck my head and rush for the exit. But that fucking idiot keeps calling after me.

“Aw, come on Leisel. Don’t be like that. I just want a picture to prove I saw you.”

“I’m not her,” I insist over my shoulder as my head buzzes. I’m pretty sure I might throw up if I don’t get some fresh air soon. Fuck. I was so scared of Marcus blowing my cover that I never considered Sandra would be the reason for it. And now I’m fucked. The whole room is watching me flee and I hear my name repeated like a ripple crossing the room.

It’s her.

Oh my god, it’s Leisel Marx.

Leisel Marx.

Leisel Marx.

Blood pumps in a noisy rush through my ears, the walls of my new world colliding with my old and tumbling down in a mess of brick and dust. I’m exposed. I can’t breathe.

“Stop! I’m not Leisel Marx!” I screech, running smack up against a wall of chest. “I’m not—”

“Leisel?” Two strong arms halt my departure and I look up to find a pair of cerulean blue eyes frowning at me.

“Oh fuck.”

Marcus

“Hey man. Glad you could make it,” Jerry, the DJ who invited me to this thing slaps me on the shoulder as the bouncer gestures for us to go inside.

“Happy to be here. Is everything sorted?”

“Sure is.”

Dim lighting provides a soft haze of privacy as we walk through the main doors, the smooth sound of jazz filtering through the sound system as the stage is prepared for the first performance. It’s been two years and thousands of miles since I’ve been in this place. It feels like a lifetime since I stood on that stage with my brother and welcomed Naomi into the band. She was to be that special something that set us apart from every other struggling band in the country. And she was. But she was our downfall as brothers. Nothing can come between men like a woman can. And Theo and I let a woman become a canyon between us. Correction: I created the canyon. Now I need to fill it back in. I’m hoping to shovel that first barrel of earth tonight. Theo and Naomi are both here, and I’ve asked Jerry to see to it so I can get up there and sing my song. I destroyed our relationship publicly, so it’s only right that I repair it publicly too. But there’s an odd buzz in the air. I’m not sure if it’s me because I’m nervous about the song and on edge after the way Lisa and I left things, or if something else is going on around here.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” I say, stopping before I can take the stairs to the mezzanine level.

“What do you mean?” Jerry asks.

I look around, feeling the disquiet in my bones. “I don’t know. But something is happening.”

“You get your hands off me,” a woman calls out. I know that voice. I’d know it anywhere. Lisa.

“Leisel, calm down.”

I follow the sound of a male voice to find her, and a camera flash goes off followed my several more. Jonathan Masters. That fucking pretty boy movie star is here. But what the hell is he doing with Lisa? And what did he call her?

“Hey man, she’s not Leisel,” some guy from the sidelines says—Kurt Marx, I think his name is.

“Are you serious right now?” Jonathan says, moving just enough that I can see Lisa’s panicked face.

“Just let me leave, Jonathan,” she begs, pulling on her arm, held tight in Master’s grip. My fists ball at my sides and I growl, moving towards them.

“So you can disappear again? I don’t think so.”

“Let me go,” she shrieks, fighting against him. He’s touching what’s mine. “Let me go. Let me go.” My blood boils.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” I boom over everyone, pushing people aside like rag dolls. Faces turn my way and flashes fill my vision. “And fuck off, you parasites. If I find a single photo of this posted I’ll come after every fucking one of you.”

“So will I.” Theo appears by my side and I want to fucking hug him. But now isn’t the time so I just give him a nod as he folds his guns across his chest, flexing. “Let the girl go.”

Masters, the pussy, releases Lisa’s arms and holds his hands up. “I wasn’t hurting her. She ran into me and we have history.”

I growl at him as Lisa turns to me, mascara filled tears running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she says. Then she bolts. Fuck. I give chase.

“Lisa!”

“Leisel,” Masters calls out at the same time. “I just want to talk.” Leisel? I stop moving.

“Her name is Lisa.” A blonde I’m assuming is Sandra gets in his face. “Why are you calling her Leisel?”

“Because that's her fucking name,” he snarls in response.

I turn back to Masters. “What did you say?”

He frowns as he looks at me like I have no right to address him and his golden movie star good looks. “Her name is Leisel Marx. I was supposed to marry her.” Marry her? Holy fuck. Pieces I didn’t understand start slotting into place: Kurt Marx. Leisel Marx. Jonathan Masters… K. Lisa. Jon… Her hatred of famous people, her reaction to my invite on that reality show, the reason she’s unwilling to commit… It’s all too much of a coincidence not to be true. Holy fuck.

“You’re Jon?” I practically gasp as my mind reels. She’s fucking Leisel Marx.

“Jonathan Masters,” he corrects. “Yes. And I would have appreciated a moment to talk with my fiancée without you interrupting, Bailey.” His?

No.

Baring my teeth, I grab the front of his shirt and haul him until he’s balancing on his toes. “Ex-fiancée. She’s not yours, mate. She’s mine. Don’t fucking touch her again or I’ll break your pretty face.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He talks big, but his eyes glint with fear.

“Try me.” I drop his shirt and shove him so he stumbles back. His lackeys rush to save him and stop me.

“Leave him,” he commands. “Find her.”

“Get in their way,” I shout to Theo as I turn and bolt for the door, barely two steps ahead of them. As I burst through the outside doors, I slam my body against it.

“It opens inwards,” the bouncer says.

“Fuck.” I grab the handle, pulling back with my foot anchored against the frame. “I’ll give you ten grand if you take over. Hold on as long as you can.”

The bouncer shrugs. “Sure thing, Mr Bailey.” We transfer positions then I jump away, swivelling my head to scan the street.

“Lisa,” I yell. To my right, a figure stumbles and turns back before picking up the pace. I sprint after her. “Lisa!”

She slows to a brisk walk while wiping her hands over her face. “Go away,” she cries when I catch up.

“What the fuck, Lisa? Is what he said in there true? You’re Leisel Marx?” I don’t know whether I’m pissed or relieved or furious or…fuck. I don’t know what I am besides confused and looking for answers.

“Was,” she says. “I was Leisel Marx. I had my name legally changed to Lisa Russell after the shit with Jonathan and my father went down.”

“The ex whose car you totalled was Jonathan fucking Masters?”

“Yes. OK? I drove it straight through our front fucking window while he was screwing some wannabe actress on the couch I picked out. Then my father went on record saying he was ashamed of my actions, so I showed the world he was a cheating bastard too. Like the crazy bitch I am.” She rakes her hand through her hair, picking up the pace. “That’s what you called me isn’t it? A crazy bitch?”

I grab her arm and force her to stop moving. “I never called you a bitch. I said what happened was crazy. Don’t fucking insult me. I am the last person to condemn your actions. I made my name doing crazy shit and misbehaving.”

“And look where it got you. Look where it got all of you. My father, Jonathan, you. You treat people like shit and you’re gods. I react to being treated like shit and I’m a pariah. Fuck this industry. Fuck this world. Fuck it all.”

“Don’t you dare lump me in a category with those philandering cunts. I would never cheat on the best thing in my fucking life.”

“The best thing? In my world I’m a fucking lie. In your world I’m a fucking leper. Didn’t you see the way they reacted in there? Shocked gasps because the crazy person who almost killed her fiancé was back in town. I’ll be all over the news by morning. This is exactly what I didn’t want.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me who you were? I would have understood.”

“Because I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. You and I weren’t supposed to…” She turns away, tears streaming down her cheeks as her face crumples. “Why couldn’t you leave me alone and stay where you belonged? My life is ruined now.”

I catch her face before she can take off on me again. “I didn’t do this to you.”

“I know,” she cries, hands gripping my wrists as her knees sag. “I did it to myself.”

That’s when I kiss her.

Thirteen

Lisa

One minute, I’m crying and yelling and the next, his lips are on mine, and I stop fighting. A delicious warmth starts from the point of contact and spreads in curling tendrils, diffusing through my body until they reach the very tips of my fingers and toes and every part of me is humming.

His hands move from my face to wrap around my body, steadying the back of my head as he pulls me close and moves his mouth against mine, reminding me who I belong to. We belong. Like it or not.

“I suppose you hate me now,” I whisper when our lips part.

“I hate that you couldn’t be honest with me.”

“How could I know what we’d become?” I gasp, fresh tears falling. “You were supposed to fuck me until you got bored and leave. But now I’m the one who has to go.”

“What? Go where?”

“Home. I need to pack my bags and get on the road before they find me again.”

“You’re running?”

“Yes! Why do you think I made you promise to keep me away from all this? I knew someone would recognise me. Jesus, I unwittingly walk into one ‘low-key’ fucking gig and I run into almost everyone I’ve ever known. The Australian entertainment industry isn’t a very big place. They’re tight knit and have long memories. So when you almost kill one of their rising stars, they don’t tend to be very understanding. Even if he was a cheating arsehole.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to run. Do they even know your new name?”

“How long do you think it will take? Sandra’s in there. You’re out here. The breadcrumbs are there and I’m not going to stick around to see who picks them up. I won’t go through this again.”

When Jonathan and I broke up two years ago, the media circus was an absolute nightmare. I was arrested but let off with a warning when Jonathan decided not to press charges. Still, everywhere I went someone was snapping my photo and yelling my name. Then my father took an interview damning my actions, so I retaliated by outing him for the cheating scumbag he was. If I thought the public reaction to me driving a car at my fiancé’s house was bad, attempting to tarnish the reputation of a national treasure was just ‘unAustralian’ of me. I received hate mail, death threats, attacks on my property and my person. I was the nation’s most hated person. I had no choice but to pack up my life and start again. I should have moved to another country.

“So this is it? You’re seriously planning on leaving me?” A tight-knit creases his brow as he searches my eyes, confusion in his.

“I have to.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You can’t leave. I won’t let you.”

“Marcus, please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Hot tears fall from my eyes. “You and I were always temporary.”

His hand rests on the back of my neck as he inhales a sharp breath, but it doesn’t turn into anything other than a curse when a burst of flashes and clicks assault us. Marcus tucks my face against his chest.

“Leisel, where have you been all this time?”

“Marcus, over here. How long have you been dating?”

“Lisa Russell? I’ve got an Uber pick up for Lisa Russell.”

“Fuck.” I feel the word vibrate in Marcus’s chest. Now they know my legal name. Fuck is an understatement. “Come on.” Putting his arm around my shoulders, he hurriedly guides me forward and reefs the passenger door of the Uber open.

“Lisa Russell?” The guy checks as I climb in.

“That’s me,” I sniff, knowing I’m going to have to change my name all over again now. Fucking paparazzi. Marcus slides himself in beside me and slams the door on the persistent flashing of the cameras.

“Fucking paparazzi,” he growls, and I give him a wobbly smile.

“Holy shit. You’re Marcus Bailey,” the driver blurts. “I was literally just listening to you on the radio.”

“That’s great kid,” Marcus says, his expression tight. “Think you can get us out of here?”

“Of course. Blaxland, yeah?”

“Ah, no. My car is two streets away. I just need you to get us there.”

“OK. But I’m gonna need Ms Russell to change the destination on her app.”

Hands hammer against the window, voices calling our names as the cameras click, click, click. “Mate, I’ll give you five hundred fucking dollars to step on the gas right now.”

“Ah, Yes, sir. But I still need Ms Russell to change the address or cancel the call. This is my job.”

Marcus grits his teeth and sucks in some air.

“It’s OK,” I say, pulling out my phone. “I’ll cancel the ride.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, accelerating slowly to break free of the paps.

“It’s done,” I say, throwing my phone back in my bag, freaking out even more because not only is my face going to be all over the papers tomorrow, I was caught with Marcus too. They’re going to have a field day with this.

I rest my head against the back of the seat and close my eyes tightly, feeling like my whole world has exploded. Then the warmth of Marcus’s hand slides over mine. “This was never temporary for me,” he whispers, entwining our fingers and lifting my hand to his lips. “I won’t let you go.”

“Marcus,” I whisper back, not elaborating because now isn’t the time.

“Lisa.” He uses his free hand to brush his thumb along my jaw as he stares into my eyes, his beseeching, begging me to quit pushing.

But I can’t.

It doesn’t matter how we feel about each other in this moment, because we can’t be together without one of us giving up everything about ourselves. And I’m not willing to live in the spotlight, and I don’t think he can exist without it. We’ve always been doomed. I’ve been trying to tell him that all along.

“This is two streets,” the driver says after clearing his throat.

Marcus releases me, leaning to the side and pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “Thanks, mate,” he says, handing over the money he promised before getting out of the car. “Let’s go.”

We transfer to his Porsche, and I can’t help but smile a little as I get inside and shuffle down in the seat, remembering our first outing together…although I suppose with the way that day ended, it should be classed as our first date.

It’s only fitting it’s the car we use on our last night together too.

“I’m about fifteen minutes away,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.

“I can’t go to your place. I need to get home, pack, get out of here.”

“Fuck, Lisa. Stop. You’re not leaving.”

Pressing my lips together, I look out the window. “I’m not going to argue about this with you.”

“Yes, you are. Because I’m not letting you run away.”

“Goddamn it, Marcus,” I snap. “It’s not your choice.”

He releases a slow breath that’s filled with tension as we drive in silence until my phone starts buzzing. Seconds later, Marcus’s does the same. He hits a button on his steering wheel and noise fills the car. Music and voices. “Theo,” Marcus says.

“Jesus. I was worried you wouldn’t answer. Are you OK? Did you get away?”

“Yeah. I have her with me. We’re going to mine.”

“Fuck. That was intense.”

“Thanks for having my back. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he says. “Anything for family, man.”

Marcus nods. “I’ll call you soon, OK?”

“Sure. I’m just glad you’re OK.”

He hangs up and wraps his hand back around the steering wheel with careful controlled movement. I can feel the tension radiating off him. “I was going to perform the song for him tonight.”

“I’m sorry my drama ruined it.”

He shrugs. “Probably for the best. I’m a shit songwriter. Theo wrote all of Matiari’s hits and my stuff is heavily edited.”

“Doesn’t make you shit. Just different. I thought your song was beautiful. The audience would have loved it too. I know they would.”

“Because you can write hits too, huh? To think, I fucking recommended you your own music.” He shakes his head.

“Shows you have good taste,” I say, trying to lighten the mood a little. It doesn’t work.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” he demands in a frustrated burst that I ignore.

My phone buzzes again and I pull it out of my bag, Sandra’s name lighting up my screen. God, how am I supposed to explain this to her? She’s my best friend and until now, she didn’t even know my real name. Not that it really matters anymore. Since my cover’s blown, I’ll have to find a new best friend…. Maybe it’s best if I don’t make friends at all next time.

Rejecting the call, I tap out a message that tells her I’m sorry and will explain soon then I message Kurt, who’s also tried to call, and tell him the same. To avoid any further contact, I switch my phone off and put it away.

Marcus pulls into the parking garage of a modern apartment building and parks in his designated space without further words passing between us.

“Come on,” he says, cutting the engine and getting out of the car. I hug my bag to my chest, afraid that if I go up there, his apartment will become my ivory tower and I’ll never leave.

“What about Perry?” I ask when he opens my car door. “He’s waiting at home by himself.”

“He’s got water, food and a doggy door. We’ll get up early and get him before the paps are even awake.”

I wipe a hand over my face. “OK,” I say, taking the hand he offers me.

I don’t know how I feel about going up to Marcus’s place. A few hours ago, there’s no way I’d want to be seen anywhere near his residence, but right now, I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure the pictures of us together are already all over social media. No secrets now…

With his hand wrapped around mine, he leads me inside the building, entering the lobby with a security tag on his keys. He nods at the desk attendant/security guard as he walks us to the elevator bay and inserts a small plastic key to call the lift.

As we enter the lift cabin, I close my eyes, trying to work my way through this. “I thought you’d hate me if you ever found out,” I say, my hand hurting from the pressure of his grip.

“Pissed is the only word I have to describe it right now.”

“How about betrayed?”

He turns to look at me. “Are you trying to make this worse?”

“No. I just want you to understand.”

Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, he tilts his head. “See, that’s what gets me. Because I would have understood. Out of everyone in this world, I’m probably the one person who would completely understand your actions. Hell, I even understand why you don’t want to go anywhere near the industry, or anyone associated with it. But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t trust me to understand. You didn’t even give me the chance. Just some bullshit about us not working because I’m a rock star with a reputation for fucking groupies. I thought all I had to do was prove to you that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I had no interest in fucking anyone but you. But now I realise I never had a fucking chance.”

“Why do you think I kept telling you I didn’t want you?” I whisper, just as the doors ping open.

He throws my hand from his grip and steps off, placing his arm against the doors so they don’t close. “Get off the fucking lift, Lisa.”

I wrap my arm across my middle, pressing my aching hand underneath my opposite elbow. “I think I should go home.”

“Get. Off. The. Fucking. Lift.”

I step backwards and shake my head.

He takes a calming breath and holds out his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that. But I’m hurting you. Let me go so I can stop.”

He reaches in and grabs me by the arm, tugging me after him. “Jesus, you’re a stubborn woman.” He pushes me against the wall as the doors slide closed, caging me with his arms on either side of my shoulders. “Get it through your head, I’m not leaving. You’re not leaving. You and me, we’re fucking forever.”

My eyes burn. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I love you, dammit. I fucking love you and I know it’s real because I would walk away from all of this in a heartbeat if it means I can be with you.”

“What?” He can't be serious.

He rests his forehead against mine and softens his voice. “I will give all of this up to be a regular man with you.”

My hands lift to his face, pressing against his cheeks as I fight the swell of emotion that floods my entire body. “You’d give up your music, your fame, for me?”

He presses his forehead a little harder into mine. “In a fucking heartbeat,” he whispers, his voice strained. Fuck. He really does mean it.

“Marcus.” My voice barely registers as my mouth searches for his, lips teasing. I’m overwhelmed by him. Marcus is a man with the world at his feet. He’s mentioned being tired and sick of the constant touring, but to hear him so willing to walk away from everything he’s built and worked for astounds me. “You’ll end up resenting me. I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your fucking choice.”

“God. Why are you so pigheaded?”

“Because this, Lisa.” His hands move to either side of my head. “This is what we write songs about. And if we let it go because we’re scared of what’s out there waiting for us, what’s the fucking point in any of this?”

“I don’t know,” I cry, struggling to fight when he is literally offering me everything I want.

“I would rather write songs and sing them to you than play twisted versions of my heart to screaming fans. I don’t want to be famous if it means I can’t have you.”

My heart catches in my throat as I melt at his words. “Then ask me again,” I whisper, my entire body shaking.

Pulling his head back, he sucks in a ragged breath and meets my eyes with so much pain and passion in his I think I might die. “Do you want me, Lisa?”

I press my lips together as a tear slides from my eye. “Yes.”

He groans as he crashes our mouths together, his hand on the back of my head while his tongue dominates my mouth, kissing me intensely before pulling back, his breath shaky as his fingers brush through my hair. “Give me more,” he forces out. “I want to hear it all.”

“I want you,” I whisper, and he kisses me again.

“More.”

“I need you.” He grips my hips and presses himself against me.

“More, Lisa. Tell me how you feel.”

“I love you,” I admit, my heart racing from speaking the words I’ve been petrified of acknowledging.

“I fucking knew you did,” he says as he picks me up and carries me to his room, setting me on the bed and climbing over me, gently biting my bottom lip.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I know what you want. And I know I’m the only man who can give it to you.”

“Yes,” I admit again, crying because my life feels shattered but held together, and it’s this man above me with his relentless pursuit who’s making that happen. I love him.

“Tell me again.”

“I want you, Marcus.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of my ear. “What else?”

“I need you.” He hums appreciatively as he slips his hand between us, shoving my panties to the side as he thrusts two fingers inside me.

“And?” He lifts his head and moans, his eyes fluttering closed as my juices coat him and I rock my hips to meet the depth of his movement.

“And I love you.” He curls his fingers inside me, massaging my g-spot. Oh god.

“Will you stop pushing me away?” he asks, thrusting his fingers deeper. “Quit telling me we won’t work and let me be the man you need me to be?”

A moan leaves my mouth as I nod. “Yes. I want that,” I gasp. “I’m yours. Completely.”

“Yeah. You fucking are,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers from inside me before running my juices over my bottom lip then pushing inside my mouth. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted.” I suck on them, moaning as I taste myself on him, my core tightening at the dark desire flooding his eyes as he watches his fingers move past my lips before he withdraws them from my mouth, running them down my chin until his hand wraps around my neck. “And I’m never letting you go.”

I gasp, my nipples going rock hard as he squeezes, balancing on his knees as he frees himself from his jeans then shoves my dress up, tugging at the side seam of my panties until it breaks and they’re nothing but a scrap around my other thigh. “Then squeeze harder,” I force out, losing my mind as he pushes his big cock inside me and tightens his grip.

My hands wrap around his forearm, my lungs fighting for air as he pummels with his hips. In and out. In and out. He fucks with agonising precision, a slow torture of the senses dancing along that fine line between pleasure and pain.

“You are so fucking perfect for me, Lisa. So perfect.”

My body ignites, my nerve endings surging as I tip my head back and open my mouth as my climax hits with a blinding light. He releases my throat, and a word escapes, the only one that matters. “Marcus.”

His hips jam against mine as he hisses through clenched teeth, spilling himself inside me. “Fuck. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Good,” I force out, trying to catch my breath. “Because you know what’ll happen if you ever stray.”

He laughs as he leans down and kisses me softly. “I could never. I don’t cheat.”

“Promise me. Promise me I’m the only one. Promise me you’ll never make me share you.”

He brushes his fingers through my hair as he looks into my eyes, conjuring up the maximum amount of sincerity a person can possess. “I promise you. I have zero interest in any woman but you. I love you. Only you. There’s no one else as perfect for me.”

“OK,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I nod. “Let’s run away together.”

He grins. “We’re not running away. We’re choosing a happy life.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Fourteen

Marcus

“Where do you want to live?” I ask, tracing my fingers up and down Lisa’s arm as she presses her body against me, her hand moving lightly across my chest. She feels so right in my arms, perfect in my bed. I’ve actually never brought a woman in here before, so that’s something huge in itself. Since I met her that day in the studio, I’ve become one hundred percent unequivocally devoted to her. I can’t think about another woman. I can’t imagine ever wanting to think about another woman. I met her and my world changed. She’s everything I was looking for. Even if she lied about who she was.

As much as I hate that she didn’t tell me, I can understand her reasons behind it. Being famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and when things go bad, the whole world has an opinion. My success came off the back of a tantrum I threw onstage. When your emotions are pushed to the limit and you live life in the public eye, someone is inevitably going to have a camera phone trained on you when you crack. Sometimes it makes you more famous, sometimes it ruins your career.

“Let’s go to the country,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to my skin.

“Hmm, we can have horses.”

“And chickens.”

“You want chickens?”

She nods and tilts her head up so she can see me. “I’ve always dreamed of being completely self sufficient. Grow my own food, be one with nature. It’d be incredible to shut off all the noise and forget about money and fame. It blackens the heart.”

I nod. “Can we make like, a sex dungeon in this country ranch of ours?” I ask, primarily teasing but kind of liking the idea of a room dedicated to getting our kink on and testing our limits.

“We can do whatever you like.” She presses herself up, arms folded across my chest as her breasts brush against my side. I’m not even sure what time it is. But it’s pitch black outside and we’ve already had sex three times. I’m guessing it’s close to midnight. “It’ll be our private world.”

I twirl my fingers through the messy length of her hair. “Our world. I like the sound of that,” I say.

“I’m still kind of blown away by you wanting to leave with me. Are you sure it’s what you want? Because you can change your mind and I’ll understand. It’s a lot to give up.”

“I’m sure.” I give her hair a gentle tug and she smiles. “Remember when I first met you? All I wanted was to stop, take a moment and make a real connection with someone who wasn’t interested in me for my fame. I wanted to remember what it was like to be normal so I could appreciate this extravagant life I’ve been given, come back fresh so I could finish out my contract with a clear head. But the longer I spent with you, the further I fell, the more I realised that I hate this life. I hate the man I am when I’m Marcus Bailey, rock star. I like who I am with you, just Marcus, the guy who will do anything to be with his girl.”

“I love you,” she says, and the power she puts behind her words makes me feel like a king. I’ve been on stage with tens of thousands of fans screaming that they love me. But it’s never felt like this.

“I love you too,” I say, crunching down to kiss her lightly when the elevator pings, signalling I have a visitor. “What the hell?” Shifting Lisa to the side, I swing my legs out of bed and pull on a pair of pants.

“Was that the lift?”

“Yeah. Wait here.” I stand and tuck myself inside them, buttoning the fly.

“People can just come up here?”

“If they have the key.”

“Who has the key?”

“Karen and—”

“Marcus? Where the fuck are you?”

I let out a sigh. “And my manager, Craig.”

“He sounds pissed.”

“Well, I don’t answer his calls anymore.” Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Stay in bed. I’ll get rid of him.”

She pulls the sheet over her body. “OK.”

“Marcus!”

I find Craig standing in the kitchen pouring himself three fingers of Macallan. “Help yourself, mate,” I say, stopping at the far end of the granite bench top as I watch him gulp it down like cordial.

“I need this,” he says, slamming his glass down and refilling it. “You have no idea of the calamity you two have caused out there. I needed a cattle prod to get through the paparazzi, and the fans. There’s a group for ‘Leave Leisel Alone’, a group to bring her back, and a group of your fans crying because they were sure you were waiting for them but you chose Leisel Marx instead. One of them is wearing a wedding dress.”

“What? How would they even know any of that? All we did was get in an Uber together.”

“After threatening Jonathan Masters because, and I quote, ‘she’s yours.’ Then offering the security guard ten grand to stop Masters from following her—and creating a fire hazard, mind you—then arguing in the street and sticking your tongue down her throat.”

I run my hand through my hair and blow out a breath. “Shit. They caught all that?”

“Imagine how I felt when my fucking phone went crazy and I was asked to confirm your relationship with Leisel Marx. I told them you’d never met the girl. Then they sent me photos and now I look like a fuckwit because I can’t keep track of my own artist. Do you know how I found you, Marcus? TM-fucking-Z. You’re worldwide news again. But this time they think you’ve gone insane. And I’m inclined to fucking agree. Leisel Marx? Leisel fucking Marx? Of all the women in the world you hooked up with the psycho ex of Jonathan Masters?”

“Don’t call her that?”

“But am I wrong? You know what she did. What happens when you go on tour and she finds out how many groupies you like screwing? You think she’ll be cool with it?”

“I wouldn’t screw around on her.”

“Come off it, mate. I’ve known you for two years and fucking is what you do. You’re a sex symbol. A rock star. You think fans will line up to meet you if they find out your dick’s off the table?”

“My dick isn’t a commodity. I’m committed to Lisa and I’m not going on tour again. So this is a moot point.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m done.”

“You can’t. You’re under contract.”

“I’ll buy out my contract.”

“The label won’t agree to that. They’ll sue you. You’ll be ruined.”

“I don’t care.” I take the whiskey he poured and down it, placing the glass in my sink before turning away from him. Craig isn’t a bad guy. But he is a corporate guy. And all they care about is the mighty dollar. “See yourself out, will you?”

“Marcus.”

“This isn’t negotiable,” I throw over my shoulder. “I’m done.”

“You’re ruining your life, Marcus.”

“No. I’m retiring early.”

“She’s just a cunt, mate. A hole to fuck. She isn’t worth going broke over.”

I stop walking. “Say that again and I’ll break your fucking nose.” When I turn, there’s fear in his eyes.

“Do you know what the press are calling her? The honey badger. There’s already memes about her running you down with a car. She’s not stable.”

“They’re calling me what?” Lisa appears at the entrance of the kitchen wearing the dress she had on this evening.

“It doesn’t matter, baby,” I say, moving to take her hands in mine. “Just go back to bed. I’ll be in in a minute.”

“A honey badger,” Craig snaps. “And I’m inclined to agree. You’ve come in here and torn apart his fucking career without any regard for the rest of us.”

“No, I—”

“Shut up, Craig,” I growl, moving to stand between them. But the dickhead doesn’t listen.

“What is all this? Some sick way of getting the limelight back on you? Daddy doesn’t want you, so you’re going for Marcus? What are you going to do when he cheats on you like Masters did? Cut his dick off?”

“No. I never—”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Craig. I pursued her. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Oh come on, Marcus. You can’t possibly be that dumb. She’s been playing you the whole time. As if she didn’t know who you were. Everyone knows who you are. As if she didn’t know she’d be recognised tonight and you’d be at that club. She probably organised the whole thing. She’s played you like a fiddle and you’re so cock obsessed with her skanky little snatch that you can’t even see it.”

Red. The only colour I see is red.

Lisa

My mouth drops open in a gasp as Marcus’s arm cocks back and his fist slams into Craig’s face with a bone-cracking crunch. The force causes Craig to stumble back inside. “Get the fuck away from us,” he booms.

“My nose. You broke my fucking nose.” Blood streams down his face as he groans and spits on the floor.

“I warned you.” Marcus grabs Craig by the back of his shirt and rushes him towards the lift. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t come near me again.”

Craig digs in his pocket and throws the plastic security key at Marcus’s chest. “You’re gonna regret this, Marcus. I will ruin you.”

“Do your worst.” Marcus leans into the lift and smacks his hand against the keypad. “I don’t give a fucking shit.”

As the elevator doors close, Craig continues to curse Marcus and me to an eternity of damnation.

“Your manager is lovely,” I say, offering Marcus a smile as he blows out his breath.

“Ex-manager,” he replies, turning his sorry eyes to mine.

“Do you really think he’ll ruin you?”

“If the label sues? Probably.” He bounces a shoulder.

“You’re not freaking out about that?”

“I was a struggling musician for far longer than I’ve been a wealthy one. So I lose the bling? It’s not like I’ve had time to enjoy it, anyway.”

“That makes me really sad.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. Unless you don’t think you can love the poor man.”

“Of course I can. I don’t care about money. I just don’t want you to regret letting go of all of this. Maybe there’s a compromise you can come to instead of just throwing it all away?”

He sighs as he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “The last time I went on tour, I demanded an entire floor of the hotel to myself. Then I spent the whole time getting wasted and hitting golf balls down the hallway. All by myself because I couldn’t stand to listen to one more fake laugh, see one more fake smile. Does that sound like fun to you?”

I shake my head. “It sounds lonely.”

“Then I came home to finish the album, and I was hating on myself because I have everything I ever wanted but I was more miserable than ever. Then you walked in to that studio looking like a fish out of water, asking if I knew where Marcus Bailey was, and it was the first time I had genuinely smiled for months.” He grins. “You ignited something inside me, and I just knew I had to have you. You made me work for it, but that was part of the allure.”

“I knew it.” I grin while he chuckles.

“My purpose in life was to find you. And there is no sacrifice too big if it means I keep you.”

“I feel selfish.”

“Don’t. I want this. The idea of hitting the road again makes me want to puke if I’m honest. I want the horses and the chickens. And the sex room.”

I laugh. “If it’s our house, every room will be a sex room.”

“You bet your arse it will.”

“How’s your hand?” I slide my fingers between his then lift it to inspect his knuckles. “Do you need ice?”

“It’s fine. Are you OK now?”

“With you, always.” I sigh, running my thumb over his reddened knuckles. “I’m just afraid of the repercussions of tonight.”

“I won’t let anyone talk about you like that.”

Releasing his hand, I move closer and slide my hands over his shoulders. “You can’t keep going around punching everyone.”

“I can try.”

Lifting on my toes, I press a soft kiss to his lips. “And I love that you’d even consider it.”

He laughs a little through his nose and leans against the doors of the elevator.

“Honey badger is a new one though. I haven’t been called that before.”

He slides his arms around my waist. “You’re the most beautiful honey badger I’ve ever seen,” he says, his voice smooth as silk.

I place my hand against his chest and push back a little. “About what Craig said; you know I had no idea who you were when I met you, right? I wasn’t lying about that. And I also had no clue I was going to an industry event tonight. I would have refused to go otherwise.”

He lowers his head and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I don’t doubt you. There’s no way you could have known I’d be there tonight. Craig didn’t even know. Besides, I know you. You want the least amount of attention possible. Unless it’s from me, of course.” He winks.

I inch closer to him, my lips craving the touch of his. “Why are you always so sure about me?”

“Because every time I look at you, my soul speaks to yours.”

With that, I melt. Every ounce of resolve I had. Every reason I ever had to fight being with him. It all melts away.

His soul speaks to mine…

I think that’s the most beautiful thing someone has ever said to me.

“Kiss me, Marcus.”

“Gladly,” he murmurs, pulling my body against his as his mouth closes over mine.

From the moment I met Marcus, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I didn’t want him. That I didn’t feel anything for him. But I wasn’t fooling anyone for a second, least of all him. And now, I’m admitting it to myself. I love Marcus Bailey. I want him. I need him. And I never want to give him up. We belong.

Marcus’s hands slide up my back, clutching the back of my head as his mouth moves on mine. He hums pleasurably as he inhales, breathing in my scent and loving everything about it. Just like I love everything about him.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he murmurs as his kisses move from my mouth and down my neck, just before we’re jerked out of our moment by the pinging sound of the elevator arriving on this floor.

“Karen’s turn,” he says as he pushes away from the doors, taking me with him. We ready ourselves to greet his assistant, but the lift doors open to reveal two police officers.

“Marcus Bailey?” one of them asks as soon as their eyes land on us. Asking his name is obviously a formality. I can tell by their discomfort they know exactly who he is.

“Yes?” he answers carefully.

“I’m sorry, Mr Bailey. But we’re going to have to ask you to come to the station.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“For the assault on a Mr Craig Stevens. He’s pressing charges.”

“What the hell?” I demand, positioning myself between them and Marcus like I have the power to stop this. “How did you even get here so fast? Craig bloody provoked him. This looks like some sort of setup.” My face burns with rage as I realise that little weasel must have had cops waiting for him downstairs. Arsehole.

Marcus’s hands rest on my upper arms as he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s OK.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the second officer says. “We were here doing crowd control.”

Marcus releases me and places his hands on his hips. “Crowd control? There’s that many?”

“Yes, sir. The whole front of the building is crowded with press and fans.” He looks from Marcus to me. “For both of you. They have signs and everything. It’s quite impressive.”

“Holy shit.” Marcus wipes a hand across his face.

“You can’t take him out there,” I say. “They’ll take photos of him being arrested.”

“We don’t really have a choice here, ma’am.”

“Can I at least put a shirt on?” Marcus says, indicating his bare chest.

“Of course,” one of the officers says, going with him towards the bedroom.

“Do you think you could wait five minutes?” I ask the other officer. “If you let me go down there first, they’ll be so busy trying to get at me you guys could sneak out unnoticed.”

“You’d be mobbed. I can’t allow that.”

“Well, what if I leave in his car through the parking garage? That could work?”

He sighs. “For the sake of public safety, I have to advise you against that. But I can’t stop you if you choose to leave,” he says, and I understand his meaning.

“OK. Thank you.”

“Five minutes,” he says, and I could kiss him.

“Marcus, I need your car,” I call out, just as he exits his bedroom with a clean shirt and a pair of runners and a baseball cap added to his outfit.

“Um, why?”

“To create a diversion. I only have five minutes, so I need them now.”

“They’re on the bedside.”

“Thank you.” I rush into his room and grab the silver fob along with my bag.

Catching me as I rush past him, he cups my face on either side. “You don’t have to do this.”

I grip his wrists. “I want to. I’ll meet you at the station so you’re out of there as soon as possible, OK?”

“Be safe.” He presses his lips to mine.

“You forget, I’m an old hand at this.” I keep my smile confident as I get into the lift, but the moment those doors close, my face falls. Time to meet the wolves…

Fifteen

Marcus

The cops walk me discretely out of an emergency exit while the press is busy taking photos and yelling questions at Lisa. She went the long way to the parking garage so the mob would see her, and another two officers are escorting her to my car. Jesus, Lisa. She’s taking a huge risk going out there. I never would have agreed if I’d known she’d walk directly into the fray.

As I’m deposited in the back seat of the police cruiser, my chest becomes tight at the escalating noise level. I just want to go and help her. I want to keep her safe and out of the limelight like she wanted. Now she’s put herself smack in the middle of it all to protect me. She really is something.

“Listen, this is probably a really bad time to say this,” one of the officers says as we pull away. “But I'm a really big fan of both your work. The first concert I ever went to was Leisel Marx and I already have your next album on preorder, Mr Bailey. I'm sorry I had to be the one to arrest you.”

“Don't sweat it, mate,” I say, giving him a smile via the rear vision mirror. “We all have our jobs to do.”

Taking one last look over my shoulder in the direction of the noise, all I can do is hope Lisa broke free of the mob. This is one part of the fame game I won’t miss.

When we arrive at the station, I’m pushed through fairly quickly and kept out of the general area until it’s time to be transferred into the holding pen. I’m walked down a corridor with cuffs on my wrists then the officer pauses in front of a wall phone and hands me the receiver.

“You've got five minutes,” he says. “Make it count.” I’m about to call Lisa to see how she is, but since she said she’d get here as soon as she could, I take the opportunity to do something I should have done years ago. I call my brother.

* * *

Lisa

“What the fuck happened tonight?” Sandra blurts the moment our call connects. My heart is in my throat and I don’t know who else to call.

“Oh Sandra. I know I’ve fucked up big time, and I’m so sorry. But I need your help.”

“My help? You just caused the biggest fucking calamity the music industry has seen since…well, you went nuts last time. How could you not tell me I’m best friends with Leisel Marx?”

“It’s complicated. And I promise to explain. Just not now, please?”

“Girl, you better spill your guts like you’ve been disembowelled when I see you. I want to know everything, and I think it’s only fair that I get the exclusive interview.”

I chuckle a little in response. She’s always thinking of her career. “Whatever you want. Just please, help me out.”

“What do you need?”

“Take care of Perry for me? I don’t know when I’m going to be able to go home and if the press is at my place, he’s probably freaked out by now.” I take the corner without using a blinker, still trying to lose the paparazzi. But they have motorbikes and aren’t backing off for a second.

“Oh god. Of course. Poor Perry. I’ll go there now to get him.”

All of a sudden, there’s a loud thumping noise coming from above and I lift my eyes to the sky. Holy fuck.

“Thank you, Sandra. You’re saving my arse right now.”

“It’s fine. One question though. Is that a helicopter I can hear?”

* * *

Marcus

“Marcus Bailey? You’re out.” The door buzzes and a cop slides it open, gesturing for me follow. I stand from the metal bench I’ve been positioned on for the last hour while a drunk guy lamented about his life. I think he pissed himself too.

“Marcus Bailey?” The drunk frowns as I stand up to leave. “I thought you said yer name was ‘Jack Meehoff’.”

I press my lips together in a smile, but don’t address his query. “Good luck, Davo. Hope you can sort things out with your wife when you get home.”

As I move past the other men, some of them claim they knew who I was all along, while others are either too out of it to respond or just don’t give a shit. I flat out denied who I was the moment I was asked and then just kept my head down.

“Can I get ya autograph?” Davo calls after me.

The officer leads me into another room where my shoelaces and wallet are returned to me. Then I’m taken to the back of the station because there’s some press milling around the front of the station.

“Word travels fast, huh?”

The officer escorting me grunts. “Like we’ve got nothing better to do with our time.”

He pushes a metal door open and I’m expecting Lisa. Although, I freeze, surprised when I’m greeted by Naomi and Theo leaning against the old Matiari van.

“Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” I say, holding out my arms to give each of them a hug.

“You’re too pretty for the big house, little bro. Came as fast as we could.” Theo chuckles as he slaps me on the back. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I do. But Lisa’s supposed to be meeting me here and I don’t have my phone to call her.”

Theo opens the door to the van. “She’s busy, bro. Press is all over her.”

“Fuck. Is she OK?”

Naomi holds her phone in her hand, showing me a live stream. “Well, they’ve just called in the helicopters.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “What?”

“Leisel Marx is back, Marcus,” Naomi says. “It’s the story of the century.”

“And you’d better get your arse in the van before they sic the helicopters on us too,” Theo says.

We pile in and while Theo drives, Naomi and I watch the live news broadcast of my car zig-zagging in and out of traffic with four men on motorbikes in pursuit.

“What the fuck is this?” I say, watching the scrolling bar of text along the bottom of the screen: ‘Leisel Marx attacks one and steals car in her most recent revenge plot involving Marcus Bailey. Marcus Bailey arrested on assault charges. When will the madness end?’ My mouth drops open. “This is bullshit.” The news helicopter continues to film her driving around the same block three times. A flash of footage, filming her from the side as she takes a corner shows her looking harassed and…squashed up. Suddenly, I’m reminded of why she refused to go in my car. Her head is touching the roof. I never should’ve let her go out there

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a badarse, Marcus,” Naomi says with a smile. “She’s not giving in.”

As I watch the news broadcast, my heart swells with affection for this woman. What she’s doing right now is nothing short of amazing. She’s keeping them busy so they don’t find me. But fuck, I wish she’d stayed in my apartment where she was safe. I can’t take the stress of this.

* * *

Lisa

“Holy shit, Leis. You’re all over the news. They think you’re going to smash his car into something,” Sandra informs me from the other end of the line. Her voice fills the car through the Bluetooth. It’s almost as if she’s here with me.

I turn another corner. “I’m not! I’m trying to use all of my spy skills to lose them. But it’s not working. I’ve been driving for over an hour and now there’s a fucking helicopter! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“What would Jason Statham do in this situation?”

“Crap. I don’t know. He’d pull some trick driving manoeuvre and lose them in a parking garage or something.”

“Exactly,” she replies and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“That’s it! A parking garage! I can see a big shopping centre up ahead. There’s no way they’ll be able to cover all the exits. I’m going to cut through there.”

“Maybe you should leave the car there and catch a cab?”

“Sandra. I’m driving a Porsche 911 that isn’t mine. I am not leaving it in a shopping centre’s parking garage. It will be stripped and sold for parts in no time.”

“True. True. What are you doing to do then?”

“Something a little illegal.”

I hit the end call button on the steering wheel as I approach a set of lights, slowing for the stop signal and waiting for the bikes to stop beside me, their cameras flashing against the windows.

“Come on, Leisel. Give us a smile.”

“Fuck off!” I yell, throwing the Porsche into reverse, my heart thundering as I drive backwards until I round the corner, creating just enough distance between us that I make it into the enormous shopping centre’s car park without them on my tail. Then I flick off my lights and wind my way through the levels until I reach the exit furthest from the way I entered. As I drive through the gate, I tell my phone to navigate to Marcus’s place so I can continue driving without my lights on. It’s not the greatest plan in the world, but all I need is a few minutes head start to get into the parking garage without those bikes getting in there with me.

When I’m almost there, I flick the lights back on to warn the cops doing crowd control that I’m coming. The mob screams the moment I slow down, and I’m so thankful for our police department for setting up barriers and keeping this calm enough that I can get inside. I’ll have to send something to the station to show my appreciation.

The moment it closes behind me, I park the car and breathe a huge sigh of relief before I burst into tears. I never want to be involved in a paparazzi chase ever again. That was just… horrible.

On shaky legs, I get out of the car. Wiping away my tears as I head to the elevator bay, using the key on Marcus’s chain to gain access to the penthouse.

My chest stutters as I ride up to his apartment, feeling awful because I failed. I was supposed to bail him out and I couldn’t get anywhere near the police station. I just hope he has Karen’s number written down upstairs. She’s the only person I can think to call who’ll be able to pull this off.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I pull it out, relief flooding my veins when the letter M lights up the screen.

“Marcus?” I press the handset to my ear, sniffling. “Where are you? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. I’m home. What about you? Where are you? The news is saying they lost you.”

“I’m OK.” I sob down the line as the stress of the evening comes crashing down on me.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll come and get you. Forget the car, get out and dump it. I just want you safe.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m in the lift to your apartment.”

“I’m waiting for you,” he says in a deep rumble that calms me.

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m coming,” I whisper.

The doors ping open, revealing the most magnificent thing my eyes could ever see. “Marcus,” I cry out, practically throwing myself against him as I exit the lift.

He catches me effortlessly, lifting me so I’m wrapped around his middle. Instantly, his mouth is on mine and I’m crying and kissing him, shaking like we’ve just travelled through a war zone to get to each other.

“I hate paparazzi,” I whisper.

He lowers me to the ground, holding me steady in his arms. “Me too,” he says. “Fucking leeches.”

“How did you get back?”

“Theo and Naomi.”

“Are they here?” I ask, looking around him.

He shakes his head. “It’s just us.”

“Thank god,” I gasp. “Not that I’m ungrateful. I’m just so damn tired.”

Brushing his fingers through my hair, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Then let’s get you tucked up in bed,” he says, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me like a baby, taking care of me like no one else can.

Sixteen

Lisa

“Look. The world didn’t end,” I whisper, feeling drunk on emotion as Marcus lies on top of me, his cock still inside me after waking me up with an orgasm or two the next morning. I slept like the dead. So I’m glad Sandra is taking care of Perry for me.

“Maybe it did and we’re the only two people left,” he says against my skin, kissing and suckling, our bodies already greedy for another round. Until Marcus’s phone starts to ring.

“There goes that theory,” I whisper, rolling my hips against his. He’s still inside me, and still hard. “Let’s just have one day of perfect before we deal with the world again.”

“That sounds perfect,” he murmurs, gripping my hips and rolling to his back so I’m now straddling him.

His hands cup my breasts as I rock against him, pressing up through my thighs, and squeezing at him internally as I lift myself up his length then drop myself down, deepening our connection beyond the point of full.

“Shit,” he hisses when his house phone begins to ring.

“Ignore it. They’ll call back,” I pant, trying to keep my focus while the world screams at us electronically.

He grips my hips and stops my movement. “Babe, I’m sorry. That’s not the phone, that’s the intercom. Someone’s here.”

“Seriously? It’s like”—I look at the digital readout on Marcus’s bedside clock—“eight-thirty on a Saturday morning. What the hell are they doing here?”

“Who the fuck knows.” He rolls me so I’m lying on the bed beside him and kisses me. “Hold that thought. I’ll get rid of them and we can switch everything off and spend the day together. OK?”

“Sure,” I say, disappointed. There’s no way we’re going to get a day to ourselves. We’ll be harassed constantly until one of us emerges for an interview. The press is relentless.

Pulling the sheets around me, I feel tears prick behind my eyes. We can’t stay here.

Marcus

The intercom blares it’s insistence into the room until I snatch it up and press it to my ear. “Yes?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Serge, the attendant at the building’s security desk says in his overly polite tone. “You have some visitors. They’re claiming to be your family,”

“Can you put them on?” I ask, wondering if it really is my family or someone from the press trying to trick the poor guy into losing his job.

“Hey, it’s me and Naomi,” Theo says straight away. “Thought we’d bring you some food since the mob out here isn’t thinning out anytime soon. If you don’t wanna face them, you’re in there for a long haul.”

“Thanks, man. Pass the phone back to Serge and I’ll get him to let you up.”

I also tell Serge to put them on the list of people who are allowed to visit whenever they want then hang up the phone and rub my hand over my messed up bed hair. I should probably put on some pants.

I head back into the bedroom, hating the knowledge that the press are outside. It’s exactly what Lisa didn’t want when I started insinuating myself into her life, and now here we are. Exactly where I promised we wouldn’t be. We won’t even be able to think about that place in the country until this chaos dies down.

“What’s going on?” Lisa asks from the bed. She’s wrapped in the sheets and looks absolutely divine in my eyes. I want to tell her that nothing is wrong and take her back to bed forever. I don’t think I’ll ever have my fill of her soft curves.

“We need to get dressed. Theo and Naomi are on their way up with food. They say there’s still a mob downstairs.”

My heart aches for her as I watch her mouth open and her eyes blink rapidly to force her tears back. She clears her throat and swallows. “Well, that’s to be expected, I suppose. They don’t have their story yet.”

She sits up and picks up her dress and her bra, looking at her torn panties before holding them in a ball in front of her. “I need to shower.”

“Wait.” I move to my dresser and pull out a pair of track pants and a T-shirt for her. “Wear these. I don’t have spare panties, but…oh shit, I do.” I pick up the jeans I was wearing last night, digging in the pocket to find the clean pair of panties she threw at my chest when we were arguing. “Here you go.” I spin them around my finger before handing them to her.

She smiles, accepting the clothes. “Thank you.”

I lean down and kiss her. “It’ll be OK. We can wait it out together.”

She nods, turning for the bathroom with a sadness in her step. I don’t blame her for being upset over the past twelve hours. I just wish I could do something more for her.

The lift chimes so I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then head to the foyer. Naomi holds up a large brown bakery bag and a tray of coffees. “Breakfast?” She’s grinning that grin of hers that lights up a room and it immediately makes me feel better. Normal. I’ve missed these guys.

Theo stands beside her, holding bags of groceries. He isn’t as dark and broody as he has been for most of his life. I think Naomi’s lightness has rubbed off on his dark. Maybe he’s grey now. “Where’s your kitchen?”

“It’s through here,” I say, offering to take the bags. Theo refuses so I just lead the way. “Thanks for this, guys. This is a great surprise.”

“I hope this is OK,” Naomi says, as she sets things on the kitchen bench top. “We don’t want to intrude, but we saw the news this morning and thought you could use the help.”

“No. It’s fine, honestly.”

“Where’s Leisel?” Theo asks as he does the same with the bags of groceries.

“She prefers Lisa. And she’s taking a shower,” I tell them, hoping she’s not in there crying her eyes out.

“Well, I look forward to meeting her properly when she comes out,” Naomi says. “I can’t wait to chat to the girl who’s made Marcus Bailey weak at the knees. She must really be something.” She smiles, talking to me like we haven’t spent the last two years ignoring each other.

“She’s everything,” I say, feeling the goofy smile that takes over my face.

Theo laughs. “He’s got it bad.”

“I do. I love her. And I’m quitting music for her.”

Lisa

God, here I am, crying again. I don’t think I’ve cried this much since the last time the press decided to rip me a new arsehole. Why is there so much emphasis placed on the famous? Why can’t I just fall for a guy and not have to worry about looking over my shoulder?

Splashing my face with cool water, I pat it dry with a cream-coloured hand towel and take a breath to calm down. “This too shall pass,” I say to my reflection.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I follow the voices into the kitchen, finding Marcus standing around the bench with Theo and Naomi.

“Here she is,” he says, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. He gives me this amazing smile that’s both happy and filled with relief.

“I guess I should properly introduce myself,” I say, watching the way Theo and Naomi exchange glances when they see me. “I’m Lisa. I’m dating Marcus.” I hold my hand out and give them each a warm handshake. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when we met last night. We were still keeping things quiet.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Theo says. “I don’t think any of us were expecting last night to end up the way it did.”

“I’m just happy he has someone to keep him in line,” Naomi says behind her hand, and I decide I really like her, even though she’s the girl who got away.

“Feeling better?” Marcus asks as he slides one hand over my arse while handing me a coffee with the other. “Naomi and Theo brought coffee and pastries. I saved you the chocolate croissant.”

I take a grateful mouthful of caffeine. “Thank you. This is really thoughtful.”

“Our pleasure,” Naomi says. “That crowd out there is something else.”

“I suppose you’re wondering what I was doing at an event my ex-fiancé was visiting when I’ve been in hiding?”

Theo bounces a shoulder. “Crossed my mind.”

“A friend of mine sold me on a girl’s night out. I had no idea what we were walking into until I saw my brother. I was on my way out when you guys spoke to me. Then some guy I don’t even remember recognised me, and well…” I shrug.

“Marcus said you guys are planning to disappear together now,” Naomi says, taking a sip of her coffee. Her expression is passive, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes.

“Look outside. Would you want to live with that?” I ask in response.

“Maybe if you give them the interview they want they’ll back off,” Theo suggests.

I frown. “But why should I have to compromise myself for them? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

“Some would argue otherwise,” Theo responds, and I scoff.

“If a regular person did what I did, no one would care. There’d be an article on the fourth page of the paper and maybe a five-minute story on the nightly news. Then it would be over.”

“Yeah. But you’re not a normal person. You’re Jimmy Marx’s daughter. You had a massive following of your own. People are always gonna be watching. It’s part of the deal.”

“I didn’t make that deal. It’s why I walked away from it all.”

“Well, you’re dating Marcus now. Like it or not, you’re back in it. You guys can run, but you’ll be running forever.” He turns his gaze to Marcus. “Not to mention the label will bankrupt you over a broken contract.”

Marcus blows out his breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I know, man. I know. But let’s not focus on that shit now. It’s the first time you’ve seen my place, and since I’m probably gonna lose it soon, why don’t you let me show you around? I have my own recording studio.”

Theo’s eyebrows shoot up. “For real?”

“Sure do. And I’ve been working on a song I wanna show you.”

Theo’s demeanour completely shifts as he follows his little brother from the room, excited to play with the big boy toys. I smile after them.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see those two talking again,” Naomi says also watching Theo and Marcus walk down the hall, laughing and joking together before they disappear into a room I’m yet to see.

“Is this the part where you ask me not to take him away again?” I ask, taking a sip of coffee. The caffeine is certainly helping to wake up my sleep-deprived brain.

She tilts her head a little as if she’s studying me. “I’m happy he’s found you. I’ve never seen him like this. He looks at you like the stars shine in your eyes.”

“But?”

“But I love Theo. I want to marry Theo. And he won’t marry me without his brother there. He doesn’t feel like a whole man without his family around. You should have seen how excited he was to come and see Marcus today. Don’t let that brash exterior fool you, the man is a puppy dog, and he lives for his loved ones.”

“You’ll still be able to see him. He’s just retiring from the public eye.”

“And look what happened when you popped up again. If Marcus disappears then reappears for our wedding, it’ll become a circus. And I know it sounds selfish, but it’s supposed to be about me and Theo.”

“I get it. I do. I just…I don’t know how to make this work. This kind of attention doesn’t go away with an interview or two. It’s constant harassment. Physically and mentally, I can’t go through it again. And I feel blessed to have found a man who understands that.”

“At what price?”

My eyes burn and I look away.

“Listen,” Naomi says, her voice gentle as she reaches out and touches my arm, “I’ve been on the wrong side of the press as well, so I get it. When Marcus had his ‘fuck you’ moment, all the press wanted to do was talk to us about what happened. But Theo, myself and our other band members decided that we would simply refuse to comment and ignore the whole affair. It was hard for me, because I got a fair bit of hate mail from fans who thought I chose the wrong brother. But, you know what? Fuck them. They don’t know me. They don’t know Theo, or Marcus for that matter, and they certainly don’t know you. Don’t let them win.”

Shaking my head, I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. “I wish it were that simple, Naomi. But it’s not. Do you even know why they hate me so much? Do you remember what I did?”

She nods. “Yeah. I do. It was everywhere.”

“Then you know how bad everything got. It wasn’t just hate mail and questions. I couldn’t go anywhere without someone calling me ‘whore’, ‘bitch’, ‘psycho’ or some derivative of all three. I had things thrown at me, my car, my house. I was spat on. God only knows how long it would have gone on for if I hadn’t decided to lie low and change my name. It’s the only way I could make it stop.”

She takes a breath to say something to me, but Theo calling from the other room interrupts us. “Nomes, get in here and see this setup he has. It shits all over the garage.”

Calling out that she’s coming, she stands and places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “I know this is hard for you. But if you can stick it out, maybe we can all get what we want instead of Marcus being the guy who loses everything he’s worked his life towards.”

Tears prick in my eyes as I swallow back my emotions and nod. “OK.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she says quietly.

I sit and finish my coffee on my own, running through my conversation with Theo and Naomi along with every moment since Marcus and I met. I love him. I love him so much my chest aches when I think about him. My ideal life is quiet and secluded, something a gregarious man, whose first instinct is to reach for a guitar will eventually despise. He wants it now, but what about in five, ten years? Will he look back and resent the loss of his fancy lifestyle and private recording studio? Will he look at me and regret his choice? I will ruin you. I don’t want to be his downfall. I don’t want to be the woman who robs the world of Marcus Bailey’s soulful voice.

My hope wants me to stay right here, wait for them all to come back, pretend that everything will be fine. We’ll just ride it out and live together happily ever after...until he resents me…

Fuck. Naomi is right, I can’t take him out of his world. And Theo is right, the press will never stop coming for us, we’ll always be running. I was right in the beginning. This can’t work. We are oil and water. And I’m not strong enough to tell him I need to leave and actually go through with it. And he wouldn’t let me go if I did.

There’s only one solution.

Picking up my bag and shoes, I walk quietly through the foyer and call the lift. I wince when it dings open, stepping inside with my heart beating wildly, leaving like the chicken-shit-scum-of-the-earth bitch that I am. I’m sorry.

Seventeen

Marcus

“I think this is the first time I’ve actually hated you, Marcus,” Naomi says after a while. She’s joking of course, referring to my recording room.

I had it built in so I can put down a demo track whenever it suits me without having to organise studio time. I haven’t had much of a chance to use it. But I did manage to record the song I was working on for Theo. He loved it, called it my best work. Then he asked if I was sure about walking away. “The world needs your talent,” he said.

“What about what I need?” I responded. Then I handed him the recording and told him it was his. That was all I was willing to say about it.

Naomi and Theo play around with the equipment, chattering about ways to upgrade the studio Theo built them at home. They’re totally geeking out together, and it’s adorable. But I have someone my heart wants more than music. “You two have fun,” I say, leaving the room to get back to Lisa. I’ve already been away from her for too long and my hands tingle, craving the feel of her skin.

“Sorry about that…” I say to the empty room. “Lisa?”

The lift dings. Shit. My heart thuds and my mouth goes instantly dry as I race towards the sound, getting there just in time to lock eyes with her as the lift doors close.

Fuck. “Lisa,” I yell, running to the lift and hitting the button. But I’m too late, it’s already on the move. “God-fucking-dammit!”

The only choice I have is to take the stairs. Flinging the door open, I burst out onto the landing and run down at breakneck speed. The whole time I’m racing the elevator, praying that she is OK, that the press hasn’t gotten to her before I do. I’m gonna drag her back up here and tie her to the damn bed. What is she thinking?

Reaching the downstairs lobby, I burst out the door and check the lifts. It’s still moving. Fuck!

“Sir?” Serge questions as he sees the panicked look on my face.

I flick my gaze to him, just as the press outside sees me through the glass entryway.

“Marcus!” they call out, cameras flashing as they push against the police barricade. Holy shit. The crowd has doubled since yesterday. And there're protestors now as well. They’re holding up signs with pictures of Lisa with an X over her face. One has a rather graphic one of her as a spider with my head in her mouth… what the fuck is wrong with people?

Shaking the images from my mind, I turn on my heel and re-enter the stairwell, racing down to the parking garage and hoping that I’m not too late.

* * *

Lisa

A few minutes earlier…

“Lisa!”

My mouth drops open and I stumble backwards in surprise. Marcus. He saw me. Shit. Fuck… oh god, I think I might vomit. What am I doing? Crap. I lean forward on my knees and breathe for a moment, convincing myself that I’m doing the right thing. He’ll hurt for a while, but he’ll throw himself into his music and write a series of massive hits. Then he’ll go on tour and fuck so many groupies he’ll forget all about me. I’ll go live my quiet life with my dog and all will be right with the world again.

But first, I need to get out of here.

My heart wedges itself in my throat as I travel down. My plan is to make it to the parking garage and escape through an emergency exit. I just have to hope that I don’t set off any alarms.

Fuck. I’m a total bitch. I hate the idea of Marcus hurting because of me. But I can’t let my hope of love and a happy ending get in the way of what the right thing is. This isn’t a movie. It’s real life. I need to be logical. I need to protect him from his own stubbornness.

Regaining my composure, I stand up fully and smooth my hand over my hair. The lift pings and comes to a stop on the third floor.

“No, no. Keep going. Shit.” Dropping, my head, I dig through my handbag to find my sunglasses and hide my face.

“Leisel.” I snap my head back up and curse the universe when I’m once again looking into the blue eyes of Jonathan Masters. “What a pleasant surprise.” He grins as he steps in next to me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He grins and bounces a shoulder nonchalantly. “Just visiting a friend. A lot of press out there today. She feels like she can’t go outside.”

“And how does your fiancée feels about this friend?”

“She’s at a spa or something. As long as she has the ring and the Platinum Card, she doesn’t question anything I do.”

“Ah, true love,” I sigh mockingly. The lift opens in the car park and I step out in front of him. Pausing for a moment while I survey the area for a way to get out.

“Lost your car?” he asks.

“No, I’ve just lost my mind and my right to a quiet life, but as long as you’re happy…” I retort. Just seeing him again makes me so angry. I feel like running a car into his house all over again.

“Listen, Leisel. Despite everything that’s happened, I don’t hate you. I’m actually sorry the press are after you again. And if you need help sneaking out, I’ll help you.”

I respond with a suspicious look, which garners a laugh from him.

“Come on Leis, you know me. I may be a philanderer, but I’m not a vindictive person. I would never throw you to the wolves. You can hide in the back seat of my car and I’ll get you out of here. That’s what you want isn’t it? You’re trying to run off again?”

Meeting his eyes, I nod.

“Then let me help you. It’s the least I can do.”

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to trust him, but he seems like the best option for me at the moment. “OK”

Marcus

A loud metallic echo rings out through the cement garage as the door bangs against the wall and I step out into the cool air of the underground. The sound of a car going over the speed bumps draws my attention and I race toward it.

I catch it as it waits for the metal security gate to open and knock on the driver’s window.

“Shit. It’s you,” I say, slightly out of breath from running.

“It is me,” Jonathan Masters, Lisa’s ex-fiancé and the start of all this crap, replies, looking me up and down like I’m some kind of freak who’s wasting his time. “Is this about an autograph? Do you want one?” He’s a dick.

“Is she with you? Did you see her?” I ask, trying to get a look inside his car, but his window is barely down and I can’t see much more than his face.

“Is who with me?” He drives forward slightly when the gate’s alarm goes off because it’s been open for too long, and I walk beside his car, refusing to let him go without answering me.

“Who the fuck do you think? Leisel. Did you see her leave?”

“You know Leisel? Is she here?”

“Who the fuck do you think all this press is for?” And as if he doesn’t know me.

“Me. Obviously.” He chuckles before moving the car again and once again, I move with him, keeping my hand on the edge of his window.

“Even you can’t be that conceited. Did you see her or not?”

“Not. Now if you’ll let go of my car, I’d like to get out of here. Paparazzi tends to mess up my wax job.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“Mate, I’m fucking in love with the woman you hurt. If you’re lying to me, the next time a car goes through the front of your house, it’ll be me behind the wheel. You feel me?”

“One hundred percent, mate,” he says, putting his car in gear and speeding off just as someone in the crowd shouts my name.

“It’s him. It’s Marcus Bailey.”

I turn to run back into the parking garage, but the fucking door has already closed, leaving me standing on the sidewalk in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a plain T-shirt. No shoes. Nor do I have my keys so I can get back in.

Fuck.

Lisa

“You can sit up now. We’re clear,” Jonathan says after we’ve been driving for about ten minutes.

I pull the blanket off me and get up from the floor of the back seat, looking around cautiously.

“Leis, relax. I’m not lying to you. If you’ll remember, I never once threw you under the bus publicly. I never spoke out against you, and I dropped all the charges against you. I was pissed off, but I didn’t want your life turned upside down the way it was.”

Sliding onto the actual seat, I pull my seatbelt on and look out the window. “I know. I did it all to myself.”

He looks at me via the rear-view mirror. “You always did have a temper on you.”

“And look where it got me. I hate this fame game, Jonathan. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I guess that’s because you’ve always been famous. When you come up from nothing, it makes it a little more rewarding.”

“I don’t want to be known for anything. I just want to be left alone,” I reply, looking down at my hands.

“What are you going to do about Marcus Bailey? Are you leaving that behind too?”

I close my eyes, squeezing my emotions back before they flow out of me again.

‘I’m fucking in love with the woman you hurt’

The comment, and the distress in his voice keep replaying in my mind. There’s this intense heaviness in the centre of my chest that aches and nags at it. It wants me to go back to him.

I swallow against it, wishing it would go away. “Yeah. I have to leave it behind. He’s just like you. It won’t end well if I stay.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“No offence, but after you broke up with me, I wasn’t chasing after you like he just did.”

“It doesn’t matter. Every way I look at this, I can’t see it working without one of us giving up on something that’s important to us. For me, it’s my privacy, and for Marcus, it’s his career. One of us would be forced into unhappiness. How can that work?”

Marcus

“Oh my god! It’s Marcus!” Someone screams and all of a sudden, I’m being pawed by many sets of hands, grabbing at my shirt, my arms. The cops immediately come to my aid and push the grabby people back. My shirt is in tatters.

Flashes are going off everywhere, making it hard to see what’s happening. The yelling and the questions are this cacophony that makes absolutely no sense. I’m thrust through the front door of my apartment building, almost tripping from the momentum.

I keep moving forward, feeling awful that all of this is happening because I’m living here. The other residents must hate my guts right now. No one knew I was here until yesterday. I had hoped I could come back to Australia and have some sort of a home for a while instead of living out of hotels. I guess that’s just not going to happen.

“Hey Serge,” I say as I walk barefoot towards him.

“Mr Bailey,” he replies with a nod, acting completely professional despite my appearance.

“Do you think you could give me a hand to get back upstairs? I didn’t bring my keys.”

“Certainly, sir.”

As I ride up in the lift, I seriously have to fight with myself to keep from bursting into fucking tears. Why did she have to take off? Why couldn’t she stay, talk to me and sort this out? I get that she’s scared. Hell, I’m scared too. But she ran. She fucking ran. Without me.

“Fuck,” I yell, slamming both hands into the side of the lift. “Fuck.” I do it again and again before dropping my head against the cool of the metal. “Fuck,” I whisper, just breathing to calm myself until the lift reaches my floor.

The moment I make it inside my apartment, Theo and Naomi are on me. “What happened? You’re on the fucking news again.”

“She took off,” I reply, zero emotion in my voice. I’m numb. I’m fucking numb.

“She what?” Naomi gasps. “Oh no.”

Moving with purpose, I collect my keys, wallet and put on a pair of shoes and a new shirt.

“I feel like this is my fault,” Naomi says, watching me in the doorway.

“How is it your fault?”

“Because I asked her to consider what she was doing to you,” she squeaks. “I only meant for her to think about sticking around so you didn’t have to leave. I never meant…”

“Fuck,” I yell, pegging my torn shirt across the room. “Fuck. When are you people going to realise that I’m doing this because it’s what I want? Can you seriously tell me that either of you wouldn’t do the same if it meant you could be together?”

They look at each other and Theo nods. “You’re right, brother. I’d go to the ends of the earth for her.”

“Well, me too. And now I have to go back out there and try to find her before this shit storm gets even worse.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I really didn’t—”

“I know.” Standing in front of her, I pull her into my arms and hug her tight. “And I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. I’ve been an arsehole, and you didn’t deserve it.” I release her and turn to Theo. “Neither did you,” I say, holding out my hand.

He takes it and pulls me into a hug. “Water under the bridge. Now, let’s go out there and find your girl.”

“What?” Naomi looks between us.

Theo stands up and grabs his keys. “We need to take him. They’ll follow his car.”

“Oh shit. Yes,” Naomi says. “Let’s go.”

I place my hands on top of my head and blow out my breath. “Yeah. OK. We can take the van.”

* * *

Lisa

“I can’t see any reporters,” Jonathan remarks as we turn into my street.

“They’re probably all camped out at Marcus’s. They still think I’m there.” I crane my neck, trying to see if there are any cars I don’t recognise in the street. Everything seems clear.

I point out my house and he pulls into the driveway. “Do you need me to come in?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say as I open the door to get out. “I just need to pack a bag and get my dog then this whole thing can be put behind me.”

“OK. Well, good luck.”

I get out of the car and smile back at him. “Thanks. And thanks for the lift. I really appreciate the help.” His lips curve in a soft smile he reserves for those in his life for whom he has a true affection for. It’s a brief reminder of a time when I was out of my head in love with him. It feels like another life. “Goodbye, Jon.”

His expression drops. “Shit, Leis. Look out!”

God only knows where they were hiding, but a whole group of reporters have appeared and are coming towards me. At first, I freeze, shocked as I stare at them wide-eyed, trying to decide whether I should dive back into the car or run for my house.

I don’t get the chance to make the decision myself. Jonathan throws the blanket and his arm around me, shielding me from the cameras as he ushers me towards the house as the press descends on us, yelling questions.

“Jonathan, does this mean you and Ms Marx are reconciling?”

“Leisel, can you comment on your relationship with Marcus Bailey?”

“Where is Marcus Bailey?”

“Where have you been Leisel?”

“Can you respond to the rumours that you’ve been living in a mental institution for the past eighteen months?”

“Have you spoken to your father?”

“Now that you’ve come out of hiding will you be trying to reconcile with your parents and will you do that on live tv?”

“What do you have to say about the public referring to you as the Honey Badger?”

As we get in the house, Jonathan stands in the doorway and turns to them. “Leisel wants nothing more than to live a quiet life. Please respect that and leave.”

“Are you worried she’s going to lose her mind and stab you if you go in there?” one reporter yells. He shuts and locks the door.

“OK. I guess they were hiding,” he says when he turns to me.

“Thank you… again. Seems like you’re my rescuer today.”

He shrugs. “If I’d been a better person in the beginning, I wouldn’t need to save you now. Consider it all a long overdue gesture.”

“Lisa, is that you?” I hear from in the back of the house.

“Sandra?”

Her voice gets louder as she approaches. “Yeah, the press were everywhere when I got here and I couldn’t get out with Perry so I just stayed. He’s in the backyard.” She appears in the archway and freezes when she sees Jonathan. “You…you’re… oh wow. I’m sorry for yelling at you last night.”

He chuckles. “Seems I bring it out in a woman.”

She grins, her cheeks going a little pink before she tears her eyes away from him and they land on me. “You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I promise to tell you everything as soon as we’ve gotten out of this.”

“The inside scoop?”

I nod. “You’ll be the only one I talk to.”

“Wait. What?” Jonathan asks, leaning forward like he didn’t hear right.

“Jonathan, this is Sandra. She’s a reporter, so be careful what you say.” I give her a wink and she waves me away.

“I’m not that kind of reporter. I don’t print anything without permission.”

Jonathan laughs. “Are you serious? You’re running from reporters and there’s one staying in your house. I hope the irony isn’t lost on you here.”

“No, it’s not. But Sandra is my best friend.”

“Whories over stories,” she says, tapping her fist to her heart and then giving the peace sign with her fingers as she nods.

I look at her and laugh. “Since when is that a saying?”

“Since just now. Ho’s before Bro’s didn’t fit, so I made one up. I think it might catch on,” she tells me matter-of-factly.

“OK,” Jonathan interrupts. “So what’s the plan now that you’re home? Are you just hunkering down or are you moving on?”

“I’m moving on,” I state.

“There’s a lot of press out there, Leis. They’ll just follow you,” Sandra points out.

“I know. We’re going to need a distraction. Which is where you two will come in.”

“OK. What do you need?”

“I need you to leave.” I look between them. “Together.”

The plan is simple. Jonathan covers Sandra with the same blanket he covered me with when we came in. She can carry a suitcase and Jonathan will lead her to his car. The press will naturally assume she’s me and follow them. Giving me a window to escape.

“Here goes,” Sandra says, standing by the door with Jonathan. “Wish us luck and call me when you get to wherever you’re going.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonathan teases. “Don’t go getting all emotional on me.” He leans down and drops a kiss on the side of my head. “Take care of you, kid.”

With a heavy heart, I watch from a small gap in my blinds as they leave and the press follows. I give it a few moments to be sure they’re all gone, then I go to the back door and get Perry inside, thankful that I don’t get attacked by a flashbulb to the eyes out there.

The moment I call him in, he’s jumping up and down and swiping his tail from side to side so fast it’s a blur of golden fur. I kneel down and scratch his ears, telling him what a good dog he is as I wrap my arms around him and allow myself to have this one moment of comfort, with the one male in my life who will always be here for me.

“You ready to go on a trip?” I ask him. He responds by licking my face, so I’ll take that as a yes.

When you’ve remade your life, you’re forever afraid the carefully woven strings in the fabric of your new world will fray and come undone, so I’ve always been prepared. Today is the real reason I have a LandCruiser; it was to aid in my escape when the shit finally hit the fan.

Moving around the house, I collect as many essential items as I can and load them in the back of the four-wheel drive then secure Perry safely in the backseat. I leave everything else behind. My house, my friends, my love… I shake the thought out of my mind before I start crying again. I can’t think like that. I can’t ask myself the ‘what ifs’ of this world. I’m doing the right thing. For both of us. I know I’m doing the right thing.

I just wish that painful void in my chest would quit with its incessant aching. It’s making this so much harder.

Eighteen

Marcus

“There. Her house is there,” I direct from the back seat of Theo and Naomi’s car.

“The one with the little step in front of the door?” Naomi asks.

“Yes.”

Without waiting for Theo to turn the engine off, I’m out of the car and racing up to the front door, knocking loudly against the painted white wood.

“Lisa!” I call out. “It’s me. Let me in.” I wait for a few moments, but there’s no response. Only silence. So I hit the remote on my key chain, opening the garage to find it empty. Her car’s gone. Crap.

I have no idea where she’d go. She’d never go to her parents since the falling out with her father, and there’s no one else I know that she trusts enough to run to. Except maybe her friend, Sandra.

Pulling out my phone, I look up Voyeur Magazine’s journalists. Sandra Haegan. That’s the one.

Punching her name into the directory, I come up with her address. She’s not far from here.

“What’s happening?” Theo asks as I return to the car.

“She’s not here.”

“Do you know where she might go?” Naomi asks, her brows pinched together in concern.

“I only know of one friend. This is her,” I say, handing over my phone.

When we arrive at Sandra’s house, a sense of relief washes over me. She must be here. The press is mingling out the front.

“Do you want me to pull into the driveway or just drive by?” asks Theo as he slows the car right down.

“You’re fucking kidding me? Stop,” I command. Fucking Jonathan fucking-shit-dick-lying-arsehole Masters’ car is parked in the driveway.

Theo hits the brakes and I jump out of the car, racing for the door. The press sees me and gives chase, yelling questions about the state of my relationship with Lisa and how I feel about my fans protesting against it.

I try to ignore them. I really do. But they are the sole reason I’m not with the woman I’ve fallen for right now. They have driven her away.

Pausing in front of the door, I turn on the lot of them. “You know what? Just fuck off,” I yell, taking another breath to hurl even more abuse at them.

Although, I barely finish my first obscenity before I’m pulled backwards into the house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to make this even more of a circus than it already is,” Jonathan snaps.

“Where is she?” I look around the room. No Lisa.

“Mate, she’s not here.”

I’m already seeing red, and his face coupled with her absence just makes the colour flare brighter. I charge toward him, grabbing him by the throat and pushing against him until he’s stumbling backward, finally stopping when I’ve slammed him against the wall.

Lisa’s friend, Sandra, is behind me, yelling at me to stop. But the sound muffles and I’m not listening. Instead, I lean into Jonathan’s smug fucking face and growl through gritted teeth. “You’re a fucking liar! Where the hell is she?”

He moves his mouth like a goldfish out of water as his eyes bug out and water, his face turning bright red.

“You’re killing him!” Sandra shrieks, thumping her fists against my back. It’s enough to snap me out of my rage and release his throat.

Jonathan stands up straight and rubs at his neck. “Oh god. Are you OK?” Sandra races to his aid, fussing over him while she checks he can breathe OK.

He nods. “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s OK.”

Still breathing heavily, and still furious, I ask my question again. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone. Neither of us know where,” Sandra answers. “I promise you. She didn’t tell any of us.”

My head pounds. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to find her. She’s everything and without her, I’m nothing. I’m fucking nothing. I need her. Squeezing my head between my hands, I shake my head. This can’t be it. This can’t be the end of the line. I need to find her.

“Where else would she go?” I can barely breathe.

Jonathan takes a small step forward before reiterating what Sandra already said. “She’s disappeared again, mate. I’m sorry. But she’s gone.”

“Fuck!” I yell, picking up a dining chair and hurling it at the front window. The sound of breaking glass, falling blinds and the pop of camera flashes, fill the air around us.

I stand there, chest heaving, looking at the destruction caused by my hand, my soul destroyed, my heart broken. She left me. She’s gone, and she’s taken my heart with her. And journalists are standing around taking fucking pictures.

Nineteen

three months later…

Marcus

1,087. That’s the number of times I’ve tried to call Lisa since that day.

How can two people come together so perfectly one day then fall apart the next? It makes no sense to me. It’s not like I’m the only one who felt it. I know she did too. I was there. I saw it in her eyes. I felt it in her touch. Heard it in her words. She said she loves me…

During our month of perfection, our souls joined. Instead of being two, we became one, and when we parted, we were only half. I need her to be whole. I need her.

For three months, I’ve carried this cavern in my chest. It feels like a gaping wound that I can’t close. I can’t stop the pain.

Drinking doesn’t help, and other women or drugs aren’t even an option for me. I wake in the morning with her on my mind. I go to bed thinking of her and dream about her while I sleep and wish for her in every moment I’m awake. It’s pure torture.

I hired a private investigator. He found nothing. It’s like she’s vanished off the face of the earth. And I’m not sure how long I can exist in it without her.

The only thing that helps remotely is my music. Craig agreed to drop the assault charges as long as I agreed to honour my contract to deliver two more albums and three tours. At the time, I agreed. I was too messed up to think it through, and I just wanted him to go away. But in a month, I’m supposed to go on tour to promote the album we finished earlier this year and I can’t even bring myself to sing. Right now, I can only write and play. Because the day she left, she took my heart with her and I can’t sing without it.

Sometimes I think about that time I sang Romeo and Juliet to her over the phone and how she cried and tried to tell me we couldn’t be together. There’s a part in that song that talks about the dice being loaded but they fell for each other anyway. Then everything fell apart because of poor timing and they just became a memory to each other. I don’t want to be like that song. I want her back. We create our own odds, find our own timing. Because we fucking belong to each other.

I need her.

My family has been great. Naomi and Theo come over and make sure I’m functioning in some capacity. I moan that I want to be left alone, but they come listen to me moaning and sit with me when I’m silent. Every other day, my mother is here. She fusses over me and cleans up. She’s a typical Italian mother, leaving food, telling me to eat. I know I’m worrying her, but I can’t stop feeling this way. I’m empty.

Today I was supposed to be at some meeting about my tour schedule and I didn’t bother showing up. I’ve had numerous calls from both Craig and Karen and I’ve ignored them all. I can’t make myself give a shit.

Three months without her feels like a lifetime of pain.

“Marcus?” I groan into my pillow. Karen is here.

She knocks on my bedroom door then barges in. “Get up. You missed your meeting and you look like a hobo.”

I offer another groan and cover my head with my blanket. Although, she’s right. I haven’t shaved in weeks and my hair has grown out in no real style. I’m beginning to look like a grizzly bear.

“Get out of bed, young man.”

“I don’t care about the tour,” I retort, my voice muffled.

She tugs my blanket down then levels me with her disappointed gaze. “I get that you’re heartbroken, Marcus. I really do. But you can’t let your career go just because you’re sad. If you quit, you take a lot of people’s jobs with you. I know there’s no love lost between you and Craig but what about me? What about your crew? ‘Marcus Bailey’ isn’t just your name. It’s a brand. An institution. If you go down, we all go down with you.” Fuck. I never thought of it like that before.

“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” I tell her, helpless. “I need her back.”

She sits on the edge of my bed and takes my hand in hers. “Marcus, we have one week left to find her before this becomes a huge issue. I promise to call in every favour I have to find her for you. But you’ll have to do something for me in return.”

“What’s that?”

“Clean yourself up. Cut you’re fucking hair and shave that beard off. The time for wallowing in your sorrow is over. Time to man up. We need you.”

“You find her, I’ll do anything you want.”

* * *

Lisa

At times I’ve wondered

Why we tried at all

You’d come around, spend time with me

While I knew we couldn’t be

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know

That together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

So many times I’ve packed my bags

Planning to run to you

Your heart beats inside me every day

But I know we can’t last

And so I stay

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know

That together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

I know I ran away, but I wished I could stay

I know I ran away, but I wished I could stay

I ran away, I ran away, I ran away

Because I knew I’d only lose you, anyway

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know

That together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

A perfect moment in time was all we had

It’s all we had

1,246,826. That’s how many times my new song has been downloaded.

In the weeks after I left Marcus, I felt lost. And having no one to talk to, I turned to writing my feelings. Those feelings turned into lyrics, which turned into music. And having little else to do besides wallow, I recorded it. It was a crude copy, made using some basic equipment I got off eBay. I don’t know why I did it, but writing and singing the song helped me feel better. And since I couldn’t physically reach out to Marcus, I made the decision to put the song out there. Hoping that maybe he’d find it and feel some sort of connection with it… I don’t know. I guess it seems silly, but it’s all I could think to do.

No one knows it’s mine. I uploaded it with a fake name via an independent distributor, and for two dollars a pop, people are purchasing it. I don’t even know how they found it. I guess it’s just one of those ‘right place at the right time’ type of things.

The track is just basic piano and my voice. I think it would be much better with strings, but I didn’t have the contacts nor did I have the inclination to make that happen. I wrote it to try to lift that weight from my chest, and when writing didn’t alleviate the ache, I recorded it and uploaded, hoping that sending it out into the world would help me let go.

It hasn’t. I still miss him. I still search for him online. I feel like a stalker. But most of all, I feel cut off. There are no recent photos of him. None at all. And I don’t know why. He’s supposed to be touring soon…

Marcus

“Oh no. no, no, no, no. She’s going to hate me. What the fuck!” I yell at the television as I watch a press conference led by fucking Craig. If this is Karen’s idea then she’s on my shit list too. How could they do this?

They’re offering a reward to anyone who can find Lisa. The prize is a round-the-world trip, touring with me and the band. All access. I seriously feel like my head is going to explode.

To prove how distraught I am, they’re showing the security footage of me losing my shit in the lift on the day she left. They’re announcing that a website and hotline has been set up for anyone who has information on her. I’m going to kill Craig for this.

“What is it, Marcus?” my mother asks from behind me. She’s dropped over to bring me a casserole to make sure I eat something. She thinks I’m too thin.

“My manager has just made sure that Lisa will never speak to me again,” I say, throwing the television remote with a thud against the leather of the couch.

Her mouth drops open as she sees the hotline number and website scroll over the TV screen again. “Oh dear. This isn’t good.”

“I know.” I grab my phone and punch in Karen’s number straight away. I need her to put a stop to this.

But she doesn’t answer. After five times, she doesn’t answer. I think they’re using my own game against me.

* * *

Lisa

Once every two weeks, I take a trip into the nearest town and pick up some food and supplies. It’s the only time I have access to the mobile phone network as my house isn’t close enough to a cell tower. So this is when I check my messages.

In the beginning, there were messages from everyone. My boss, Sandra and my brothers, even Erin the receptionist called a few times. There would be interview requests and a few random people who managed to get a hold of my number. There were even a few calls from my father and a couple from my mother. They weren’t really checking after my welfare; they were just calling because I guess they felt that had to…

Most of the calls I get are from Marcus. Each time, he asks me to call him back; he tells me he’ll keep on ringing, that he’s not going to give up. I love you.

Hearing his voice makes me smile, and I want to call him back, but I stand my ground. When he goes on tour, he’ll calm down I’m sure. It’s hard to ignore him, but I still feel as though I’m doing the most logical thing for us. His manager dropped the charges and his record label isn’t suing. He’s writing music, and he’s getting on with things. Just like I knew he would.

Still, I look forward to his calls. My favourite messages are when he talks to me about new lyrics he’s written. He never sings them to me, but he reads them out like poetry and sometimes shows me the music that will go with them.

When he leaves those messages, I save them, and play them over and over again so I can feel close to him.

I was a selfish man

Doing anything I wanted, a man trying to have fun

I wouldn't do any of it

I’d give it all up,

I’d give my wealth away

If I knew there was a chance

That I could make you stay

Now, I know it pains you

To think the one you love

Could possibly hurt you

I wouldn't do any of it

I’d give it all up,

I’d give my wealth away

If I knew there was a chance

That I could make you stay

baby, please

Can we put the crap behind us

Can we go somewhere that no one’s gonna find us

I know you think I’ll leave

But I’m begging you to believe

If only we could turn back time

Erase every nasty thing we’ve done,

Every fucked up crime

I wouldn't do any of it

I’d give it all up,

I’d give my wealth away

If I knew there was a chance

That I could make you stay

He says he wants to call that song ‘If Only’. It sounds beautiful when he reads it, so I wish he’d actually sing it to me. Although, I guess I’m just going to have to wait for the single to release like everyone else in the world.

I think about Marcus’s songs as I stroll through the centre of the busy city park. There are people dotted about on the grass, reading books, having a cigarette break, or they’re exercising or walking a dog like I am.

I always take Perry with me into town because it takes most of the day for me to drive here and back. While I’m running errands, I book him into the dog groomers and when we’re done, I take him for a walk in the park to tire him out before we drive home.

I’ve had my hair styled in a short red bob and I’m wearing sunglasses. The funny thing about being known by the media means that generally, if someone recognises you, they just look at you like they know you and shrug it off when they can’t place your face straight away, and I don’t stay anywhere or make conversation for long enough to give people time to figure it out.

I remember the day I went up to Katoomba with Marcus; we sat out on the footpath of that café and no one paid us any mind because they weren’t expecting to see him there. As I found the last time I disappeared, you can hide in plain sight as long as you choose a place that isn’t frequented by those looking for you.

Perry does his usual sniff and pee thing, and I stand by and wait for him to be ready to move on. A woman comes running along the track with her long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail. I’ve seen her a few times before. She’s almost the spitting image of Sandra and I look away every time I spot her in the distance.

I feel terrible that I never called Sandra to explain. I wanted to tell her everything; I wanted to explain. But in the end, I felt that cutting all ties would be best. Any link to my life as Lisa Russell or Leisel Marx would ultimately call everything back to me. I needed a clean break. New state, new life, new name… I go by Elizabeth Mackay now.

I’ve done everything different this time. I’ve kept to myself, I haven’t made friends, and I haven’t gone out into the workforce. I have plenty of money, anyway. Not only am I independently wealthy from my music career, I have a trust fund that was released to me when I was twenty-one. I refused to touch the money unless I needed to. Now, it’s what I’m living off, and if I’m careful, it will last me a very long time.

The runner comes closer and I turn to glance at her as she passes, but this time, her eyes meet mine and her head cocks a little to the side. She stops and pulls the buds of her headphones from her ears. Out of them, the familiar tune of Marcus’s song ‘He’ll never be me’ spills out.

“Oh my god. You’re her aren’t you?” she says.

I take a step back and shake my head, trying to stay calm. This is just an odd coincidence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She smiles. “The whole country is looking for you. There’s a prize being awarded to whoever finds you.”

I look around the park and notice more than a few people milling around, pulling their phones out and snapping shots of me, others just ignore me and go about their business.

“A p-prize?” I stutter.

Nodding, she beams then leans in next to me and quickly snaps a shot of the two of us together. “I think I just won it.”

She stands in front of me, tapping away at her phone feverishly while I shake my head in disbelief. This is not happening. Not again. Not this soon.

Furious, I grab her phone from her hand. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” she yells as I hurl her phone into the distance before I turn and tug on Perry’s lead, walking as fast as I can to the car. I search my name online, finding a competition offering an around the world tour for anyone who can find me. There are even mock-up photos of me with different hairstyles. He’s put a bounty out on me. Turning the key in my ignition, I pull out onto the main road. I don’t give a fuck about my groceries. I’m going to drive all night if I have to.

Someone needs a good slap in the face.

Twenty

Marcus

For two days, I haven’t been able to get in contact with either Craig or Karen, and no one else at the label seems to be getting any of my messages to them. I’m becoming increasingly irate and frustrated, as I just know that the moment Lisa is found, she’s going to blame me for this.

“You’ll end up having a stroke if you keep freaking out like this,” Naomi says from where she’s sitting on the couch watching me pace.

Theo stands not far from me, also watching with his hands on his hips. He has plenty of experience dealing with the media, so he’s been trying to figure out a way for me to stop this. “I think you should call your own press conference.”

“I can’t. Anything the label hasn’t sanctioned violates my contract,” I reply.

“Do you care though? I mean, you’re in this position because you’re refusing to honour it and go on tour right?”

“I said I wouldn’t go unless they found her,” I admit.

“So really, you asked for this,” he says, laughing as he shakes his head.

Naomi adjusts herself on the couch before speaking. “Surely there’s something that says that they can’t violate your personal life. Because what they’re doing right now can’t be legal…can it?” she asks, looking from me to Theo.

“I have no idea,” I say, pausing my pacing.

“Well, that’s maybe one way we could get them to back off you. Claim personal distress or something. They can’t ruin you if they’ve wronged you. I’m going to make a few calls and see what we can come up with,” Theo says as he heads for the lift with Naomi following.

I walk with them. “If we can figure out a way to force them to terminate my contract, I’ll be glad,” I say, giving them both a hug before Theo steps hits the button on the lift.

He’s about to say something else but he pauses and tilts his head, listening. “Is that a dog barking?”

Naomi leans forward. “It sounds like it’s coming from the elevator shaft.”

All three of us listen at the doors. “See? There it is again,” Theo comments. “It’s not a little dog either. Who the hell brings a big dog into an apartment building?”

As if in answer to his question, the lift doors ping and open, revealing a very pissed off looking Lisa with Perry by her side. “Lisa,” I breathe, so happy to see her that I don’t even notice her hand swing back until it slaps across my face.

“You arsehole!” she screams, just as Perry breaks free from her grasp and jumps at me with such force it sends me toppling onto the floor, landing with a thud on my backside.

Perry stands over me, his tongue lapping at my face in excited doggy kisses as his tail flicks from side to side ecstatically. Despite being slapped in the face, I’m as happy as this dog is. She’s back. I start laughing.

Lisa stands beside me with a look of fury upon her face and her hands on her hips. “Explain yourself, Marcus,” she demands.

Still laughing, I reach out and grab her arm, pulling her down on to my lap.

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” I say before crashing my mouth against hers. At first, she tries to fight me but after a couple of beats, she gives in, sliding her arms around my neck and threading her fingers into my hair.

Not willing to be ignored, Perry decides he should be in on the action too and starts to attack our faces with his tongue and his dog breath. We pull apart, laughing before locking eyes and just letting our souls reconnect.

Theo clears his throat. “Well…I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about. We’ll get going.”

“I’m so glad you came back, Lisa.” Naomi smiles, lightly touching Lisa on the shoulder as she and Theo disappear into the lift.

My focus stays on Lisa where she still sits on my lap. Perry has decided to lie on the floor beside us after he realised we aren’t getting up to play with him.

“I promise you, it wasn’t me,” I whisper, cupping her face in my hands while looking her directly in the eye. I want her to see the truth in my expression.

Closing her eyes, her breath catches with emotion as her hands reach up to grip my wrists.

“Then who?” she asks.

“Craig and Karen. Neither of them are taking my calls to explain either.”

“But why? Why would they do that?”

I run my fingers down the length of her now auburn hair. She’s cut it much shorter than it was and it frames her face perfectly. She’s even more beautiful now than she was before.

“Because I was refusing to work unless I found you.”

“Marcus,” she whispers. “You’ll ruin your life if you keep this up.”

I slide my hand around the back of her neck, my thumb moving against her delicate skin. “It was ruined the moment you walked out.”

“Marcus.” Tears fill her eyes. “I did it because—”

“I know why you did it. You were trying to protect me from a lawsuit and a life spent worrying we’ll be recognised.”

“You’ve worked too hard to lose everything.”

My grip on her neck tightens as I pull her closer, inhale deeper, needing her scent in my lungs. “Don’t you think that decision was mine to make? I told you I was happy to walk away. I told you I didn’t want it if I couldn’t have you. Why didn’t you believe me?”

“I did,” she gasps, blinking rapidly as her tears fall. “I believed every word. But sacrifice breeds resentment. And I couldn’t bear the thought of what we have turning into that. God, my whole life I’ve witnessed one fucked-up relationship after another, and they all started out loving each other. I love you too much to watch you come to hate me.”

“Well, in my life, I’ve witnessed people who are willing to set the world on fire if it means being together. My parents gave up everything for a new life in this country. My brother went to war with me to have the woman he loves. Even my grandparents had to fight to be together. I come from a long line of men who fall hard and fight for their love. So I need you to believe me when I tell you my decision was made with a pure heart. I could never resent you. I can never stop loving you. And if you run again, I will never stop chasing you.”

She gasps and whispers my name and I lean in closer, lining my face up with hers. “Let me love you.” I release a strained whisper. “Let me make you my world. It’s all I want.”

Her arms slide over my shoulders and wrap around my neck as she nods. “I want that too.” Relief floods my veins and I press my demanding mouth to hers, kissing the life out of her because I’ve missed her so much I ache. “But, Marcus,” she says when our lips part.

“Lisa.” I gather her in my arms and stand. “I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up for a while. I’ve just had three months without you and we have a lot of fucking to do. We can talk more later.” Making it into my room, I kick the door closed and deposit her on my bed.

“Fine.” She giggles a little as I climb over her, lifting her shirt to trail the tip of my tongue across her belly. “But do you think we could make love first?”

I move higher and lower my mouth to her ear. “It was always making love, baby. I just love you harder than most. Can you handle that?” I press my erection into her thigh and she moans.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you, Marcus. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Twenty-One

Lisa

When I finally wake, it’s almost 10am. Poor Perry must be dying to be let out. I sit up abruptly, dreading that there’s a horrible mess in the living areas for me to clean up.

“I already took him out,” Marcus mumbles from beside me, his arm reaches out and wraps around me, pulling me back on the bed so I’m nestled against him.

“You did? When?”

“At about six. He was scratching at the door. You were fast asleep, so I took him outside, let him do his business, gave him some water and some leftovers from the fridge.”

I smile and let out a contented sigh. “You are a one special guy, my love.”

“That’s what Mamma always told me,” he replies, taking a deep breath before letting his eyes fall closed again. Within seconds, his breathing evens out and I can’t help but smile to myself as I snuggle against him.

He would break out of Heaven to get back to my mum if he left this world before her.

Sandra’s words jump forward in my mind as I take in his resting form, truly believing he’d do the same for me. That’s true love right there. I think he would do anything for me and be a happy man doing it. He’s amazing.

Still, I’m struggling with the idea that he needs to give everything up for me or I need to give everything up for him. Despite my leaving, he’s still refusing to honour his contract even though he remained with his label. We’re really no better off than we were before. There has to be some middle ground.

When I drove here yesterday, I was absolutely furious. I felt as though he’d betrayed me when he knew how important my privacy was to me. All I’d tried to do was the right thing for both of us. I’ll admit now that my choice was probably the wrong one. I think all I managed was to make us both even more miserable than we’d ever be with the press invading our lives.

But where do we go from here? We know we want to be together, but how? Do we live his life? Do we live mine? Or do we meet in the middle? And where would that middle be?

“I’d rather be poor with you than rich at the mercy of pond scum,” he says suddenly, his eyes opening to meet mine.

“Yeah?”

“That’s what you’re worried about isn’t it?”

“I’m worried about a lot of things. I don’t think we’d be poor though.”

“Babe, we will be if I break this contract.”

“You’re forgetting who my father is, who I am. I made a lot of money before I quit. Plus, I still get royalties and I have my trust fund...” His brow lifts a little as I press my lips together. “It’s more than enough to last the both of us for a very long time.”

“Huh. I thought you must’ve lost everything when you broke your deal and that’s why you were working.”

“I was working because I wanted to be normal. Not because I needed to.”

“How did you get into advertising though? You’ve only been out of the industry a few years. Don’t you need a degree?”

“I had one. Open Universities. I studied on the road because I always wanted a backup plan. Fame is fleeting to most.”

“Unless you make yourself infamous,” he counters.

I smile. “Yes. Well, there’s that.”

“OK. So if it isn’t my impending bankruptcy that’s worrying you, what is?”

Rolling to my back, I let out a sigh. “I think we need to find a compromise that suits us both. I don’t think it’s fair that you’re giving up everything for me. I should have to give a little too.”

He slides his hand across my body and drags me closer. “You’re bringing this delectable body to the table.”

I laugh. “You have one of those too. I mean, I want you to think about the things you love most about your life—taking me out of the equation—and I do the same. Then we sit down and try to come up with something that works for us both.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I like the idea of that. But if I think if there’s anything in these suggestions that put you in an uncomfortable position, we’re going back to the original plan where I quit and we run away together.”

“No, Marcus. This is about both of us. You can’t just bully your way to getting what you want.”

“Ah, yes I can. And I happen to believe in the saying, ‘happy wife, happy life’. So you’re gonna have to let me give you what you need.”

“You are ridiculous.” I laugh, my heart swelling for him as I lean in and press my lips to his. “But I’m not your wife. So that doesn’t apply.”

“How do you feel about being spontaneous?” he murmurs against my mouth.

I pull my head back and give him a single raised brow expression. “Why?”

Chuckling, he grabs my face and kisses me with a flourish. “Because we’re going to Hawaii.”

“Hawaii? Why? What about Perry?”

“Karen can dog sit because we’re eloping,” he informs me, his face dead serious as he jumps up from the bed and pulls on a pair of boxer shorts. I reach out and tap him on the arse.

“Marcus Bailey, is that a question or a command?”

He switches on his phone and grins at me. “Right now, it’s a command. But when it’s time to say I do, it will be a question.” He locks eyes with me as he lifts his phone to his ear. “And you’d better fucking say yes.”

I sit up, pulling at my lip with my teeth as I fight a grin. He wants to get married? “I guess you’ll have to wait and find out,” I tease.

He flashes me a warning glare as the call connects and he asks about available flights and accommodation, using the rock star pull and charm to get exactly what he wants. Just like he always does.

* * *

“Lisa,” Marcus’s soft voice calls to me, coaxing me from my sleep. “We’re landing soon.”

I sit up and roll my shoulders, working out the kinks in my neck. “I slept the whole time?”

“Yeah, you were beat.”

“Did you sleep much?” I ask, noticing his iPhone in his hand and figuring he’s been occupying himself on that while I’ve been sleeping.

“A bit. I was listening to music mostly.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of music does the great Marcus Bailey like to listen to?” I ask with a smile as I reach over and take his phone, holding it in front of me as I scroll through his playlist. “Ah, I see you’ve been listening to a lot of the greats,” I note with smile as I scroll pasts names like Janis Joplin, Cat Stevens and Bob Marley. There’s a decent mix of modern and classic rock on here as well as his brother’s band, Matiari. “Did you know I have a playlist dedicated to you?” I ask as I continue scrolling through his list.

“Did you know I have a playlist dedicated to you?” He reaches over and taps a few times on his phone, showing me.

“I liked that I could feel connected to you through music. Made me think about the times you sang just for me.”

“I can sing to you every day if you want. But you’ll need to sing for me, too.”

I smile as I tap at his screen, going through his most recently played songs. “Huh, looks like I already have been,” I whisper.

“Because I’ve listened to your albums on repeat?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and show him the screen. “No. Because you found the song I wrote for you. Together We Are One is my song.” Tears form in my eyes. He heard it.

Marcus

I’ve never experienced whiplash before, but I think I just about gave it to myself after the surprise Lisa just dropped in my lap. “What? You are ‘Ana Gordon’? You wrote that song, and it’s about us?”

She bites her lip and nods. “Yes. I was miserable when I left, and I wrote down all my feelings. Before I knew it, they became a song and well… I released it. I wanted my heart to speak to you even though we weren’t together.”

“Oh baby,” I breathe, reaching out and placing my hands on either side of her face before kissing her. This woman just gets more and more amazing with every moment I spend with her. “That is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. I mean, I wish you never left in the first place, but a song for me?”

I am just floored right now. Coupled with her distaste of the music industry and the vast difference from her old work, I never in my wildest dreams would’ve thought that was her. In this simple arrangement, her gorgeous voice takes centre stage, and her lyrics… well, they’re perfect. They spoke to me, just like they were supposed to.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I fucking love it. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We’re getting all mushy as the captain’s voice comes over the PA system and announces that it’s time for us to prepare for decent.

I cannot wait to make her my wife. This caveman part of me needs to put a ring on her finger so she’s unequivocally mine. I’ve had Karen get everything set up so that when we arrive at the hotel, Lisa and I can go straight to a private little alcove where we’ll be married. It may seem like we’re rushing into this, but when you find your soul mate, you know it’s right. Lisa is my one, and I’m never letting her get away again.

Twenty-Two

Lisa

Our suite is enormous. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been privy to such opulence, but it’s gorgeous and I feel like a princess the moment I step through the door.

“Go and look in the bedroom,” Marcus whispers in my ear. “You have one hour, and then a car is coming to collect us.”

“OK.” I lean up and give him one last kiss before entering the bedroom and finding a rack with various beach wedding dress styles hanging on it. My god. This man really does think of everything.

They’re all so beautiful, but as I flick though the garments there’s one that stands out most to me; a cream silk one with spaghetti straps that hangs loosely down to my ankles. It’s shaped a lot like a slip dress, but its fabric is much more decadent and feels like it’s caressing my skin as I move in it.

I choose a pair of sandals to go with it. They have a simple Y strap that’s decorated with small pearls.

My hair is simple to do. I spritz it with a little wax spray and scrunch it up before putting a pearl and diamond clip in one side.

I apply a small amount of makeup; mascara and pink lipstick. Everything is simple. Everything is perfect. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. I want him. I need him. I love him.

We still have a lot to talk about because our life together won’t always be easy. But I feel confident in our connection because Marcus has always known what’s best for me. And even though I’ve fought him almost every step of the way, I obviously answer a need in him too. I will happily fight with him for the rest of my life. This is the start of our forever.

“Are you ready?” he asks at the door. I turn to him smiling. “You look stunning.”

“You look breathtaking,” I comment, taking in his crisp linen pants and pale blue shirt. It’s a perfect cut to accentuate his lean build and broad shoulders. He’s even managed to do something with his unruly hair. He’s styled it so it’s supposed to look messy. But really, he’d look delicious no matter what he did.

“Then we make a good pair,” he grins, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.

“The best,” I say in return, smiling so wide I can barely see past my cheeks.

The journey to the alcove is a short car ride, and when we get there everything is set up and ready to go. There are flowers for me and everything. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Marcus. This is…” I release a sigh.

“If my last act of extravagance is a last-minute wedding, there isn’t an expense too great. But, Karen deserves most of the credit. She organised it all.” He gives me a wink and a grin.

“She’s taking your calls now?”

“I told her you were back, and she was very quick to take my call.”

I smile. “Of course she did.”

“Shall we?” He nods towards the altar.

“Definitely.”

Our ceremony is simple and traditional in front of two witnesses and a celebrant. He reads from an open folder in front of him as Marcus and I hold hands and beam at each other.

When it’s time for the vows, we’re asked if we’d like to say our own or have him read something for us.

Marcus jumps in. “I’d like to say my own.” He smiles, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the backs of my hands, speaking in his velvet smooth voice. “Lisa. I didn’t even know I had a heart capable of love until you came into my life and set it beating again. Before you, I was a stone, cold and unfeeling. I need you. You are the very epicentre of my being. I want you; for your mind, your ability to see me for me, and your willingness to fight for what you think is right. I love you, and I want you by my side always.”

I lift his hands and kiss them as happy tears fall from my eyes. “Marcus. In a room full of people, it was your eyes I found. They drew me in and captivated me from the get go and I should have trusted in that feeling instead of fighting it. I have a lot of regrets surrounding our early days, but you need to know that every moment I shared with you fuelled my happiness until the next time we’d cross paths. You are also the epicentre of my being. When we’re apart, I swear that my soul cries. I promise to stand by you, to love you and to support you until the end of my days.”

By now, I’m crying quite convincingly and one of the girls who is standing in as witness hands me a tissue which Marcus takes and wipes away my tears.

“I hope these are happy tears,” he whispers, kissing each of my cheeks.

“Very happy tears,” I whisper.

“The rings?” the celebrant asks.

Marcus pulls them from his pocket and hands the one for him to me with a wink. I can’t help but smile. These are the perks of being a rock star. If you can throw enough money at something, you can have the perfect wedding organised in a very short amount of time.

As Marcus repeats the words of the ring ceremony, he holds his hand so I can’t quite see the ring but when he pushes it onto my finger and removes his hand; he reveals the most beautiful diamond solitaire I’ve ever seen.

“Wow, that’s a beautiful rock,” I comment, watching it sparkle in the fading sunlight.

He grins, holding his hand out so I can go through the same for him. “Look at the engraving first,” he tells me.

I hold the platinum band between my fingers and look inside ‘Together we are one’ it says.

“How did you…?” I ask.

He responds with a wink and a knowing look. “It’s inside yours too. When I first heard it, the song spoke to me. I instantly thought it should be ours. Turns out it literally is.”

I struggle to keep my voice level as I repeat the ring ceremony, feeling so glad when we get to the point where we both say ‘I do’.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the celebrant announces.

Wrapping my arms around Marcus’s neck, we seal our union with a soul searing, head-spinning kiss. He picks me up and twirls me around before setting me on the ground and kissing me again.

“I love you Mrs Bailey, my wife, my life.”

“I love you too. We’re married.” I grin, not quite believing this is really happening.

“Like I told you in the beginning, I plan on keeping you.”

As we turn and walk back down the small aisle, the small group gathered for the ceremony throw petals over us while the speaker system plays our song.

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know

That together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

Together. We are one. And we’re never letting go again.

Epilogue

twelve months later…

Marcus

After spending our first week as a married couple, blissfully away from the Australian media, it was a bit of a rude shock to arrive back home and have the media swarming again.

While searching for the perfect location for our country retreat, we stayed in my apartment. For two weeks, the picketers and the media hung around, waiting for either Lisa or I to do something newsworthy. We didn’t, and the world gets very tired of a happy couple very quickly.

Eventually, the fans came around to the idea of Lisa and I together. We released the news that ‘Together we are one’ is actually her song about her time away from me. We gave Sandra an exclusive interview detailing the beginnings of our relationship along with a photo session and some pictures of the wedding. It was a four page spread in Voyuer magazine and was picked up by various international publications, making Sandra Haegan a hot commodity.

The only people who remained upset with me were my parents. Naomi and Theo understood why we went and eloped, even though they wished they’d been there. But my parents weren’t happy at all. My mother wore black for the first three months. But when a pipe burst in their roof, they came to stay with us for a couple of weeks and got to see how happy Lisa makes me. So she’s finally wearing colour again and my father is speaking to me in longer sentences and grunts less these days. It’s a slow process though.

Lisa still wasn’t willing to accept me giving up my career with her. So we used the stunt Craig and Karen pulled to renegotiate the deal. I still have to give them their albums, but they’ve knocked twelve months off my contract, and when I tour, Matiari is my support, my wife always comes with me and we don’t talk to the press unless the interview is pre-organised and the reporter vetted. It doesn’t stop the paparazzi and speculation, but after talking to a few other players in the industry with successful relationships, this was the advice they had for us—keep your loved ones close and only show the public what you want them to see. So far, it’s working for us.

And in twelve months’ time, I won’t be locked into a contract at all.

I’ll be a free agent, independently recorded on a small label I’m starting with my brother. The only two acts they’ll be producing are Matiari and The Marked.

The Marked is Lisa and me, named for her surname and my first name. We’ve found this amazing house in the country just like she wanted, and we’ve had our own recording studio built in. Together, we’re making some pretty amazing music and once my contract is up, we’ll be ready to go with our own stuff on our own terms.

Lisa’s and my middle ground is a house in the country and an independent duo. I’m so fucking in love with her.

A few years ago, I was angry and selfish and I’d closed my heart off to the possibility of anything like love. I know now that I just hadn’t met the right woman yet. I guess she was too busy driving cars through people’s front windows…

Standing in our kitchen drinking coffee, I say a silent thank you to the universe as I look through our back windows and watch my wife in the backyard trying to feed the chickens while Perry barks and runs through them, sending them squawking and racing about. Lisa is laughing and smiling with her golden hair—her natural colour—blowing in her face as she tries to get Perry to calm down.

Placing my mug on the bench top, I venture outside and help her get the chickens back into the coop to before wrapping my arms around her middle.

“There is a room I’ve been hoping we could play in,” I say, gently biting on her ear.

“The studio?” She grins, turning around to wrap her arms around my neck.

“Guess again,” I say, pulling her closer and bringing my mouth to hers, and kissing her passionately while Perry barks at the chickens again.

“Is it our special play room?” she asks as I drag my teeth over her bottom lip.

“Uh-huh. I have a hard on for you the size of Mount Everest and I’m dying to make you scream.”

The benefits of having your own private stretch of land is that when your wife decides to reach down and pull her dress over her head, no one else can see it.

She grins at me, drops the dress on the ground and walks into the house in nothing but a pair of barely there white panties.

“Are you coming with me?” she calls back.

“Fuck yes,” I growl as I race up behind her, causing her to laugh in delight as I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder.

It’s moments like these when I realise how much happier I am now. Millions of fans are nothing compared to the love of one perfect woman. Everything about Lisa improves my life. I want her. I need her. I love her. And like her song says, together we are one.

Keep reading for an extra burst of beautiful with Devotion, Naomi and Theo’s wedding.

And then there was a wedding…

Naomi and Theo - Devotion

One

“Hey Naomi, when are you and Theo planning on getting married?” Stephanie asks, as she fills up my glass of wine and offers a top up to both Paige and Katrina, who are sitting on the wicker chairs surrounding Stephanie’s patio table.

We’ve all come together for one of Stephanie and Gary’s famous weekend barbeques. Above us, the summer sun shines brightly, and below us, a hose attached to a spinning sprinkler keeps four children entertained, while their fathers grill the meat and keep a watch over the children.

“You’ve been engaged for three bloody years now, right?” Paige adds, as she glances down from the patio at her two children from her marriage to Elliot - Grace, who is five and a half, and Adam, who is three. They are dancing around under the spray of water with Katrina and David’s two-and-a-half-year-old son, Zachary, and Stephanie and Gary’s little girl (and also my god daughter) Amanda, who is also five.

Everyone here is married with children. Except for Theo and I. We’re engaged and we live together. But that’s about as far as we’ve gone.

A sigh escapes my lips as I look over my shoulder at one of the kids as they squeal delightedly. I catch Theo’s eye from across the lawn where he stands talking to the men with a bottle of beer in hand. I smile at him, loving the way he seems to pause mid-sentence to smile back at me. He still makes my heart flutter.

Even though we work and live together, we haven’t lost that spark that’s between us. We don’t get on each other’s nerves—we’re cohesive. We get each other. It’s a rare thing in this world to feel that close to someone, I’m sure.

“Soon,” I reply when I turn back. “We’re just waiting for our schedule to calm down a little.”

Katrina places her glass on the table and takes a breath to speak. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do or anything. But you know that it will never calm down. There’ll always be something going on that seems more important than planning your wedding. It’s what happened with me and David. He wanted me to set a date, and I was always finding a reason not to do it. I wanted to marry him, but I was scared to have the wedding. I dreamed about what I wanted for years. But dreaming and doing are two very different things. I was afraid that my reality wouldn’t be as good as the dream.”

“Well, how was your wedding in the end?” I ask her, knowing that she obviously got over her fears because she and David have been married for most of the time I’ve known them.

“Her wedding was amazing,” Paige interjects. “David did this whole surprise fairy tale thing for her. She thought she was going on a New Years Eve cruise, but it was her wedding. It was so beautiful.”

I glance back at Katrina as her smile widens at the memory, and her cheeks colour a pretty shade of pink. She turns to me. “It was. It’s a bit of a long story, but in the end, David planned everything. I knew it was coming, but I didn’t know when. I think I waited for almost a whole year, wondering when the hell it was going to happen, and just when I’d stopped expecting it, it happened. All of our friends and family were in on it. But they all kept it a secret. It was such a beautiful surprise.”

I can’t help but smile in return. “That does sound really wonderful. Theo and I have plans. We know what we want, but we just haven’t had the time to sit down and set a date. Work and family keeps getting in the way. We wanted to get married when he reconciled with his brother, but then Marcus went off and eloped, and Theo’s parents were devastated. So, we thought we should wait until everyone had settled down, and now that they have, we have a tour coming up. So, I don’t know. Maybe we can get married in about twelve months’ time? As long as nothing else gets in the way in the meantime.” I glance back over at him where he stands, ready to reach out and take a tray of cooked meat from the side of the barbeque where Gary has been cooking with Elliot. “Looks like lunch is almost ready,” I say, purposefully changing the subject.

“I guess we’d better get these kids dry and fed,” Paige says, uncrossing her legs before she stands and places her glass on the low table top.

I stand with everyone else, even though I don’t have a child to corral, and follow them down the steps to the grass. Elliot is already turning off the hose, and the kids are complaining that they just want five more minutes.

Moving over to Theo, I wait for a moment while he places the tray of meat in the middle of the large outdoor dining table. Then I slide my arms around his waist for a quick hug. He kisses me on the top of my head. “Having a good time?” he asks me quietly.

I glance over at the happy families as they try to contain their children’s excitement. Despite the chaos, not one of them looks even slightly unhappy.

I give him a slight shrug. “I am. I just feel like we’re behind the eight ball when we come here sometimes. They’re always asking when we’re getting married. But once we are, they’ll all be asking when we’re having kids I suppose.”

He slides his arm around my shoulders. “We can’t live our lives to other people’s timetables, gorgeous. But, in saying that, we can get married whenever you want, you know?”

“It takes time to plan, Theo. Time we don’t really have right now.”

He moves to hook his finger under my chin to tilt my head up so I meet his eyes. “I love you. I want to marry you, and I am happy to wait until we can have the kind of wedding you’ve dreamed about. I’m also happy running off and marrying you tomorrow if that’s what you want. I just want you to feel happy. That’s my goal. Happy wife, happy life. That’s what my father’s always said.” He winks, dipping his head as he presses a soft kiss to the end of my nose.

My mouth curves into a smile as I tighten my grip around his waist. “You wouldn’t be happy running off and eloping, Theo. If we do that, what was the point of waiting for you to work things out with Marcus?”

He presses his lips together. “That was before he ran off and got married without thinking about any of us. I love my brother. But he’s not the best at considering anyone else’s feelings. I’ve got to stop worrying about people who aren’t you. You’re the one who’s most important to me. You’re the one who will always be my family.”

I rise up on my toes and press my lips to his, just as Elliot and Paige walk over with their two kids in tow. “Whoa, get a room you two,” Elliot jokes, picking up his son and swinging him easily up onto a chair.

I glance at Elliot and smile, then turn back to Theo and whisper, “We’ll talk about this later.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to my forehead before we break apart and help the others to unwrap all the salad bowls before we sit down to enjoy lunch with our friends, while thoughts of our wedding still plague my mind.

Originally, Theo and I put our wedding plans off because he and his younger brother, Marcus, weren’t talking to each other after a bit of a love triangle ensued between the three of us.

When I chose Theo over him, Marcus lost his shit on stage, left the band and embarrassed the lot of us. Our band, Matiari, survived with Theo as our new lead singer, but Marcus became a mega star when his outburst went viral.

After a couple of years travelling the globe, Marcus finally returned home and met a girl who managed to break him of his man-whore ways. He ended up marrying her in secret on an island somewhere.

The news really upset Theo. He acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal toward Marcus. But privately, it really hurt his feelings. We’d waited all that time for our own wedding just so Marcus could be there, and then Marcus finally comes back to the family, and the first thing he does is run off and get married without us. It was a bit of a kick in the guts to Theo. Once again, he was the only brother who gave a shit, even though he constantly questioned why he did.

So, in the end, the brother who never wanted to settle down is married, leaving Theo and I, who wanted to get married all along, still waiting. I suppose if we suddenly felt a desperate need to marry, we’d set a date and everyone else could go to hell. Besides work, touring, and limited funds, there really isn’t anything in our way. I guess we’ve just been happy the way we are. We’re together and that’s what’s most important right now.

The wedding will happen when the time is right. I just don’t know when that time will be.

Two

When we get home from Gary and Stephanie’s, it’s only four in the afternoon. Most of the time, we don’t have free weekends like this. But leading up to our tour, most of our weekends are free, instead of being booked out with local gigs. Theo takes the time to head into the studio to work on a song he’s been trying to piece together lately.

Like a lot of artists, when a song hits him, he struggles to stop working until he’s finished it. So it was a big thing for me to get him out of the house, and to the barbeque today.

I know he wants to get some work done, but he’s been working tirelessly of late. And since we have the night to ourselves, I think tonight is the perfect night for him to relax. We can work on the song together tomorrow. Tonight should be about us.

Giving him a good half hour to himself, I enter the bedroom to prepare for my distraction. Then I quietly enter the studio.

“Theo,” I coo, standing in front of him as he pauses his guitar playing to scribble something down.

“Huh?” he asks distractedly, with his brow creased as his uses his pencil to scratch out some notes.

“Theo,” I repeat, keeping my voice soft as I wait for him to look up.

He finishes scribbling out his thought then looks up at me with only half his attention.

“Oh, wow,” he says, doing a double take as the pencil falls from between his fingers. Quickly, he sets his guitar to the side, his eyes travelling up the length of my body as I stand before him in nothing but my matching purple lace bra and panties and a pair of black stilettos. I’ve got his whole attention now.

“It’s time to take a break, my love,” I tell him seductively, stepping toward him before I kneel between his legs. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the firm peaks and valleys of his chest until I reach the waist of his jeans. “You need a night off. Sit back and relax.”

He grins, meeting my eyes as I reach out to undo the buckle of his belt, slowly popping the button fly of his jeans, one at a time. Reaching in, I return his grin as I feel his cock, hard and ready for me. I free it from his boxers and run my hand down his smooth shaft as he inhales deeply.

Running my tongue gently around his tip, I continue to move my hand around his length, loving the soft moan that rumbles from within his chest as I slowly take him into my mouth.

Working him with my hand, and my mouth and tongue, I hum gently as my own arousal zings between my legs. Reaching down, I slide my hand into my panties and find my hard nub, knowing that Theo is watching me. He loves to see me pleasure myself.

As I moan around his cock, touching him, touching myself, Theo’s hands thread into my hair, guiding my rhythm as we both move toward our climax.

“Dio mio!” a voice that doesn’t belong, calls out in shock.

I freeze, my eyes going wide as I realise there’s someone in the room. And not just anyone–an Italian-speaking someone. Theo’s mother. Fuck!

All at once, I remove my hands and pull my head back, releasing Theo’s cock as I turn toward the voice in horror.

“Fuck!” Theo calls out at the same time, his orgasm shooting out of him, hitting me in the face.

“Oh god!” I cry, stumbling backward as I try to wipe at my face and grab for something—anything—to cover myself up.

Frantically, I wipe my hands on an unused piece of paper before grabbing for the only thing in reach and holding it in front of me. That thing is Theo’s guitar.

I’m dying. I’m dying inside. What the hell is she doing here?

“Oh god!” Theo yells, quickly tucking himself back inside his jeans as he stands and gathers me behind him to hide my state of undress. “Mum! What the hell?” he yells at his mother who is madly crossing herself and mumbling something incomprehensible.

Still holding the guitar against my body, I bury my face into Theo’s back, wishing I could just melt into him and never return. I am so embarrassed that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at his mother again.

Three

They converse for a while in Italian, and I once again kick myself for never taking the time to learn more of it. I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. Normally, she speaks in heavily accented English, so it’s never been an issue unless she’s upset and slips into her native tongue. But from their tone, I can gather that neither of them is saying anything nice.

Suddenly, Theo pulls his shirt off and hands it to me, his voice rising to a booming yell as his mother’s rises to a shrill pitch. I set the guitar to the side and drop his soft white shirt over my head. It comes down to my thighs so at least I’m slightly decent.

Oh god, why won’t she just leave?

Their yelling escalates and Theo steps away from me. The absence of his reassuring warmth against me, leaving me bereft. Wrapping my arms around myself protectively, I watch them yell. I can see his mother, poking him in the chest and yelling in his face as she gestures dramatically. Theo is doing his best to stay calm, but he is just as emotional as she is.

Her head shakes and her aging neck wobbles. Each time she glances at me she says the word ‘puttana’ which seems to make Theo even angrier.

I can’t take it anymore. Their voices seem to rise and fill every bit of space in the garage studio until it feels as though my head is vibrating.

“Enough!” I scream, causing them both to stop mid rant and turn their attention to me. “Enough,” I repeat, my voice soft but stern this time. I look between them, shake my head and quickly leave the room before I bust into tears in front of them.

“Nomes!” Theo calls, as I race through the door that joins the studio to the house.

I don’t stop until I’m in the bathroom and have locked the door and turned the shower on to drown out the sound of the world.

Dropping my clothing and shoes on the floor, I step under the steady stream of water and let it blast over my head like some sort of shield against what just happened. Holy shit, I could just curl up and die.

Four

“Nomes,” Theo calls over the sound of the shower as he knocks on the bathroom door. “Come out, babe. She’s gone.”

Holding my hands in front of me, I look at my wrinkled fingertips and let out a deep sigh before I shut off the water. I’ve been in here for at least twenty minutes and the water is on the verge of turning cold.

“Open the door, Naomi. Let me in,” Theo says softly through the door.

Reaching for a towel, I wrap it around myself for warmth and flick the lock on the back of the door, stepping back as Theo opens it and meets my eyes with his sympathetic gaze.

“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out and gathering me into his arms. I curl into him, resting my head against his chest as I wish that we could go back in time at least one hour, so I could make sure the bloody front door was locked before I went and seduced my fiancé.

“How bad is it?” I ask, knowing his mother’s penchant for dramatic flair.

“She’ll get over it. She always does,” he assures me.

“I won’t get over it. I’m so embarrassed, Theo. I just want to crawl under a rock and stay there. How am I ever going to sit across a dinner table from her again?”

His chest starts bouncing as a chuckle erupts from within.

“It’s not funny, Theo!”

“Babe. My mother just saw me come in your face. It’s pretty fucking funny.”

I cover my face with my hands. “Oh god! Don’t remind me!” I moan.

His arms tighten around me. “Hey, it serves her right for walking into our house uninvited.”

“Note to self–always lock the front door…So, I guess she knows I’m living here now?”

“Yep,” he confirms gravely.

“Bloody hell,” I moan, running my hand over the top of my head in agitation. “What the hell was she doing here? She never drops in unannounced.”

“I have no idea. We were too busy yelling at each other to find out why she really was here. But don’t worry. It’ll all blow over.”

“Yeah, but when? Remember what happened when Marcus and Lisa eloped? She lost her shit and wore black for months! All that muttering and crossing herself around them—what is she going to do after witnessing that?”

This reaction may seem a little ridiculous. After all, Theo and I are adults. We’re engaged, and we’ve been touring the country, and the world, with our band for a few years now. And, we’ve been living together for most of those years. It’s just that Theo’s mother doesn’t know that part. Up until today, she still thought we were living separately.

Here’s the thing. Theo comes from a very religious Italian family. His mother, especially, is very big on tradition and would have an absolute fit if she had realised we were living together before we were married. As far as she is concerned, her boys are ‘good catholic boys’ and they should marry ‘good catholic girls’.

The catholic girl part was the one thing I had right. Although I’m not practising, I am at least christened and went through all of my communion and what not when I was young. But, the ‘good’ part… well, that was already debatable. But now, I’ve completely lost any sort of respect I had in Mrs Bailey’s eyes.

Mrs Bailey. That’s right, I still call her ‘Mrs Bailey’ as if I’m a child coming over to her house to play after school. But what can I say? The woman makes me nervous as hell. When she’s upset, she mutters things in Italian that sound like curses and when her sons disappoint her… words can’t even describe what it’s like when that happens. Drama—she just radiates so much drama!

From what I’ve been told, when Theo went through his Goth phase, she saw him once and lost her shit, claiming that he was breaking her heart because he was courting the devil. She made his life so difficult, that from then on he hid it from her so as not to upset her, but still be the person he wanted to be.

It’s hard to know what will set her off though. When Theo’s younger brother, Marcus, made himself an Internet sensation by ruining our band’s Melbourne gig a few years ago, she barely bats an eyelid. Then, while he took off and toured the world for a couple of years without making any contact with a single one of us, once again, she was fine. “He just so busy,” she’d say in her thick accent. It used to infuriate me because I just knew that if Theo had done that, both Mr and Mrs Bailey would be shaking their heads in disappointment and claiming that he didn’t care about them anymore.

But I guess that’s the difference with the Bailey brothers—Theo was always the dependable one and Marcus was always the one with stars in his eyes. They expected more from Theo than they ever did from Marcus.

The only time she ever reacted badly towards Marcus was when he married a girl they had never met. Mrs Bailey wore black for months, and kept crossing herself all the time like there was some sort of demon in the room. It was ridiculous. But I still don’t think she blamed Marcus. Her negativity seemed to be aimed more toward his wife, Lisa. I don’t think Marcus can ever do wrong in her eyes.

So, you see, her walking in on Theo and I being…sexual… and finding out that we’re living together before we’ve married, is probably going to give her a heart attack or something. And, it will be primarily blamed on me.

I guess because she still sees Marcus as the baby in the family, she overlooks a lot of his faults. But with Theo, she seems to have very high expectations. Perhaps because he’s the oldest and therefore is expected to be more mature and level-headed. As a result, Theo feels as though he’s a bit of a disappointment. But at the grassroot of it all, it’s always the women in their life who lead her boys astray. My sister-in-law, Lisa, has gone through a multitude of drama at the hands of this woman. And from what I can gather, she isn’t going to be happy until one of us gives her our first-born child as some sort of sacrifice to the gods of overbearing mother-in-laws everywhere.

For a while, she was OK with Marcus and Lisa’s marriage (once she had gone through her mourning period after they eloped, that is.) But then, Marcus and Lisa made it very clear that they weren’t ready to start a family, and that has got her nose severely out of joint again. She just can’t understand the point of marriage unless there are children.

Which brings us back to the fact that Theo and I still aren’t married. Not only are our friends on our backs about when it’s going to happen, but Mrs Bailey is permanently on our case about it – perhaps that’s another reason we haven’t done it yet. Perhaps in some silly way, we are rebelling against her like we’re still teenagers…

I pull away from Theo’s embrace with a dramatic sigh and move to our bedroom to get dressed. He follows behind me, trying to assure me that it isn’t as bad as I think it is until his phone rings.

“It’s Marcus,” he says, pressing the key to accept his brother’s call before holding the phone to his ear. “Hey man, what’s up?” he asks in greeting.

Pulling on some underwear and a pair of jeans and a fitted black singlet top, I twist my towel around my head in a turban as I keep an eye on Theo’s reaction to his brother’s call. I just know that she’s gone straight to Marcus and Lisa to tell them what we ‘did’ to her.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Theo says, pressing his lips together before lowering his phone and hitting the ‘speaker’ option. Marcus’s voice filters out through the speaker and into the room.

“Guys, what the hell happened? We just had Mum over here ranting about you two. Now, my Italian is a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure she was calling Naomi a whore and saying that you‘re both going to hell.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Theo growls, shaking his head. “She can’t talk about Naomi that way.”

“Calm down, mate. You don’t want to start World War Three here,” Marcus says.

“Is that what ‘puttana’ means? Whore?” I say at the same time to Theo, who doesn’t nod to confirm it, but by the look on his face, I know I’m right. “Bloody hell,” I sigh, shaking my head as it begins to throb.

Lisa’s voice joins in on the conversation. “Listen, I have no idea what she said. But she never comes here to complain about you guys. If she comes here, it’s to clean our already tidy home, and let me know what a disappointment I am for not being pregnant yet.”

I hear Perry bark over the receiver. “I know, Perry. You’re the baby of this house, aren’t you?” she says to him.

“What did you two do?” Marcus asks again.

Theo lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell. We were in the studio and didn’t hear her at the door so she walked in and caught us… well… you know.”

Marcus’s laugh rumbles out of the speaker, and I can feel the heat of embarrassment creep over my face yet again.

“Oh wow. No wonder she wouldn’t stop crossing herself. She’s going to be in mourning for a decade over this one.”

“Make that two decades - she found out that Naomi lives here too,” Theo adds.

Marcus laughs again.

“I’m glad this is funny for you, Marcus,” I say. “I’m that one who she’s going to be spitting at.”

“I don’t think it’s funny, Nomes,” adds Lisa. “I’ve been the brunt of her evil eye. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“Come on. It’s not that bad. It’s not like she has magical powers and can curse you,” Marcus says.

“Marcus, your mother is a scary-arse woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does have powers,” Lisa replies.

“Mum’s just going to have to deal with it,” Theo says. “I’m an adult for fuck’s sake. If I want to live with my fiancée, I can. If I want to do other things with my fiancée, I can. It’s not my fault she’s still living in the fucking dark ages.”

“You know what you have to do, right?” Marcus asks.

“What do I have to do, Marcus? Enlighten me.”

“Get married,” both Marcus and Lisa say in unison.

“Get married?” I repeat. “What is it with everyone telling us to get married lately? Besides, how the hell are we supposed to organise a wedding right now? Matiari is about to tour the UK and Europe. We’ll be gone for the best part of a year. We can’t organise a wedding before then. It’ll have to wait until we come back. That was our plan anyway.”

“Sure you can have it early,” Lisa assures us. “Marcus organised ours in a day. With his connections, you can have the wedding whenever you want.”

Theo and I look at each other, mouthing words and gesturing to each other that we can’t manage a wedding right now. We both know that most of our finances are tied up in the tour. We’re not mega stars like Marcus and Lisa are. Our income is very modest considering our output for band expenses.

Theo clears his throat. “Guys, it’s just not going to happen. Our money’s tied up in the tour, and I’m not going to get a loan to go in debt for a quickie wedding, just because our mother is being a drama queen. Besides, in a month’s time, we’ll be gone for a year, and she’ll probably be over it by the time we get back.”

“Theo, don’t kid yourself,” Marcus adds. “She will torture the rest of us the entire time you are gone.”

“Marcus, you totally deserve to suffer through a torture caused by me for a change. God knows, I’ve suffered plenty because of you.”

“Then if not for me, think of Lisa. She doesn’t deserve more than she’s already put up with. Besides, she will call you while you’re on the road, crying about how much you’ve hurt her. You know what she’s like. This doesn’t end until something happens that will change it.”

“Fine. Then we’ll elope like you two did,” he says.

“Seriously man, don’t do that. We don’t regret our wedding at all, but we should have thought about what effect it would have on everyone else, especially you two. We didn’t think, and we kind of swooped in and got married before you two got the chance to have yours,” Marcus explains.

“We’re really sorry guys,” Lisa adds. “We should have waited until after you’d had yours.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s fine,” Theo says, even though I know the fact that Marcus is acknowledging that he did yet another shitty thing means a lot to Theo.

“Well, we are mentioning it because we feel really bad. Listen, we were going to wait until Christmas to do this, but since this has all happened, we thought we’d suggest it now,” Marcus starts.

“Suggest what?” I ask.

“We’d like to pay for your wedding,” Lisa says.

Both Theo and I shake our heads while we repeatedly say ‘no’ over the top of each other.

“It’s the least we can do after fucking things up for you guys. Consider it our gift to you. We wouldn’t know what the fuck to buy you two since you already live together, anyway. And we owe you guys. You’ve been amazing to us. Let us do this,” Marcus insists. “I’ll make a few phone calls and get back to you both tonight. Don’t plan anything for the next month before you go. We won’t have time to set up a big catholic wedding. But we can definitely do a wedding fit for one of Australia’s most recognisable music couples.”

“Marcus, no!” I yell into the receiver. But my protests are only heard by Theo’s ears. Marcus and Lisa have disconnected.

I glance at Theo, my eyebrows raised and my eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Theo presses his lips together and gives me a lopsided grin before he pulls me into another embrace. “Well, look on the bright side - we had planned to talk about the wedding tonight, anyway.”

“Yeah. Talk about it. Not plan it. How did we go from not knowing, to getting married in a month?”

“Welcome to the family, babe,” he deadpans. “Prepare to have your life taken over.”

Five

A couple of hours later, there’s a knock at our door. “Who the hell is it this time?” Theo grumbles as he goes to answer it.

“Please tell me you’re wearing clothes!” I hear Marcus call out as soon as it opens.

“Fuck you, man,” Theo half gripes, half laughs.

“Is it too soon to joke about it?” Marcus says, stepping in through the door with Lisa in tow.

She meets my eyes and holds up a bottle. “We brought wine,” she says hopefully.

“And rum, and we’ll order Indian or something. We’ve got a lot to get through,” Marcus adds, holding up another bottle then making his way to the kitchen.

He’s always comfortable when he comes over here. I guess it’s because he spent so much time here when he was with Matiari, so it is like a second home to him.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Theo asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question and I’m really the only one who hears. I walk over to him and take a hold of his large hand then lift it to my lips and kiss his palm.

“We can still say no,” I point out.

He shakes his head. “It’s OK. I want the wedding to happen. I just wasn’t expecting my mother seeing my fiancée going down on me to be the catalyst.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “Hey, it could make a good song.”

He grins. “Oh yeah? What would it be called?”

“Stay The Fuck Out Of My House Or You’ll See Me Blow My Load,” I reply instantly, causing him to release that beautiful rumble that escapes his chest whenever he laughs.

“We’d make millions,” he chuckles, releasing my hand so he can hug me to him.

“See? She did us a favour,” I joke, as we head into the kitchen where Marcus is pouring drinks and Lisa is pulling out her iPad and a bunch of bridal magazines.

She looks up and meets my eyes. “I grabbed everything the newsagent had on the way over here,” she explains. “We can work out what you want, and then we can set a bunch of people to work to make it all happen.”

“Sounds perfect,” I reply genuinely, taking the glass that Marcus offers me with a smile before I take a seat and start flipping through some magazines.

After our conversation with Marcus and Lisa earlier, Theo and I had a long discussion about whether we really were happy planning and having the wedding before we go on tour.

At first, we felt a little weird about Marcus and Lisa insisting that they pay as a wedding gift. But when you consider it as an apology from Marcus for all the shit he put us through when he left the band, then I don’t feel so indebted toward him for helping us - because he kind of did put us through hell.

In the end, we both agreed that now was as good a time as any. It seemed that today, more than ever, the signs were pointing towards us getting married sooner rather than later. So we both figured – why not? We love each other and we were going to do it anyway…

“So, first thing’s first – who do you want in your wedding party?” Lisa asks, opening up a notebook and clicking down the point of her pen.

“Oh, um… well, I guess that’s a fairly easy one. Stephanie has been my best friend forever. So she should be Matron of Honour and I’d love for you and Paige to be my bridesmaids.”

“You want me as a bridesmaid?” she asks, a slight grin playing on the corner of her mouth.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I reply.

“Oh wow. I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.”

“Well, now you are. If you want to of course.”

She grins. “Of course I do. I’d love to.”

She writes the names down on her notepad and then looks over at Theo. He returns a blank stare as he holds his glass of rum and coke to his lips. “What?” he asks.

I smile. He and Marcus were obviously talking about something other than our wedding. “Your side of the bridal party. Who do you want to be your groomsmen?” I ask, even though I already know the answer to this question.

He holds out a hand and counts off on his fingers. “Marcus – best man. Then Lachlan and Jack for the other two. Three’s enough right?”

“Perfect,” I smile, nodding my head to the chair next to me. He walks over and pulls it out, draping his arm over the back of my chair as Marcus does the same next to Lisa. It’s easy to tell these two men are related. They have a lot of similar mannerisms.

From that point, we begin to go over all the things we had been talking about for our wedding. Theo insists that he gets to organise the music, but the food and venue are something that we’re all very flexible on. It will just have to be something that we can get on short notice.

Most of our time is spent writing out a list of guests, eating Indian takeaway and coming up with outlandish wedding suggestions for a laugh. It was suggested that I parachute in instead of walking down the aisle. Yeah – I wasn’t agreeing to do that.

Eventually, Lisa and I tell the men to take their jokes and go and stuff around in the studio while Lisa and I seriously flip through the bridal magazines and plan out the vast majority of this wedding ourselves.

By the time we’re finished, we have the guest list, the type of invitation, the colours for decorating, a list of suitable venues and celebrants to send to a wedding planner, and a huge list of other little touches that will make our day really special.

I, of course, want everything to be purple. So we’re going to try to incorporate a bit of a musical theme in with that colour choice.

When we say goodbye to Marcus and Lisa at almost 2am the next morning, I’m actually beginning to feel excited about doing this, and I wonder why we hadn’t thought to plan and put together a wedding in a month before now. Everything is going to be perfect.

Six

As a result of the wedding plans moving forward, the next week makes both Theo and I feel as though our phones have managed to graft themselves to our hands. We’re forever on them.

We’re either dealing with wedding plans or tour plans, interspersed with Mrs Bailey ringing up and crying in our ears because we hurt her so much with our ‘sordid display’.

Theo disconnects yet another call from her and shakes his head, fuming. He’s stopped yelling at her whenever they talk, but he hasn’t stopped feeling angry with her for her reaction.

“Seriously,” he says. “I know it would make things worse with her, but, I feel like having this wedding in another country like Marcus and Lisa did. Then she’d bloody well miss out on our wedding too.”

“Don’t be like that. We can’t punish everyone we love because of one person making trouble. Besides, we’d end up having to move to another country and change our identities entirely because we’d never hear the end of it,” I point out.

He shakes his head in annoyance and places his hands on his hips. “Sometimes I think that would be better than putting up with this family shit. When it’s just you and me, things are perfect. Family just complicates things.”

I move over to him, sliding my hands up over his shoulders and gently running my fingers back and forth through his short dark hair. “You don’t want that, Theo. Family has always been everything to you – even though they piss you off. You’re just stressed out. Maybe we should tell Lachlan and Jack not to come around tonight to go over our set lists. We’ll take a night off, yeah? We could go out to that restaurant you like that serves the meat on the breadboard. And we could drink lots of wine and then come home and lock all the doors this time…” He grins as I say that last part, causing me to break into a smile too. “And then we can spend some very quality time together,” I suggest, keeping my eyes locked with his as I slide my hand down his firm chest, over his abs then just around his crotch in a tease before it continues down his thigh.

His eyes darken and his hands move to grip my waist, pulling me toward him so we’re pressed firmly up against each other. I feel his hard length, pressing against my belly, then I rise up on my toes and plant a soft kiss on his lips. He moves his mouth to take mine in a more passionate kiss, but I catch his bottom lip between my teeth, slowly pulling back as I gently tug then release it.

Grinning, his hands move down to cup my arse and he lifts my small frame with ease, bringing my face level with his.

“Perhaps we should order in?” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to mine in a kiss that after all this time together, still has my toes curling.

His phone rings. He groans in annoyance. “Ignore it,” I whisper. “No interruptions.”

“No interruptions,” he agrees. Keeping me in his arms, he continues to kiss me as we walk around the house, switching off phones and making sure the doors are all locked.

“What about cancelling practice?” I ask breathlessly as he walks us to the bedroom.

“We’ll cancel when we order food. First, I just need you. Only you. Everything else can wait.”

Seven

“Three weeks. I can’t believe you’re getting married in three weeks,” Stephanie says when I meet her and Paige for coffee before we meet up with Lisa to go bridal shopping the next morning. “When I asked you at the barbeque, you said in a year.”

“Are you pregnant?” Paige asks immediately after.

“No. I’m not pregnant. We just want to get married before we go on tour. We’ve put it off for long enough,” I attempt to explain.

“Yeah but, why the sudden rush? You’ve already waited years. Why is it suddenly a ‘do or die’ situation?” Stephanie presses.

I let out a sigh and tell them the story of Theo’s mother. Their mouths fall open as they share in my embarrassment, but when I say, “Then he blew his load into my face”, they burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny. I almost died from my humiliation. Plus, she called me a ‘puttana’,” I whine.

Paige frowns. “Isn’t that ‘whore’ in Italian?”

“Yep,” I reply in a dull tone.

“Nice mother-in-law,” she comments.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I say, lifting my mug to my lips and taking a mouthful.

“She needs a swift kick up the arse,” Stephanie comments. “Why are you jumping through hoops for someone who walked into your house unannounced and is calling you names?”

“It’s not for her. It’s for Theo more than anything. He hates that there’s dissention in his family. He says that he just wants to run off and get married on our own. But if I actually agreed to that, he’d be riddled with guilt and wouldn’t go through with it.”

“OK. Are you excited, though? You do want to get married don’t you?” Stephanie asks.

I sigh. “Of course I do. More than anything. I just wish that it could be done on my own terms and in my own time. I’m glad it’s happening, and I’m excited to finally be marrying my man. But at the same time I kind of feel like my own wedding has been taken out of my hands. Lisa and Marcus have some event planners organising it all. So, besides fielding phone calls and showing up to appointments like today, I don’t really feel like I’m planning my wedding, you know? It feels like it’s being done without me. It’s weird.”

Stephanie reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. “Honey, there are very few women who get exactly the wedding they want. Look at my wedding – I ended up fighting with my mum who completely took over my planning. Gary’s parents invited half the world and it ended up costing us a fortune to entertain over a hundred people of which we only knew around forty of them. Focus on the fact you’re marrying the man you love. Forget the rest, it’s all for show anyway.”

I sigh again. “I know. I know, and they are taking into consideration what I want. But the time constraint is making it hard to work everything out and a girl has dreams, you know?”

“Well, speak up then Nomes,” Paige says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Be heard. If you don’t like the way things are going, say no. If you want to wait, then wait. Elliot and I didn’t have any of this drama in our wedding. It was sweet, small and simple.”

“See, that’s the problem. With Theo’s family and the industry we’re in, it could never be small and simple.”

“Wasn’t Marcus and Lisa’s small and simple?”

“Yes. But look at the trouble that caused. We want to bring the family together. Not push it further apart.”

“OK, well, what do you want us to do?” Stephanie asks.

“Well, for starters, I think we need to ditch these coffees for champagne.”

Paige laughs. “That’s a great idea. You’re getting married. This is supposed to be fun and magical.”

“That’s right,” Stephanie adds. “And you know what Nomes, I spent a year planning my wedding, and it was the most stressful year of my life. And it was all for one day! That’s it! You’ll be so glad once you’ve married your man and all that stress is over.”

“You’re right. I need to put Theo’s psycho mother out of my mind and focus on the fact that I love Theo, and I want to be his wife – whether it’s in three week’s time, tomorrow, or ten years from now. Marrying him is what I want.”

“That’s the spirit,” Stephanie says. “Now, let’s go and meet Lisa to get fitted for these dresses. It’s time to have fun with this wedding of yours.”

* * *

The bridal boutique we’re meeting Lisa at isn’t far from where we were having coffee in Double Bay. It’s one of those fancy boutiques that only let you in if you’ve booked an appointment.

When we arrive, Lisa is out front talking on her phone. She grins and waves at us as we approach and finishes up her call by the time we’re in front of her.

“How are you?” she asks, giving me a friendly hug and a cheek kiss before moving along and doing the same with Stephanie and Paige.

In the couple of years that Lisa and Marcus have been together, we’ve become quite close. She’s one of those fun, easy-going girls who fits in with any group.

She met Paige and Stephanie when we all went out for my birthday not long after she married Marcus. Paige was very cool, but Stephanie almost died giggling when she first met her. She treated her like royalty because she’s a fan of Lisa’s father’s music and was obsessed with Lisa when she was still called Leisel and was dating movie star, Jonathan Masters. “You are. The bravest woman I have ever met,” she’d gushed, referring to Lisa’s gutsy choice to park Jonathan’s car in his living room after she discovered he was cheating on her.

Lisa smiled and took it all in her stride, but you could tell it wasn’t something she wanted to spend a lot of time talking about. Thankfully, we moved on from that topic of conversation and we’ve all been friends ever since.

Lisa finishes greeting everyone then returns to my side and loops her arm through mine. “Let’s go inside. They’re all set up for us. There’s even champagne,” she smiles, leading me toward the door.

An impeccably dressed lady in a tailored skirt suit greets us at the door as if we’re long lost friends.

“Come in, come in. I understand we have a time limit so I’ve collected all the dresses we have in your size.” She motions toward a rack full of ivory silk and organza. “Have you decided on the colour for your bridal party?” she asks me.

I smile at the question. For some reason, I had thought that I wouldn’t have much of a choice when it came to colour for the bridal party. I thought it would just have to be whatever we can get that fits.

“Purple. I want them wearing purple,” I say, exchanging glances with Lisa. It is possible that this wedding is going to look like a music sheet covered in Ribena, but I don’t care. I am obsessed with purple as a colour, and music is both Theo’s and my passion – so they’re both going to be heavily represented on our special day.

Her smile widens. “We have some beautiful Vera Wang dresses in amethyst that are to die for.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Vera Wang?” All I can think is how much that’s going to cost everyone. I know that no one is hard up for money, but still, I can’t expect them to pay out for a designer dress that will only be worn once.

Lisa steps in. “Relax. They’re not as expensive as you think, and besides, Marcus is covering this. I don’t even want you to think about the prices. Just have fun, OK. Here, have some champagne, relax. Choose whichever you prefer.”

I take the flute of gently fizzing liquid from her hand and let out my breath as I nod and take a sip.

Suddenly, I wish that my mother could be here with me too. But she and dad are overseas right now. They’ll be back in two weeks, so they’ll make the wedding. But still, I’m sure she would have liked to be here just as much as I would like her support.

When I called my mum and told her the wedding was happening within the month, she was both elated and disappointed. I’m her only daughter, so she’d love to have more to do with the preparations. But with the timing, that’s just not working out. I am, however, calling her frequently to keep her abreast with our plans, and she’s expecting photos of this fitting to be sent to her so she can at least be a part of this remotely.

“OK,” the shop assistant says with a clap of her hands. “Who wants to go first – bridesmaids or bride?”

“Bride,” the girls all chorus together before I’ve managed to form a word.

I tilt my glass back and let the champagne flow straight down my throat in a single gulp. “Why do I feel so nervous all of a sudden?” I ask, touching my hand to my cheeks as they flush pink.

“It’s perfectly normal,” Stephanie assures me. “I think I ran around pink and blotchy for a good six months before my wedding day.”

I stand up and hand her my phone. “OK, make sure you take photos to send through to mum,” I tell her.

“Definitely,” she grins, holding my phone against her chest as she watches me disappear into the dressing room with the first dress from the rack.

The first one is a column dress in ivory silk that is very simple in design but when I try it on, I think it would be best suited to a much taller woman than I.

“It’s pretty. But it reminds me of one of those silky nightgowns,” Stephanie says as she holds my phone up to me.

“Try the next one on sweetheart,” I hear from my phone, and immediately I realise it’s my mother’s voice.

I move over to Stephanie as fast as I can in the too long dress and beam happily when I see my mother’s face on the screen. “I FaceTimed her so she could be here,” Stephanie tells me.

“Hi mum,” I say, getting all teary when I see her face.

“Hello darling,” she smiles. “You look beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I gush.

“It’s the wonders of modern technology. Now, go and try on the next dress. I can’t wait to see it.”

I nod and head back into the fitting room where a dress with a pink beaded bodice waits for me. It’s form-fitting right down to my thighs then trumpets out so it swishes as I walk.

When I open the door, it’s to a couple of wolf whistles from the girls. It’s a beautiful dress, but I’m worried that it makes me look too cut in half. “I think this is another tall girl dress though,” I comment.

“Not at all. You look gorgeous, Nomes,” Paige says as she snaps a picture with her phone.

“How about you try this one?” Lisa says from beside the rack of dresses she’s been searching through. “It’s a lot of tulle. But it fits your theme.”

In her hand, she holds out a white princess styled wedding dress with a sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice with purple applique flowers that scatter part of the way down the flared skirt as if they are falling.

“Oh, that is just gorgeous,” I hear my mother say from my phone.

I smile. “It is, isn’t it?” I look around at the faces of my closest friends and see the agreement on their features.

“Try it on,” Paige urges me.

The attendant takes the dress from Lisa’s grasp and hangs it in the dressing room for me as I follow behind her and remove the dress I have on as she helps me into the new one.

“Almost a perfect fit,” she comments as she zips me up. I smooth my hands over the wide skirt and look at myself in the mirror. “If you think it’s too much but like the style, we have the same where the applique flowers are white and there’s a silk purple belt that goes with it instead.”

I shake my head. “I like this. It’s classic but with a little ‘me’ thrown in the mix,” I tell her.

She nods, then opens the curtain so I can show everyone else.

“That’s the one,” Stephanie says immediately.

“That is just stunning,” exclaims my mother while the others all make their own comments in agreement.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” I agree, looking at myself in the floor to ceiling mirrors in the main area.

“So that’s it then – the Enzoani is ‘the one’?” the attendant asks with a smile.

I nod. “Definitely. This is ‘the one’.” I turn around and look to everyone else. “Did you check out the bridesmaids dresses yet?”

“We did,” Lisa says. “And we all really like this one.” She moves over to another rack and pulls out a lamé woven cocktail length dress. Underneath is a purple silk slip that is covered with a sheer black lace. There is beading and fine edge work around the v-neck and the hem. A strip of tulle ties it at the waist and all up, it looks very contemporary and elegant all at the same time.

“I love it. I want one to wear on stage at the next concert,” I comment, reaching out to touch it lightly. “They’ll look gorgeous on all of you.”

“We don’t have all the sizes here. But we can definitely order them in and have them properly fitted within the week if we put a rush on it,” the attendant says.

I take another look at the wedding dress in the mirror. “This was a lot easier than I thought it would be,” I comment.

“Purple is very ‘in’ right now. You chose a good time to get married,” the attendant informs me as she moves around taking the measurements of each bridesmaid.

I can’t stop smiling as I look around the room. It’s starting to feel like this was all meant to be.

“But what about the black lace? Isn’t black bad luck at a wedding?” Stephanie points out about the bridesmaid dresses.

“I don’t believe in that shit, Steph. Besides, we’ll need someone with a little black to match Mrs Bailey,” I reply.

“Hey, no mention of Cruella DeVille today, OK?” Lisa says.

“Cruella DeVille - is that what you call her?” I laugh.

Lisa smiles and nods, then holds her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. “Don’t tell anyone though. I even have the theme song as her ringtone,” she tells me with a wink.

“Bullshit,” I laugh. “What are you going to do if she hears it?”

“She won’t hear it. You don’t call people when you’re in the same room as them.” She shrugs, reaching out to touch one of the purple applique flowers on my dress. “This dress is absolutely stunning by the way,” she says.

I reach out and hug her suddenly, causing her to freeze a little in surprise before relaxing in my arms. “Thank you for all of this. It really means a lot to me.”

When we pull away, she’s wiping at her eye and waving me off like it’s no big deal. “It’s nothing. Just go and get out of that dress. We have a meeting with the wedding planner after this.”

Pressing my lips together, I smile at her and nod before turning to Stephanie and taking my phone from her so I can say goodbye to my mother before I get changed.

“I can’t wait to get home. You’re father is really looking forward to walking his little girl down the aisle,” she tells me before we say our goodbyes, and I return to the change room to get dressed again before heading to the wedding planner with Lisa for what is supposed to be a very exciting afternoon…

Eight

“I’m sorry. Even with the list of locations you gave me, we just can’t organise it that soon,” Gail Warner, the wedding planner Marcus has hired for us says.

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Lisa demands. “You were told that this was to be held within a month when you were hired.”

“I understand that. But, looking over this guest list, there isn’t a single venue in Sydney that can cater to a wedding this size at such short notice.”

“Then pick a venue interstate,” I blurt out, getting caught up in the urgency of it all. “We have all the legalities taken care of. We just need a venue.”

“So we’re talking ‘destination wedding’ now?” Gail asks as she taps at the keyboard of her laptop furiously. Her head shakes slowly from side to side as she purses her red lips and flicks her finger over the scrolling wheel of her mouse. “There!” she says suddenly. “There’s one place in Queensland. But it’s hurricane season up there. You could end up having the whole wedding evacuated.”

Lisa immediately pulls out her iPhone and starts going through the extended weather forecasts for tropical Queensland. “This site lists the forecast for a month in advance. There’s just stinking hot weather up there at the moment,” she states.

“Weather forecasts are hardly accurate. But if you’re willing to take the risk then I’ll book it now.”

Lisa and I exchange glances and at the same time, we say, “Book it.”

“OK,” Gail smiles. “I’ll book it today and get all of these invitations printed and mailed express by tomorrow. I’ll also work through this list you’ve given me and see what we can and can’t do in time. You may have to make a few concessions. But I think, if we can get on this ASAP then we can definitely get this done in time.”

We spend a bit more time working over the details of a destination wedding and leave with a list of things that we’ll need to give Gail by the end of the week, such as music choices, food choices and our chosen cake flavour (the cake is a no brainer – I want chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate).

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted, and I still have to find the energy to practice our set list with the band. When I get home, I drag my way through the door to our garage studio and collapse onto the barstool that sits near my practice amp.

“Hey,” Jack says from next to the drum kit where he’s talking to our drummer, Rob. He waves ‘hi’ too. I half smile and wave back.

“How’s it goin’ Nomes,” Lachlan asks, looking up briefly as he plucks at his bass.

“Alright,” I reply. “This wedding stuff is exhausting though. Did you guys sort out your tuxes today?” I ask as I open my violin case and pull out my fiddle.

“Yep. Theo just had to stop off at some jeweller about your rings. He said to start without him if he wasn’t back by the time you got here.”

I raise my hand to stifle a yawn as I nod, knowing he wasn’t back yet from the text he’d sent me earlier. “I’ll cue up the backing track,” I tell them. “So what kind of suits did you get?”

“No way,” Jack says with a shake of his head and a crossing motion of his arms. “I don’t even know what the fucking protocol is, but I’m not going to be the one who causes you bad luck by blabbing about shit like that.”

I grin. “Not that I believe in that stuff, but it’s supposedly bad luck for the groom to see the dress. Not for the bride to see the tuxedos or suits or whatever.”

Lachlan presses his lips together. “Hmmmm. I’m not sure about that. But just know that he chose something that will make you happy.”

“Yeah,” Jack adds. “And also know, that it doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“It’s not that bad. I like them,” Lachlan retorts.

“They’re suits, Lach,” Jack points out, and I can’t help but smile. I’ve never seen Jack in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt since I’ve known him. “But for you Nomes, I’m willing to look like an uptight twat.”

“Awwww, Jack!” I grin, walking over to him and wrapping my arms as far around his neck as I can reach on my tiptoes.

“Hey you two – no canoodling while I’m not around,” Theo says from the doorway as he walks in with Marcus right behind him.

“Hey guys,” Marcus says.

“So, how was your day?” I ask Theo eagerly.

He grins. “Good. We sorted out our suits and I found these awesome rings for us.”

“You chose the rings without me?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

He notices and laughs. “Hey, trust me. You’ll love them,” he assures me with a wink.

Marcus nods in agreement. “You will. They’re awesome.”

With that, Marcus says a quick goodbye and leaves us to our practice. The band works on the set list for our upcoming tour until it’s almost midnight, stopping only for a quick meal before getting right back to work.

When we finally crawl into bed, we’re both beat. “This wedding and tour business is really wreaking havoc with our sex life,” I say, cuddling into Theo’s side as I lightly trace the details of the tattoo that covers his ribs. It features the music of the first song we wrote together. The song used to be unfinished and the tattoo ended in flames. But after we wrote the rest of the song, he’s had the tattoo altered with the rest of the music, and the lyrics to the song. And now the flames are covered with a guitar, a violin, and piano keys.

He runs his fingers up and down my back gently. “I’m happy to lay here and get hard if you have the energy to ride,” he jokes, turning his head to press a kiss against my forehead.

“No,” I murmur, my body feeling heavy as I lay against him. “I’m happy right here.”

“Me too,” he whispers. “Sweet dreams, babe.”

“Sweet dreams,” I think I reply. Although, I’m not so sure because before I know it, I’ve drifted off to sleep, dreaming about a wedding I can’t seem to get to.

Nine

When I open my eyes the next morning, it’s to a room filled with light and an empty bed. Slowly, I sit up, taking note of the time on the retro clock beside the bed. I watch as one of the black and white numbers flips over to count a new minute – 8:23.

Swinging my legs out from under the sheet, I run my hands over my face and through my hair. The house is already feeling slightly warm. The heat of summer is definitely upon us.

After visiting the bathroom and washing up, I walk through the house, enjoying the coolness of the floorboards beneath my feet. The faint smell of coffee floats past my nose so I know that Theo can’t have been up for too long. He’s most likely in the studio at the piano or on his guitar.

I head over to the door that joins the house to the studio and turn the knob. Locked. My brow furrows. This door is never locked.

Raising my hand, I knock. “Theo,” I call out, pressing my mouth close to the door jam so he can hear me. The studio is mostly sound proofed, but we never soundproofed this door so we could hear knocking.

I only have to wait for a moment before Theo appears at the door and slides out of there, without letting me see inside.

He grins at me, looking very pleased with himself as he blocks the door with his body, obviously hiding something.

“What’s going on?” I ask slowly, narrowing my eyes at him as he tries to look nonchalant.

“Nothing,” he replies immediately. Although he’s smiling, so I don’t believe him at all.

I step back and place my hands on my hips. “Were you wanking in there?”

A laugh erupts out of his chest. “No babe, I was not in there jacking off. I was in there working on something for you. Something I don’t want you to see yet.”

I clap my hands together and bounce on my toes. “A surprise! I love surprises! OK. Don’t tell me. I won’t ask a thing,” I say, passing my hand over my lips and twisting my fingers like I’m locking it with a key, before I wrap my arms around his chest and lean up to kiss his chin (which is the only part of him I can reach when I have no shoes on).

“Alright, now piss off. I’ve got shit to do in here,” he jokes, giving me a light pat on the arse as I turn around to head into the kitchen to get something to eat.

“You want a coffee with me before you go back in there, or are you too in the moment?”

“I’m in the moment. But I’ll be out soon. I promise you’ll love it babe.”

“I don’t have a doubt in my mind.”

* * *

I spend some time going through our email and going over the wedding and tour plans. Both events are huge and take so much planning. But at least we have help with each of them – doing it all on our own would drive us both entirely insane.

I approve a pdf proof of our wedding invites and then send through our set lists for the first leg of our tour. I also spend a bit of time going over our calendar to make sure that we don’t have any overlapping appointments and call Stephanie to talk to her about the dress she and Paige have been looking at for Amanda and Grace to wear as my flower girls. They’re both close in age and will look absolutely adorable walking down the aisle throwing rose petals from these little paper cones that are printed sheet music.

So far, everything seems to be coming together nicely. Both the wedding and the tour plans seem to be moving along without a hitch. That is, until Theo comes storming out of the studio.

“I need to go out,” he states, grabbing the keys to his bike.

“What’s going on?” I ask in concern as I watch him slide his arms into his leather jacket and grab his helmet.

He shakes his head. “My fucking parents. I just got a call from dad. I need to go deal with this.”

“Well, wait and I’ll come with you.”

He holds up his hand to stop me. “No, babe. I need to deal with this myself. This has all gone too far.”

With that, he turns and storms out the front door, leaving me calling out after him for some sort of an explanation. “What are you talking about?!” I call from the doorway, although I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hear it over the sound of his bike engine roaring to life before he takes off down the street toward his parent’s house.

* * *

Time moves by at a snails pace while Theo is gone. There isn’t much that I can do to occupy my mind besides play my violin. I go into the studio and stay well away from Theo’s area where he’s left his notebook out on the piano seat. As much as I’m curious to see what he’s working on, I really don’t want to ruin the surprise. So I just grab my violin case and head back into the main house.

When I’m upset or worried, I generally revert back to my classical training. Today, I’m playing something a little more upbeat with the third movement of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. I play it over and over again, each time losing myself further and further into the music as my fingers fly over the strings and the bow slides back and forth furiously.

I’m so absorbed that I don’t even hear Theo’s bike pull into the driveway and I don’t realise he’s here until the front door closes. I stop all of a sudden, my fingers slipping on the string as the bow strikes and releases a loud squeaking noise that causes both of us to wince.

“Tchaikovsky, huh?” he says as he drops his keys on the table near the door and shrugs out of his jacket.

“I was worried about you,” I state, setting my violin and bow on the couch as I move over to him. “Are you OK? What happened?”

He runs his hands through his hair, damp from the heat of the day then shakes his head. “Mum doesn’t want to come to the wedding,” he says, meeting my eyes with a great look of disappointment in his.

“What?” I ask disbelievingly. “What the hell is wrong with her? Is this because of me?”

He steps toward me and takes my hands in his. “Don’t ever think this is because of you. This is all her. She’s the one behaving badly. Not us. Not you.”

I step back, feeling as though I’ve actually been slapped in the face. “But it is because of me isn’t it? It’s because of what she saw?”

Moving toward me again, he reaches out and gently places his hands on my upper arms. “Babe. Don’t let this get to you. You are my world. The only person I give a fuck about being at our wedding is you. If my mother wants to boycott it then there’s nothing I can do to stop her. I have bent over backwards for my family. My whole life I’ve tried to be a good son and a good brother. But the only thing that matters anymore is that I’m a good husband. Fuck them, Nomes. This wedding is about you and me. No one else.”

Tears well in my eyes. I can’t believe we’ve been putting ourselves under so much stress because of that woman and now she’s turning around and refusing to be a part of this. “No,” I say in response, and Theo gives me a quizzical look. “No,” I repeat. “She doesn’t get to do this to you. Not this time.” I reach over to the table and grab my car keys off it.

“Babe, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go over there and give her a piece of my mind.”

“Don’t waste your breath. It’s not going to change anything.”

“Maybe not. But it will make me feel better. I deserve the right to stick up for myself.”

He nods. “Alright. But I’m going to drive you. Don’t go over there on your own.”

Without waiting for me to respond, he reaches out and takes the keys out of my hands and heads for the door. Grabbing my handbag, I shove my feet into my black ballet flats at the same time, then head out the door after him and get into the passenger seat of my Rav4.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asks as I buckle my seatbelt and look ahead.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He reaches over and squeezes my knee. “OK, babe. OK.”

Ten

My heart beats faster the closer we get to Theo’s parents house. I’m tired of standing by and saying nothing while she badmouths me to Theo, and Marcus and Lisa. I know they stick up for me, but it’s high time I stuck up for myself. I kept quiet out of respect for their family. But if she can’t respect her son enough to support his choices, then I’m all out of respect for her. And the fact he’s driving me over there, means that Theo’s lost respect for them too. I think he’s finally reached the point where he won’t be pushed around by family politics anymore.

The moment we pull into their driveway, I jump out of the car and storm up to the front door and beat my fist against the green wood.

The door opens fairly quickly, revealing Mrs Bailey in her black mourning dress. My eyes roll all by themselves.

“What you want?” she says to me, her eyes darting over my shoulder to see Theo coming up behind me. She breaks into Italian and directs her speech to him instead of me.

“English mum. I’m just here to make sure you listen to what my fiancée has to say,” he tells her sternly.

Her dark eyes return to me, filled with disdain, or disgust – whatever the hell it is she feels toward me.

“Why won’t you come to our wedding?” I demand, wanting to hear her excuse for myself.

“I no like you,” she states. “My son, he deserves better.”

I nod my head. “You’re right. He does. He deserves a mother who is willing to support any sort of decision he makes.”

She looks at Theo and attempts to speak Italian again.

“Not me,” he says. “Speak to Naomi.”

She looks at me again, her lips pursed, and her arms crossed.

“In all honesty, I don’t care if you don’t want to come. You’ve never made me feel welcome and I think you treat Theo terribly.”

“I love my son,” she insists.

“Do you? Do you think that calling his fiancée a whore is loving him? Do you think refusing to watch him marry the woman he loves, is loving him? If he isn’t doing exactly what you want, you do your best to make his life a living hell. There is no way you’d do this to Marcus – he ran off on us all for two years and you still supported him. Then he ran off again and married a woman you’d never met, and who did you blame? It wasn’t Marcus – you never blame Marcus. All Theo did was fall in love and share his life with me. There is nothing wrong with what we did. You are the one who was in the wrong. You are the one who walked into our house uninvited. You are the one who judged us. And you are the one who is causing all this trouble. We have bent over backwards trying to make this right. We have organised a wedding, and it’s going to be beautiful, and you know what? I don’t want you there. I don’t want your angry, judgemental face watching me as I vow to love Theo with everything I have for the rest of my life. If you can’t share in our joy and smile and show your son love then I don’t want you there. I don’t want you in my life – our life. As far as I’m concerned Mrs Bailey, you can go and fuck yourself,” I say, my body shaking in anger but my voice staying calm.

I glance over her shoulder and see Theo’s father standing a few feet behind his wife. I nod my head once at him. “Mr Bailey,” I say, in recognition. Then turning around, I grab a hold of Theo’s hand before walking straight back to the car.

“Do you think I went over the top?” I ask as soon as he starts the engine. My heart is beating like crazy and I feel sure that my hands are shaking too.

“Babe, you were a hell of a lot nicer than I was earlier,” he grins, pulling into the traffic of the main road. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah. I do actually.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now we move on. We get married like we planned and we live our life the way we want it. It’s you and me babe. That’s all we need.”

I rest my head against the seat and let out my breath to try and calm down.

“You and me against the world,” I state.

He reaches over and takes my hand in his. “You and me against the world.”

Eleven

With so much going on, time flies by and before we know it, we’re only a week away from our wedding. Everything is planned and despite the fact that Theo’s parents still aren’t talking to us, despite Marcus attempting to also convince them to be supportive - we’re still excited to finally be tying the knot.

At first we were thinking that we might just forgo our buck’s and hen’s nights in favour of a big barbeque or a night out with friends. But our bridal party decided that wasn’t going to be good enough. Jack and Lachlan have planned a big night out in the city for Theo, and Stephanie convinced Paige and Lisa that they just had to throw a hen’s party for me.

I have no idea where it is, but the one thing I’ve asked is no male strippers. I know that strippers are a custom on Hen’s nights, but I really just want to go out and dance and have fun. I don’t want some guy gyrating in my face.

The bridal party have managed to work together and plan both parties so they happen on the same night, so we all head into the city together where we are meeting everyone else at a club in Darling Harbour before we all head off on our separate ways.

“Holy fuck,” Theo says as he enters the bathroom where I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup. I’m wearing a short skin tight royal blue dress that sets off the colour of my eyes and a very high set of matching heels so I’ll at least be close to the height of some of my tall friends. “Babe, I can’t let you out of here with that dress on,” Theo adds, his eyes going wide as they land on my arse.

I glance at him via the mirror as he stands behind me, looking amazing himself in a fitted white v-neck t-shirt that hugs him in all the right places and a pair of black pants with suspenders. His hair is messy and he hasn’t shaved. I love the messy stubble look about him.

Placing my mascara wand back into the tube, I screw it closed and turn around to face him with a coy smile on my face.

“Maybe I don’t want you out looking like that,” I murmur, moving slowly toward his welcoming arms. I press my body against his as his hands immediately run over my curves and settle on my arse. “I’ve got a hell of a lot more to be jealous about. You’re the lead singer in our band. Girls are always trying to bed you. I’m the fiancée who stands in their way and I won’t be with you tonight.”

He grins. “They don’t hold a candle to you, babe. But you, out in this dress. You’re smoking hot in it, Nomes. I don’t like the idea of you out in the city looking like everything delicious in this world without me beside you to protect you.”

“I’ll be with you, then I’ll be with the girls. From what I hear, we both have massive parties to attend tonight.”

He pulls me closer to him. “I think I’d rather a party for two. I want that dress on the floor,” he growls, dipping his head to take my mouth in his.

My hands go up around his neck as our mouths move together. My core ignites and I half want to make a phone call and cancel tonight to be with Theo. We’ve been so busy lately that we’ve hardly had any time to ourselves. My body craves him and from the feel of things, his body craves me too.

When a horn beeps outside, he groans in my mouth and we pull away from each other, both slightly breathless and incredibly turned on.

“Fuck people and their timing,” Theo grumbles, looking at his watch. “I didn’t think they were picking us up for another twenty minutes.

“Is that all the time you were going to give us?” I ask with a laugh.

“I don’t even think I would have needed that long. It’s been a while. I’ll go out and tell them to fucking well wait.” He turns to leave the bathroom, but I reach out and grab his arm.

“No, wait,” I say. “Let’s get a hotel room. I’ll meet you there when the parties are over. We can spend the night in anticipation before having mind-blowing sex, over and over again until we have to check out.”

He grins and his eyes sparkle. “Book it,” he says, taking my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine, inhaling as he kisses me. “Tonight is going to take forever now, you know that right?”

“It’ll be worth it,” I tell him, turning back to the mirror to check my makeup one last time. Thank god for lipstain, it hasn’t smudged a bit.

As I follow Theo out of the house, I quickly bring up LastMinute.com and find a hotel room in the heart of the city that’s free and book it.

“Come on you two!” Stephanie yells from the window of the enormous limousine that’s parked in our driveway. She’s in there with her husband Gary, Paige and Elliot, and Marcus and Lisa.

“We’re coming!” I call back, sending the hotel information to Theo’s phone so he can meet me there later.

He leans into my ear. “I’m going to be hard all night thinking about you,” he murmurs before taking a hold of my hand and pulling me toward the limo. Every fibre of my being wants to plant my heels into the ground and drag this delicious man of mine back inside to spend all night having my way with him. But knowing that we’ll meet up later will be sweet torture for the both of us.

“Come on! We don’t have any kids for a whole night. We’re dying to go out,” Paige calls out as we reach the limo and the driver holds the door open for us.

Theo holds my hand to help me keep my balance and my dignity as I slide into the leather interior alongside Lisa and Marcus then say a quick hello to each of our friends. “Well, that explains why you’re so early. You’re escaping the kids,” I grin, wriggling slightly to get comfortable as Theo slides in beside me. He places his arm along the back of the seat beside me and I lean into him, loving the firm warmth of his body in the cool of the air-conditioned cabin.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stephanie says. “The moment I started to get ready, Amanda lost it. We practically had to run out of there and promise that we were bringing back half of Disneyland.”

“How are you going to manage that?” Theo asks.

Gary chuckles. “We’re hoping she’s forgotten by morning, but if not, we’ll figure something out.”

“She’ll never trust you again,” I laugh.

“That reminds me,” Lisa says. “The resort we’re staying at for the wedding has babysitting if you need it for when your kids get too tired at the reception,” she informs Paige and Stephanie.

“Really? That’s great,” Paige replies. “Thanks.”

“We’re leaving Adam at home with my mum and stepdad. But Gracie will probably get too tired to make it through the night,” Elliot adds.

“You should have been an event planner instead of a muso,” I say to Lisa, giving her a little nudge in the side.

“Sorry. It’s probably a bit of the control freak in me left over from my days organising advertising campaigns. I’m not trying to take over.”

“It’s fine. I’m more than happy for your help. If I forget to say it later, you’ve been amazing. Thank you.”

We meet each others gaze for a moment and give each other an understanding smile. We may not be sisters by blood. But we’ve certainly become sisters through friendship. I can’t imagine my world without Lisa in it anymore.

“Alright you two. Stop having a little moment. Tonight is a party,” Marcus says, handing both Theo and I a glass of champagne. “Now, I think it’s time to make a toast to the happy couple. So raise your glasses.” Everyone does. “To Naomi and Theo, may you live a long and happy life together but tonight, I hope that you both get shitfaced drunk and do very stupid things.”

“Cheers,” everyone choruses on a laugh, clinking our glasses together and sipping at the champagne inside.

Lowering my glass, I take a breath to ask the question that’s been nagging at me all day. “Speaking of getting shitfaced - exactly where are we going tonight?”

Twelve

“Bad Boys Afloat!?” I say, staring up at the boat in disbelief. “Isn’t that a stripper cruise?”

“Yep,” Stephanie giggles. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to see it. I know you Naomi Prendergast. You’re going to love the spectacle,” she assures me as she races ahead of everyone and stops to talk to the shirtless guy who’s standing at the gangway to check off all the names on our booking.

“I told her you didn’t want strippers,” Lisa tells me quietly.

“It’s OK. I had a feeling she’d go and do this. She went on it once before and said it was great fun. I don’t know…” I say, feeling slightly disappointed in my friend. I know she’s just trying to get me to experience something that she considers fun, but I’d hoped we could have gone clubbing and dancing for the night instead of watching a bunch of guys run around with their shirts off.

“She insisted that this is a rite of passage,” Paige adds, linking arms with me as we follow the group of nearly fifty women onto the boat.

“I’m pretty sure the guys will have gotten strippers for Theo too,” Lisa adds, like it’s supposed to even things out. But it doesn’t. I just gives me a jealous pang in my chest as I remember what he said to me as we were leaving. I’m going to be hard all night thinking about you. Great. I’ve just sent him to a strip show with a hard-on.

Noticing the look on my face, Paige nudges me lightly. “Hey, relax. He loves you. He won’t even be looking at the strippers. Elliot doesn’t like strippers either. It’s just something you sit through with these things – you know, like a tradition.”

“Well, did you both have strippers at your bucks and hens night?” I ask.

She grins with half her mouth and shakes her head. “We didn’t even have the bucks and hens night. There wasn’t anything too traditional about our wedding.”

“You know what. It’s fine. The strippers. Everything. It’s all fine. It’s about hanging out with friends and having a good time, and a lot of the girls look really excited. This is going to be fun,” I state, although as we climb the gangway and I’m adorned with a bright pink veil with flashing fairy lights all over it, I’m not even sure I believe myself.

* * *

“Oh no. Hell no!” I laugh, pulling back on the arms that are reaching out and dragging me to the middle of the stage. I catch the eye of Katrina who’s just as drunk as the rest of us and laughing her head off. I squat down and refuse to walk, as Amy and Erica gang up on me and try to get me to the chair that is waiting for me centre stage for my ‘private show’. “Help me, damn you! Use those muscles of yours for good instead of evil!”

Katrina shakes her head. “It’s all for fun, Nomes. Here, give him some cash from me.”

She reaches forward and stuffs a roll of five-dollar notes into the strap of my dress. “You brought stripper bills?!” I laugh, feeling fairly drunk after way too much champagne.

Bouncing her shoulders twice to the music, she lets out a deep laugh that only serves to give me a fit of the giggles. I don’t even know why I’m laughing. I just know that I’m about to be sitting in the middle of a room full of yelling women, while some guy called ‘Ash’, is supposed to come out and dance for me.

Once Erica and Amy have me in the chair, they drunkenly giggle as well and tell me to ‘stay’ while they make their way back to their seats. All of a sudden, that Nelly song, ‘It’s hot in here’ begins playing over the sound system and a very tall, very broad man enters the stage wearing a fireman’s uniform.

He dances toward me as women holler out the lyrics to the song, yelling at him to take his clothes off.

I start laughing. I can’t seem to stop and as he gets closer. I cover my face, watching only through the thin slits between my fingers. I can’t believe Stephanie did this to me. Even though this is insanely embarrassing, I have to begrudgingly admit that I’ve had a good time watching all of the women on the ship go crazy over topless men. It’s like they’re taking a moment to behave like they’re all men on building sites, even though they’re all very ‘normal’ women in their every day life.

Ash, the firefighting stripper moves closer to me and takes my hands in his as he straddles me where I sit. He places my hands on his smooth and incredibly muscular chest as he continues to gyrate to the music.

I squeal through my laughter and ball my hands up so it’s just my fists touching him. “I hate you Stephanie!” I yell out through my laughter.

“No you don’t. You love me! You’re having a good time. Admit it! Admit it!” she slurs, laughing her head off when she flicks her hand and wine sloshes out of her glass and spills on her arm.

I didn’t think it was possible, but suddenly, I’m laughing harder. Then even more when Ash strips off his pants and is standing over me in nothing but a bright red g-string and a belt with a prop axe in it. He flips his hips back and forth so the axe swings at me.

I wave my hands in front of my face. “Stop, stop! I can’t laugh anymore. It’s hurting my stomach.” It’s then that I remember the money Katrina stuffed in my strap. I grab it and hold it out. “Here. I’ll pay you. Go and dance with that woman over there,” I say, pointing directly at Stephanie who is dancing about waving money above her head.

“Song’s not over yet, pretty lady,” he says, continuing to dance around me.

Blissfully, the track changes soon after that and he holds his hand out to me to help me to stand.

“You’re Naomi from Matiari, right?” he says in my ear. “I’ve seen you play. You’re bloody awesome. There’s karaoke after this until we dock. I hope you’ll treat us all to a song or two.”

Once again, I laugh. Something about a man standing in a g-string and telling me he’s a fan of the band seems hysterical to me.

“I’ll see what I can do, Ash the fireman,” I tell him, patting my hand on his big bicep as I step down into the crowd.

Stephanie reaches up and immediately shoves some money in the waist band of his g-string as Paige, the most sober person here, steadies me so I don’t lose my balance coming off the stairs.

“Ash the firefighter is a fan of my band,” I tell her, the words coming out slowly as my drunken mouth tries to work around them.

She laughs at me. “I think it’s time to get a few coffees into you, or you’re going to be falling off this boat in an hours time.”

Leading me to a table, she waves over one of the topless waiters and asks for a bottle of water and two coffees.

“How come you’re so sober?” I ask, suddenly feeling very mesmerised by the light amber colour of her eyes. “You have really awesome eyes.”

Grinning, she thanks me for the compliment. “I’ve never been a big drinker. It works well for Elliot because he can drink and I can do the driving,” she explains.

“Don’t you like it?” I ask.

“I had a drug problem a really long time ago. So I try to steer clear of mind altering substances.”

“Wow,” I say, slightly taken aback. “How did I not know this about you?”

“It’s not something I share around, Nomes.”

My mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. “I won’t tell anyone,” I promise her as the waiter returns with our coffees and a water for me.

“I know you won’t,” she tells me with a wink before she lifts her coffee to her lips and watches as women dance with the waiters a few feet away from us with an amused grin on her face. “If men acted like this with female strippers they’d get thrown out of the clubs,” she comments.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yep. Most clubs let men look but they can’t touch. It’s a very different scene.”

“You must have been to a few clubs before. I never been to one,” I admit. “They never interested me.”

Paige carefully places her coffee cup back on the table. “They’re not that exciting. Why don’t you drink your coffee and make a start on that water? It looks like you’re about to be dragged off to dance with topless men.”

I look over my shoulder to where Stephanie is dancing with Katrina and a few girls I’ve met through the band. She beckons me over but I shake my head and hold up my cup of coffee.

Currently, the lead singer of an all girl indie punk band I know is crooning away with the karaoke machine by putting her own flair on a Pink song. “She’s good. Would I know her band if I heard it?” asks Paige, looking up at the stage.

“They call themselves ‘Kapow’. We met them when we played The Big Day Out.”

“She’s cool.”

I wink at her. “Like all my friends.”

Finishing my coffee, I unscrew the lid from my water and take a long drink. “I feel better already. Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Anytime. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“Surprisingly, I am. Stephanie was right, this is definitely something you have to do at least once in your life. Even if it’s just to laugh at everyone else.”

* * *

When the party is over, the boat docks outside Star City Casino at 11pm. Drunken, laughing women, holding heels that were hurting their feet, teeter their way down the gangplank and start to discuss whether they want the party to continue or just go and get cabs home.

I shake my head. “No, no, no. No more partying for me. I want to find my Theo and I want to – ”

“Want to what?” I hear a deep rumbly voice asking from behind me.

Spinning around, I instantly jump into Theo’s arms, wrapping my arms and legs around him as I shower him with kisses.

“You came to meet me! I missed you,” I tell him between kisses.

Laughing, he asks. “Did you have a good time?”

“It would have been better if you were there.”

“Good answer,” he says with a smile as he lowers me to the ground and takes me by the hand. “Wanna get out of here?”

Nodding, I turn to say thank you and goodbye to everyone who attended tonight, smiling as I see couples reconnecting. Both Stephanie and Gary seem to be as drunk as each other and Elliot is looking very happy as he reunites with the sober Paige. Lisa and Marcus are also happily talking quietly to each other.

Theo and I quickly make the rounds and say goodbye to everyone, confirming that we’ll be seeing them all at the airport in a week’s time when we all fly up to Queensland. So far it looks like the weather is still going to hold up, and once I get Theo into our hotel room – things are going to get even better.

Thirteen

“How was your night?” I ask Theo as we wait to check in to our hotel room.

“It was OK,” he replies. “It would have been ten times better if I was with you. The other guy’s seemed to enjoy it though.”

“Strippers?”

“Yeah. They got you strippers too, right?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I covered my eyes if that helps.”

He returns my laughter with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, it does. I closed mine too.” He meets my eyes, an amused grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. “Aren’t we are pair?”

I nod. “We are. A perfect pair.” We stare into each other’s eyes, the air crackling between us with a tension that has been building up over the past couple of busy weeks.

“Can I help you?” the desk clerk asks, interrupting our moment.

“Yeah. We have a reservation,” Theo says, pulling out his phone and showing her the reservation number I’d texted him earlier.

She gets us to sign some paperwork and hands over the key card, and like a couple of school kids, we rush up to our room, hand in hand, eager to be alone.

The moment the door closes, we’re on each other. “Get this ridiculously tight dress off,” Theo growls. “Like all wrapping paper, it belongs on the floor.” His hands slide up my thighs and underneath the hem of my dress, his fingers biting into the flesh at my hips as he pushes my dress up to my waist.

Reaching down, I drag it up over my head, and drop it on the floor before I place my hands on Theo’s chest and push him up against the door. Sinking to my knees, I look up at him as I undo his belt.

“I hope you stayed hard for me, baby,” I murmur, sliding my hand into his pants to feel for his hard rod. I gasp. “You did,” I grin.

Chuckling, he runs his fingers, gently, over my hair and leans back, moaning as I take him into my mouth. Using my hand and my tongue as I suck and swirl, tasting his arousal while my own pulses between my legs.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Theo says in a rush, reaching down to lift me up so I’m standing. He pulls his suspender straps off his arms, letting his open pants fall while he reefs his shirt over his head then drops it all on the floor with my dress before he steps slowly toward me. I move to kick my heels off but he stops me.

“Leave them on,” he growls, pulling me into his arms, pressing our bodies against each other. “I have been torturing myself, all night, thinking about all the things I want to do to you in this room. And they don’t involve you on your knees. I want you naked, shoes only, on your back, pulling on my hair, your thighs wrapping around my head while I make you scream.”

A bolt of arousal shoots between my legs, causing me to shudder in anticipation.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, guiding me with his hands as I do as he says. His hands, rough and manly from his guitar work, skim over the surface of my skin, causing delicious shivers to quiver their way through me as he makes his way toward the clasp of my bra.

Leaning down to kiss me on the shoulder, he pops the clasp and lets the silk and lace slide down my arms and to the floor. His kisses trail across my back as he sweeps my hair over my other shoulder and places another kiss behind my ear.

I shudder beneath his touch, turning my head in my desire to have his mouth on mine. I exhale slowly as his hands move around my body and find my breasts. His lips press against the curve of my neck and along my jawline, and I let out a gasp as he expertly plays with my nipples with one hand and uses the other to slide down my belly and tease the edge of my panties.

I inhale slowly, my breath quivering along with my body as the sounds of the city are blocked out by the quiet of the room. All I hear is breathing in air thick with arousal.

His hand slides down over my tidy curls to cup my mound. He’s teasing me, making my insides ache for his touch. I press my body against him, his erection, now tucked inside his cotton boxes, presses firmly against the small of my back and I roll my hips against him.

A low sound escapes his throat as his finger slips between my folds, sliding its way up and down, distributing my juices.

“You feel like silk,” he moans as he slowly removes his hand and turns me to face him. He inserts his finger into his mouth and sucks off my juice. “And you taste like heaven.”

Moving fast, I grab a hold of his face and crash my mouth into his, my desire taking over as I wrap my limbs around him and slide my tongue into the warm wet of his mouth.

He carries me over to the bed and lowers us both down so he’s on top of me. I whimper as he breaks our kiss and works his way down my body, pausing to suck my nipple into his mouth before he continues down, past my belly button and down to my core.

Hooking his fingers in the waist of my panties, he drags them down my legs, pressing a kiss to the tops of my high-heeled feet as he discards my underwear like more unwanted wrapping paper.

He moves his hands up my calves, keeping a constant connection with his hands and my skin, as he gently pushes my knees up and apart so I’m open and exposed for him. His hands continue up my thighs as he slides his body down the bed to settle himself between my thighs.

“I feel like I’m going to explode just thinking about tasting you,” he moans as he runs one finger lightly between my folds. The moment his finger connects with my clit, my hips jolt. He looks up at me and grins. Then I do exactly what he wanted and grab a hold of his hair between my fingers and close my thighs around his head, guiding him to my centre, moaning as his tongue slides through my wetness, teasing my clit as his fingers slide into my depths.

My orgasm screams within me as his fingers press against that spot inside that is oh so sweet. I pull at his hair some more, my feet wrapped around his back as my heels press into him.

I rock against his mouth, my hands gripping and pulling. “I can’t hold on!” I yell out, as my thighs tighten and my hips buck as my body releases my orgasm in a burst of pleasure that ripples through my body, causing me to moan and gasp and writhe, until suddenly, it’s all too much and I release Theo’s head with a push of my hands.

Sitting up on his knees, he wipes at his mouth as he keeps his fingers inside me, pulsing back and forth as I meet his eyes.

“That’s what I was after,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and thick with his own desire as he slowly removes his fingers and gently touches my hypersensitive clit.

My hips jolt involuntarily, and I laugh lightly, biting at my lips as I watch him stand and remove his boxers, freeing his beautiful cock with a light spring. He stays standing, reaching out to grab me by the ankles and drag me down the bed. The sudden movement causes me to squeal as he pulls my legs either side of him and lifts my hips, slowly pushing his thick length inside of me.

The tip of his cock glides past my g-spot, the angle causing an increased pressure that sends my eyes rolling back in ecstasy. My arms fly out to the side, gripping at the sheets as his hips pump back and forth, expertly through my depths.

It’s not long before the pressure is building inside me again and I’m calling out, lights flashing behind my eyes as my senses soar. I grip Theo internally as he slams himself into me with a shudder and a groan, spilling his juices into my depths as his cock pulses within my walls.

With strong arms, he slides us both back up the bed and lays with me in a tangle of limbs as we softly kiss and touch while we try to catch our breath.

“God, it feels like forever since we’ve done this,” Theo murmurs as he lays his head in the crook of my neck, pressing gentle kisses on the skin behind my ear.

I run my fingernails up and down his back as I hum in agreement. “Too much planning and not enough love making.”

“Bloody weddings,” he jokes, rising up on his elbows so he can see my face. He gently brushes my hair off my forehead and kisses me. “I love you, you know.”

I smile and curl my fingers through the soft hair at the base of his head. “I know. I love you too.”

“And I’m glad we’re getting married next week.”

“Me too. It’s been crazy preparing for it. But I’m happy it’s finally happening.”

He dips his head and presses one last kiss to my lips. “Let’s go and get cleaned up. There’s a huge fuck-off tub in that bathroom,” he says.

“How do you know that? We haven’t even been in there.”

“I may or may not have been looking through the pictures of the room online while I was waiting for you,” he grins, rolling off me and heading toward the bathroom.

Tilting my head, I smile as I watch the way his butt muscles move as he walks away from me. “Were you that keen to get in here?” I ask.

“Just memorising the layout for when my plans came to pass.”

“Are there more plans?”

“Yeah babe. The whole night is full of plans,” he grins.

I bite my lip as my core pulses, eager for more of this man I’m about to marry.

Fourteen

A week later and we’re all disembarking from a chartered flight that held the vast majority of our wedding guests and took three hours to fly us all from Sydney to Cairns Airport in Queensland.

“And I thought Sydney was humid,” my mother says as she waves a magazine at her face in a makeshift fan as she stands on the tarmac, waiting for everyone else to exit the aircraft.

“Don’t worry, the hotel has a pool and air conditioning,” Theo assures her, reaching out to relieve her of her bag. She turns and thanks him for being so thoughtful and my heart, that was already full of love for this man, seems to swell even more.

“You’re a good man,” I tell him quietly.

He glances at me and holds his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Gail, the wedding planner, calls us all to attention and tells us to follow her to where there’s a bus waiting to transport us all to the resort that’s holding the wedding. We’ve booked the entire venue out for four days, although Theo and I are only staying for three before we head back home with the rest of our band members and pack to go on tour.

Most people go on a honeymoon after getting married, but in a way, this tour will be our honeymoon. We’re travelling to a lot of destinations we haven’t been to before, so we’ll steal as much sightseeing time as we can.

Surprisingly, I don’t feel stressed over the wedding. Everything seems to be slotting into place. There’s hardly been a hitch at all considering everything was planned so rapidly. So I’m strangely calm.

The only upset of course is Theo’s parents refusing to attend. He hasn’t really been talking about it much. Each time I try to bring it up with him to see how he’s feeling, he brushes it off and claims that it’s their loss – if they’re willing to skip it, then they don’t get to complain or have any further input into his life choices. I get where he’s coming from, but I worry that he’s bottling up his emotions. I just hope that he’ll be able to focus on how many of our friends and family have dropped everything to come out and support us on our special day.

Once we arrive at the hotel, we don’t get much time to stand around. For the bridal party, it’s all stations go as we’re taken to separate rooms for a final fitting, and then out to the veranda where the ceremony will take place to do a quick rehearsal.

My poor father is so choked up that he’s tearing up as he walks beside me down the aisle, and I can’t help but smile. “Oh dad, this is just the rehearsal. How are you going to cope when we’re doing this for real?” I ask, reaching over to him and catching the tear on his cheek before it drops and gets lost in his salt and pepper beard.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. It’s just not every day a father does something like this.”

I squeeze his arm a little tighter as I feel the tears prick the back of my eyes too. My father is generally such a stoic man, so if he starts crying tomorrow then I know I’m going to end up being a complete mess.

I press a kiss to his cheek as he passes my hand to Theo and takes a seat next to my mother who is also tearing up. With watery eyes, I look at my love and see the love and devotion in his eyes, tinged with a slight sorrow. I know he’s feeling sad for the fact that his parents aren’t here and in this moment, I wish for nothing more than for all of our dreams to be complete.

“Theo,” Marcus says with a nudge into Theo’s back. We both look up to where Marcus is indicating and lo and behold, there is Mr and Mrs Bailey (who has thankfully foregone her black mourning dress for a dusty pink summer dress).

Theo’s eyes close and he lets out a long relieved breath, and keeping a hold of my hand he walks to the end of the aisle and stands before his parents.

“We’re sorry, mio figlio,” his father says, reaching up to take Theo’s face in his hands. He pulls him into a hug and kisses him on both cheeks. “We want to see you wed to the woman you love.”

Theo nods, and clears his throat as he breathes through his emotion and turns to his mother who is waiting to talk. “You know this is hard for me. This saying sorry. But your father, he help me see. You are grown man and I expect too much from you. I just want you happy. I want you to have a good life,” she tells him, bringing him into her arms as she slips into Italian and kisses him on both cheeks. He nods his head to whatever she’s saying and wipes at his eyes.

I watch on, feeling a little like an intruder but glad that I’m witnessing the one thing Theo really wanted for this wedding – his family together.

Mrs Bailey turns her attention to me. “And to you Naomi. I am so very sorry. You make my son so happy, and I know this. I want you to be in our family. I had no daughters but now I am so lucky because I will soon have two.”

I nod. “Thank you Mrs Bailey. I’m glad you came.”

“Oh no, child. You are family now. You must call me mum or ma, si?”

I nod again, my head feeling like it’s on springs. “OK,” I grin, pressing my lips together to stop myself from crying out of happiness. I’m just so glad that Theo will have his parents here.

Mrs Bailey, I mean, Ma, pulls me into an embrace and kisses my cheeks before Theo’s father does the same and insists that I call him ‘Pops’ – no one else calls him ‘Pops’ so I’m not sure where he got that, but I agree to it anyway.

After our reunion, Theo’s parents take a seat near my parents and Theo and I return to the wedding arch to continue rehearsing our ceremony. When it’s finished, I can’t stop smiling.

Even when we have dinner with all of our guests that night, everyone is happy and smiling and there is this wonderful air of celebration about the room. When it’s time to turn in for the night, Theo and I go to separate rooms, keeping to some small traditions.

“Everything seems to be working out perfectly,” I say to him from the door of my room before we call it a night. “I can’t believe how lucky we are.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss me goodnight. “Be careful, you’ll jinx it,” he says with a wink.

“You know I’m not superstitious,” I scoff. “Everything is planned perfectly and everyone we love is here. What could possibly go wrong?”

Fifteen

My eyes fly open as I’m startled from my sleep. What the fuck was that?

A flash of light pulses through the window, lighting up my room, followed shortly by a rolling boom. A storm. A fucking storm.

I pull the sheet over my head and moan as I hear the rain thump against the glass in torrents. “This isn’t happening!” I call out to the empty room.

My phone rings beside the bed and I sit up, seeing Lisa’s smiling face flash up on my screen.

“I knew it was too good to be true. She cursed you,” she states the moment the call connects.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Mrs Bailey. That woman does not apologise. She came up here to bring a curse down upon your wedding day. I can’t believe this – all the planning. All the work! She’s ruining it!” she says in a frantic but hushed tone.

“What’s going on?” I hear Marcus mumbling sleepily.

“It’s a fucking rainstorm,” she hisses at him. “Caused by your mother.”

“What?” he laughs. “She doesn’t have that power. Believe me. It’s just rain. It’ll probably be over before the ceremony even starts. Hang on – are you on the phone?”

“Yeah,” Lisa says as I hear the phone beep. She’s obviously put me on speaker. “Say hi to Naomi.”

“Hi Naomi,” he says. “Are you agreeing with my crazy wife here?” he asks.

“I’m not crazy,” Lisa insists.

“Well, I’m not happy about the rain, but I don’t believe in bad luck and curses so I can’t really blame it on your mum. Plus, she seemed pretty genuine yesterday. I think she really wants to be here.”

“Well, all I know is that the weather report was all clear yesterday and today there’s a torrential downpour. The only thing that changed was her arriving.”

“Man, weddings make chicks bonkers. Hang up and let Nomes get some more sleep. We’ve all got to be up in a couple of hours anyway so just relax. The storm will probably blow over and besides, places like this are always prepared for freak storms – it’s the tropics. They have to be.”

“You’re right, Marcus. I’m sure everything will be just fine. I’m not the first bride to have it rain on their wedding day. It’s just a little hiccup. Everything else will be just fine.”

Sixteen

The rain doesn’t let up. If anything, it gets even worse but the wedding goes ahead on schedule anyway.

“Unfortunately, the storm that was supposed to stay well of the coast, decided to change course and will be with us for most of the day. I just want you all to feel assured that the resort has put up the storm shutters around the veranda, so the ceremony can stay where it is. You’ll just have an unexpected light show,” the wedding planner informs us with a smile as she tries to put a positive spin on things while we’re all getting our hair and make up done. “They also have a back up generator if the storm manages to cut the power. So I want you to relax. You all look beautiful. This wedding is going to be perfect.”

She excuses herself to go and check on a few things and I take a look at my bridal party and their grim faces.

“It’s just rain – OK? Everything will be fine. Quit your moping,” I tell them.

“We just wanted everything to be perfect for you,” Lisa says from beside Stephanie as they do their best to keep Amanda and Grace entertained while Paige’s and my hair and makeup is finished.

I wait until the makeup artist finishes brushing a rose colour on my lips then press them together obediently before I respond.

“It is perfect. Everyone that Theo and I love is here with us, and you heard Gail – the storm shutters are up. Getting married with flashing lights around us will actually be really cool. Imagine how great the photos will look.”

“OK, but I still think Mrs Bailey is responsible for all this,” Lisa grumbles.

“Stop it, OK? She isn’t responsible. And I know you worked hard to make this wedding work Lisa. I’m going to be forever grateful to you for all your help. But right now, I need you calm and positive – OK?”

She lets out her breath. “OK. I’m sorry. I won’t say another word about it. I’m just freaking out a bit.”

“I know. But if you don’t believe in omens and bad luck then none of this really matters,” I say.

“All you need is love and all that,” Paige adds as she stands up and checks herself over in the mirror, the red and yellows of her Phoenix tattoo stretching out around the low v-cut in the back of her dress.

“The Beatles are so wise,” Stephanie agrees before she breaks into song which for some reason gets us all singing that love is all we need.

A loud boom cracks through the air outside, causing the lights to flicker and our sing-a-long to come to a halt. “Everything’s fine,” I say, more to calm myself than anyone else. “Everything is perfectly fine.” Although, I have to admit even I’m starting to worry that disaster is about to strike.

* * *

“Cue the music,” Gail says into her mouthpiece as she stands with us, ready to pull the curtain to the side that separates us from the aisle and our guests.

My heart beats in my ears in nervous excitement as the strains of a melody I haven’t heard completely filters out of the sound system. I recognise part of it from Theo’s frustrated scratchings. He’s obviously finished it.

I listen to the music, knowing that Theo finished it especially for today and wait for Gail to give us the signal to walk down the aisle.

My dad gives my hand a gentle squeeze and leans over to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful,” he tells me as Gail pulls the curtain apart and ushers us through as the first lyrics of the song in Theo’s smooth recorded voice flow through the air.

I’d sacri–

The sky flashes and a loud boom shudders the building, as the thunder seems to rumble through the earth. The music and the lights cut out and we’re plunged into a grey world with nothing but the glow of storm clouds flashing with lightning to aid our vision.

“Oh no,” I gasp, feeling as though perhaps I was wrong to shun the wedding superstitions. Maybe Mrs Bailey does have the power to curse us. And as preposterous as that sounds, right now, it seems as though if it wasn’t her, then it’s the gods above us, telling us that we shouldn’t be getting married.

“Hurry.” I hear Theo’s voice over the murmurs of the gathered crowd.

“There’s a generator. We’ll be back up in no time!” A male voice calls from behind us while other voices around me offer me reassurances. They’re all assuring me that everything will be all right. But how can it be, we have no lights. No music. I can hardly see. How is this going to work?

I frown suddenly, wondering what Jack and Lachlan are doing as I watch them walk up the aisle, talking quietly to guests on their way toward me.

When they reach the end, Jack says, “It’s going to be OK, Nomes. We’ve got this.” And with a wink, he moves quickly up the aisle and takes his position beside Theo once more.

“Ready, now,” Marcus commands, and suddenly, the aisle is lit by the glow of mobile phones and those in the front row are using their phone’s flash light as a spotlight on Theo as he begins to play a guitar.

My hand flies up to cover my mouth as I try not to cry and ruin my make up. But it’s a losing battle, the tears flow anyway.

“Where did he get a bloody guitar?” my dad asks in amazement as he urges me to walk toward Theo as he begins to sing.

I’d sacrifice eternity to have you

Because perfection is here for us now

You're my angel, my heart, my life and my breath,

And you found me, you chose me somehow

All I can see is your beauty

And all I can feel is your heart

When times get tough, you’re there for me

We belonged together right from the start

His eyes lock with mine as I slowly move toward him, tears streaming unbidden down my cheeks. All my hopes have been restored. Walking down the aisle to my man, singing a song he wrote for me is the most perfect wedding I could have hoped for.

His hands strum out the chords I recognise as he moves toward the chorus and he belts out the words.

No one on earth could see me

Nobody could understand

But baby, when we’re together

Your heart knows the man that I am

And when your tears are flowing

I’ll be there to dry your eyes

And when your heart is shining

The darkness inside me dies

No one on earth could see me

Nobody could understand

But baby, when we’re together

Your heart knows the man that I am

No one on earth could see me

Nobody could understand

But baby, when we’re together

Your heart knows the man that I am

Your heart knows the man that I am

Your heart knows the man that I am

Your heart knows the man that I am

As the song ends, I’m standing in front of him, my lip between my teeth, my face probably red and covered in mascara from my happy tears. He hands the guitar to Marcus as my father kisses my cheek and offers my hand to Theo.

“Are you OK?” Theo asks as his hands reach for my face and his thumb brush over my cheeks to wipe away my tears.

“I’m perfect,” I tell him. “Absolutely perfect.”

Seventeen

The rest of the ceremony goes off without a hitch. Theo and I say our vows, and as he slides a ring on my finger that is engraved with the notes of the song he wrote, I cry even more.

“I’m such a mess,” I tell him as he takes a hold of my face, ready for our first kiss as husband and wife.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, wiping at my tears before kissing me soulfully while cameras flash along with the lightening behind us.

As we walk back down the aisle, all of our friends and family congratulate us with tears in their eyes.

“Congratulations guys. This was probably the best wedding I’ve been to,” David tells us, as he stands with his arm around a weeping Katrina.

“That song Theo!” she sighs. “It was just beautiful and such quick thinking to use peoples phones for light.”

“That was Lachlan’s idea actually. People use phones at concerts all the time, so…” Theo shrugs as if he didn’t just pull off the best wedding save of the century.

“Well, it was great. I’m sure we’ll all remember it for years to come,” David adds, as he shakes Theo’s hand and kisses me on the cheek.

“We’ll see you inside,” Katrina says as she gives us both a quick kiss and heads inside with everyone else.

Gail moves over to us to quietly tell us that the generator isn’t working as the basement has flooded and as much as that should be a disaster for us, it isn’t. By now, we’ve realised that we can conquer anything the world has to throw at us.

“But, when you go inside, you’ll see that we’ve been working hard to make sure the room has enough light,” she tells us with a smile.

Tea light and pillar candles are set up around the reception hall and with the bevy of musicians we have on our guest list, a wonderful unplugged concert has already begun for everyone to enjoy.

“This is fantastic, Gail. I think it’s worked out even better than planned,” I tell her.

She touches my arm lightly. “I have very high hopes for you two to have a very long and happy marriage. Problems are only as big as we make them.” She gives Theo and I a congratulatory hug and admires the beautiful rings Theo chose before excusing herself to go and check on the food. “Thank goodness for gas cooking,” she says as she leaves us to our guests.

Drinks flow. People talk, and dance and sing. And when it’s time for our first dance as bride and groom, Theo asks Lisa to be the one to sing a rendition of Natalie Cole’s version of ‘The Very Thought of You’.

“Dance with me,” Theo asks, holding his hand out to me as all of our guests stand by and watch as the band plays and Lisa sings about a love that at the very thought of it, causes the singer to forget everything in the world besides their love. It’s soft and melodic and it’s absolutely the way I feel about Theo – my husband.

“We pulled it off,” I say to him as we sway around the dance floor, lost in our own world. “Actually, you pulled it off. That was some pretty quick thinking with the phones and the guitar.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” he tells me again with a smile as he steps back and twirls me under his arm.

“Is that your new motto?” I ask, looking up into his beautiful dark eyes.

“Seeing you happy makes me happy,” he murmurs, his face soft and beautiful as he looks down at me. He seems perhaps even happier than I am in this moment.

“You know, I was worried that all the bad luck I don’t believe in actually existed for a moment there.”

“We make our own luck, babe,” he assures me.

“Well, I feel very lucky to have you. Your song was amazing.”

“Of course it was. It was about you.”

As his lips move toward mine, our guests cheer and before we know it, the dance floor is full with other couples dancing with us as Lisa and Marcus continue to entertain us all with their musical talent.

I look up into Theo eyes, the candles in the room dancing in the dark iris’s of his eyes like tiny flecks of gold, and I feel sure that with this man by my side that every up and every down in this life will be because of him and his love for me.

“This is the start of something very big,” I say to him as we sway together.

“That sounds like a good title for a song.”

I grin. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Next in the Beautiful Series - Star

A rock star walks into a room and chokes a movie star before throwing a chair through the window...

Sounds like the start of a bad joke. But it’s my reality when I get caught up in the midst of a paparazzi storm brought on by my best friend and her secrets.

As a journalist, I’m normally on the other side of the news. When I spend a night hiding from the cameras with Australia’s hottest commodity, movie star Jonathan Masters, I’m thrust into the spotlight and it’s not a fun place to be.

I want my life to go back to normal, but that won’t happen for three reasons:

1. Jonathan Masters thinks he owes me for saving his life.

2. Jonathan Masters keeps showing up uninvited and the cameras follow.

3. Jonathan Masters is engaged.

Maybe it’s only one real reason - Jonathan Masters. And he’s ruining my life.

I’ll admit that with his God-like looks, charming personality and sex appeal by the bucketful, he’s hard to ignore. But his reputation precedes him, and since I’ll never be the other woman, he’s wasting his time and mine. Besides, I’m already taken. I’m dating a celebrity chef...

Sandra fights desire with logic when a movie star swoops in and tries to steal her from the chef in Star: Beautiful Series, five. Containing new and extended scenes from A Beautiful Star in this breathtaking novel that can be read as a standalone.

https://www.lillianaanderson.com/about-the-beautiful-series

Also by Lilliana Anderson

Cartwright Brothers

Fool Me Twice

Fools Rush In

Foolish Games

Fool’s Errand

Fool’s Paradise

47 Things

47 Things

One More Thing

Standalones

In the Wind

Till There Was You

Never Again

Darcy Comes First (Love is a Beach)

Drawn Series

Drawn

Drawn 2 – Obsession

Drawn 2 – Redemption

Drawn to Fight

Zac & Evie

Hugo & Meg

Beautiful Series

Struggle

Forever

Melody

Rock

Star

Taste

Danger

Destination

Entwined Series

Our Hearts Entwined

Our Lives Entwined

The Confidante Trilogy

Confidante: The Brothel

Confidante: The Escort

Confidante: The Madame

For more information on upcoming releases visit
www.lillianaanderson.com/preorders

About the Author

Bestselling Author of the Beautiful Series, Drawn and 47 Things, Lilliana has always loved to read and write, considering it the best form of escapism that the world has to offer.

Australian born and bred, she writes New Adult Romance revolving around her authentically Aussie characters with all the quirks you’d expect from those born Down Under.

Lilliana feels that the world should see Australia for more than just it's outback and tries to show characters in a city and suburban setting.

When she isn't writing, she wears the hat of 'wife and mother' to her husband and five children.

Before Lilliana turned to writing, she worked in a variety of industries and studied humanities and communications before transferring to commerce/law at university.

Originally from Sydney's Western suburbs, she currently lives a fairly quiet life in suburban Melbourne.

For more information on Lilliana and her work:

www.lillianaanderson.com
info@lillianaanderson.com

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