by Nicci Harris
My hair was still damp as we left the apartment, which sent her majesty up the wall, but I’m happily feeling the effects of my previous four bourbons, so I don’t care. We make our way into The Grill and search for a familiar face.
“There they are,” she gestures toward the lads. I point at her and lip “She’s driving me crazy,” to Jax. He nods and chuckles, knowing quite well that Pemberton can be a real pain. I notice Erik looking particularly off. He's frowning, his lips are in a tight line.
I grab a fifty dollar note from my wallet and hand it to Pemberton. “Get me a JD and coke, beautiful?” I kiss her cheek. She’s a completely different person in public, almost charming.
Almost.
She ducks off towards the bar, and I go to stand with the lads at one of the rear tables.
The Grill is the best place to drink on campus, besides The Basement Lounge, but I can’t go there because it can only be accessed by an underground tunnel between the library and the café, and I am physically unable to go that deep underground, in any capacity. My muscles seize up and I often just pass out. I’ve been this way ever since I can remember. But The Grill has a good vibe. You can be rowdy or slightly more vocal than at other establishments, and our group tends to get that way sometimes.
Marcus, the proprietor, seems to have a lot of time for us, perhaps because we are regulars or maybe because we respect him when so many other drunk students don’t. He’s a dictator though, a real tough prick. I’ve had the daunting task of comforting many teary new barmaids. Not that I ever minded. But now my days of perpetual women are over, monogamous and all that.
Jaxon is a solid character, under the macho facade he's actually fairly sensitive. Jax and I play for the same team, and due to the extremely competitive nature of university rugby, there is an obligatory level of respect for the boys you share the field with.
Erik, on the other hand, can get under my skin. He’s too fake for my liking, too maintained. Like he has shit to hide. Despite that he’s still my buddy. He slept with Pembie once so perhaps my resentment stems from that incident, although I can’t help but feel like there are more obscurities to him than meets the eye. He can be quite irrational and intense.
“Nice speech, Slater. Seriously you’re a complete crack up. ‘Watch me leave, ladies,’” Jax elbows me in the hip. “Ya bloody dickhead.”
I chuckle. “Well, I just give the people what they want.” Leaning my elbow next to Erik on the table, I ask, “What’s the face for, dude?”
He flashes me his attention for a brief moment. “Nah, nothing.”
Jax joins my side, giving me a light bump as he does. “His little sister is playing in a few moments,” he mocks with a singsong voice, “and he’s worrriiieddd.” Jax laughs. I laugh at Jax laughing. “And she’s super-hot!” he adds. Erik stiffens and looks a little pissed off, which makes me laugh even more.
Yep, intense.
I’m not sure what just happened to all the air, or when it got so damn hot, or when Pemberton joined us and gave me a drink, but it all took place without my realisation. I have tunnel vision for the girl who walked out on stage and is sitting on the main stool inside the roped off area. There’s another person beside her holding a harmonica, but I can’t manage to draw my attention from her face long enough to see what they look like… or even decipher their gender. A strange heat radiates in my ears before pulsing almost painfully through my forehead.
Slow down on the JDs, Konnor.
I think the lads are having a chat. I can hear muffles of sound, but nothing reaches me in my tunnel. I squint in an attempt to get a more uninterrupted view of her. She picks up a plain-looking, brown guitar and places the pick in between her teeth as she tests each string. When her teeth bite down on that little pick, I feel the need to readjust my stance. Her concentration and the way she holds the instrument preciously is captivating. And . . . familiar. Her long, wavy blonde hair bounces behind her shoulders, though a few rogue strands dangle over her breasts… her exceptional breasts.
Shit, how long have I been staring?
I turn my gaze away from her, giving myself just enough time to confirm no one caught me staring. But my eyes become fixed on her again. I think she has brown eyes; distance makes my view problematic. She has an elegance and purity I don’t think I’ve seen in a long time. Her bare womanly thighs are pressed gently together with the guitar positioned appropriately on her lap. She’s wearing a short black dress with white polka dots and pale heels that elongate her beautiful legs. Her cheeks glow a light shade of crimson, making her hesitation visible even from my spot. She’s nervous, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Fuck me, she is stunning.
She speaks into the microphone, and I hear Erik hush someone. “Hi, my name is Blesk Bellamy. This song is called “Hero Boy.”
Her voice hits me hard, my breath leaving in an instant. Her long graceful fingers begin to strum the guitar and the melody it inspires is sweet, feminine, and folky. Then she starts to sing, with a pained harmonic cadence that thickens the air around me.
“You could be the truth, I could be the treason
I could be the storm, You could be the season,
It’s still dark at 3 pm, dark for no good reason,
Let’s do all the things we planned to do,
Remember what we wanted to,
My hero boy,
Ohhhh strongest boy I have ever seen
A nameless hero,
A fameless hero,
For all the wrong reasons hero,
My boy hero, My hero.
You could be the seeker, I could be the sister,
I could be the answer, you could be the asker,
Let’s hide our words from the listener,
Let’s sing and pretend to dance,
Be young and take a chance,
My hero boy,
Ohhhh strongest boy I have ever seen
A nameless hero,
A fameless hero,
For all the wrong reasons hero,
My boy hero, My hero.
You could be the hound, I could be the handler,
I could be the trip, you could be the traveller,
Let’s run from that faceless predator,
It is finally your turn to be free,
All this time it has been me,
My hero boy.
Ohhhh strongest boy I have ever seen
And we will run from the clawless fox,
We can unchain and unlock that box,
Let’s smash our names with blunt rocks,
Till they disappear and no one talks.
A nameless hero,
A fameless hero,
For all the wrong reasons hero,
My boy hero, My hero.”
It was extraordinary, beautiful, and raw. Her eyes glisten with emotion towards the end. For some strange reason, so are mine.
She plays several more songs, mostly covers, and for a timeless moment during one chorus our eyes lock together for longer than is usually comfortable with strangers.
But we aren’t strangers.
The charge in the air subsides once her set ends and I’m finally able to allow sufficient amounts of air into my lungs. As she squats to pack her guitar into its case, I catch a glimpse of her white knickers, and feel an unexplainable urge to jump up and shield her from everyone gawking.
“White. Virginal.” Jax laughs, knocking me with his elbow while watching her intently.
Fuck off, Jax.
“Is that your sister, Erik?” I ask, observing the strange trace he is in. Not unlike the one I was in.
He glances at me. “Yeah,” he answers, then wanders in her direction. “I’ll go get her.”
Pemberton startles me when she puts her hand on my shoulder and kisses my neck.
“Hey, my green-eyed boy, want to go make out somewhere?” She’s acting cute, and that usually resonates directly in my groin. Plus she does appear just tipsy enough to do anything I want
. Still, I surprise myself when I shake my head in response.
“Nah, Pem,” I hear myself say before my brain registers it. “I kinda wanna meet Erik’s sister.”
What did I just say to my girlfriend?
She scoffs. “I met her already. Dull and boring, trust me. No personality at all.”
I furrow my brows. “Be nice, she's Erik's sister.” Her eyes widen and I can tell I’ve struck a nerve. Knowing Pemberton like I do, I’d wager she’s jealous.
She clenches her teeth together and talks through them, “Don’t use that tone with me. What? Over a girl, you don’t even know?”
Yep, jealous.
I stare at her equally infuriating and gorgeous face. “Pemberton, you need to learn to play nicely with other girls.”
She tilts her head at me. “Konnor,” she whispers in my ear, baiting me, “if you don’t come outside right now, and cum in my mouth, I’m going to find someone else who will…”
Fuck.
✽✽✽
Since Pemberton could barely stand after a few drinks, convincing her to go to bed once I got her home and wore her out was easy. She snuggled up with the hot water bottle I made her and drifted straight off. I left a glass of water and some Panadol on her bedside table for her post-drinks headache. She looked incredible all cocooned up. Wholesome. No guards up. Just her.
After leaving Pem, I wander to Boe’s Kebabs, which is so close to The Grill, I can see the front steps. When I notice Erik’s sister sitting alone just outside the bar, my chest tightens and I find myself walking towards her.
“Hey, Slater! Your kebab!” Boe calls out.
I spin around and jog over to grab it from him, “Sorry, Bozo.”
“All good. You need me to call you a cab again?”
“Nah, I’m actually all good.” I nod at him in appreciation. “Thanks for this,” I say, gesturing to the world’s greatest kebab that is now proudly in my hand. Boe’s Kebabs is nothing like a generic chain. He uses only free-range chicken breast, and really takes an unusual amount of care in each kebab’s presentation. I have a thing about free-range products, eggs, chicken, pork. It often makes dining difficult, but it’s one thing I won’t waver on. No living thing should be caged for its whole life.
My apartment is a 30-minute walk from campus, a 15-minute run, and an hour drunken stumble. The latter seems to be my dominant pace average. Tonight, I feel relatively on game, having spaced my intake like the pro I truly am.
I turn back and walk toward Erik’s sister again, but I slow as I approach her. Her eyes are cast down and my chest reacts instinctively with a pang of pain. When I get within a metre of her, she raises her gaze to include me. As her big brown eyes hit me, my breath hitches. Crazy beautiful.
To avoid standing idle like an idiot, I run a hand through my hair.
“Hey,” I say, lacking my usual charisma. “I’m Erik’s mate. You okay?”
Pull yourself together.
Her eyes are wide—dreamy and wide—encircled with long, arched, black lashes.
“Yeah, thank you, I just needed a few moments.”
I turn to leave. “Oh, do you want me to go?”
“No,” she says so quickly I feel warmth slither through me. “I’m Blesk.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m Konnor.”
“Yeah,” she smiles faintly, “I know.”
I sit down next to her on the step, the street lamps illuminating us in the darkness. She is elegant and curvy, spectacularly so. She peers at me over her shoulder while hidden partially behind blinds of golden locks. I’m usually the epitome of a witty conversationalist—I am Konnor Slater—but Blesk has me frozen in a strangely familiar daze.
I take a big breath, and push out the words, “What’s wrong?”
She gives me a forced grin, sheepishly wiping a tear from her cheek. “I just don’t like playing that song.”
“Which one?” I ask.
She blinks at me, and I watch her swallow her hesitation down. “Hero Boy.”
“That’s an awesome song,” I say, trying to console her. I don’t know why she’s so upset. I don’t know why I care why she’s so upset, but I feel like it’s my responsibility to make her feel better.
Her voice trembles a little as she says, “I don’t usually play with other people. I’m a soloist.”
“The harmonica sounded great, honestly.” Leaning forward on my knees, I take the opportunity to study her side profile. She’s a sad little thing. It sucks to see.
“Yeah, maybe. I just don’t want anyone else playing it.”
I don’t understand, but I feel I should… somehow. “Want me to talk to Marcus?”
What are you doing Konnor? Marcus would kick your arse for interfering.
“No, thank you,” she mutters.
Phew.
“Okay,” I say. I’m gripping my kebab like a bloody moron, letting all the juice from the tomato make the Turkish wrap soggy, instead of just eating it.
Pretty girl . . . kebab . . . Pretty girl . . . kebab
“Want to go for a walk?” I hear myself ask her.
Girl versus kebab, 1-0.
Her eyes brighten, her sadness slipping slightly. “Yes.”
We walk for a while in silence, which I would usually fill with quips and commentary. But this was strangely comfortable. I detour off the footpath quickly to dispose of my now sludgy kebab that could have quite possibly been the best kebab ever created. I know these paths like the back of my hand. I have walked them many times with Pemberton, with Jax, with countless girls. Tonight, though, they seem to have changed yet stayed the same. Just like I feel.
Blesk sniffles every now and then, using her finger to wipe away the stray tears that escape. I hate that she’s crying. I restrain the urge to raise my hand and brush them away for her. The wind begins to swirl her hair around. She collects it and holds it in her hand, letting it cascade down one shoulder.
Cheer her up, Konnor.
“Ah… Let’s do this again,” I suggest, turning abruptly to face her.
She matches my stance, frowning suspiciously at me. “O…kay,” she pauses. “Do what again?”
“Wait right here.”
I spin and walk away from her, taking ten steps before turning back to face her. She hasn’t moved, though her head is a little higher and her eyes wider, observing my actions. I freeze for a moment, taking this sliver of time to study her. The little black dress hugs her torso and flares out at the waist, making her look both sweet and sexy. Her long curvy legs are exposed as she stands with a feigned confidence. Innocence and nerves bounce around in her eyes. She is extraordinarily beautiful.
Time to act like a complete dickhead and hope no one sees me.
I glance away and casually walk in her direction, adding a swagger to my step. A little giggle leaves her lips and that alone makes the whole performance worth it. The little sound fills my chest, just like her voice did a few hours ago.
I lightly bump into her. “Oh, hey, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Her eyes widen further.
“I’m Konnor. I’m an alcoholic. I like long pointless walks on short paths. I have more hang-ups than a telemarketer, and I hate, hate, hate, harmonica players. Don’t know why. Just do.”
She smiles a little. “I’m Blesk, and I don’t hate harmonica players.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Really? Huh. Maybe I just haven’t met a harmonica player I liked.”
“You should get out more. I meet a new harmonica player I like every day.”
I laugh. “Are you asking me out?”
Her jaw drops. “What? No.”
“Oh, I just thought . . .” I stare at her, feigning confusion. “You don’t have to be shy. I’m pretty sure you just told me I should go out with you. I don’t usually do these things, but I will ’cause you’re pretty cute.”
Her smile grows. I soar.
Her smile... that smile.
“You’re so corny, Konnor,” she says thro
ugh that smile.
“I know. Don’t tell anyone,” I say. “That would totally ruin my street cred.”
She bats her lashes at me, and my heart skips a beat. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“So, what are you studying?” I ask.
She grins. “Music.”
“Cool, what are your electives?” We wander past a spot we wandered past an hour ago. I try not to notice.
Tonight, I wish the campus was bigger.
“I’m doing Child Development 123 and Beginners Education to Music 103,” she says. Throughout the past hour her demeanour has changed; she’s smiled more, talked more, and even laughed.
“BEM, Beginners Education to Music 103, is one of mine,” I state, with more enthusiasm than I should show.
She giggles again, my level of cool dwindles. It’s those fucking brown eyes that are doing it.
“What do you mean ‘one of mine’?” she asks. Her dress sways across her thighs as she walks, and I can’t pretend to be enigmatic and cool because I am desperate for her to give me as much of her precious time as possible.
“I’m a grad student. That’s one of my classes, so you may have me as tutor.”
“Really?” She sounds simply chipper, a lovely tone on her.
“Yeah, there’s a one-in-three chance you’ll get me,” I announce.
She twirls a lone strand behind her ear, “Will you go easy on me?”
Ah, shit! Is she flirting with me?
I wish I wasn’t smiling so much; my cheeks are borderline aching. “If I get you as a student then,” I pause on the yes, I’d planned to say. “No…”
She sucks a short breath in and turns to show me a grin so wide I can see her tongue poking out between her teeth. It’s so cute. “And why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You are taking a leap of faith here, Konnor.
She’s silent for a while, so I press, “Am I right?”
The most unique colour of pink lights up her cheeks. “Yes, well, I don’t plan on disappointing you.”
