Arrogant Aussie

by Masen, Kat

“Not until last night…” I trail off.

  “Well, you wanted to experience life outside the control of your family, and it looks to me like you’ve done a fantastic job.” Aubrey pats my shoulder as if I should be rejoicing in my foolish behavior. “You think you’re up for a late lunch? Chance is firing up the grill… or the barbie as he calls it. You can’t take the Aussie out of that boy.”

  My memory comes crashing back like a tidal wave.

  Oh God, shrimp on the barbie.

  Aussie accent.

  I bury my face in my hands, grateful my pathetic drunk self was only experienced by strangers I will never have to see again.

  “Sure, I was planning a night of wallowing in self-pity, but Chance is a great cook. I’ll be there.”

  The aroma curling up from the grill makes me practically drool. As it happens, Chance is smoking up some beef ribs. I am somewhat excited to try the ribs given it was something my mother would refuse our chefs to serve at home. She referred to it as a ‘poor man’s’ meal. I don’t care, the aroma is mouth-watering, and my appetite has fired up since Chance’s questionable smoothie.

  I enter through the side fence, carrying a fruit basket platter from our local grocer.

  Aubrey waves when she sees me. CJ’s on her hip running his toy car up and down her arm. He looks like he’s grown since I last saw him. He’s the spitting image of Chance but with Aubrey’s smile.

  “Hey, Gabbie,” Chance shouts from behind the grill. “How’s the hangover?”

  “Much better.” I smile, though cringing at his choice of name for me. “Your secret concoction did wonders.”

  “Well, I am a pro. Made double the batch this morning.”

  “Oh really? You had a big night, too?”

  “Nah, not me. My mate, Olly, did, though.”

  Staring in confusion, I had no clue who he’s talking about until he walks through the back door carrying a bowl of salad. Dressed in black shorts and white Nike sports tank top, our eyes carelessly meet. My mouth falls open, shocked, the same time his head jerks back, muscles rigid, causing him to freeze on the spot.

  It’s the arrogant Aussie from last night.

  Those green eyes are judging me.

  The same as they had done when I was making a fool out of myself outside the Irish pub.

  “Here he is… man of the night.” Chance points his spatula toward him. “Olly, meet Gabbie. Olly is staying with us.”

  Olly… is that really his name? It never even occurred to me last night to ask such a question. From the moment he spoke, the arrogant bastard irritated me. He was so condescending and opinionated regarding American girls.

  Chance is staring at us with confusion, eyes darting back and forth, possibly waiting for a friendly handshake of some sort.

  Should I get up, shake his hand, which would be the customary thing to do when introduced to someone?

  He watched you vomit over the side rail.

  Surely, we’re beyond shaking hands.

  My mind begins reliving last night’s events, causing my words to become caught in my throat. I catch him staring at me in bewilderment. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, praying it isn’t noticeable. Sporting a counterfeit smile, I beg the awkwardness that bathed last night would be transient.

  He reaches out his hand, introducing himself, “Oliver Madden.”

  Balancing the fruit basket, I reluctantly shake his hand. “Gabriella Carmichael.”

  “Nice to meet you… Gabs.”

  Chance snickers in the background the same time Aubrey shakes her head in disapproval. I take a seat at the table, wishing a tornado would sweep through and deposit me elsewhere at this precise moment. Since it’s California, an earthquake would be more probable.

  “Apparently, Aussies feel compelled to abbreviate people’s names to something that ends with an ‘S,’” Aubrey informs me.

  “I prefer to be called Gabriella.”

  A smirk spreads across his chiseled face. “We don’t always get what we want, sweetheart.”

  Right there.

  Yep! One hundred percent asshole from last night.

  I wasn’t imagining things.

  He isn’t some knight in shining armor saving me from everything unholy.

  Aubrey breaks the tension by placing CJ in the highchair beside us, asking me to watch him while she heads back inside. I welcome the distraction, placing a cracker on the tray table and immersing in a conversation about his toy car.

  Chance is busy chatting to his sister, Adele, who arrived earlier. Even Pixy is pre-occupied with a pile of grass that obviously looks too good to pass up.

  Oliver takes it upon himself to sit across from me, his eyes falling upon me with an expressionless stare. I sense his judgment, his laughter inside his head, and ridiculing of my behavior.

  “You’re quiet. Not at all like the opinionated girl I met last night.”

  “Yeah,” I say casually, trying not to appear agitated. “I see you’re still the same jerk from last night.”

  “Quite the chip on your shoulder. Is it heavy?”

  “Look, I was just out to have fun. What you saw… that’s not me. It was just—”

  “You being fine?”

  If it weren’t for the cocky smirk plastered all over his face, I would have dismissed the way he mocked the word fine.

  “Yes. I am fine.”

  My cell buzzes on the table. Perfect timing. Thank you, universe. The name Prince Charming appears on the screen only to stop seconds later. Now would not be the time to pick up that call. I retract—the universe is against me.

  “So, you’re spoken for by…” He lowers his eyes to read my phone before I snatch it away. “Prince Charming?”

  “Yes. No. It’s complicated. Why are you even snooping?”

  “It’s hardly snooping if it’s in my view. You didn’t try to hide it the moment it buzzed. It’s almost as if you wanted me to see it,” he comments, continuing his annoying gaze on me. “Aren’t you going to call him back?”

  Thankfully, Aubrey returns, stopping our conversation in its tracks.

  I offer to help once again, but she demands I sit and relax.

  Chance serves, and with all the food placed on the table, we quietly eat until Chance cracks some joke. “So, Olly’s new here, and you’re new here. Maybe you guys should hook up and check out the local sites.”

  ‘Chance,” Aubrey scolds. “You can’t ask them to hook up.”

  “Sorry, I meant catch up.”

  I quickly intervene, “I’m kind of busy these days.”

  Oliver raises his brow, placing his fork down. “What exactly do you do?”

  If it weren’t for everyone at the table waiting for my response, I would have told him to stick his nose into someone else’s business.

  “This. That. Stuff,” I mumble, swirling the food around my plate. I crave anything to drink that will make this go away. Surely, that wouldn’t scream alcoholic if I drank two days in a row.

  Olly widens his eyes, pursing his lips before muttering beneath his breath, “Sounds interesting.”

  “Did you know Olly is an ex-soccer player like Chance?” Aubrey quickly interjects.

  That explains his well-maintained physique. The way his arms flex when he held me over the railing. He’s extremely tall, almost a giant compared to me when I had no shoes on.

  Oh, that’s right, how very crass of you to walk home barefoot.

  “Nice.” I nod, unsure of where to go from here. “Ex-player?”

  “That’s the way the world turns,” Oliver deadpans.

  Judging by the way he’s also swirling the food on his plate, I assume it’s a sore subject.

  “So, there’s a surf comp a few beaches down next Saturday. An annual event hosted by a local radio station. I took Aubrey last year, and she loved it. You guys should come. We’ve got room in the car,” Chance suggests, eyeing Aubrey for her encouragement.


  “Muscled blokes on surfboards, why wouldn’t she enjoy it?” Oliver snickers.

  “Oi, you’re talkin’ about my missus.”

  “Oh, sweet of you, babe, but Olly has a point.” Aubrey turns to face my way. “Chance is right, we have room in the car for both of you.”

  Chance puts his beer down, fork pitched upright. “So now you want to double date after you’ve just admitted you’re perving on the surfers?”

  I had no clue what perving means, but I assume it’s some sort of Aussie slang for checking out the opposite sex. Good luck, Aubrey, Chance doesn’t look like he will back down.

  Aubrey draws her eyebrows together. “It’s not a double date. It’s a group outing. How about you, Adele?”

  “I’d love to, but I have something on. I’m sure you’ll all have fun, though.”

  Dammit! If Adele had come, our numbers wouldn’t feel like a double date. Why did Chance have to go and put that notion in my head?

  Group outing. Repeat, Group outing.

  “Let’s lock it in.” Chance smiles proudly. “The four of us.”

  Aubrey clears her throat, nudging sideways at CJ.

  “Sorry, five of us.”

  Pixy lets out a loud baaa from the grass patch he’s been chomping on.

  Chance groans. “Jesus Christ... six of us.”

  Oliver

  Out of all places in Hermosa Beach, she lives next door.

  Gabriella.

  The name has a beautiful ring to it, nothing like the vomiting beast I came across last night. It’s such a shame her entitled attitude overshadows anything beautiful about her.

  Gabriella strolled in carrying a fruit basket, dressed in a pair of white shorts with this strappy green top, which made her tits bounce around, and that made it impossible to ignore her.

  And then there’s the hair. The long, untamed curls cascading down her back and against her skin. I’ve never been one to care about women’s hairstyles, yet something about hers fascinates me.

  Despite the previous night’s shenanigans, she could have fared a lot worse. I’m surprised she managed to get out of bed given how intoxicated she was.

  The moment our eyes met, her mouth fell open in shock, followed by a stiffened posture as she froze on the spot. I thought it was all bloody hilarious. Out of all fucking places, she is Chance and Aubrey’s neighbor.

  At least I can vouch that I didn’t make a complete fool out of myself last night. I’d had a few beers but would hardly call myself drunk. Far from it. Gabriella, on the other hand, I’d hate to be in her shoes.

  After a rather tense lunch and her blatantly ignoring me, we somehow have ended up on a double date. Aubrey rewords it to a group outing.

  It doesn’t bother me either way. These days, I have nothing better to do than wallow in self-pity, but then the Prince Charming thing changed the whole game plan.

  The game plan now—I don’t give a shit either way.

  Gabriella is gorgeous despite her wild and unruly behavior last night, but something about knowing a woman is on a ‘break’ makes it all the more intriguing.

  Fucking admit it—you’re playing cat to her mouse.

  She excused herself rather quickly after lunch, not giving me another chance to strike up a conversation with her, which most likely would have resulted in her calling me a jerk again.

  I’ve busied myself over the next few days by attending specialist appointments for my shoulder, checking out potential houses with a broker should I consider moving here one day. It’s always been a dream of mine to buy something small by the beach, jet back and forth from here to Australia, so I can experience the best of both worlds.

  Nothing piqued my interest. My head just wasn’t in it.

  And I hated to admit I’ve earned my stalker badge and tried to purposely run into Gabriella again.

  Occasionally, when in the backyard, I hear classical music filter through.

  Odd, considering it doesn’t match the girl in the Irish pub dancing to 90s pop bands.

  Chance is of no help. He doesn’t know that much about her, referring me to Aubrey. I know better than to ask Aubrey. I’ve only been under their roof for less than a week, and in that time, she’s tried to set me up with numerous women.

  Another neighbor down the road.

  A single mother at CJ’s playgroup.

  And other random girls she used to work with.

  Time drags, but Saturday morning rolled around, and at eight on the dot, Chance yells out from the driver’s seat for Aubrey to get her butt in the car if she knows what’s good for her.

  “Honestly, women.” He exhales, honking the horn. “I managed to get CJ and Pixy in the car. What else is there?”

  I don’t want to tell him Aubrey’s busy packing everything else, especially since she’s already had a packing meltdown earlier in the day.

  “So, you and Gabbie…” Chance teases with a grin. “You hooked up, yet?”

  Shrugging it off, I stare out the window. “Nah, mate. She looks too high maintenance for me. Besides, I have a few appointments with specialists this week, so I think it’s best I focus on that.”

  “Good idea.” Chance nods in agreement. “You’ve always been determined. Don’t let no pussy get in the way.”

  Aubrey and Gabriella are standing outside the car. Aubrey’s making a checklist, going over everything CJ needs while Gabriella checks inside the large striped beach bag. I have no clue what they’re called, but the sheer white dress she’s wearing over her bikini looks like a muumuu. Aubrey’s wearing something similar. They must have done the girl thing and coordinated.

  “Towels,” Aubrey asks.

  “Check.”

  “Binky?”

  “Check.”

  “Sunscreen?”

  “Check.”

  “Am I forgetting anything?”

  “Yeah, you forgot to get into the car. Hurry up, woman, we’re gonna struggle for parking if we don’t leave right now.”

  I turn to watch Gabriella, enjoying the fact she still chooses to ignore me.

  Oh, this shall be fun. You’ve already crawled under her skin and caused damage. Let’s make it ten times worse.

  Chance suggests I sit in the front seat with him. I decide it’s a good idea considering Pixy is in the back, and being close to him makes my skin prickle with fear. We had an almost altercation in the bathroom this week. Pixy was inside, and I needed to pee. He didn’t move. I asked him kindly for privacy, then got the death stare.

  Fucking goat.

  We packed into Chance and Aubrey’s red minivan, driving an hour over to Newport Beach. Chance was right, parking’s a goddamn nightmare, but we manage to score a spot without having to walk too far.

  I exit the car, stretching my arms and legs from the drive over. On one side, there’s oceanfront mansions and a yacht-lined harbor. On the other side, there’s a bunch of historic cottages, dive bars, and a string of eateries.

  The day is nice with blue sky and a warm summer ocean breeze. It feels a lot like back home in Sydney. Bondi Beach is one of my usual hangouts, and something about this place reminds me of home.

  Chance is carrying CJ plus a bunch of stuff, which I grab off him. Aubrey has Pixy on his leash, and I distance myself, walking alongside Chance to an empty part of beach, though close enough to the water. There is a stage a few feet away holding some entertainment as well as the trophies for the upcoming surf competition.

  People arrived in droves, all settling around us. The music’s blaring and girls are stripping down to barely nothing. The girls are relentless, all laughing and chugging beer and dancing around with their tits bobbing in their tiny bikinis. Wherever I look, there’s arse in a g-banger or as the Americans love to call them, thongs.

  Gabriella had sat as far away from me as possible, behind the bags and stuff Aubrey packed. Still dressed in her muumuu and shorts, the heat proves too much for her, forcing her removal of clo
thing. Resting on my elbows with only my swim shorts and sunglasses on to protect myself from the harsh rays, I pretend not to notice she had taken off the muumuu. Beneath it, she’s wearing a rather modest one-piece khaki swimsuit with this zig-zag thing happening near her tits.

  Don’t fucking look. These shorts are the worst for displaying your hard-on.

  The sand is softly golden with just the right comforting warmth. I’m enjoying myself, and the views, until a hoard of girls stop in our section.

  With Pixy attracting all the attention, and Aubrey taking the opportunity to introduce me as the Aussie thunder from down under in her godawful Aussie accent, I motion for Chance to control his woman.

  “Babe, let’s take CJ and Pixy for ice cream.”

  Aubrey sighs, slightly annoyed. “Fine! Will you guys be okay?”

  I nod at the same time Gabriella smiles.

  With the four of them gone, I prop myself up on an elbow and turn to face Gabriella. She’s lying on her stomach, arse in full view, oblivious to my longing stare. So what if it has the perfect curves—a nice palm would look good slapped against it leaving a pink mark.

  Fuck—cool the arse talk.

  “Hey, I’m sorry for whatever happened that night for you to hate me so much,” I blurt out, wanting an end to the awkward tension between us.

  “I don’t hate you,” she says, remaining still. “Hate is such a strong word.”

  “Well, upset you.”

  “You didn’t upset me.” Gabriella lifts her head, and behind her sunglasses, I can see her eyes staring back at me. “I was already upset with myself, so whether it was you or someone else, I would have still been upset.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Okay, but you were not fine that night despite your reluctance to admit it.”

  “No, I was not,” she admits.

  “Does Prince Charming know you’re not fine?”

  “Prince Charming?” It takes her a moment to register. Propping herself up on her elbows, she removes her glasses with a satisfied smirk. “It seems to bug you… the sentiment.”

  I flip a strand of hair out of my face, blowing out a nosy breath in my defense. “It doesn’t bug me. You were willing to take me home, yet somewhere, roaming these streets is Prince Charming.”