Arrogant Aussie

by Masen, Kat

  “Don’t you want to see what’s in the package?”

  “It can wait until I’m back.”

  “Why won’t you open it?” I ask, curious as to what Prince Charming has sent her now. “What do you have to hide?”

  “Fine,” she argues back, tearing the tape open.

  Inside sits another box. She tears that one open as well and inside sits another box. Jesus Christ. She pulls off the ribbon to reveal a small blue box with the name Tiffany & Co. printed on it.

  Opening the card, she reads it, slow and steady. I’m watching her closely, every expression trying to read her thoughts because the woman is killing me little by little, and my unwarranted jealousy is rearing its ugly head again. The burn is agonizingly slow. It’s crawling through the walls and into my chest, knife in hand ready to stab my heart into a million pieces until retaliation is imminent.

  “Well, the suspense is killing me.” I clap my hands with an overly fake smile. “Open the box.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She lingers, releasing a sigh. “Okay, fine.”

  At a slow and painful pace, she opens the box, and inside sits a diamond ring, an engagement ring, to be exact. I can’t tell you what fucking type, but the sentiment strikes a nerve with my bruised ego.

  “I’m assuming you’ve seen this ring before.”

  She nods.

  “Go on, put it on,” I coerce.

  “I’m not going to put it on,” she bellows, frustrated. “I just need…”

  “Time,” we say at the same time.

  Silence echoes in the small kitchen. Our road trip’s already off to a bad start.

  “Does he know you’re on this road trip with me?”

  Gabriella doesn’t respond, her usually witty response, scarce.

  “Does he know you’re coming back?”

  More silence.

  “So tell me, what does he know?” I ask, frustrated we are even having this conversation.

  “Nothing,” she mutters, momentarily beyond words. “He knows nothing because I haven’t spoken to him in over a week. There… you happy?”

  “Am I happy?” I repeat, tone laced in sarcasm. “The audacity of you to ask such a thing. I’d be happy if you told him to fuck right off, tell him we kissed, and at least admit we’re friends.”

  “What do you want from me?” she yells, shoving fruit into her bag like she’s going to starve to death in the car. “I’ve limited my communication with him. I’m creating as much distance as I can. Now get off my back, or we’ll never get out of here.”

  She ignores my persistent glare, grabbing her bag, demanding we go, now.

  For the first hour of the road trip, Gabriela doesn’t say a word making me regret this trip. A simple plane ride would have been much more comfortable than the tension inside this car which you can cut with a chainsaw.

  My frustration escalates, so I crank up the stereo and start singing along to Bon Jovi. A classic tune and tension release melody at the same time.

  “You’re singing the lyrics all wrong,” she berates, crossing her arms in defiance. “It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not.”

  “That’s what I was singing,” I argue back.

  “No… you were saying naked or not.”

  “You know, for someone who claims they need space, you sure have a lot of naked on your brain.”

  “No, you have naked on your brain,” she huffs. “I never have naked on my brain aside from now because you’re singing the wrong lyrics!”

  “What’s crawled up your arse and died, Gabs. That time of the month?”

  Her eyes are a knife pointing directly into my chest, the sharp point digging deeper. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

  She’s an easy target. Push one button, and the rest of the mechanical system fails. I’m bored, and this argument has livened up this mundane road trip. There’s only so much desert you can stare at before you start to go insane.

  “You use one of those cup things? Argh, my sister told me about it… I was absolutely mortified.”

  Gabriella’s mouth freezes wide open in an expression of stunned surprise. “We are not talking about periods. Period.”

  It’s impossible not to keep poking her. She’s fucking sexy when she’s folding her arms, pushing her tits into this triumph pose.

  “Let me guess, a pad girl? You don’t strike me as someone who shoves a tampon up her pus—”

  “Stop the car right now!”

  I pull over to the side of the road and turn off the engine. The dust fills the air around us, finally settling down moments later. Turning to face her, her anger has morphed into some sort of wild beast.

  “We need to establish some rules. Okay, buddy?”

  I cringe. “Buddy… ouch.”

  “One, we do not ever talk about my cycle, periods, pads, or God forbid cups—”

  “Hey!” I place my hands in the air. “Just tapping into that feminine side. It’s important for me to know when it’s best to avoid you.”

  “Second...” She holds two fingers up. “If we’re on this road trip together, it’s strictly platonic. It means no reference to naked, sex, or ass. Deal?”

  I hold out my pinky finger, pouting my lips apologetically.

  “Why are you doing that?” She stares in confusion.

  “Pinky swear. Isn’t that what you girls do?”

  “Ah… yeah. When you’re ten,” she mocks. “Gosh, you’re a pain in the ass.”

  “You said no reference to your arse.”

  “Just drive.”

  With a satisfied smirk, I start the engine and crank up the stereo again. With our problems aired enough to ease the tension between us, I’m surprised when my phone begins to ring through the Bluetooth, and the name Bianca flashes on the screen.

  Talk about poor timing.

  I haven’t spoken to Bianca since I left Australia, but word on the street is that she hates my guts, and the breakup hit her hard.

  This call could go one of two ways.

  “Are you going to pick that up?”

  “No,” I tell her firmly.

  “Why not? Do you have something to hide?”

  I click on the answer button, quick to prove I have nothing to hide. “Hello, Bianca.”

  “Olly,” she greets rather friendly, her voice just as I remember it. “Is this a bad time to talk?”

  “Ah… sort of. Can I call you back tonight?”

  “Sure, sounds good…” Bianca pauses, followed by a shuffling sound. “I miss you, Olly. Talk tonight.”

  I hit end faster than you can say ‘awkward.’

  Beside me, Gabriella is dead still. Her stare is fixated on the road ahead of us. There’s not one single movement or change of expression to indicate her feelings.

  After what feels like a long enough time for her to respond, I shut the silence out by turning the music back up.

  Ten minutes later, she reaches over and turns the dial right down.

  “I left the engagement ring at home, just so you know.”

  “I figured since you’re not wearing it.”

  “I never agreed to marry Sebastian. My father implied to the media we were engaged. So, whatever this is, it’s not a love triangle.”

  Her words are so left field. I sit in silence trying to understand the term ‘love triangle.’

  What does that mean?

  Is she in love with two men?

  “You said this was a platonic trip, therefore, I assume, and not wanting to make an arse out of you and me, this topic is off-limits.”

  “I just thought you should know.”

  “Well, thank you,” I say, still baffled. “I guess that information is useful.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?

  “Why is it useful?” she pushes.

  Gabriella is trying hard to get it out of me. I have learned in the last hour that her up-and-down mood is tiresome,
and this conversation is best held anywhere but here in this confined space. She probably did have her period. I’d still take her, though, from behind, up the arse. A nice blow job wouldn’t hurt either.

  Fuck! You better stop your smack talk right now if you know what’s good for you.

  “You know what, I’m just going to drive. There’s a rest stop a mile ahead, and maybe we should stop for lunch. You know, lack of food makes some people go crazy.”

  “So does sex,” she mumbles beneath her breath.

  I hide my smile, happy to know she’s suffering just as much as me.

  We pull into a truck stop for lunch. A few guys, rednecks, in my opinion, are eyeing her. Chomping on their hillbilly toothpicks as they snicker to each other while she walks past, the sway of her hips more pronounced. Why she has to wear those shorts is beyond me. They must be new. I’ve never seen her dress so scandalously. Her wardrobe mainly consists of outfits you see women wear in a country club. No doubt the influence of her wealthy family.

  “Maybe you should change?” I tell her, giving the guy with the red flannel a death stare.

  “Into what? It’s hot out,” she complains, pulling her tank away from her stomach to allow the air to flow.

  “Don’t you have jeans? Or something less—”

  “Less what?” She raises her brows. “Go on, less what?”

  There is no point in carrying on with the most stubborn woman ever to exist. I almost push her through the door into the air-conditioned restaurant which serves rather questionable food.

  We order two burgers, share a plate of fries, and when the rednecks come in, I decide we need to get out of here. Gabriella may not understand just how beautiful she is because every man in here turned to check her out from head to toe, but if I want to make it out of here alive without beating the smug look off their faces, we need to bail now.

  “You know what? I’m done. Let’s hit the road.”

  Three hours into our drive, during an argument over the movie Titanic as to whether Rose could have fit Jack on the door, which lasted longer than I cared to admit, the engine light comes on.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning over to view the dash.

  “Engine light. We may need to find somewhere closer to stay for the night while I check this out.”

  She pulls out her phone, typing something in. “There’s a bed and breakfast a mile down. Do you want to try there?”

  I have some car knowledge but not enough to push through the night without the possibility of being stranded in the middle of nowhere. I’ve watched too many unsolved mystery shows, many of them I remember from heart. This stretch of highway isn’t exactly safe.

  The bed and breakfast is a small gray and pink building surrounded by tall palm trees with a sign reading Esmerelda’s Den.

  We pull into the parking lot, stopping the car in the visitor’s spot. There are a few cars around, nothing too busy. With our bags in hand, we enter the building and straight into the small reception area. The walls are covered in flowery wallpaper. It’s kinda creepy, but it will have to do for the night.

  A lady with long gray hair steps out of the small room behind the desk. She offers a welcoming smile, touching the gold crucifix which hangs around her neck. On closer inspection, there’s a statue of the Virgin Mary on the countertop, and on the other side, a set of ornamental cats.

  “Hi.” Gabriella smiles, politely. “We ran into some car trouble and were wondering if we could have two rooms?”

  “I’m sorry dear, we only have one room. Our Lord is watching over us, you know.”

  Great, a religious sanctity covered in cats. If we want a safe place to sleep tonight, we will have to pretend that our union is holy under the Lord’s watch.

  “She means one room.” I place my arm over Gabriella’s shoulder. “My wife is just a bit scatterbrained with the pregnancy and all.”

  “Oh, my dear, of course.” This answer seems to satisfy the lady, her face lighting up rather joyous. “A child is a blessing from the Lord. We have one room with twin beds.”

  “Um…” Gabriella opens her mouth to speak, but I quickly pinch the side of her hand causing her to scowl.

  Gabriella begins to mutter beneath her breath. “You got some nerve on you, Madden. Trying to get me to share your bed. Honestly, you’re the biggest pain in the ass.”

  I give her my most innocent smile.

  The lady takes us down the hall, opening a small room covered in more floral and more cats.

  Jesus Christ! Oh shit, this doesn’t seem like the place to take the Lord’s name in vain.

  “There’s so much pussy,” Gabriella whispers. “It’s weird.”

  I try to hold in my laughter. When the lady leaves, Gabriella looks at me. “Why did you say I was your wife?”

  “The sign on the counter had some religious phrase, and judging by the way she was about to say no, we either lie or sleep in the car.”

  “So, we have to sleep together.”

  “Well, sweetheart, your wish is my command.”

  She pushes me with a laugh. “You’re in that bed and stay there. No funny business.”

  “Define funny business?”

  “I’m going to use the bathroom. Behave.”

  Gabriella takes what appears to be one of the longest showers in the history of showers. She exits, dressed in a black tank top and pink boxer shorts. Judging by how short they are, hugging her curvaceous ass, she obviously didn’t expect to be parading so much skin in front of me.

  In the confinement of the bathroom, after taking my shower and stopping myself several times from tossing off, I give myself a much-needed pep talk.

  Separate beds.

  Just think of it like camp.

  No funny business—to reiterate.

  But then I remember our kiss. How delicious she tasted against my lips.

  Fuck! Get out of here now and control yourself.

  Exiting the bathroom, I plonk myself on my bed. I’m beat. The five-hour drive has exhausted me, and now, I have to lay in the same room, watched by cats and keep my hands off of Gabriella.

  When the lights turn off, I joke, “Should I wear my noise-canceling headphones?”

  She laughs.

  Minutes later, she whispers, “Oliver?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you miss it… playing soccer?”

  I sigh, eyes wide open listening to the sound of my heart accelerating faster.

  “All the time. I never stop thinking about it.”

  The truth has set itself free. I was born to play, and this trip, despite the possible outcome of not being able to repair my shoulder, is the biggest step I have taken to this day. There are no guarantees, and in the end, I could get hurt in more ways than one.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to play again?”

  “I pray every day some miracle will help to make me play again,” I say, barely above a whisper.

  There’s silence, and I know her well enough to know she’s processing.

  “Gabs?”

  “Hmmm…” she murmurs.

  “Are you scared to go back home?”

  “Yeah, kind of. I’ve been having so much…” she pauses, searching for the right word, “… fun.”

  “Me, too.”

  “What about Bianca?”

  “What about Bianca?” I retort.

  “Are you guys… um… do you still—”

  I quickly interrupt. “No. That was the first time I’ve heard from her since I left. We’re over. That boat has long sailed.”

  “Oh,” she sighs, her voice becoming softer as the night falls, and the moonlight shines into the small room. “Olly?”

  “Yes, Gabs?” I smile, admiring her affectionate name-calling.

  “Maybe you might need those noise-canceling headphones.”

  Holy shit. Did she just say what I think she said?

  I lay back, listening intentl
y as her blankets shuffle and the soft moans whimpering from across the room. I reach down in my shorts—my dick’s hard as fuck from the moment I laid in this bed. Pacing myself, my strokes are short, yet begin to increase as her moans become a string of pleasurable profanities, her climax just about to hit.

  I could go over, thrust myself inside her and finally claim what I’ve been desperate to have from the moment I laid eyes on her at the bar. But if I want to keep her, stay on her good terms and not to lose her, I need to respect her space. She at least has given me this.

  Her moans become almost pleas, and with every stroke, I mirror hers until she lets out a high-pitched breath, the sound alone causing my body to shudder and explode all over my hands and shorts. The darkness is illuminated by shining stars, bursting at the seams as the orgasmic rush ripples like waves.

  Holy fucking shit.

  My breathing stutters, the tingling sensation still palpitating through my body even minutes later. I ache to climb into her bed, kiss her goodnight, and slide myself inside her to satisfy my body’s cravings.

  As our breaths even out amongst our unspoken words, I hear the shuffle of her blanket one more time.

  “Olly?” she whispers.

  “Yeah?”

  “Good night.”

  A smile widens on my face as I lay in the dark. “Good night, Gabriella.

  I vow not to touch her again.

  The torture of being second in her so-called ‘life’ is something I cannot live with. In her words, I’m selfish, arrogant, and won’t settle for second best.

  I have to make her all mine.

  I have no other choice.

  Because I am in love with her.

  Gabriella

  Everything inside of me is coming apart.

  The reality of being on a road trip to home is bringing back all the unwanted fears as we drive closer to Colorado. My head is like a ticking time bomb—numbers flashing in bright red, reminding me time is of the essence. Or else, boom—all over. I have bursts of memory lapses, all partly due to Oliver and his distracting persona. I crave these lapses. They relieve me from the constant pressure which becomes unbearable.

  Then last night happened.

  With a man, who never was supposed to be in the equation.

  Inside that bedroom, I don’t know what came over me. That whole Bianca call threw me into a tailspin. For all I know, he is still seeing her because he has a life back home, a life I know nothing about because he purposely keeps it from me.