by Kirsty Eagar
‘You said she was no one, but she seems to have a bit more presence than that.’
‘She’s Julian’s girlfriend. Was Julian’s girlfriend.’
Jess blinked. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Yeah. Oh.’ Mitch pulled his seat upright again. ‘So, you’re absolutely right. She does hate my guts. I think it’s probably safe to say that she would like to see me dead. But it’s probably good she doesn’t know about us,’ Mitch frowned, seeming to have trouble finding the words, ‘because if she knew that I was getting on with things, after … like, when Julian can’t …’ Jess heard his swallow and touched his leg.
‘It might be hard for her to take,’ she finished for him. He nodded. She exhaled, slowly. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say we’re all right. ’Cause you are the reason I came tonight. I’m not lying about that.’
Jess hesitated, thrown by his choice of words. ‘Just tell me there’s nobody else. At the moment, anyway—while I’m around. I’m not making a claim, I just can’t do that. Because even if they don’t find out, it’s still not right.’
Mitch looked at her, seeming angry, or hurt. But Jess held her ground. It was a reasonable question.
‘There’s nobody else,’ he said finally.
‘Promise?’ she asked.
‘Promise,’ he said.
She frowned.
‘What now?’ Mitch asked, sounding resigned.
‘How come Sylvie knows that you say that?’
A car engine started nearby. Mitch’s blue eyes were luminescent in the shaft of light thrown by its headlights as it turned out. He stared at Jess, blank-faced, then shrugged. ‘Julian probably told her. Maybe I did. We all used to hang out together.’
‘I thought you didn’t have girls as friends.’
‘She wasn’t my friend. She was my mate’s girlfriend. There is a difference.’
Jess thought of Davey and Callum and Farren. ‘Not always, Mitch.’ She stared at him, feeling a dissatisfaction she couldn’t pin down. How could things between him and Sylvie have got to this? They’d both lost the same person, and, in those circumstances, didn’t they need each other? Sylvie could blame him, but what was the point? It was obvious Mitch blamed himself. And even then, perhaps Mitch should have stopped Julian from driving, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t made Julian drive either.
Mitch held up his hands. ‘No more, Jess. I can’t go back there, all right? It doesn’t do me any good.’
‘Sorry,’ Jess said. A good half a minute passed. ‘But you know what? I hate knowing you’ve said that to other people, too.’
Mitch grimaced, rubbing his jaw. ‘Okay, so maybe I recycled, but I couldn’t risk untested material with you. It had to work.’
‘You’re a douche.’
‘You already knew that.’
‘And a slut.’
‘You knew that, too. You’ve always known exactly what I am, Jess. You’re smart. But here’s something. Every other time I’ve said it, it’s just been a gateway to sex. With you, I actually, genuinely, wanted to touch you.’
Jess gave him a look. Suddenly, surprisingly, they both laughed. She hit his arm. ‘You don’t need to reassure me.’
‘It’s the truth.’ Jess made a scoffing noise, but fell silent as he reached across to pull at her seatbelt, his body pressed to hers. ‘Let’s go for a drive,’ he said, buckling her in. ‘You can tell me what we got up to on the island over the break.’
‘Didn’t even think about you,’ she said, her voice too high.
‘That’s funny.’ Mitch started the motor. ‘Because I went blind thinking about you.’
•
As they turned onto Coronation Drive, Jess checked her phone. It had to be done. ‘What do I tell my friends? I was supposed to get the next round. They’ve probably died of thirst.’
‘Say you’ve pulled and you’ll see them tomorrow.’
Jess glanced across at Mitch, surprised. ‘I thought we were just going for a drive.’
‘Adrian’s away for work. He has his own flat. I have keys. We could drive there.’
‘Who’s Adrian?’
‘My brother. What do you say?’
Jess wound her window down. The wind pushing against her face made her feel breathless, but also free. She looked at Mitch. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you,’ she told him earnestly.
Mitch took her hand, his voice also earnest: ‘Okay, I trust you.’
‘Smart-arse. And I want you to drive me home tonight. You know, after.’
‘Done.’ He squeezed her hand and then let go.
Jess tapped out a text to Farren—pretty much what Mitch had suggested. A response arrived pronto: a lewd-looking devil emoji, and Fahrenheit???. Jess hurriedly switched off her phone. She leaned out the window, letting the wind whip and snarl her hair. As the buildings of the city approached, she retreated inside again to ask, ‘Where’s your brother live?’
‘Far, far away. It’s a long drive. You might want to tilt your seat back. Get some rest.’
Jess frowned. ‘How far?’
Mitch put a hand on her thigh, his voice completely different. ‘Tilt your seat back.’ After a moment, Jess did it, her breathing suddenly shallow and rapid. ‘Pull your jeans down,’ he instructed, keeping his eyes on the road. Jess did that also, and then lay back again, her head turned sideways to look at him, one hand pressed to her cheek. She could hear her own pulse. Mitch glanced across at her, his face hard with want. ‘Say it. You know I can’t now.’
‘Can you touch me?’
This time, she bit her own fingers.
•
When they arrived, twenty minutes later, Jess was in a daze, her eyes closed. The car stopped and she heard the engine die. Then Mitch took the hand she was still holding to her face and kissed her fingers. ‘We’re here,’ he whispered into her palm.
Jess opened her eyes, looked at him, sat up slowly. ‘Where’s here?’
‘Hamilton.’
Old-money world. Jess fixed her clothes and got out of the car, looking up at a three-storey art deco building that seemed at odds with the federation-style houses surrounding it. She heard the car’s central locking and then Mitch’s arm slid around her shoulders. As they walked, her boots rang out on the concrete, and she skipped to get in step with the softer rhythm of his Timberlands. Then she had to skip again—he didn’t exactly amble along—and again a short while later, before she saw his face and realised that he was lengthening and shortening his strides deliberately.
‘Very funny. Hey, how come you don’t have a car?’
‘I did have a car. Before. But I got rid of it. Mainly to shut my parents up. They were worried. Anyway, you don’t really need one at college.’
They reached the entrance and he held the stained-glass door open for her.
‘Those manners,’ she said on a sigh.
‘Doing it for you?’
‘That’s what’s so disappointing,’ she admitted, and he grinned.
The flat was on the top floor. Number nine.
‘How old is Adrian? A hundred?’ Jess asked. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she’d been expecting. If anything, it looked like the place had been prepared for sale, with no signs of the personality of the person who lived there. Antiques, Persian rugs on a polished wood floor, plush furniture, gilt-framed oils hanging from the original picture rails.
‘Twenty-six.’
‘And he owns a place in Hamilton already?’
‘It’s our parents’. They have investment properties.’
‘Why don’t you live here, too, then?’
‘Dad went to Knights. Adrian went there. We all do our time.’
‘So what does Adrian do?’
‘He’s a lawyer,’ Mitch said. ‘Works for Kerrigan Todd.’
‘Never heard of them.’ Jess slid past an ornate side table. What was it with rich people and lamps? As she moved, Mitch followed. She felt like she was being stalked. No. She was being stalked. The ev
idence was there in her racing heart, the naked hunger on his face. They were officially alone. Open season.
‘Where does all this come from, anyway? The money,’ she asked, banging her hip on the corner of the heavy Jarrah dining table in her rush to put it between them.
Mitch trailed her on its other side. ‘Mum’s what you’d call a canny investor. Dad’s a urologist, so she’s got money to invest.’
‘Oh. Hence you thinking about doing medicine.’
‘Hence.’
‘It’s probably for the best. You would have made a terrible doctor,’ Jess gabbled. ‘Imagine your bedside manner.’
‘You won’t have to imagine much longer.’
Jess flushed, looking through the window at the Brisbane River. ‘What’s your mum think about Telstra? I mean, as a short-term punt.’
‘Couldn’t say.’
‘Tell me about your dad then. What’s he like?’
‘So many questions.’
‘I talk when I’m nervous. You know that.’ Jess stopped short in a corner of the lounge room. There was a turntable and, beside it, four milk crates full of vinyl. ‘Oh, how embarrassing. Your brother’s a hipster.’ She started flicking through the LPs, and Mitch leaned against the wall, watching her. Ryan Adams, The Afghan Whigs, Arctic Monkeys, Bon Iver, Kate Bush, Johnny Cash … ‘I can’t wait till I can afford to buy music on vinyl, instead of just getting it for free. Your brother’s got serious taste.’
‘No Aussie hip hop, though.’
‘He’ll get there one day.’
‘Put something on.’
Jess chose Sky Ferreira. When she straightened, Mitch was right behind her. She was caught. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her hair to one side, starting to kiss the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, her knees suddenly weak.
‘Let’s go into my room,’ he murmured.
‘And do what?’
He turned her around, pushing her along in front of him, his hands on her hips. ‘Cuddle. What did you think?’
CHAPTER 23
EVERYTHING IS EMBARRASSING
‘This is your room?’ Jess asked doubtfully, looking around. The room had a double bed, an oil painting of the sea, two bedside tables with yet more lamps, a luxuriant rug and a built-in wardrobe with mirrored doors.
Mitch switched on one of the lamps, and turned off the overhead light. ‘It’s the room I use when I’m here.’ He pulled back the quilt, then started to undress, looking at her. ‘What’s wrong? You don’t want to cuddle?’
‘I want to. I just can’t imagine you doing it.’ Jess sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Guess I’d better take my boots off, at least.’
‘Actually, I was hoping you’d take everything else off and leave them on.’
Jess laughed. Mitch, down to a pair of grey trunks, opened the window, and a warm breeze blew out filmy white curtains. Then he lay back on the bed, watching her get undressed, one arm under his head. She stopped at her bra and underpants, and then dived into bed with him, burying her face in his chest.
‘Stop looking at me. I’m embarrassed.’
‘You shouldn’t be.’ But he took pity on her and dimmed the light.
And then, they cuddled.
After some time, Jess shifted, taking her bra off, before pressing against him again. Mitch made a noise at the back of his throat. She felt the same way, wriggling with pleasure.
‘God, you feel good like this,’ he breathed, running his hands over her back in the way he’d been doing for what felt like days, weeks, months, but still not enough. ‘Skin on skin.’
‘You’ve got summer skin,’ Jess told him. ‘So warm.’
He buried his face in her hair. ‘You smell good, too.’ And Jess was glad that she’d made the executive decision not to smoke that night.
She licked his neck, wanting to know what his skin tasted like. She kissed his shoulders. She kissed his chin. She hesitated.
‘Mitch? Can I kiss you?’
‘You already are.’
‘No, I mean like that.’ Jess felt him take a breath. ‘Actually don’t worry,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s all good.’
‘Sorry, Jess.’ As if to make up for it, Mitch started to stroke her again. His hand slid over her breast and she was still. Then he dipped his head, his mouth closing firmly on her nipple, and she gave a soft exclamation, feeling the world turn over.
But too soon he stopped. ‘We’re supposed to be cuddling.’
‘Shame.’
‘That’s right. You like that, don’t you?’
Jess flushed, remembering the last time he’d done it to her. ‘No, I love that.’
‘Good to know,’ Mitch murmured. Jess hoped he’d run with it, but no. ‘Jess?’
‘Hmm?’
‘The boys have asked me to be captain.’
‘Of what?’
Mitch stiffened. ‘The croquet team. What do you think?’
Jess’s words were muffled because her face was buried in his chest. ‘Oh, right. Sorry. The rugby league thing.’
He pulled back to look at her. ‘Union. Rugby union.’
‘Oh, you knew what I meant,’ she told him, burrowing back into his chest. ‘That’s pretty big, isn’t it? Captain of First Grade.’
‘It’s not for the Uni team,’ Mitch said, sounding slightly bemused now. ‘The season started in May. This is for the Knights team. The college comp.’
‘Oh. Well, that makes so much difference. Can you just get to the point?’
Mitch laughed. He started to stroke her hair. ‘There’s a guy called Tipene—’
This time, Jess pulled back to look at him. ‘I know who Tipene is,’ she reminded him wryly.
‘Oh, yeah. The bus. The guy who did what I was supposed to do.’ Mitch exhaled. ‘Well, now it’s reversed. Because he’s meant to be captain, but he wants me to do it.’
‘Who’s the better player?’
‘Him. He made Reserves this year.’
‘So, why’s he want you to be captain?’
Mitch hesitated, then said, ‘I think … because of Julian. Like, I represent him, or something. I mean, if it was just on merit, I’d be honoured, you know? ’Cause rugby is a big thing at Knights. They’re not the same level as the uni team, but there’s a history there. That’s why it’s so good, being part of it. My fresher year was fucking great because of it. But … yeah.’ Jess felt Mitch breathe in, breathe out. ‘I’m not captain material, Jess.’
‘Tipene obviously thinks you are.’
Mitch was quiet for a while, then he asked, ‘What do you think?’
Jess was surprised her opinion even mattered. ‘I think actions speak louder than words. If you want to be captain material, start acting like captain material.’ Another thought occurred to her. ‘What would Julian say? I mean, if he was around. You used to play together, right?’
Mitch gave a flat laugh. ‘He’d just be really pissed off because he’d be sure he should be captain.’
‘Well, it’s the guy who’s not sure he’s up to it who’s probably the right pick. My friend always says this thing—be wary of people who are certain they should be in charge.’
‘Smart.’ Mitch kissed her on the head. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘Unity’s president.’ They both laughed, then Jess groaned. ‘God, Mitch, if Farren knew I was here with you …’
‘This is the chick with the nose ring, right?’
‘Knights usually use a different identifier.’
‘I’m back to being a knight? Aren’t we on the island?’
‘I didn’t mean it that way. I just feel guilty, that’s all.’ And in that moment, Jess did feel guilty. But it was hard to feel guilty enough to want to change anything, because he felt so good—like lying on sand in the sun kind of good. What sort of idiot left the island early?
‘Do you want me to take you home?’ he asked, his voice low.
‘Why? Do you want me to go?’
His arms tightened around her. ‘No
. I want to stay like this all night.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ Jess thought about that and then sighed. ‘Another reason why you should probably take me home.’
•
Before they left, Jess used the bathroom. That was when she heard voices: Mitch talking to someone else. She froze, staring at herself in the mirror, straining to hear. Oh, please don’t be his brother, please don’t be his brother, please don’t be his brother, she prayed, drying her hands.
The uncertain smile on her face faded as she reached the lounge room.
It was his brother.
‘Jess, is it?’ he asked, stepping around his bag to touch his palm to hers for a second, his skin as chalky dry as his manner. ‘Adrian.’
Jess quelled a sudden urge to explain that they hadn’t been doing anything, not really, and instead told him, ‘Jess Gordon.’ Because that was how she’d been brought up. Adrian nodded, a flicker of a frown suggesting the extra detail was superfluous, and rubbed his hands together in a nervy sort of way that made Jess wonder if her hands had been damp, or he was simply trying to rub her germs off.
‘Did you have a nice trip?’ she asked, in a voice that was oddly—no, stupidly—bright.
‘Well, it was work,’ Adrian said, with another flickering frown to suggest the presence of a glaring oxymoron. ‘And it was Melbourne.’
‘I’ve never been to Melbourne. Is it nice?’ Jess asked, and then assumed a frozen expression while a voice in her head screamed, Shut up! Please, just shut the fuck up!
‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been there for work,’ Adrian said, flashing her a bloodless smile. He was so thin, with dark circles around his brown eyes, and had none of Mitch’s pack-leader self-assuredness. You’d never have guessed they were brothers. When it became apparent Jess had no further stupid questions, he turned his attention back to Mitch with obvious relief. ‘Our dinner didn’t run as long as expected and we managed to get the last flight back. If I’d known you were thinking of coming over, I would have—’
‘Meetings go well?’ Mitch asked, his face unreadable. If they seemed oddly formal with each other, Jess had the feeling it was situational, rather than the norm.
