Summer Skin

by Kirsty Eagar

  Jess came to with a start, making snuffling noises. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Did you just go to sleep while you were talking to me?’ Mitch demanded.

  ‘What? No.’ Jess stifled a yawn.

  ‘Seriously, do you plan this shit?’ Mitch sounded incredulous.

  Jess groaned. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just terrible at mornings. And I didn’t get any sleep last night.’ Her voice changed, growing husky. ‘Kept thinking about this guy … drives a white Subaru …’

  ‘Soft. Real men drive Fords.’

  Jess gave a sleepy laugh. ‘Hey, how come you’re in Brisbane, anyway? I meant to ask you last night, but you were talking so much I couldn’t get a word in.’

  Mitch snorted, seeming much more relaxed than he had the night before. ‘Rugby. I got a week off, but I can’t miss more than that. I would have had to be back for training on Tuesday anyway, but I came early, because I wanted to give you a lift home.’

  Jess absorbed that. It was worth absorbing—it’s not every day that the guy you like drives five hours to give you a lift.

  ‘I’m staying at Adrian’s until we go back.’ Mitch cleared his throat, suddenly all business. ‘Anyway, I was calling to ask you something. Can I take you to dinner tonight?’

  Jess’s eyebrows rose. ‘Dinner?’

  ‘Something wrong with dinner? I just thought because it’s Sunday you’re probably not working—’

  ‘No, I’m not working. Where would we go?’

  ‘Aria.’

  ‘That posh place on the river? I’d feel like I was pretending to be a grown-up.’

  ‘I thought that was what you’re supposed to do. Posh restaurant, flowers.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Jess said.

  ‘I want to see you,’ Mitch said.

  Jess thought for a bit. ‘I’ve got an idea. You’re not going to like it, though.’

  •

  When Jess answered the door that night, Mitch still seemed dubious, but he looked great: collared dress shirt, jeans, freshly polished RM Williams boots.

  ‘Quick, come in out of the cold. Why aren’t you wearing a jumper, you maniac?’ Then, when he was inside: ‘You dressed for it. That’s so many points right there.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ Mitch said, giving her the once-over. She was in her lucky Black Milk Hell Yeah leggings, which clashed somewhat with her blue-checked flannel and black-and-white striped socks. The effort Jess had made was more subtle: freshly washed and blow-dried hair, and an extra spray of Light Blue.

  ‘I know, but if I’d dressed up, you would have known I’d dressed up, and I would have felt dumb,’ she said, pulling her hair over one shoulder.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You know what I mean. You have to make an effort because you’re the guest. And, look, more points.’ He held a bottle of wine in his right hand, his arm wrapped around a generous bunch of tulips. ‘They’re lovely.’

  ‘They’re not for you. They’re for your aunt.’

  Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘Really?’

  ‘This is for you, though.’ Mitch brought his left hand out from behind his back, producing a bundle of twigs fashioned like a bouquet, wrapped in delicate paper and finished with ribbon.

  ‘Oh! Thank you,’ Jess breathed, taking her bouquet and glancing at him—he seemed pleased with her reaction. ‘I like them so much I won’t even burn them.’

  Mitch hugged her then—awkwardly, because he was still holding the tulips and wine. He put them down and tried again, and Jess wrapped her arms around his neck, still holding her bouquet, and it felt almost unbearably intense. It was the first time they’d touched, this time around, apart from holding hands the previous night.

  They were taking it slow.

  ‘I can feel your heart,’ he told her.

  It’s yours, she wanted to say. ‘I’m thin-skinned.’ She pulled back to look at him. ‘Mitch, can I ask you something? Who’s feeding you this stuff? I mean, dinner, wine, flowers … Call, don’t text.’

  Mitch grimaced, clearly embarrassed. ‘Mum.’

  •

  While Mitch made small talk with Heather, Jess watched the way he looked around, casually taking in the polished wooden floors and white-panelled walls, the covered back deck with its rattan furniture and luxuriant ferns, the landscaped swimming pool, the view of the city. Appreciative, but not seeing it as anything out of the ordinary.

  ‘Was it you guys who renovated the place?’ he asked Heather.

  ‘Yes, it was.’ Heather used the tip of a knife to gently prod a piece of salmon. ‘Well, Tony handled the structural things. I was more involved on the decorating side.’

  ‘We’ve got a Queenslander, too. Mum spent a lot of time doing it up. Wanted it to be a restoration, not just a reno, in keeping with its history and stuff.’

  ‘Oh, I wonder if she’d approve of this then,’ Heather said—lightly.

  Mitch gave a small jolt. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. She’d think it was great.’

  Mitch and Heather were different generations from the same world, that much was obvious. The thing that surprised Jess was how diffident Mitch was being, the crease ever-present on his forehead.

  But then Jess’s Uncle Tony came bustling into the kitchen and shook Mitch’s hand vigorously, looking excited in a way he’d never been with Brendan, saying, ‘Get you a beer, Mitch?’ Tony was a tall, bald workaholic of a man, fighting a losing battle with a slow-creeping thickening brought on by his love of good eating and good drinking. He was as impatient as Heather was placid, and held the strong belief that there was no social occasion that couldn’t be improved by Powderfinger—that night’s dinner no exception.

  His arrival seemed to relax Mitch instantly.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you around the place.’ As Tony led Mitch out of the kitchen, he said, ‘What do you think our chances are against the All Blacks? Get tickets?’

  ‘Yeah, I did, actually,’ said Mitch. ‘You?’

  In their wake, Heather said to Jess, ‘Nice of you to find Tony a friend.’

  ‘What? Oh. I wondered why he was asking me all those questions about Mitch and rugby. Hang on, is that why he’s wearing that green and gold thing?’

  ‘It’s called a Wallabies jersey, darling. Tony probably picked it out specially.’

  ‘God, how embarrassing,’ Jess groaned. Then she said, ‘I don’t get the rugby thing.’

  ‘Evidently. Stir this for me, would you?’

  Jess did as Heather asked, glancing at her, questioningly.

  Heather pretended to ignore her for a little longer, taking the warmed plates out of the oven. Then she said, casually, ‘Mitch seems like a nice boy. Lovely manners.’

  ‘Oh, Auntie, he’s the catch of the season,’ Jess said in a breathy voice, but she quickly dropped the act. ‘You do like him, don’t you?’ she asked, worried.

  ‘Of course I like him,’ Heather laughed, then hugged her so tightly that Jess knew she’d smell like Obsession for the rest of the night. In a perfume-off, the shoulder-padded, power-packed eighties scents always won.

  Jess pulled away. ‘There’s a “but”, isn’t there?’ she asked, quietly devastated. ‘How can you not think he’s right for me? He’s perfect.’

  ‘You know that, and I know that.’ Heather suddenly seemed as impenetrable as the Sphinx. ‘He’s the one who’s not sure.’

  Jess felt a little twinge, which meant it was the truth. She gave her aunt a sidelong glare, feeling cross. ‘Well, it’s not his call. If I think he is, that’s all that matters.’

  Heather, unperturbed, poked her in the ribs. ‘It’s probably positive. He’ll try harder.’

  ‘Honestly, you have this special talent for making the simplest things sound dirty.’

  Heather also had a great laugh; rich and throaty. She blew Jess a kiss, as though she was going somewhere, her face oddly poignant. ‘I like your Mitch, very much. He’s gloriously special, just like you. An unwritten book—even if he doesn’t know it. But he’s also co
mpletely unarmed, so be kind to him, Jessie.’

  ‘He’s just nervous because he’s meeting you guys.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Heather said, and Jess realised just where it was that she herself had picked up that particularly annoying verbal tic.

  ‘No, truly. Mitch doesn’t exactly lack confidence.’

  Heather’s voice was calm. ‘That doesn’t mean he mightn’t need reassurance.’

  CHAPTER 35

  OPEN

  After dinner, Mitch and Jess helped with the dishes, and then retreated downstairs to the family room. Tony did look at Jess like a puppy whose bone has been stolen, but Heather made sure he stayed put. She knew what ‘watch TV’ meant.

  ‘See? If we’d gone to your fancy restaurant we wouldn’t have been able to do this,’ Jess commented.

  ‘What? Burn shit?’ Mitch asked.

  She smiled, not taking her eyes off the tepee of split wood she was constructing in the combustion stove. ‘Hang out.’

  ‘Why don’t you use the firelighters?’

  ‘They don’t whoosh, no flashback—says so on the packet. So there’s no point.’

  ‘Explain the pyro thing.’

  Jess flicked her Zippo on and held it to the balled-up newspaper at the base of her tepee. ‘Don’t know really. I’ve liked fire since I was a kid. But I was always careful, like I never would have burned the house down or anything. It’s more a fascination than a compulsion, if you know what I mean.’ Jess glanced across at him. He’d made himself comfortable on the chaise part of the large modular lounge, his hands resting behind his head. Her phone was docked in the stereo, providing mood. ‘At home it’s just something we do, sit around in the backyard, talking around a fire. Maybe I just do it now because I get homesick.’

  She fanned the fire with a newspaper to give it some help. When it was burning well, she added two chunks of thicker wood, closed the door and adjusted the flue. Then she skated over to Mitch, sliding across the wooden floor in her socks. She sat next to him on the chaise, her knees raised like his, her chin resting on her crossed arms, her body pressed against his. Touch. Why was it so comforting?

  ‘So you survived,’ she said.

  ‘They’re great.’

  ‘Tony’s in love with you.’

  ‘Rugby—Tony’s in love with rugby.’

  ‘Mitch?’ Jess said, not listening. ‘I’m so glad you’re here—and I don’t just mean at my aunt and uncle’s. I can’t even believe it, really.’

  Mitch nodded, drawing his teeth across his bottom lip. When he spoke, his voice was rough. ‘Jess, stuff got in the way. I don’t want to talk about it now but, okay? It’s nothing to do with you, though.’

  Jess wanted to know. Badly. Because she suspected it came back to Julian. To her, he was like a beautiful snake, hidden in the shadows, and she badly wanted to shine a light on him, see him clearly. But Mitch met her curious gaze, his face intense, his blue eyes unblinking, a wordless plea for clemency. Things between them were so fragile still. It wasn’t the time. So she told him a truth instead, made herself as vulnerable as he was.

  ‘Well, no matter what it is, I just want you to stay. Because if it’s hard to believe you’re here right now, it’s also easy to believe you might disappear again.’

  She saw him swallow. ‘Is that for real?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jess told him, and what surprised her was how much he looked like he needed to hear it. How did Heather get to be so smart, anyway? She watched his face relax, and thought, No time like the present. ‘Can I ask you something? What did your mum say comes after dinner?’

  Mitch’s gaze slid away from hers; a form of evasion. ‘I think I’m supposed to ask if I can see you tomorrow. Actually, she didn’t say that. That’s just me,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘Can I see you tomorrow?’

  Jess rubbed his knee, charmed. ‘I want to see you all the time, stupid. Make it your starting assumption.’

  ‘I might take you up on that,’ he said, sounding even more gruff, and Jess gave him a shy smile, suddenly, uncharacteristically, lost for words. ‘I’ve wasted too much time, Jess. I want to see you every day. And I don’t just mean these holidays; I mean when we go back, too. I know we’re taking things slow, but I want to get this locked in. You know what I’m asking, don’t you?’

  ‘I think so,’ Jess said in a small voice.

  ‘I want it to be us. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Jess said, and Mitch exhaled. ‘On one condition,’ she added.

  Mitch abruptly switched to retreat. ‘Aw, come on. Cut me some slack.’

  ‘That’s what comes after dinner,’ she said firmly. Mitch didn’t look like he was buying, so she added, ‘I don’t even smoke anymore, so that’s good.’

  ‘Yeah? How come?’ he asked, interested in spite of himself.

  ‘Just thought it was time.’ Jess moved closer. ‘I’m waiting.’

  Mitch sighed, with very bad grace. ‘You’ll be sorry,’ he told her, taking hold of her shoulders.

  ‘You won’t be,’ Jess said, beneficent, calm and very sure of herself.

  Mitch lunged. His lips were slippery and their teeth clacked together, and then his tongue was pushing its way into her mouth—or maybe it was all the way down her throat—her head forced back so roughly, so abruptly, it actually hurt her neck.

  Jess pushed him away, gasping for breath. ‘Jesus!’ She wiped a hand across her mouth. ‘That was the worst kiss I’ve ever had. You slobbered all over me! I think you broke a tooth.’

  ‘It’s not like I didn’t warn you,’ Mitch shot back, but he dropped his head.

  ‘Oh, this is tragic.’ Jess stared at the ceiling. ‘Why? Why? Why is everything always the wrong way around with us?’ Her head snapped back to look at Mitch, eyes narrowed like she was sighting him with a gun. ‘I won’t accept this. This is the one time when it’ll go like it’s supposed to. I’ll make it happen.’ She sniffed. ‘Right. Let’s get started.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked as she got up.

  ‘Not as far away as you’d like,’ Jess told him firmly, skating across to her phone. She forwarded through the playlist until she found Rhye, and set the song to repeat. ‘We need suitable music.’

  ‘That’s it. I’m out of here,’ Mitch snapped, starting to rise.

  Jess bolted back to him, sliding the last two metres and knocking him onto the chaise again. He muttered something that she chose to ignore. When she was happy with how they were positioned—facing each other, her kneeling between his legs—she said, ‘Now close your eyes.’

  Instead, Mitch glared at her. ‘I refuse to do this.’

  ‘Just … relax,’ Jess said, with the faintest of smiles, echoing another time.

  ‘I’m not used to relaxing,’ he said, following the script but forgetting to add humour.

  Jess slid her hands onto his shoulders, her eyes beseeching. ‘Please? Because I really like you, Mitch.’ She blanched. ‘Oh God, sorry, that was so high school.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Mitch said, his face thoughtful. ‘High school was good.’ And just like that, he closed his eyes.

  Jess blinked. Then she touched his face. ‘It’s only going to be soft to start with, okay? So don’t feel you need to do anything. Just let me do it to you. You can trust me.’ With that, she pressed her lips to his, like a promise.

  They kissed their way through the song once. They kissed their way through it again, and by the end of the second time, something magic happened. They kissed; slow and deep, like they were falling into each other, a willing sort of drowning.

  Finally, Jess eased off, bringing it back to soft. She gave him an ellipsis, three little kisses, as she started to pull away. But Mitch followed, leaning forwards, and then further forwards, his eyes still closed. She smiled, pressing her forehead to his, watching his eyes open.

  ‘I knew it would be good,’ she told him, dazed, but also victorious.

  •

  So. For all that week, and the next, they saw each other
every day and every night. Work shifts, rugby training and games, and sleep were the only major interruptions. Mitch drove Jess to work and picked her up. She tried to give him money for petrol, but he told her not to be ridiculous—he only accepted sexual favours. She liked to sit with her feet up on the dashboard.

  ‘Yeah, those things. I like those things,’ Mitch said, pulling the hem of her skirt a little higher.

  ‘They’re called stay-ups.’

  ‘You had them on the night we went swimming.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t looking.’

  ‘Of course I was looking.’

  •

  On the day that results came out, Mitch arrived early, waking Jess up for her to discover she’d got a credit in microeconomics, and then reminding her, when she started to whinge, that she’d thought she hadn’t even passed. To celebrate, he took her to Aria for dinner, as threatened. She took him to McDonald’s for lunch.

  They played tennis; a match filled with epic rallies, dodgy line calls, swearing and other displays of bad sportsmanship. They played half-court basketball, which was even worse. They went running together around Kangaroo Point.

  ‘You know what I rate?’ Mitch said. ‘The fact you’re sporty. I never realised you could do this stuff with a girl.’

  Sadly, Jess, red-faced, heart rate going through the roof, keeping pace on the basis of pride alone, had no breath to spare, and had to content herself with rolling her eyes instead.

  Afterwards, they walked for a while to cool off, holding hands. A pair of older ladies passed them, and one of them sighed, and said, ‘Young love is so sexy,’ and Jess got the giggles.

  •

  They talked a lot, about everything and nothing. Sometimes important things.

  She said: ‘You’re generous.’

  He said: ‘Is this another rich thing?’

  ‘No, it’s completely unrelated to your economic bracket. People are either generous or they’re stingy. You’re generous. Farren’s generous. Brendan was stingy. You know, like, when a group of you are going rounds at the pub, and there’s one person who always deliberately avoids their shout. I don’t think Leanne’s paid for a drink in her life.’