by C. J. Duggan
Shit, did I make my bed this morning? Do I have any dirty underwear slung on the back of the chair?
I couldn’t remember. Oh shit, oh shit!
I hoped the bad lighting in the hall would mask the anxiety on my face, the look I knew I was barely concealing.
Sean casually stretched his arms above his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world, before he waved an arm towards my door, beaming. “After you.”
I could hardly believe that a messy room was actually even a concern considering I was about to let Sean Murphy into my bedroom. I calmly twisted the handle and pushed the door open as I would have any other night. If I was to survive this I would just have to play it cool. Any reaction would tip him off. This was a battle of wills. Who would fold first? Who could push the other to their breaking point? And then a thought slammed into me.
What if he doesn’t fold?
I was jolted from the fear of such a thought as Sean took a running dive onto my bed, bouncing once, twice, three times, like a giant kid. The springs of the mattress groaned under the pressure as he adjusted the pillows and cushions so he could casually lean back and watch me in the doorway. He entwined his hands behind his head and threw me his best cheesy smile as he sighed in delight.
I cocked my brow. “Make yourself at home.”
He rolled over onto his stomach, leaning over to look under my mattress. “Nice bed!”
His voice was muffled as he spoke directly into the darkness under my bed. God, I hoped he couldn’t make out all the junk under there, plus a decade’s worth of dust, no doubt. I quickly turned off the main light, which drew his attention instantly.
I then realised how suggestive that might have come across so I scurried over to the lamp and fumbled for the switch on my desk. In a blind panic I struggled, and swore under my breath before mercifully finding it. With a click, my bedroom lit with a warm, subtle glow from my leadlight lamp.
Yep! Real smooth, Amy.
Sean still lay on his stomach, except his fascination had moved from under my bed to me as he hitched himself onto his elbows. The real me wanted to tell him to take a picture as it would last longer, or to not even think about getting any ideas – the lamplight was not to build ambience, it was to stop you seeing surface dust. Yeah, it didn’t sound all that convincing even to my own ears.
Then I noticed his eyes moved from me to behind me. I turned to follow his gaze. Before I could raise a question, he hitched himself up and off the bed and was over to me in three quick strides.
“What do we have here?” Sean leaned past me and plucked something off my shelf with lightning speed, holding it up to the lamplight.
“A Rubik’s Cube?” I asked, stating the obvious.
He bounced the perfectly aligned cube in his hand, studying it. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.”
I straightened. “Well, I’ll have you know,” I said, plucking it from his hands, “that I am the Messiah of the Rubik’s Cube.”
Sean looked over at me. “Is that right?”
“The Messiah,” I accentuated the words with confidence.
“Oh, really?” He copied my actions from a second earlier and plucked it from my hand. “Well, let’s see you undo THIS.”
Sean turned his back to me, twisting the cube every which way in a conspiratorial fashion. He glanced over his shoulder at me every now and then to ensure I wasn’t peeking. It was the first time I allowed myself to openly roll my eyes at him as he spent what seemed like an eternity unravelling the colours of the Rubik’s Cube.
“Ah-ha!” He spun around and presented the cube to me, all twisted, the colours speckled throughout it. “Let’s see you get out of this one.” He smirked.
I sighed and grabbed it from him, as if bored by the challenge. Unlike Captain Mysterious, I chose not to turn my back. If anything, I wanted him to see exactly what I was about to do.
I blew on my knuckles for dramatic effect. “Watch and learn. Watch. And. Learn.”
Sean scoffed and folded his arms as if waiting for my failure.
I honed in on the green centre piece and worked on unscrambling the rainbow of twisted pieces. I had no time to watch for Sean’s reactions as I concentrated and counted my move notations.
Right inverted, right and down, I twisted with lightning speed, working through the algorithms in my mind.
Front inverted, up, left inverted, up inverted. I twisted on, speaking in my own language that I knew few could follow. Even fewer had a clue what an algorithm was all about. At first it didn’t look like much, as if I wasn’t getting anywhere, but I kept twisting, and twisted a series of carefully planned out sequences, my eyes darting over my quick-moving hands.
Right inverted, down inverted, right, down.
The corner of my mouth pinched into a smile when a wall of green formed in all its glory. I was on the downhill stretch now.
I stole a look at Sean who was watching my hands, captivated by every twist. I dug in, twisting in a blinding fury until I triumphantly held the perfectly formed cube up to Sean resting on my palm. My mouth twitched with a silent ‘shove that in your pipe and smoke it.’
Sean stood, stunned, staring at the perfectly aligned cube in my palm. He disguised his smile by rubbing his hand over his jaw and lips. I squared my shoulders, waiting for an apology.
He nodded. “Wow,” he said, plucking the cube from my hand and examining it thoroughly.
His eyes flicked up from the cube to me. “You really are a dork!”
My mouth gaped open. “Shut up!” I lashed out to hit him, but he was too quick and caught my wrist with his free hand, holding me in a firm grip.
“You’re so violent, Amy,” Sean mused.
I twisted, trying to free myself from his grasp. “Gee, I wonder why?” This time I glowered at him unapologetically.
Sean chucked the Rubik’s Cube aside, before he reached for my other wrist and pulled me closer to him.
My breath laboured, not in fear but at the unexpected thrill that surged through me as my body pressed against his. Sean’s grip was still firm, but it was the working of a slow, hypnotic circle he traced in the palm of my hand that had me melting slightly into his hold.
“Is that why you brought me here, Amy? To play games?”
I could feel the warmth of Sean’s breath near my cheek as he leaned in to speak into my ear.
I swallowed hard, moving my head to the side. What could I possibly say? “Unlike you, I don’t play games”? But that was exactly what I was doing and I was playing against a professional player. Women were his hobby. I had seen it time and time again over the years downstairs in the Onslow; Sean being pawed over by all the beauties in town, admired like some god with their googly eyes and irritating giggles. Women threw themselves at him. And what was I? Some boarding-school city novice, who had spent her entire teenage years fabricating sex stories in the toilets of a private all-girls school. The only real sexual experiences in my whole life had been stolen moments in the spare room of my boyfriend’s house when no one was home. Simon had been a nice enough boyfriend, but the earth hadn’t moved; not once. My heart had never threatened to pound out of my chest with him; not like it was doing right now just from being so close to Sean.
The smell of his rich cologne, the feel of his work-roughened hands on my skin. What girl in Onslow hadn’t fantasised about having Sean Murphy in their bedroom come night-time, all alone in the dark? I fought to not make eye contact, afraid of what I might feel if I looked into his blue eyes; eyes that I could lose myself in, even from across a room.
Damn him!
I yanked at my wrists, but it was of no use; Sean just pulled me around like I was a rag doll and propped me on my desk to sit. Letting go of my wrists, he stood so close I felt like I was pinned, anyway. I rubbed at my wrists, casting him daggers. He smiled his crooked smile.
He placed his hands on either side of me. He leaned into me, his legs pressing my legs apart. I could feel his lips press against my ear
. “How far are you willing to go, Amy?”
Chapter Thirty-One
How had this happened? When had I completely lost all control?
I had gone from supposedly having the upper hand, to everything turning upside down.
Sean was pushing my buttons again. He had a masterful way of making me come undone simply by a look, or his incredible smell, or the heat and feel of his hard body pressed against mine. Everything about the position, pressed between my desk and his body, should have made me feel trapped. I should have wanted to slip a dictionary inside my pillow case and whack him over the head with it.
But part of me didn’t want to do that at all, and that scared me. A piece of me enjoyed his touch and wanted to meet his challenge and that’s what all this was about, wasn’t it? Not letting him win – hadn’t that been what had got me here in the first place?
I didn’t know anymore. My head was fuzzy from his close proximity; I could barely think of what my next move should be. Then, like a hammer, it hit me: it was my turn to throw out a question, put the ball back into his court.
I let my defences down; I melted my rigid posture and slid forward, forcing him to move back a little to let my feet fall to the ground. He straightened, watching me with uncertainty.
I couldn’t help but smirk. Was that an air of unease surrounding him? From the way I’d moved forward, not taking my eyes from his, not once, I felt a surge of power. I had been so overcome with the what-ifs that I had completely lost focus.
It was about pushing him, making him feel uncomfortable. I had to spin this whole thing around. I edged forward, placing my hand on his chest until the backs of his legs hit the edge of my bed. Sean glanced back, then quirked a brow at me. I pushed him as hard as I could, forcing him into a sitting position. His cocky smile had vanished; instead, he looked up at me with a guarded, serious expression.
It was a standoff all right, move for move. He knew I was bluffing; he had said as much with his mocking words. “How far are you willing to go, Amy?”
He expected me to fold and then he would laugh with victory and get up and walk out of my room. Head out to the Point so as not to waste the night.
I was just Amy Henderson. The publican’s spoilt daughter, everyone’s kind of friend. For a moment I felt a cloud sweep over me – a dark cloud of resentment.
Things had changed. I was Amy and I wanted people to see that. But above all, and as much as it disturbed me, I wanted Sean to see it. See that I had grown up and that there was more to me than my snarky comebacks and moody aggression.
With all these thoughts running through my mind, suddenly it wasn’t about winning a game or having the upper hand. It was about proving to myself that I wasn’t a spoilt child wanting to get her own way, to always be the winner.
Before I could voice my defeat, before I could say, “Congratulations, you’ve won,” Sean stood up.
The planes of his face softened, lit with the warm glow of the lamp. “Amy, I—”
Before he had a chance to finish his sentence we both were jolted by a loud, fisted knock on my door.
“Ammmmyyyyyyy,” Adam’s inebriated voice sing-songed through the door.
My eyes widened as they darted to Sean. “Hide,” I mouthed.
“Where?” he whispered.
Oh shit, oh shit … Where do you hide a six-foot-three wall of muscle in a bedroom?
I mimed for him to help me slide my sideboard in front of the door, to stop Adam from flinging it open. Sean silently edged it into place before diving behind the door.
“Ammmyyyyyy,” Adam continued, talking into the door. It was like a horror movie.
I thought maybe if I didn’t answer he might think I was asleep.
“Amy, I’m sorryyyyyy, please open the door.” The handle twisted and the door creaked. Sean moved behind me, pushing his back against the door to reinforce the barrier. Adam didn’t stand a chance with Sean on my side.
I pressed my finger to his lips urging him to remain silent.
“Amy, come on. I’m really sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to tell Sean; it just slipped out.”
Sean’s eyes snapped to mine: the jig was up.
“All right, I may have let it slip and I may have or may not have given him a lecture about not going near you.”
Ha!
I stole a look towards Sean. Yeah, that worked.
He didn’t appear to find this situation in the least bit amusing. His head was turned in to the door panel, but I could see the clench of his jaw line as if what Adam was saying was not going down too well with him, either.
Adam just needs to shut up.
“All right, all right. Fair enough,” Adam said with a hiccup. “But just so you know, you don’t have to worry about Sean. He assured me you’re not his type.”
I stilled, frozen, as Adam’s words cut me to the core. I didn’t know why, but it was as if a knife had been plunged into my stomach and twisted. I tilted my head away from Sean, not even wanting to look at him or for him to read the unmistakable change in my eyes, the hurt written across my face.
“Night, Amy. You have permission to pummel me tomorrow, because I know you will anyway.”
Oh yes, I will.
Adam’s drunken footsteps made their crooked way across the hall and into his room.
“Amy …” Sean whispered.
I held up my hand to cut him off. “He hasn’t closed his door,” I snapped at him.
We waited on a sound that never came, fearing what I suspected. I started to move the sideboard back into place, with Sean quickly helping me. I still couldn’t bear to look at him so I busied myself instead on opening my bedroom door a crack, pressing my eye against the opening.
“Oh, great!” I whispered.
“What?” Sean tried to lean forward to look but I elbowed him away.
Just like I had suspected. Adam’s door was wide open and, right before me in plain view, he sat lounging in a fluoro orange bean bag, his game console in his hand, playing 007.
I closed the door with a quiet groan.
“What?” Sean kept his voice low.
“He’s playing the PlayStation.”
“So?”
“So? He’s doing it with his door open,” I snapped.
Sean still looked at me as if he really couldn’t understand what the issue was.
“Knowing Adam, he’ll be playing it for hours and hours. You’re stuck here, Sean.”
Under normal circumstances, Sean would have made some lame joke about being stranded alone in the dark with a girl for hours. Instead, he just looked troubled.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” I snarked. “I’m none too thrilled about it, either. We can only hope he might pass out or something, but knowing Adam, the night owl, he’ll probably be awake all night.” I grimaced.
I had lost count of the endless nights of my youth in which I had stumbled across the hall, half asleep, at some ungodly hour. I would throw Adam a sleepy, dirty look and pull his door shut to muffle the sounds of the game music blaring from his TV.
There was no chance of doing that tonight without him cornering me for a deep and meaningful, and the last thing I wanted was for Adam to get deep about anything while Sean was within earshot.
I glared at the door with my hands on my hips, searching for a solution and, more importantly, to avoid Sean’s gaze. Adam’s words still circled around in my mind.
He assured me you’re not his type.
What type – easy and stupid? I then thought about one of the big-breasted, petite blondes he usually walked home. I seriously doubted they would have wooed him with their Rubik’s Cube skills.
I just wanted to die.
“Are you mad because I knew?” His voice cut through the dark; snapping me from my thoughts with the unexpectedness of it.
I wasn’t mad about that, I’d known what I was doing; I was angry at myself for getting involved in the first place. I should have kicked him out of the bar as soon as I saw him sitting on the poo
l table. The Amy of old would have done exactly that. Instead, I had led him up the stairs, played cat and mouse, a half-arsed seductress knowing that everything he was doing was only to stir me up, to get back at me for trying to play games in the beginning.
The only difference was the joke really was on me. I knew Sean was joking, that he was deliberately trying to make me uncomfortable by overdoing the charm and flirting. I had known the whole time and yet I had still bought into it. As if a part of me had believed there might have perhaps been some underlying meaning behind those heated looks.
For a moment I had actually allowed myself to believe that maybe it hadn’t been a game, the way he’d looked at me was so … Wow! I really was no better than those stupid girls of his that bowed before him, that were willingly led on by his charms and that smile, a flex of a muscle.
That was Sean.
I had been playing in the big league trying to outplay a player, and I had been well and truly defeated through my own stupidity.
I shook my head. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Oh, so I’m a liar now, am I?”
“Well, based on this little game tonight, yeah, you kinda are.”
Oh no, he d’int!
“Excuse me? Games? That’s rich, coming from you. You’re the master of game playing.”
His lips twitched. “Actually I like to think of myself more as the Messiah of Games.”
I crossed my arms. “Wow, you must be really bored, resorting to playing games with little Amy, the publican’s daughter. Stuck here with me when you could be out parking at the Falls or walking some bimbo home for a quickie. Instead, here you are, trapped in my room for God knows how long. This really must be rock bottom for you.”
My voice wasn’t a whisper anymore I was so angry. It got to the point where I couldn’t care less if Adam heard me, or came barging into my room with an entire brigade to see what was going on.
I hated Sean Murphy. I hated his smug, shitty games that treated people like nothing more than objects to admire and use to stroke his ego. I was all but ready to storm over to the door to rip it open and tell him to get the fuck out!
