by C. J. Duggan
I felt the press of someone behind me and before I had the chance to move, I heard the unmistakable voice yell out: “Another VB and a raspberry Cruiser, thanks, mate!”
I turned to stare up at Sean.
“It’s raspberry you drink, right?”
“Thanks.”
Sean squeezed next to me, handing over a twenty and passing me my Cruiser.
“Having fun?” he asked before sipping on his beer.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
Sean leaned his back against the bar and his gaze trailed over the sea of people in the beer garden. “Sounds like you need a distraction.”
“Well, I have been distracted by Adam and Ellie’s alternative dance moves.”
Sean’s eyes darted off into the distance. He slowly raised his beer to his mouth. “I wasn’t talking about that kind of distraction,” he smirked, before taking another long sip.
My eyes narrowed in confusion as I looked up to study his profile. Sean didn’t break away from whatever he was looking at, so I thought maybe I had misheard him.
He pursed and smacked his lips together, as if savouring the remnants of his beer before turning to face me, holding his beer up mid-sip, mostly to disguise what he was saying to me.
“Leave the back door unlocked tonight,” he said before skulling the rest of his beer and placing the empty glass on the bar. He winked down at me before stalking through the crowd and disappearing out of the side exit into the night.
***
Oh my God! Oh my God!
I grabbed a pile of clothes and shoved them in the bottom of my cupboard. Ripping my bra off the handle of my door I shoved it in my bedside drawer. I frantically straightened out my doona cover and studied my reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time.
Did he mean what I think he meant?
Sean had vanished for the rest of the night. My head was so firmly in the clouds I kept getting sympathetic looks from everyone.
“Poor Amy, she is really taking it hard.”
“She’s just not herself tonight.”
If only they knew the truth. My first port of call was to make sure that the back door to the beer garden staircase was in fact unlocked;. I twisted and left it ajar. Mercifully, Adam and Chris and everyone were headed up to the Point tonight. But not me. No one questioned my sincerity when I said I had a headache and didn’t really feel up to it.
I peered down the long, darkened hall to see that no slither of light shone from underneath my parents’ door. I tiptoed back into my room and shut the door.
I took a deep, calming breath. My clock radio read twelve-forty a.m. I started to wonder if maybe Sean had been joking; maybe it had been so long since we had last hung out that I had forgotten how to read his smart-arse innuendoes. I paced my room, a worried line etched in my brow.
I am such an idiot. He was probably sitting on the bonnet of a car at the Point with his arm slung around some floozy, having a good old laugh at me. With each passing minute, anger boiled within me.
He’s not coming. He is not coming.
I chewed anxiously on my thumbnail, scowling at the wall, shaking my head. I was such an idiot.
Nearing on two a.m., I resigned myself to the fact that he wasn’t coming and felt filled with self-loathing. When would I ever learn? Sean Murphy would never change.
I furiously brushed my hair, cursing the day I ever met Sean Murphy. With each stroke I spat a word of commentary.
“Arrogant!” Stroke.
“Egotistical!” Stroke.
“Infuriating!” Stroke, stroke, stroke.
I threw the brush on my dresser, knocking over the white gift box that sat there. I stared at the tipped box, slowly reaching over to stand it back up, the weight inside plonking against the cardboard. I reached inside and retrieved the Rubik’s Cube. I glared at it. Surely I should have taken this as a sign that there was rarely ever a serious moment with Sean; even his ‘I’m sorry’ gift had to have a smart-arse undertone to it. I thought back to the horrified looks on the girls’ faces in the kitchen. They had thought I’d lost the plot when I seemed happy about receiving not chocolates or jewellery, but a Rubik’s Cube from Sean.
I re-read the card:
‘I said I would let you know what I wanted.’
“A Rubik’s Cube? What are you trying to say? Pfft, idiot!”
I sat on my bed, punching and fluffing up my pillows, leaning against my bedhead. I studied the multi-coloured, twisted cube, the colours speckled all over its surface.
He’s messed it up good and proper.
I turned it over and over and held it up to the light, when I sat up suddenly. I pulled the lampshade closer and squinted at some small, black markings on some of the squares.
What the …?
I turned the cube around and around. Seemingly random black lines were marked all over the cube.
I started twisting, seeing if it would become clearer. The markings appeared to only affect the red blocks but until I unravelled the grid I couldn’t make out what they meant. My heart raced looking closely at the lines. Were they letters or numbers? Some of them were horizontal, others diagonal, this one a squiggle; what the hell were these lines? After a while, I forgot about the markings and intently worked on unscrambling the mismatched pieces, manipulating it back into its original state. My heart was pounding. Shit! I couldn’t get it. I kept over-rotating or making mistakes.
“God damn it!” I threw the cube across the room, running my hand over my brow. I got up and paced, glaring at the cube where it had landed in the corner.
I sighed. “Suck it up, Princess. You can do this.”
I bent down to try again and took in a deep breath. My eyes flicked over the cube as my hands started working and twisting in a methodical fashion. I counted the turns in my mind, and eventually the cube began unravelling in my hands. With a final twist I all but laughed in relief. It sat in my hand, completed. Triumphant, I turned the cube in my hand to ensure that all was as it should be, but as I held it up to the light and exposed the red side, my smile fell away.
There, written in Sean’s unmistakable penmanship, my fingers traced the permanent marker scrawled across the squares.
‘I want you.’
And before the words had even sunk in, I heard the handle to my bedroom door twist.
Chapter Fifty-Five
With barely enough time to close the door behind him, Sean caught the look on my face and stilled.
“Amy, what’s wro—” His eyes flicked to the Rubik’s Cube.
In one fluid motion, I threw the cube onto my bed and closed the distance between us, violently pushing him against the door before drawing him closer and pressing my mouth against his.
Any moment of surprise Sean may have felt instantly melted into need as his hands fisted in my top and yanked me up against his body. His hands moved to my hair as his hot, silken tongue pushed deeper against my uneven gasps.
‘I want you.’ It was all I needed to know. Like the multi-coloured, messed-up cube that only he and I could understand the meaning of. The weight behind Sean’s words was more than I could ever have hoped for. I didn’t need any ‘I like you’s’ or
‘I love you’s.’ Above everything else, the simple fact was that he wanted me.
I broke away from the kiss, hovering so close to his lips, his shallow breaths heating my face.
“I want you, too,” I whispered.
Realisation dawned across Sean’s face, his eyes brightening as his lush mouth tilted in approval.
“Clever girl!” He laughed softly before pressing his lips to mine again.
Grabbing for the fabric of my shirt, he peeled it upwards and off in one clean swipe, throwing it across my room. My hands grabbed frantically at Sean’s belt, flicking and looping it to access the button on his jeans. His hands covered mine to make faster work of it. My impatient, shaking fingers failed me as they moved up to work at the buttons of his shirt. I couldn’t do it fast enough. In a mad
dening sense of urgency I pulled his shirt apart, a shower of buttons littering the floor.
I bit my lip, stifling my smile. “Sorry about that,” I said, peeling his shirt back over his broad shoulders.
“Fuck the shirt,” Sean muttered against my mouth as he edged me backward onto my bed.
Sean stood before me, breathing hard. He slowly pulled his white singlet over his head, exposing his bare skin in the lamplight. I lay, transfixed by how utterly beautiful he was. An immense, explosive pleasure rippled through me with the knowledge that we were equally desperate for one another. I read it in the heat of his eyes. My own swept over him in a long, lingering caress, as if I was committing every angle, every line to memory. Reluctantly tearing my eyes away, I rolled over to turn the lamp off near my bedside, but Sean grabbed for my ankle and dragged me towards him.
I squealed at the unexpectedness of it as his hands skimmed up my thighs and pulled me closer to him.
“Shhh … You’ll wake up your parents.”
I sat up on the edge of the bed, his lips finding mine. Sean kneeled beside the bed, forcing my legs around his hips. I gasped as his beautiful, clever hands dug into my thighs and pulled me closer to him.
“Wait a minute, I have to turn the light off.” I panted against his mouth.
Sean’s hand glided upwards to my hips, sliding underneath my skirt.
“No, I want to see you,” he whispered.
I frowned, shaking my head.
Sean’s lips pressed against the crinkled line of my forehead, the pressure melting the line away, as his mouth moved to work a maddening trail down my neck.
“Leave it.” He spoke his words into my heated skin. Suddenly all my worries about the lamplight were forgotten as Sean hooked his fingers into the elastic of my knickers.
The springs of the bed groaned a loud, infuriating sound as I moved under Sean’s wicked touch.
I stilled, digging my nails into Sean’s shoulders as he manoeuvred himself on top of me.
I winced. “The bed’s too loud.”
A glint of amusement lit Sean’s eyes as he stood, pulling me to my feet. Reaching past me he pulled the doona off my bed and onto the floor with a shower of pillows. I had to stifle my laugh as Sean grinned down at me, stepping into a slow, lingering kiss. He motioned towards me gently, down to our new makeshift bed. He edged my legs apart and settled his delicious weight on top of me.
“Better?” He cocked his brow.
I smiled, threading my fingers around the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.
“Much better.”
He kissed me with a deep, intoxicating caress as he whispered against my mouth once more. “I know what will make it even better.” Sean’s wicked mouth lowered over my body, kissing a sweet trail of blinding madness as I cradled his head and arched into each knowing stroke.
Sean gently parted my legs wider, running his strong hands down my stomach. Leaving a tingling trail as his heated eyes watched mine, he shifted into place, dipping his head and placing a soft kiss on the inside of my knee. He traced a burning line on my smooth inner thigh.
This was forgetting in a way I had never dreamed was possible, so utterly mind-shattering. I inhaled, feeling fabric peel away, exposing me to Sean so completely. I breathed deeply, bracing myself for what was to come as his head lowered.
Surely he isn’t …
He did. I had cursed him for dominating every thought of every waking moment of my day, for making me care way too much about the effect he had over me, the effect he had not just on my mind, but in that very moment on my body, as well. My hands fisted into the doona underneath me, my body no longer my own. I mentally cursed Sean Murphy, gasping in a series of blinding blinks and shallow breaths.
Damn him, I thought, damn him!
Never could I have believed that letting down my guard could feel so good and never could I have imagined that in that very moment, lying on my bedroom floor on a makeshift cluster of blankets and pillows, I would unravel so completely.
Chapter Fifty-Six
I would be such a crap poker player.
Since Sean’s late-night sneak in and early-morning sneak out, I had only seen him once. One time. He came into the bar later on Sunday afternoon for a few quiet ones with Toby. I tried for cool and casual as I channel-flicked the television in the main bar while the boys talked to Dad about footy. I tried my best at pretending I wasn’t affected by Sean’s presence. Sean, the boy who I had, only a mere hours before, been having sex with on my bedroom floor.
He was so painfully close I didn’t dare meet his knowing eyes. But, of course, me and my cursed, inquisitive nature couldn’t help myself. I wiped down the bar next to Dad, glancing up from under my heavy, sleep-deprived eyelids to be rewarded with a flash of Sean’s smile, or the sound of his laughter that had my stomach twisting in nervous pleasure. He was wearing a crisp, white T that complemented the tan of his skin.
It was absolute torture being so close to him, yet not interacting, hiding the new bond we now officially shared, but I was so paranoid people would get the ‘they just did it’ vibe, I couldn’t talk to him; I couldn’t be normal. Which was ridiculous. And I knew it was, but there was no way anyone would suspect that Sean Murphy and Amy Henderson were involved in any way.
Well, apart from Tammy who knew and Adam who had guessed, and Ringer who teased and Mum and Chris who threatened and, holy shit, was there anyone that didn’t know? I casually looked at Dad in my peripheral vision and swallowed hard.
I have to get out of here.
I chucked the remote aside and made my way out from behind the bar.
“Where you going, love?” Dad broke from his conversation to look at me with interest, as did Toby and Sean.
Crap! I just wanted to sneak away.
It took all my strength to not automatically flick a glance at Sean; I could feel his eyes burning into me.
“Oh, um … I’m just going to see if Mum needs any help before the auction tomorrow,” I stammered.
Dad’s brows rose in astonishment. I guess me helping out in any way for the auction would be rather unexpected. These past three weeks for them had been the equivalent to living with a time bomb. I had flaired up over the littlest of things. I was just tired and completely over my over-analysing thoughts. But it had all come down to this.
One more sleep.
So what had changed? What had mellowed me into the point of not obsessing about the inevitable? What had made me accept that it wasn’t the end of the world, that in time I would get over it, made me realise that maybe I had been a bit of a diva about the whole thing, that maybe there was more to life than the Onslow Hotel?
My eyes flicked past Dad, locking briefly with beautiful, blue eyes and then and there I knew what had changed.
It was as if all else failed to be important. Maybe it was how Dad felt when he looked at Mum, the way I had seen him looking at her last night. I thought back to six weeks ago, how even sitting up in his hospital bed on oxygen he had looked so happy because he’d had Mum and me by his side. It wasn’t just about gaining a new lease on life; it was about having a life.
‘You take your memories with you.’
Sean had taught me that.
I smiled at my dad with a casual shrug. “I don’t mind.”
Dad’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank God, Chook, she is driving me to drink.”
“It’s true,” added Toby. “I saw him reach for the full cream milk for his cup of tea before.”
I looked incredulously at Dad. “Don’t you bloody dare!”
***
Monday morning – the day had come. The morning of the auction was so tense you could cut the air with a knife. It seemed the entire town had shown up on the steps of the Onslow to watch how things unfolded. Apparently there were half a dozen serious bidders in contention. I didn’t care what the others planned for the place; my heart was solely set on the McGees.
We’d eaten dinner with them the nigh
t before, and I could tell Mum and Dad didn’t want to put too much pressure on them so they kept things pretty light, but Chris, Adam and me knew they would be the perfect new owners. The time they had put into the restaurant these past few months had been such a big help and a massive success. People flocked back to have meals now and the Onslow had gained quite the reputation as the place to go if you wanted a hot meal and a cold beer.
Like the days of old.
The McGees’ biggest opponents were the retired toffs from the city who wanted to turn the Onslow into a B & B. They had come out and inspected several times. I had loitered on the staircase, eavesdropping on their plans of knocking down walls and laying carpet over the hundred-year-old floorboards. It was horrifying. Another potential buyer was Gary Brewster, the insipid local pharmacist. What he wanted with the Onslow was anyone’s guess – rumour had it that he wanted to convert it into a home for himself and his high-maintenance wife. It would make for a rather grand mansion on the hillside, I guessed.
But it wasn’t meant to be anything like that – the Onslow had served the community for over four generations. It was a place to gather after a hard week’s work, to catch up with mates, or to secretly pash your crush in a shadowy alcove. It was supposed to be filled with music and laughter, a meeting point for functions and discos, for lonely widowers to sit at the bar on a graveyard shift and be kept company by the barman. It was a rite of passage for every local eighteen-year-old to come in and have their first drink. It was where the Onslow Boys would meet up and play pool and fill the jukebox with shrapnel.
Gary Brewster couldn’t win today, he just couldn’t. The thought of the Onslow shutting its doors to the public broke my heart. It hurt more than worrying about moving back to the city to live; it was the end of an era and I could tell my dad knew it, too.
Dad sat in the beer garden with his paper and a green tea. He was turning the pages but I knew his mind was elsewhere. Mum was busy roaming through the hotel, waving freshly baked bread around and setting out flowers for last-minute inspections. I had argued with her that she didn’t want it to seem too appealing, that after all we didn’t want the McGees to have too much competition. But as with all things, Mum’s motto was, “There are no friends in business.”
