“I’m more than happy outside. You take the bed.”
He didn’t like to press the point, so he just smiled and said, “Thanks.”
As it was, by the time Deano and his girlfriend, Amber, arrived, Tom had assembled his tent on the lawn and everything was settled. It was a warm evening and the sun was still hanging low over the horizon. He felt the knot of tension in his neck and shoulders slowly unravel.
“I saw some insect repellent on the shelf in the kitchen,” Tom said, seeing him swat at another mosquito, which was trying to land on his arm. He had already scratched several bites until they bled. He went inside and covered every centimetre of exposed flesh with the most pungent and toxic-smelling spray he could find.
Tom had hardly said a thing to him all day, but now that the beers were flowing he began to chat more freely.
“I’m glad you could come with us,” Tom said, plucking another two bottles from the chilly bin beside him. He was sitting on the edge of the deck, his bare feet on the grass below. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, accepting the drink. Tom scooched over so he could sit down.
“Have you been here before?” Sam asked.
“Nah, but my sister has. She told us about this place.” He looked around, as if seeing the shabby décor for the first time. “Maybe I’ll take back that Christmas present I gave her.” Tom winked and Sam laughed despite himself.
The next day was New Year’s Eve, and they spent most of the day lazing on the beach.
“You’re gonna have a mean sunburn tomorrow,” Jensen lectured Franklin, who had stubbornly turned down every offer of sunscreen.
Sam slipped his polo shirt over his head and grimaced as the fabric rubbed against his skin. He wriggled his shoulders and brushed the crystallised salt from his arms and legs.
“Is Eve still overseas?” he heard Amber ask Jarryd. She was standing upwind of the group, and as she shook the sand from her beach towel, it blew straight back in their faces.
“Oi, watch out!” Deano yelled, wiping the grit from his eyes.
“Yeah, I think so,” Jarryd replied. “At least Tom hasn’t said otherwise.”
“Is Eve Tom’s sister?” he asked Amber when they were walking back to the bach. Tom and Jarryd had gone on ahead to light the barbecue.
Amber laughed. She was holding her beach bag by the strap and was swinging it back and forth like a pendulum. “No, she’s his girlfriend.”
He didn’t hear what she said next; it took all his concentration to put one foot in front of the other. He didn’t know why he had assumed Tom was single. It made sense that he wasn’t; guys like Tom never were.
By the time they arrived back at the beach house, Tom had already showered and was standing on the lawn, wringing out his wet togs. His towel was tied low around his waist. Sam kept his eyes to the floor and made straight for his room without saying a word.
He was sitting on the bed, trying to read, when Tom appeared in the doorway a quarter of an hour later.
Tom crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He had changed into his jeans and put on a fresh T-shirt. The white cotton made the skin on his forearms look almost brown. “Dinner will be ready soon,” said Tom.
He turned down the corner of the page that he was reading and returned the book to the bedside table. As it was, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the book. Each time he started a sentence, his mind wandered straight back to what Amber had said.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He tried to sound as upbeat as he could.
It was barely seven o’clock and Jensen was already drunk. What was more, he seemed to be getting louder by the minute. “Take me to the vet, bro,” he howled, flexing his biceps, “cos these puppies are sick!”
“You’re sick, dick,” Franklin answered, and continued eating his corncob.
Sam glanced around for a place to sit and eat. The only free seat was next to Tom. He kept his eyes to the floor as he walked across the deck and sat down.
“When are you off to uni?” Franklin asked, after a few minutes had passed.
“Um—” He swallowed the mouthful he was chewing. “In February.” He cleared his throat with a cough. “Term one starts in February,” he repeated. He could feel Tom’s eyes on him but he pretended not to notice. “I’ll probably head down a few days before that, though.”
“It’s Dunedin you’re going to, eh?”
He nodded his head.
“Respect.” Franklin raised his bottle in a toast. “I hear it goes off down there during orienteering week.”
“It’s orientation week, you dick,” Jarryd corrected straightaway. “He’s not going tramping.” Jarryd turned to him. “Your girlfriend must be bummed that you’re going so far away, though?”
His whole body tensed. He glanced round. They were all waiting for him to answer. “Nah,” he said and took a swig of beer. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”
A look of confusion flashed across Jarryd’s face. “But what about the girl you were with the other night?”
Tom was on his feet before he had a chance to reply.
“Leave the poor guy alone, eh?” Tom said, and disappeared into the house. Jarryd opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it and continued with his dinner in silence.
At half past eleven, with only thirty minutes of the year remaining, they headed back down to the beach. Tom led the way, a box of fireworks under one arm.
Fortunately, it was a cloudless night. The moon hadn’t risen yet, and the stars overhead sparkled like diamonds. The closer they got to the beach, the louder the thud of the waves grew.
“What’s the time?” Amber shouted. She and Deano were walking several paces behind the group.
“Nearly quarter to,” Jarryd turned and yelled back. “Hurry up, you two lovebirds, or we’ll miss it.”
The beach was empty save for one other group at the far end of the bay. Their laughter was amplified by the stillness of the night.
Sam stood and gazed quietly out to sea. Close to the shore, the water shimmered and frothed white on the crest of each wave, but further out, there was nothing but a single expanse of black. He strained his eyes to see the horizon, but it was hidden from view. The sand beneath his feet was surprisingly warm. He prodded the surface with his toes and felt the cool, silky layer just beneath the surface.
“Right, losers,” Franklin called out to get everybody’s attention. “By my watch, we have one minute to go.”
Jarryd handed out the last of the beers, and they all huddled in a tight circle, their arms linked over each other’s shoulders. By no design on his part, he found himself standing next to Tom. He could feel the weight of Tom’s arm on the crook of his neck.
“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen,” Franklin began, but before he got any further, there was a roar from the other end of the beach and a firework shot up into the sky. Simultaneously, the campground behind them sprang into life.
“My watch must be slow,” Franklin said, looking at his wrist in disbelief. He tapped the glass face of the watch as if it would adjust the error.
“You’re slow,” Jarryd answered with a friendly shove and they all split apart.
“Happy New Year,” they greeted one another. The guys clasped hands and patted each other on the back, while Amber kissed them each on the cheek. When nobody was watching, he reached up and touched his neck where Tom’s arm had been.
“Let’s get these fireworks under way, eh, Tommy?” Jarryd rubbed his palms together enthusiastically.
They stood and watched in silence as Tom tore open the box and removed the first rocket. He jabbed the wooden stake into the sand and motioned to them to stand back. There was a flash of light as the fuse ignited, followed by a pregnant pause and then the sudden whoosh of the rocket as it shot up into the air. It exploded with a loud bang. A cascade of red and green sparks floated gently down to earth.
“Wow-wee!” Amber shrieked like a child.
Tom launched another two rockets, and then Franklin demanded a turn.
“Do you want to light the last one?” Tom turned to him and held out a small rocket with the words Sonic Boom printed on the side.
“Go on,” Jarryd encouraged. “Amber’s much too pretty to lose a hand.”
He forced out a smile, took the firework and lighter from Tom, and strode several metres away from the group. The rocket secure in the sand, he squatted on his haunches to light the fuse.
With the other rockets, there had been a delay of at least ten seconds, but no sooner was the taper alight than the rocket let out a deafening squeal. In the same instant, the stake that the rocket was attached to tilted forward at a forty-five-degree angle.
He stumbled backwards with fright, tripped on his own feet, and landed on his back in the sand, as the rocket whizzed past his right ear. He opened his eyes in time to witness the explosion of colour over head.
“Now that’s what I call a firework!” a voice shouted behind him.
Tom’s face eclipsed the night sky. “Are you OK?”
He scrambled to his feet, brushing the sand off his clothes. “What the fuck happened?”
Jarryd and the others were killing themselves with laughter. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from saying something he would regret.
“Come on, let’s head back, eh?” Tom said.
“I think I’ll stay here a bit longer,” he replied, more curtly than he had meant to. He knew the laughter wasn’t malicious, but he was embarrassed nonetheless. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom glare at Jarryd.
There was a moment of silence and then Jarryd shrugged. “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”
Tom turned to him. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, letting the others go on without him. Sam shook his head.
The beach was completely still, save for the rhythmic thud of the waves. Even the seagulls had retreated to the rocks to await the dawn. Tom sat down on the sand at his feet.
For a while, neither of them made any attempt to speak. He wrapped his arms around his shins and gazed into the darkness.
“Fancy going for a swim?” Tom asked at last.
He turned his head, and they made eye contact. He held Tom’s gaze for a second and then looked down at his shorts. “I don’t have my togs on.”
A mischievous grin spread across Tom’s face. “Who’s going to see?”
Before he could reply, Tom was on his feet. He removed his T-shirt, screwed it into a ball and tossed it in his direction. It unravelled in midair and landed in a heap at his feet. “Come on.” By the time Tom reached the water’s edge, he was already down to his boxer shorts.
Surely he’ll stop there? Sam thought as Tom slipped out of his undies and dropped them on the sand.
“What are you waiting for?” Tom grinned over his shoulder. “It’s almost tropical in here.” The goose bumps on his arse said otherwise, though. In one fluid motion, Tom dove beneath the waves and disappeared.
When Sam stepped into the water, he gasped involuntarily. “You liar!” he shouted into the darkness. “It’s fucking freezing.”
“Just dive in!” Tom yelled back. “It’s warmer once you’re in.”
He took a deep breath and inched forward. He almost squealed like a stuck pig when the water reached his crotch, but he forced himself to continue. “Where are you?” he called out. It was impossible to see anything.
“Over here,” Tom answered, somewhere off to his left. He sounded fairly close, though.
He didn’t see the wave coming before it crashed right over his head. He came to the surface gasping for air, his nose and throat stinging from the saltwater.
Tom was by his side in a flash.
“I—” he spluttered as another wave washed over him. Tom grabbed hold of his elbow and held him up. He rubbed the water from his eyes with his fingertips. “I thought you said it would get warmer.”
Sam lay awake. A thousand thoughts were racing through his mind. Why had Tom invited him to come away with them? Were things serious between Tom and Eve? When would she be coming back? Was it possible to die from sexual frustration? Just the thought of Tom—his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, the shape of his mouth and the small indentation at the cleft of his buttocks—made his body ache. Or will I just go slowly insane?
With a groan, he reached for his cellphone and flipped open the cover. The screen was so bright that he had to squint to read the time. Eight minutes past three. The New Year was only a few hours old. He rolled over to face the wall and pulled the covers up under his chin.
It was amazing how much noise an old house could make, even in the dead of night. A ticking clock, a dripping tap, the drone of a refrigerator. He held his breath and listened to the sound of silence. Outside somewhere an owl hooted.
When the floorboards in the hall creaked, he didn’t think anything of it. The bathroom light had pinged on a short while before. One of the other guys probably needed to use the toilet now. He waited for the familiar tinkle of water on porcelain, but it never came and the bathroom light remained off.
You must be hearing things,he told himself. The next thing he knew, it was morning.
Tom just couldn’t get comfortable; whichever way he lay, sleep eluded him.
It was pointless pretending that he hadn’t wanted something to happen back there on the beach. Although he had to admit that if Sam had made a move, he probably would have run a mile.
The mattress was half deflated, and as he rolled over, his elbow and hipbone jabbed into the hard ground.
“Fuck,” he cursed, and sat up, his head brushing against the fabric roof of the tent. God, he hated tenting.
He crawled out into the fresh air and made his way across the lawn, towards to the house. His sleeping bag trailed behind him through the dewy grass.
It was silent inside the bach, and the moonlight pouring in through the lounge window lent the living room an otherworldly feel. He walked over to the sofa and shook out his sleeping bag. On the wall opposite, the clock was making a loud ticking sound, but he was so tired that he doubted anything could keep him from sleep. He climbed into the sleeping bag, punched one of the grubby scatter cushions into shape, and lay his head down.
From where he was lying, he had an unobstructed view of Sam’s bedroom door. It was open a crack, but the room within was cloaked in darkness.
Deep down, he knew he had been playing with fire inviting Sam to come away with them. Yet it had given him a thrill when Sam said yes. And now that they were here, removed from the real world, he wished they could stay longer.
An hour later, he was no closer to falling asleep. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. I should be missing Eve, he thought, feeling a pang of guilt. But he didn’t miss her, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he did. All he could think about was Sam.
He pulled the cushion out from under his head, held it down over his face, and groaned.
You’ve got a girlfriend. She’s gorgeous, and everyone likes her. Don’t screw it all up over something that can never be.
Sam emerged from his room the next morning looking as if he had been pulled through a hedge backwards. He had finally drifted off shortly before five, only to be woken an hour and a half later by Tom and Jarryd crashing about outside. As soon as they had driven off, he got out of bed.
“You look as good as I feel,” Amber said when he appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was buttering herself a piece of toast. The sweet smell turned his stomach.
“Is that coffee?” he said, dropping onto the nearest chair and cradling his head in his arms.
“Yeah. I just made it. Did you want some?”
He said yes without raising his head.
“What are your plans for the day?” Amber asked. She placed a mug of steaming coffee by his head. The aroma was overpowering. He sat up and took a sip.
“Thanks. I’m not sure.” Outside, the sky was a perfect blue. It was going to be another stu
nning day. “I might go for a swim. Did Tom say what time they’d be back?”
Amber shrugged her shoulders. “If the surf is up, I don’t imagine we’ll see them until later this arvo.”
He was lying on his bed reading when Tom and Jarryd arrived back. Amber had been right on the money; it was four thirty in the afternoon. He heard a car door slam and a minute later Tom appeared in the doorway.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Yeah, not bad,” he replied. “How was the surf?”
“Awesome, thanks. There was a good swell.”
Tom had a look on his face that made him feel slightly uneasy. “I was going to have a beer,” Tom said. “Do you want one?”
He had been waiting all day to see Tom. Several times he had jumped up, certain that he had heard Tom’s car pull up, only to meet with disappointment. “Yeah, sure,” he said casually, “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Tom lingered for a moment, as if there was something else he wanted to say, and then turned and walked away.
chapter eight
“Can I ask a question?”
Tom swallowed his last mouthful of butter chicken and put down his fork. He took a large gulp of beer and wiped his mouth on a square of handy towel. He screwed the paper cloth into a ball and dropped it onto his empty plate. “Depends what it is.”
“How did you know that Sam was the one?” Olivia had already finished eating but was still picking at the plastic containers in the middle of the table. She tore off a piece of roti bread and wiped it round her plate to soak up the last of the sauce.
“Why do you ask that?” He took another sip of beer and eyed her over the rim of the glass.
“I was just wondering. That’s all.”
He hadn’t been expecting company for dinner, but when Olivia turned up unannounced, it wasn’t a surprise. For a few weeks now, she had been dropping in at random times of the day. He suspected that Carla was behind the ‘impromptu’ visits.
“I don’t know,” he answered after a long pause.
Olivia tilted her head to one side. She reached across the table for his beer.
“Hey,” he protested, but she paid no attention. If Carla found out that he was allowing her sixteen-year-old daughter to drink, she would hit the roof.
Sam Page 10
