by C. J. Duggan
If I didn’t take the bait Ellie would get bored.
She followed me into the lounge. “Yep, something very interesting.”
“You’re right, don’t tell me. You don’t want to break that girlfriend code, now.” I straightened the pillows on the couch. My heart pounded like crazy.
I could see Ellie’s excitement dipping. “It’s something about you.” She stood with her hands on her hips.
I cast a fake grin. “That’s nice.”
Oh God! Tess, just breathe, don’t freak out.
Ellie’s mood darkened. “It’s about someone thinking you’re pretty. Goddamnit, Tess, don’t you want to know what it is?”
“But the code.”
“Oh, screw the code, come on, sit here.” She slapped the couch cushion next to her, and I obeyed.
I squeezed my hands together in my lap, in an attempt to disguise the slight tremor of anticipation. “Ellie,” I paused, “I know this might sound strange, but do you mind if you don’t tell me? I kind of just want to go along with things and just enjoy the summer. Go with the flow, remember?”
What the … what was I doing? What had I just done? I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I seemed powerless to stop the utter stupidity I was speaking.
Ellie looked at me as if I was some wacko. “Are you serious right now?”
Was I? What was wrong with me? Any normal, red-blooded teenage girl would have thrown themselves at Ellie’s feet and begged for details, had her repeat them several times, asked for the tone of voice it was said in, facial expressions, time and setting of conversation. All the usual over-the-top analytical questions. What was I afraid of? That something that I’d wanted for so long might be possible? That what I’d felt with Toby wasn’t imagined? After so long of having an unrequited crush … I didn’t know how to digest the possibility.
I nodded adamantly, the tension ebbing from my veins. “I am. I don’t want to know.”
Ellie watched me for a long time as if half expecting me to change my mind. I met her look unwaveringly.
The corner of her mouth tilted. “You are unbelievable.”
“Why, thank you.”
“Okay, so I won’t break the code, but all that aside, can I give you some friendly advice?”
“Okay …”
“When you knock off work tonight, go looking for Toby, because, trust me, he will be looking for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I was stalling; I knew I was. Delaying leaving the sanctuary of the toilets.
The door burst open with the sound of laughter and I snapped out of my daze. A couple of girls stumbled in, swaying their way into a line in front of the mirror, though one headed straight to the empty cubicle. I dodged the incoming traffic with a polite smile.
“Pass me a tampon, ho face,” the girl from the cubicle yelled out.
Charming. I left them to their affectionate name calling.
The evening’s older clientele huddled around the main bar inside. Not really into the disco scene, their entertainment for the evening was Uncle Eric behind the bar. Chris was, no doubt, manning the beer garden bar, cutting off (and trying really hard not to strangle) the drunken just-turned-eighteen crowd.
I weaved my way around tables through the closed, dark restaurant to the sliding door out to the beer garden.
Looking through the thick glass, it was actually quite pretty now the sun had gone down. The entire garden was enclosed by overgrown ivy, which Eric or somebody had woven with fairy lights. It made the space feel intimate and cast a romantic glow throughout. Huge glass vases filled with lit candles dotted each picnic table and speakers were strategically placed around the perimeter for everyone to enjoy.
Shame about the choice of music, though. I could hear ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ muffled through the glass door, no doubt ten times louder out in the garden.
I took a deep breath and opened the sliding door. It opened directly onto the dance floor, where a sea of drunk girls flailed their arms around in what I could only assume was their attempt at dancing. It was what I imagined walking into a snake pit would be like.
The poor choice in music only seemed to encourage the drunken horde of screaming, laughing girls. There was a mixture of muffin tops protruding from tight-fitting jeans, short skirts and boob tubes. Bare arms struck Karate Kid poses, karate chopping each other to the song.
As I stepped out into the garden, sliding the door closed again behind me, I was blinded by the flashing, spinning globe above the dance floor that was the disco ball, before I took a deep breath and zig-zagged through the mass of writhing bodies, intent on avoiding the smoke machine as it belched out wads of nastiness that would no doubt induce asthma attacks and coughing fits in the boozed-up girls on the dance floor.
I actually would have quite liked to see that.
Stan was perched on a picnic table, Ellie in front of him, his legs straddling her hips and her arms snaked around his neck. Ringer sat at the same table with his girlfriend, Amanda, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. I looked around the shadowy garden and the dance floor and all of a sudden felt very alone; no Toby, no Sean in sight. Looked like my only option was to sit with the happy couples and become the dreaded fifth wheel.
I plonked myself on the bench seat with a sigh, only to notice I didn’t have a drink. Damn.
I had nothing to occupy my hands with. It wasn’t because I was thirsty; I looked around the packed beer garden and seriously doubted all these people were all so parched at this one particular moment. It wasn’t about thirst, it was about keeping your hands busy. It was a social thing. If you didn’t have a drink you could smoke, or text someone. I had nothing to occupy my hands with so I awkwardly folded them in my lap. I tried to be cool, tried not to look around too much in search of Toby. I tried not to interrupt the canoodling couples.
I gave off an air of nonchalance, when really I wanted to stand on a picnic table with binoculars and search for him. I felt a dip in the seat and then the press of heat next to me as Sean sat and slid along the wooden plank to bump into me.
I quirked a brow at him.
“You’re going to get a splinter in a very unfortunate place if you keep sliding along like that.”
Sean held a jug of beer and with a steady hand he topped up his pot glass, a smile on his face.
He nodded in the direction of Ellie and Stan. “I think the only ones in danger of getting a splinter in unfortunate places are those two.”
They sat in front of me, kissing and pawing at one another, completely oblivious to everyone around them. Honestly, couldn’t they get a room or something?
“You want to give it a go?”
My head snapped around towards Sean.
He tipped his head back and gave a deep belly laugh.
“The look on your face is classic. You don’t have to look so frightened, Tess, I was referring to a beer.”
He held out a freshly poured pot towards me with a knowing twinkle in his eye. He wasn’t just referring to the drink. We both knew it.
I straightened my back and lifted my chin. I didn’t want the drink, but I took it, had a sip and nursed it like an old familiar friend. Sean watched me with an amused smirk. Damn him.
“Of course,” he said, “if you had something else in mind, I would be open to suggestions.” He took a deep swig of his glass.
“What? Dry humping on picnic tables?” I posed innocently.
Sean coughed, spluttered, and beer shot out his nose. He thumped himself on the chest, his eyes watering.
Ha! One-all! I proudly took a sip of my beer.
Urgh, it was awful.
I gagged and squinted, after far too big a mouthful.
“How do you drink this stuff?”
Sean fought to speak past his spluttering. “Even worse, try swallowing it down the wrong way.” We must have looked a funny pair, coughing, wincing and spluttering.
I was hyper-aware of every movement as I scanned the beer garden. M
y heart fluttered, pulse thumping in my ears. Beads of sweat dribbled down my back and I started to feel nauseated. Maybe it was the heat? I took another swig of my pot in the hope it would cool me down. Urgh! Maybe it was the beer? My stomach churned, and I fought not to cringe afterwards, because that’s not what cool people did.
I caught Ringer giving me a long, side-on look.
“What?”
“Better not let Chris catch you with that.”
Oh, right. I’d forgotten that I was downing alcohol in a public place. So weird, society’s rules. Sure, people could dry hump and make out, that was acceptable, but underage drinking was seriously frowned upon.
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole from the embarrassment. I hated being reminded of how young I was. I pushed the beer away and wiped the cold condensation from the pot glass on my thighs. I straightened defiantly before getting up, walking a direct line to the bar where Chris was pouring a line of shots.
I needed something to wash down the aftertaste. Something legal.
Chris glanced up at me as he reached the last shot glass. “The usual?”
I nodded. “Straight up on the rocks.”
“Coming up!” He smiled, flipping a glass into his hand and scooting ice into it with smooth precision.
Chris handed me my Coke, and then looked directly at me. “Hey, Tess?”
“Yeah?”
Oh God, did he see me with the beer?
He leaned forward so we could hear one another.
“Do you think you could go and request some decent music? I don’t think I can handle more crap like this.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. That I could do.
As I carried my drink carefully over to the DJ, I dodged a few flailing limbs as they struck their best Saturday Night Fever poses.
Dear God.
The DJ was housed in a little protective alcove with black velvet drop sheets behind him, which advertised in tacky, glittered block letters ‘DJ Rosso’. Doesn’t everyone secretly dream that their name would be up on velvet someday?
The disco ball glinted off the thick gold chain around Rosso’s neck and he kept re-tucking the cigarette behind his ear so the ladies got a good look of his arms in his muscle top. He probably didn’t even smoke, just thought it made him look cool.
My eyes watered as I leant towards DJ Rosso; his cologne took my breath away, and not in a good way. I asked if it was possible to play something a bit more modern; he shrugged and pointed me to behind the velvet curtain where I found a thick, yellowing, well-used book full of songs. Thumbing through the selections, I took my time in the privacy of the little alcove. I took my job seriously; I had to save the party from cheesy hits of the ’80s.
I leaned against the table, sliding the book towards the disco lights that didn’t quite reach behind the curtain, only in dim flashes from the disco ball. A trail of fairy lights twinkled above me, but they weren’t exactly bright enough to read by.
The song ended and another started up. I noticed the difference straight away as ‘Funky Town’ died out and a slow melodic guitar swept into the space. A pleased patron let out a ‘woop’ somewhere on the other side of the curtain as Live’s ‘Lightning Crashes’ filled the speakers. A smile curved my lips. I loved this song.
I held the book closer to my face, squinting at the song list.
“You’ll hurt your eyes doing that.”
I squealed and spun around, knocking my knee on the table. The book fell out of my hands but Toby caught it in a juggling motion as he tried not to spill his Corona.
Toby.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, grinning that gorgeous grin. My heart hammered against my ribs like an excited butterfly. I fought to catch my breath.
“You chose this song?”
“Guilty.” Toby took a long swig of his beer, but his eyes never left me. He leaned forward, placing the book back on the table next to me.
“You don’t need that, haven’t I taught you enough about good music?”
I tilted my head to look up at him, he seemed different, more relaxed than I had ever seen him. I wondered what number Corona that was in his hand.
“I like this song.” I smiled, my gaze darting downward. If this was a staring contest, he would outdo me every time.
I didn’t know if it was the Corona, or the song, or the secluded atmosphere. This new, electric swirl of tension between us drew my gaze back to his, into those eyes. His tall silhouette glowed with the backdrop of fairy lights, his beautiful face lit by the blue, green, red strobes through the fabric.
“So, what’s it gonna be, McGee?”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot and inched closer to me. He was so incredibly close I could feel the heat of his skin, feel his breath. I struggled to answer; it felt like my brain had completely shut down.
His gaze flicked to the song book with an amused smile. “What song have you chosen?”
“Oh,” I said, blinking, “right … um …” I burned red, thankful for the dim light. I turned but his hand stilled me; he clasped my elbow and drew me around to face him.
I was drowning. I was drowning in him. My heart raced, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say, all song choices, all reason, all ability to construct coherent sentences was lost. So I just said the first thing that came into my head.
“Is your name really Tobias?”
What …?Why had I …? Why was I such a freak?
Amazingly, he didn’t seem taken aback by my random question. Instead, the edge of his mouth curved up, and he handed me his beer as he reached into his back pocket and flicked out his wallet. He frowned, holding it high to find some good lighting. He caught the edge of a wayward fairy light and dragged it down towards us.
I had to step closer to him in order to see the licence. As he held it over us, the fairy light lit my face; it wouldn’t hide any blushes. On the plastic card, I saw the line of a serious face, a frowning younger image of Toby, which made me smile. I then saw, right there in block letters, sure enough it read: Tobias E Morrison.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
I curved a brow. “What’s the ‘E’ stand for?”
Toby laughed and tucked his wallet back into his pocket.
“Not a chance.” He took the beer from my hand, his fingers brushing mine. Goosebumps prickled on my heated skin.
I crossed my arms. “Come on, Tobias, don’t be shy.”
He finished off the last of his drink and placed it on the table beside him. Without a word he grabbed my hand and elevated my arm, leading me into a twirl as Live’s lead singer (and a whole bunch of party goers) hummed on the other side of the curtain. I went with the twirl, and he pulled me back towards him, closer still.
He was trying to distract me. He was pretty good at it.
I tried to remember to breathe as he held me close.
“Nice distraction technique,” I said.
He snickered, pleased. “Pretty good, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t think you were a dancer.”
His hand squeezed mine and a flicker of some new emotion spread across his face. He leaned so close to me I could feel the press of his lips against my ear.
“Who said anything about dancing?”
He pulled back slowly keeping his face near mine. I was dumbstruck, the way his heated gaze rested on me with a knowing smile, his words … was this really happening? He stilled, watching me. I swallowed hard. Toby Morrison slowly closed the distance between us, his eyes closing. This was really happening. This was really –
The alcove was flooded with light.
“Where’s the song book? I don’t see it?” A beehived, sequined girl flung the curtain out of the way and stumbled into the alcove. “Rooooosssoooooo, I can’t see it,” she whined, hands on her hips, ignoring us completely.
Toby let go of me, grabbing the book to hand over to her. She accepted it with a hiccup instead of a thank you and stamped her way back to the DJ. The
curtain snagged on the edge of the DJ booth, leaving us exposed.
Toby picked up his empty beer and waved it with a shy smile. The moment was gone.
“Better fill ’er up.” He went to step through the curtain and then paused and turned back.
My eyes lit up hopefully.
“Did you want a drink?”
Oh. I glanced at my Coke on the table, now watered down from the melted ice.
I offered him a weak smile. “No thanks.”
He turned to go, and my shoulders drooped. I looked at my feet with a sigh. When the curtain didn’t lower again as Toby left, I looked back up. He was still there. And he was staring at me. I couldn’t read his face; I didn’t know what he was thinking. What was he doing?
Just when I thought he would turn to leave, he stepped forward, back into the alcove, placed his empty bottle on the table and in one fluid moment, without taking his eyes from me, Toby yanked the fabric back into place, enveloping us in darkness. My heartbeat spiked at the unexpectedness of it. Toby strode towards me, his hands cupped my face and his lips claimed mine. My surprise soon melted into his touch, my hands entwined around his neck as I kissed him back. Toby’s hands were in my hair, his soft lips brushed against mine, gentle at first and then more intently as the pressure of his kisses coaxed me to open my mouth, his tongue delving gently to taste my own. I followed his rhythm and pushed more eagerly against him, my hands moved to divide the thick, silken folds of his hair. I had dreamed of those lips, but never had I imagined they would be so soft, so utterly mind shattering. A small noise escaped me in pleasure; I could feel Toby smile against my mouth as he slowly edged me back against the table, the weight of his body pressed against mine; it felt like a dream, like I should wake at any moment, but no, this was real, this was definitely real!
My hand slid up under the back of his shirt to feel the long, lean flex of his muscles. Toby shuddered as my finger lightly traced his spine downwards, he kissed me so passionately as his hand slid towards my hip, down along my thigh, bending my leg to curve around his waist. I thought I might die of happiness then and there at such an intimate gesture. The edge of the table dug into me through the thin fabric of my skirt, but I didn’t care. All I knew was Toby, the feel of him moving against me, the sensation of his tongue in my mouth, of his hands circling gently on my skin. As if breaking the trance, he let my leg slowly fall to the ground and eased his body off me a little, but his lips still hovered over mine. Our breath laboured, he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair gently behind my ear and his thumb slowly ran down my cheek. His eyes flicking momentarily to the motion of my tongue sweeping along my bottom lip, Toby pulled away slowly, a knowing tilt to his luscious mouth. He backed away and with one last lingering look he grabbed his empty bottle, peeled back the curtain and was gone.
