Forever summer (Summer # 4)

by C. J. Duggan

  “Oh, no-no-no, come on.” I jiggled the door handle.

  I hadn’t even heard the shower. I only heard Max’s voice.

  “Enter at own risk,” he yelled out.

  “No, thanks,” I yelled through the door. “You going to be long?”

  “I’ll be right out, after I cleanse, tone, and moisturise.”

  Ugh, Max used to be the nice one, but hanging with the Onslow Boys smart-arse-humour seemed to have rubbed off on him; well, two can play at that game.

  “Okay, open the door then.”

  “What?” Max said in a rather high-pitched voice.

  “Come on, cover up your bits; I’m coming in.”

  “Ah, no, you’re not.”

  “Don’t think I don’t have access to a key; I know people.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  My brow curved.

  Challenge accepted.

  Max started to sing, ‘Come and get your Love’ in the secure privacy of his little shower.

  I made a direct, determined line to Chris’s apartment, banging on the door, caring little what the time was. I was on a mission.

  The door flung open. Tammy answered, dressed in her customary Lycra tank and three-quarter pants; of course she was up, she was always going on freakish runs in the morning.

  “Hello, sunshine, seems like you’ve risen nice and early.”

  Shifting from one foot to the next, first things first. “Tam, can I please use your toilet, Max is being a dick.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” she said, standing aside and letting me in.

  I ran in tiny little steps, barely raising a hand to Chris who sat in his boxers at the table eating breakfast. Must have been a Henderson boy thing, hanging out in boxers.

  Awkward.

  I had to act fast, and once I had gained back all reasonable thought, I opened the bathroom door.

  “Thanks,” I said sheepishly. “You’re a life saver.”

  Chris studied me with his usual serious eyes from his cereal bowl. “Seems like you’re always bolting to a toilet.”

  Tammy’s head snapped around. “Oh my God, Ellie, you’re not preggers, are you?”

  “Wait, what?” I croaked.

  “I’m not hearing this,” said Chris, who quickly grabbed his bowl and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’m NOT pregnant!” I called out after him. “Jesus, that’s how rumours start.”

  Tammy smirked, shrugging. “Sorry, it’s just, you know …”

  “Yeah, well, wash your mouth out.” I laughed. Not only was I not with child, but it would have been a bloody miracle seeing as in order to have a baby you kind of needed to have sex, and that pleasure had eluded me for some time now, for a rather depressingly long time. But there were some things that just weren’t meant to be discussed.

  I headed toward the door. “I know you’ve probably just had breakfast, but do you want to have lunch?”

  Tammy’s smile was blinding. “Yeah, I would love that.” Her eagerness made my black heart a little mushy. Tammy and I hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, but something told me, her being the only soul on this planet that knew about my feelings for Adam, I kind of needed a confidant, now more than ever.

  “Cool, beer garden at twelve?”

  “Sounds good.” She nodded, her light brown ponytail swinging across her shoulder.

  Chris leant in the alcove of the kitchen, his arms crossed over his bare chest, seemingly not in the least bit inhibited in his boxers, not that there was anything to be ashamed of: hot damn, these Henderson men were built well. I tried to keep my eyes affixed to Chris’s face, despite his near-naked attire; the last thing I wanted was for my eyes to drag inappropriately. I am sure Tammy would not appreciate that.

  “Are boys allowed?”

  “NO,” Tammy and I answered in unison, causing Chris’s brows to raise in surprise.

  “Geez, okay, I can take a hint.”

  Tammy pouted. “Sorry, girls only.”

  Chris smirked. “Subtle you were not.”

  And then there I was, stuck between the goo-goo eyes of a newly loved-up couple, where cutesy little looks were locked on one another and I felt like a third wheel; furthermore, they were delaying my mission. Time to break it up.

  “Hey, Chris, can I borrow your hotel keys for a sec?”

  Chris’s attention snapped sceptically toward me. “Why?” he asked, uncertain.

  “I’ll hand them straight back, I just need to do something in the main bathroom.”

  Okay, saying it like that really didn’t sound great, and seriously, what was with me and bathrooms?

  Chris must have thought the exact same thing as he kind of looked at me like I was crazy. He went to the front door, unhooking the set and handing them over to me with a dark stare.

  “These are a boomerang,” he said, ensuring he said it before actually setting them into my palm.

  “Promise; actually, wait on the landing and I’ll chuck them right back,” I said, making my way out the door. Tammy and Chris followed, lured by curiosity.

  Never was I more pleased to hear the joyous, muffled sound of Max’s song under the shower as I neared the door. I flipped through the keys, holding up the one that looked like the best fit. I showed Chris with raised brows. He simply nodded, a deep frown pinched on his brow as he looked on, half disturbed with what I was about to do. Tammy simply stood, mouth agape.

  I slotted the key into the lock, clicking it until I heard the magical unlocking sound. I wasn’t the only one that seemed to hear, as Max’s singing abruptly cut off.

  “Hey, I’m in here!” he shouted in a panic.

  I ignored him, simply barging through, taking no notice of the soapy, flesh-coloured blur scrambling in my peripheral vision.

  “Ellie, what the fuck?” he yelled.

  “Oops, sorry,” I sing-songed, grabbing for my makeup bag and ensuring to flush the toilet on the way out. I slammed the bathroom door just enough to muffle the pained screams of Max’s shower being plunged into cold water induced by the toilet.

  “I’m going to get you for this, Parker!”

  I threw my keys across the landing where Tammy managed to catch them much more successfully than Chris could have, seeing as he was laughing hysterically.

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Chris shook his head. “Anytime. Any. Time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Revenge was a dish best served cold. Seeing Adam lying there defenceless, so peaceful, I recalled my vow for revenge. He probably thought I wouldn’t recall yesterday’s tickling torture session. Well, now the opportunity was presenting itself to me. There, right next to his bed was a nice big glass of water. It was singing out to me, calling my name, begging to be an accomplice in my scheme. I tiptoed over to Adam’s bedside, carefully clutching the cool glass and lifting it in a firm hold to my chest. My head tilted to the side as I studied what would be the best approach with this. Tentative little drips between the eyes or full-on deluge? Hmm, the decisions were all so delicious to choose from. I think I would combine the two, drips then …

  Oh shit.

  Adam opened his eyes; like a Ninja sensing someone lurking in the shadows his sleepy eyes opened, and then, locking onto me hovering above him, they widened, stilling me.

  Oh shit, oh shit.

  I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights: so sprung, so dead. Adam’s eyes flicked to the glass, and then back to my face.

  “What ya doing there, Tiger?”

  I simply brought the glass to my lips, raising my brows as I sipped. I smacked my lips together in appreciation. “Mmm, want some?” I asked, but it sounded more a threat than a question, and by the look on his face he knew it. Never once did he take his eyes from me; we were stuck there frozen in a standoff, trying to predict one another’s next move.

  “I think I’ll pass,” he said, a wry smile curving his lips. “But, hey, thanks for thinking of me.” His words were laced in sarcasm.

 
“Hey, you know I’ve always got your back,” I said sweetly.

  “While holding a knife?”

  “Oh, Adam, you’re so paranoid,” I said, taking another taunting sip of the water.

  His eyes dipped to my mouth. “Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

  And just as I was feeling like I actually had the upper hand, a knock sounded at Adam’s door; our attention lapsed for a mere moment as Ringer popped his head through the door. Adam sat bolt upright in bed. The sudden movement startled me; my natural reflex resulted in dumping the glass of water over Adam and bolting for the door.

  “Right, you are DEAD!” I heard called from behind me. “Ringer, stop her.” But luckily for me, Ringer simply held his hands up in surrender, refusing to get involved as I pushed past him in the doorway, screaming. It was lucky for me, seeing as Ringer was well renowned for his 100-metre sprints; the boy was like a bloody cheetah. I ran down the hall, my bare feet gaining traction on the carpet. I dared only look back when I swung around the banister to head down the stairs. He was close; I screamed as he lunged for me, narrowly escaping as I started down, skipping every other step. I heard the apartment door open, no doubt Chris and Tammy coming to investigate the chaos. I dived into the restaurant, weaving through the tables, wishing I could tip them over like they did in the movies in order to slow down my assailant. Best I could manage was a chair, but that only did so much. I pushed through the divider and legged it into the main bar, breathless and laughing at the sight of Adam charging after me in his boxers, his hair and face still wet. The front door was dead bolted and there was no time for that; I skidded around the corner into the poolroom, and incidentally into a dead-end. I ran around the pool table, thankful for the momentary barrier, allowing myself to gain my breath while my eyes locked with Adam’s on the other side.

  “Looks like you’ve had a wet dream, and not the good kind,” I managed, through heaving breaths.

  “More like a nightmare,” he countered, leaning on the pool table.

  When I moved to the left he moved, when I moved to the right he moved. I really didn’t want to die this way. The one thing that Adam and I shared was a massive stubborn streak, the kind that could see us held up in the poolroom for days. Luckily I had a lunch date with Tammy so at least she would come looking for me if I was a no-show. Maybe she could slide a burger toward me using a pool cue.

  We were locked in a standoff once more, and just like before, Ringer, who made his way casually into the poolroom, eyeing the scene with great amusement, distracted us.

  “Thanks for the help,” Adam deadpanned.

  “Hey, I learnt long ago not to get involved in a lovers’ spat,” Ringer joked.

  Adam smirked, his usual reaction whenever the boys joked about anything Adam-and-Ellie related. He smirked because he knew they were only joking, that we weren’t like that, that saying anything along those lines wasn’t based on any actual fact. We were friends. Just. Friends.

  “Christ, Ellie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ringer laughed.

  I quickly blinked, thinking how every emotion in me was so readable on my face these days and I kicked myself for not being more aware of my reactions.

  “Wow, you see that, Ringer?” Adam leaned his elbows on top of the pool table, which only accentuated his abs. Oh, sweet Jesus, poker face, Ellie. Poker. Face.

  “That right there is what fear looks like.”

  No kidding, just not the kind he thought.

  I scoffed. “Whatever.”

  “You know you can’t possibly win this; I mean, you know that, right?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve already won. Ringer, do you want to grab Adam a towel? I would hate for him to catch a cold.” I pouted.

  Adam’s eyes blazed in a not-so-thinly disguised look of challenge. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind as he mentally blueprinted the best tactic to make me pay. I’m not going to lie, it was kind of hot.

  “Hey, Ringer.” He directed his conversation over his shoulder, but never once tore his eyes from me. “What do you think the reach of one of those post mix guns would be, you reckon?”

  Ringer grinned like a cat that got the cream; so much for him not getting involved.

  “Well, from personal experience, quite an impressive distance, I’d say.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  My brows lowered as Adam edged toward the bar.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  “You can’t! The pool table.” I pointed, thinking surely he wouldn’t dare damage the cloth; he would have Chris to answer to.

  “Oh, there have been far worse things spilled on that table top.”

  I flinched away from holding the edge of the table. “Ew.”

  “I think you have better things to worry about,” added Ringer, who now sat casually on top of a barstool, arms crossed, watching on with great amusement.

  Bastard.

  Adam was trying to be cool as he blindly reached for the post mix gun, attempting to find it while never taking his eyes from me. I knew if I bolted Ringer would probably just block my way.

  Life can be cruel sometimes.

  But to my surprise, Ringer slid off his barstool, seemingly bored by the situation playing out before him.

  “Come and get me when you’ve finished your game of kiss-chasey.”

  “Give me a few minutes, this won’t take long,” replied Adam with a devilish smirk.

  “Oh, cocky much?”

  “I like my chances.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Ugh, for Christ’s sake, get a room, you two.” Ringer flipped on his sunnies and made his way out of the poolroom.

  Adam’s eyes narrowed after him, seemingly annoyed by what he had said. I could have used this moment of distraction to leg it, to run and never look back, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I knew Adam would never stop chasing me, that I would literally have to watch my back, sleep with one eye open. I would be living in a perpetual state of fear when all I really wanted was to enjoy my weekend. It was bad enough that I was as good as under house arrest until tonight. So I decided to take charge, but in a different way, an unexpected way, according to Adam’s reaction. His brows raised in surprise as he watched me walk around the pool table, not away from him, but toward him. He straightened, seemingly tensing as I approached, as if I weren’t to be trusted; to be honest, I couldn’t exactly blame him. When my hand wrapped over his hand that held the post mix gun he flinched, a reaction that only made me laugh as I brought the nozzle up to my face. I closed my eyes and pushed, drenching myself in, of all things, dirty soda water.

  Thoroughly saturated, I let go of Adam’s hand, wiping my face and scratching my nose from the tickle of the bubbles. I opened my eyes to see Adam looking at me like I was a crazed woman.

  “There,” I said. “Now we’re even.”

  I felt so smug. Like victory was mine in some bizarre kind of way. I had turned the tables and took the power back; I was now untouchable, like I could walk away free, knowing I wouldn’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder. Even though a portion of my hair was plastered to the side of my face, I lifted my chin to look defiantly at Adam. I thought maybe he would find it somewhat amusing, that he might have a little smirk and shake his head, call me a lunatic. Remembering how I could usually predict all of Adam’s responses before they actually happened. But this time his look was nothing like I would have predicted: his mouth agape, his expression troubled, almost stunned like he couldn’t quite form the words.

  I kind of liked this unknown reaction, it made me feel even more powerful and I cockily placed my hand on my hips. “Well, well, Adam Henderson, speechless; well, this is an added bonus,” I quipped, revelling in his almost-awkward stance.

  Adam swallowed, turning his head to the side, blinking, as if trying to shake his thoughts together. Was he going red?

  “E-Ellie, your umm … it’s … umm …”r />
  My brows knitted together in confusion, my eyes following where his finger blindly pointed to … Oh, my God!

  My nightie, my white nightie, drenched in soda water had rendered it completely see-through.

  I gasped, clutching at my chest and spinning away from him, mortified.

  Oh, this could not be happening, this could not be happening.

  “Do you, ah, want me to grab a towel or something?” Adam asked, facing the wall.

  “Yes, anything!” I snapped, my arms crossed over my chest, cringing at the visible panty line.

  Adam went to move, but stilled hearing the sound of footsteps making their way through the main bar.

  Perfect!

  Instead of leaving, Adam instinctively stepped in front of me, shielding me from whoever was making their way into the poolroom. Could this possibly get any worse?

  Chris appeared through the alcove, coming to a standstill directly in front of us, his confused eyes locking on to Adam in his boxers, me drenched, peeking over his shoulder, standing in a pool of soda water.

  No, no, it couldn’t get much worse than this.

  Chris placed his hands on his hips, fury building as he took in the disaster before him.

  “What the actual fuck?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It’s not what it looks like,” said Adam and none too convincingly at that.

  “What do you think I think it looks like?” added Chris.

  Adam had no words, and neither did I. It was a common occurrence whenever we were caught doing something we weren’t supposed to, which pretty much seemed like our entire upbringing, only this time Tess wasn’t here to do the talking, or rather defending, on our behalf. At best we could only hope that the reaction would dissolve into an eye roll and shrug of the head, with the old: ‘Oh Adam and Ellie, crazy kids.’ But something told me that judging by Chris’s face, this was not going to be one of those times.

  “Seriously, how old are you two?”

  “Oh, here we go.” Adam laughed, causing an instantaneous switch of fury that flipped in Chris.