“We’ve just been wondering. You two seem to get along really well, and I catch him watching you.”
A grin creeps over my lips, as I push an earring through the hole in my lobe and secure the back. “Really?”
“Yeah, and I heard one of the others say he’s thinking of asking you out.”
I try to pretend I’m not bursting with hope and excitement by pressing my lips together.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I reply. But when I’m sitting outside on one of the picnic benches not far from the car park, I’m on high alert, knowing that he’ll be ready to leave for work at any moment.
This is always the time I get to spend with him on my own. Everyone else has gone home, and his bus arrives on the main road just after five.
“Hey Cody, do you ever get to go home?” he asks, as he exits the boatshed wearing his new chef’s uniform. He’s recently been promoted from dishwasher to kitchen hand, and as a result, instead of wearing jeans to work, he now wears black and white checked pants and a white cotton t-shirt. He makes a very unfashionable outfit look hot.
I shrug, wrinkling my nose a little, as I play with the end of the long dark braid that falls over my shoulder. “I’m pretty much always here. I don’t leave until mum or dad does, and most times, that’s never.”
He lowers himself to sit beside me and places his bag on the ground. I feel a tingling in my thigh, as he sits only a centimetre away. It’s like I can feel him, even though we aren’t really touching. “They don’t trust you at home on your own?”
I shake my head in response, nerves swirling in my stomach, hoping that Stacey was right, and he is about to ask me out. I want him to ask me out. I know that adults are always saying that teenage boys only want one thing, but I don’t get that feeling with Brad because even though I have a decent sized chest, he’s still looking at my eyes.
“So what do you do once we’ve all gone home?”
“Nothing much. Most of the time I help out in the office or something. You know, taking inventory and shit.”
“Sounds fun,” he laughs, and I roll my eyes.
“So what do you do at your job? Dad said you’re training to cook or something?”
“I’m training to be a chef. But I started before Christmas, and they’re only just trusting me to peel potatoes, so I think I have a long way to go.”
“It must be nice not to have to go to school anymore.”
“Why? Don’t you like school?”
“Not particularly. I’m not really the most popular girl in town.”
He reaches out and gently tugs on my braid; the simple gesture feels amazing. “That’s just because you’re prettier than all of them.”
I can’t help it–a giggle escapes my lips. “Do you really think so?”
“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he replies, looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his.
A heat creeps over my cheeks, and I drop my gaze, the compliment feeling amazing and difficult to believe all at the same time. But I want him to watch me all the time, even though it kind of makes me feel embarrassed.
He leans against me, nudging my arm. “Maybe you could come to the restaurant I work at some time? I generally work the dinner shift but maybe…”
“Rae!”
The gruff voice of my father causes me to jump then feel as though I want to crawl under a rock. Now I’m really embarrassed. “Can I speak with you?”
Brad nods then turns back to me. “Hold that thought.”
“Now,” dad commands, and my heart begins to thud heavy in my chest.
Please don’t ruin this for me. Don’t embarrass me.
“Ah, sure, Coach.”
Brad leaves his bag on the ground next to me and jogs toward my father. “What’s up?” I hear him ask. My dad turns him, so I can’t see his face then looks over at me with a disapproving glare. This doesn’t look good.
Chapter 3
Brad
Leaving my bag on the ground next to Dakota, I jog over to coach. “What’s up?”
He glances over at Dakota and steers me so my back is facing her, before he begins to speak quietly. “It’s nothing huge. But, I wanted to have a chat to you about how you’re going in the program. I’ve noticed you’ve become a bit of a leader among the group.”
“I don’t know about that. I just get along with everyone, I guess.”
“I’ve noticed, and I’ve also noticed that you’re one of the more mature guys in the program, and you’ve been really encouraging to everyone with their training–I appreciate that.”
“Ah, thanks,” I say, looking at my watch and wondering where this is going. I have a bus to catch.
“Sorry, I know you have a job to get to, and I know I'm holding you up. I just wanted to ask you a favour, because the others seem to listen to you. Do you think you could keep an eye on Dakota for me? I know she hangs around with you all a lot, and well, she’s only thirteen, and I was hoping you could make sure the others–particularly the guys, remember that she’s still a kid. So she’s off limits, OK? ” He looks at me pointedly.
“Thirteen?” I glance back over my shoulder to where Dakota is still sitting and watching our interaction with concerned interest.
“She didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “We all thought she was the same age as us.”
He chuckles. “In her mind she’s thirty. But can you do that for me? Can I trust you to keep an eye on her?”
Swallowing hard, I nod, feeling uneasy about the fact that I was just about to ask a thirteen-year-old out on a date. I feel like a complete arsehole. “Of course. I will,” I tell him, setting my jaw, as all of the times I’ve flirted with her flit through my mind.
Smiling, he slaps me on the back in a friendly manner. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
Nodding again, I excuse myself before walking back to Dakota and picking up my bag, mumbling something about being late for the bus.
“Is everything alright?” she asks nervously, as I sling my bag over my shoulder.
“Everything’s fine.” I keep my eyes down, feeling unable to look at her right now.
“Do… do you still want to have lunch?”
I work my jaw and shake my head, my mouth twisting in the anger I’m feeling right now. Then I finally look up at her. “My work isn’t the kind of place you can take kids.”
“I…what?” Her cheeks flood with colour, and her eyes go wide.
I feel sick.
“Thirteen, Dakota. You’re thirteen. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Her mouth moves but nothing comes out. I want to hear some sort of reason as to why she’d do this. I want to hear her say she told me, and I didn’t listen–something to explain why I didn’t know. But there’s nothing, and I feel hurt, and I don’t want to look at her anymore. I shake my head and begin to walk away.
She chases after me. “I didn’t think it mattered. It’s only three years.”
I keep my eyes forward. “Three years that, if things went too far, could get me arrested, Dakota. It makes a difference.”
“Brad, please.”
I stop walking and glare at her. “Leave me alone. I need to go to work, something you’re not even old enough to do.”
I spit my words at her, and she gets a look on her face that’s like I just punched her in the gut. Well, now she knows how I feel. Her age is important. She should have told me. Not saying anything is as bad as lying, and now I look like some sort of lecherous pig who’s into young girls.
I keep walking away. She doesn’t follow me this time, and I don’t turn back. But I do hear her sobs. And it breaks my heart, even when I’m angry, I don’t want her to cry.
***
I sit on the bus on my way home from work and close my eyes, dropping my head against the back of the seat, landing it with a firm thud. My stomach twists and sours as I continue to replay the conversation over and over again in my head. It’s been stuck in my head on repeat si
nce this afternoon, and I feel like absolute shit.
She’s only thirteen…she’s only thirteen. What the hell does that say about me?
“How was work tonight?” Aunt Sara asks, when I finally walk in the door. It’s just after midnight, and the last thing I want to do is speak right now.
Without answering, I walk into the laundry and empty my gym bag into the washing machine, before pulling off my uniform and dropping it in there as well. Then I set it up to start a wash and dry cycle in an hour’s time.
My aunt appears in the doorway, her wavy grey hair, hanging loosely around her shoulders, as she looks at me questionably. Most people think she's my grandmother, but to me, she more like my mum. She’s my real mother’s great aunt, and she’s been taking care of me since I was ten. We have the same blue eyes, and she’s the nicest woman on the planet. I get sick of people asking me why I don’t live with my mum. I get sick of explaining how my mother didn't want me. To me, it’s of no consequence, Aunt Sara is the only family I need.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
I'm standing in my boxer shorts, leaning against the washing machine, as I clench my teeth and shake my head.
“Did something happen at work?”
I shake my head again.
“At training?”
I move past her and grab a towel from the linen press. “I don't want to talk about it,” I growl, feeling instantly bad because she’s just trying to help. But, there isn’t much she can do without a time machine.
After my shower, I go to bed and try to sleep, but every time I drift off, I start dreaming about Dakota. It's the same dream I've been having for the last couple of weeks, and I'm pissed that my subconscious doesn’t understand she's off limits now. I spend the night tossing and turning instead.
Eventually, I quit trying to sleep, and I get up and make blueberry muffins for Aunt Sara to have for breakfast when she wakes up. Then I write her a note to say sorry for being a jerk, set the timer on the coffee pot, and get ready for training.
Chapter 4
Dakota
“Can I talk to you?” I ask, the moment I see Brad getting his gear together the next morning.
He keeps his back to me. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice is flat, and when he finally turns to look at me, his eyes are cold too.
“I think there’s a lot to say,” I argue, wanting to clear the air, so we can at least be friends.
“Nothing that’s going to change anything.”
He moves past me and goes to sit by Elliot and starts stretching. I sit down beside Stacey, and it’s hard not to notice that the squad are all looking questionably between us.
“Are you two having a lover’s tiff?” Elliot asks, as he reaches forward to grip his foot and stretch his hamstring.
I glance over at Brad, who keeps his eyes down, and I shake my head. “Everything is fine,” I lie.
Brad laughs. “No it isn’t. Tell them all how old you are, Dakota.”
I look around the group of expectant eyes trained on me, waiting for me reply. I don’t want to tell them. I never feel like I fit in anywhere, and finally, here’s a group of people who I get along with well–a group that accepts me for me, and before yesterday, I felt like I was about to experience my first love. But, if everyone finds out about my age then I’ll be different. I’ll be a kid.
“How old are you?” Stacey asks.
“I’m thirteen,” I mumble, dropping my eyes to my feet in embarrassment.
“Thirteen!” I don’t know who yells it, but there’s this sudden cackling, as some of the other boys begin to mock Brad for being a ‘cradle snatcher’. Stacey places her hand on my back in comfort, and when I glance at Brad, he’s fuming and Elliot is saying something to him quietly as the noise continues. They seem to find it so hilarious that the guy who seemed as though he could do no wrong was about to date a ‘little girl’.
Their mockery stings, and heated tears burst from my eyes. I cover my face with my hands to hide it then get up and run into the girl’s bathroom. I don’t want to sit there while they all laugh at me. Stacey follows me in, and together we listen as Brad yells at them all.
“Yeah. That’s right, she’s thirteen. And because she’s thirteen, I don’t want to hear a word from any of you fuckers about how she looks, or any of those shit comments you guys like to make about the girls. You don’t talk about her that way–ever. And if I see one of you touch her, try anything on her, or even look at her the wrong way, you’re going to have my fists to deal with–do you all understand?”
There’s a collective murmur saying they all understand. Stacey looks at me and raises her brow. “I hope you weren’t planning on dating anyone.”
I wipe at my tears and sniff. “Didn’t you hear? I’m too young to date anyone.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “I know. It was just a joke that wasn’t really funny.”
I shake my head. “Even if I was old enough, the only person I want to date now hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just angry that he’s too old for you. Give him time, he’ll calm down.”
“Maybe in three years when I’m sixteen.”
“I think you’ll find he’ll calm down before then. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s only interested in sex. I think you’ll find that you’ll be friends again in no time.”
“Friends is all we can be,” I mutter.
She shrugs. “It could be worse.”
***
“What’s wrong with you? You’ve barely touched your food,” mum comments, as we eat dinner together in the office that night. I’d just spent an awkward day trying to stay out of Brad’s way. Although, being in the same training squad, that was really hard to do.
After he’d warned all the boys away from me, they didn’t play around with me the same way they normally do. When we played touch footy after lunch, only the girls chased me down. It meant that I was great at scoring goals, but it took all of the fun out of the game. I ended up pretending I had a cramp and pulled out early.
“Dad told one of the guys I’m only thirteen, and now everyone knows.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
I poke at my food with my fork. “I didn’t want it to matter. I didn’t want them looking at me like I’m a little kid.”
“From what I understand, the boy your dad spoke to, seemed a bit keen on you.”
“So?”
“Well, he’s a sixteen-year-old boy, and really, you’re still a girl. He needed to know, Cody. It wasn’t fair for you not to tell him.”
“But if we like each other, why does it matter?”
“Because you’re only thirteen, and he’s sixteen.”
“Why is that the only answer? So, just because it’s illegal for us to have sex, we shouldn’t have any sort of a relationship at all?”
She presses her lips together and touches her forehead lightly, as if she’s getting a headache. “You can be friends, and there’s no real law against you dating. But believe me when I say, if there’s one thing you’re not allowed to do, it’ll be the only thing that matters, and eventually you’d do it anyway and not only are you too young for that, but he could end up with a record because of it.”
“I’m mature enough to say no, mum.”
She gently touches my chin, her eyes soft and understanding. “I’m sure you are. But the real mature thing here, is taking a step back and being happy with a friendship.”
“I don’t want to be happy with a friendship.”
“Then you’re just proving that what your father did was right. Because, if you can’t see why we don’t want you dating an older boy, and you can’t see why Brad is upset with you for hiding your age from him. Then, you’re not as mature as we all thought you were – think about that.”
Chapter 5
Brad
Maybe I’m taking this protection thing a little too far. We’re at a regatta out at the Sydney International Regatta Centre, or
SIRC for short, and Dakota is sitting quietly off to the side, listening to her iPod and staring out across the course. It’s been three months since our altercation, and I’ve done little more than be cordial to her at training. The others seem to have followed my lead, and they aren’t talking to her either–although, maybe the fact that I threatened to punch them in the face if they looked at her the wrong way has something to do with it.
A sudden wave of guilt washes over me as I watch her. She doesn't deserve this. I'm being a jerk.
“What time is your race?” I ask, as I walk toward her and stand right in front of her.
She pulls out an ear bud and looks up at me with a surprised expression on her face. “I'm sorry?”
“I asked what time your race was.” I actually know exactly when her race is. I'm just trying to mend fences. I shouldn't have treated her as badly as I did. I didn't ask her age, and she didn't tell me. So really, we’re both at fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.
“It's at twelve-fifteen,” she replies cautiously, and I nod.
“I’ll cheer for you from the side.”
“Won’t your girlfriend get a bit pissed about that, or won’t she care because I’m just a kid?” she sneers, not letting me off too easily.
I press my lips together and look toward the spectator stands where my current girlfriend, who works as a waitress at the restaurant I’m apprenticing at, is waiting with some of her friends to watch me race. I probably shouldn’t have brought her, but dating someone my own age makes me feel better about being attracted to Dakota in the first place. Although, it doesn’t help alleviate the pain in my chest every time I look at her…
“She’ll cheer for you too.”
Dakota rolls her eyes. “Don’t do me any favours.”
She replaces her ear bud and looks back over to the course, showing me that it's going to take a lot more than a gesture to win back her friendship.
***
For the next couple of years, our friendship is somewhat stilted. I try to get over my attraction to her, but most of the time it seems impossible. It just makes me feel guilty and wrong, and I hate that about myself. I go through numerous girlfriends to distract myself from the discomfort I feel with Dakota in my daily life, and I’m ashamed to say that my protectiveness over her doesn’t lessen. If anything, it gets worse. I can’t stand it when another guy shows any interest in her, and as a result, I’m quite the jerk.
A Beautiful Taste Page 2
