Seven Days: The Complete Story

by Dale, Lindy

  “Fuck me. Please Nicholas, do it.” I can’t help it. I have to cry out.

  “Not yet.”

  “Yes yet!” I scream, writhing against them both, pushing them away.

  Nicholas sits back. Joel climbs off. I open my eyes and see him watching, his eyes dark and intent as Nicholas flips me over and lifts my hips to slide a pillow under them. Joel lays on the bed, his face near mine, his fingers caressing every rib, every bone.

  “Hurry,” I whimper. “Please, Nicholas. I can’t wait much longer. Please.”

  “Do you think she’s ready?” Nicholas asks Joel. His finger slides over me. I feel it disappearing inside me. Why is he teasing me so? Why does he prolong this agony when I know he wants it as much as I do.

  “Just fucking do it,” I growl.

  Joel’s hand runs through my tangled hair. His eyes are intent on mine as Nicholas enters me from behind. He stretches out and kisses me again then I close my eyes and squeeze the pillow, the ecstasy building as Nicholas holds my hips and slides himself deep into me, long and slow. Long and slow.

  “Harder. God, please, do it harder.”

  But Nicholas pulls out. And before I can register how desperate I am at the prospect, I am filled with Joel. His length is thicker, longer. He’s consuming every inch of me. He knows how I like it. He knows not to stop even if I beg him to. And I do. But he doesn’t. Not until I come.

  Then he asks if I want more.

  Still breathing heavily, I roll onto my back. I’m smiling as I pull Nicholas to me a second time.

  “Are you sure?” Nicholas says.

  “I want you, I want you in me. I want to feel you.”

  He kisses me. He needs no further coaxing. His loving is long and slow, the complete antithesis of Joel’s and as I finally collapse into sleep between them I wonder if I’m going to have the strength to leave. Even if it’s only for a month.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Fast-forward six weeks to graduation day. I don’t know where the time has gone but I’ve completed my final exams, got my marks and somehow am putting on a cap and gown as Dux of my year.

  I was so pumped when I got the email that I’d topped my class I almost whooped for joy in the middle of Target — if it hadn’t been that I was standing in the queue to buy undies at the time I would have. As it was, I settled for a little internal squee and a grin that I’m sure scared the checkout girl into next week. I’ve never seen anyone pack a recyclable shopping bag so fast.

  The bus ride home was ridiculously slow. I thought I’d burst if I didn’t break the news to Nicholas and Joel but somehow I managed to not pick up my phone. I think it was the idea of seeing their faces when I told them. And like me, the boys were over the moon.

  “I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Nicholas told me. “You were always going to be the stand out. I’m so proud of you, baby.” His big warm hand smoothed my hair and he looked into my eyes with more admiration and love than I’ve ever believed to be possible in one person.

  “You did good, kid,” Joel added, giving me a jovial poke in the upper arm, his version of a hug. “Who said you were just a cute bum in the surf?”

  Joel can never be serious.

  Well, only on certain occasions and even then I think it might be a stretch.

  “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” I said. The week had already brought news of two job interviews. Sure, neither of them would ever carry the prestige of a job at Hardwick & Lawson but I had to start somewhere. I wanted to make it on my own. This was a great start.

  That night, we celebrated by snuggling in the last row of the rooftop cinema watching Carey Mulligan in Far From the Madding Crowd, something we’d never do any other time — for obvious reasons. The groans were loud and weary when I told the boys how I wanted to celebrate. I think they had other ideas. But they suffered through the love trials of Bathsheba probably wishing it were Fast & Furious or something. They endured it for me. It was our own private celebration.

  And I was happy. Truly, I was.

  I just don’t think I’m all that content. Because if truth be told, I don’t like our situation. I can’t give it up; I can’t walk away because I love them both. But I don’t like it.

  I hate how we have to sneak in after the movie begins so nobody will see us. I hate that our relationship isn’t normal; that we can’t do regular things or be spontaneous. I hate that I can’t touch Nicholas when we’re out in a crowd together and that when Joel surreptitiously fondles my bottom I can’t playfully smack his hand away like other girls do with their boyfriends. Every outing we have has to be planned like we’re members of the secret service and I loathe that most of all, even though I like to organise.

  But then, when Nicholas smiles at me from the other side of a room or Joel sends me a funny text and I crack up at a serious moment, I remember why we’re doing this. The secrecy is worth it to have their love. Both of their love. And who said love and relationships have to be conventional?

  At eleven, the car the boys ordered arrives to take me to the ceremony. I’m wearing the dress I bought for Joel’s birthday but with black tights and my straightened hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, so I look good for my photos. I feel sick to my stomach but I think it’s a combination of nerves at having to give a speech and the fact that I’m going to be alone at the ceremony. I, literally, have no one to support me and that makes me very sad indeed. No Mum, no Emily and no Nicholas and Joel. I mean it’s not like they can sit in the family rows and whoop and holler when I’m conferred with me degree is it? Talk about recipe for social suicide.

  The boys accompany me to the car. They kiss me goodbye and good luck. Nicholas looks wistful. I can see he’s finding it hard to miss this milestone but that’s the way it has to be. This decision, made by all three of us, is the right thing to do, even if it feels like the worst thing in the world.

  “Knock ‘em dead, Ariel,” Joel says, dabbing at my tear with his finger.

  I gaze up into his eyes, hoping to suck some of that innate positiveness into me. “I feel so sick. I hope I don’t throw up during my speech.”

  “Nerves.” Nicholas reassures me, before he pecks me softly on the cheek. “You’re not used to making speeches. This is another one of those big life moments for our Sadie. I wish we could be there.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “Don’t forget to look out for the limmo to bring you home after the cocktail hour.”

  “I will.”

  “And take a deep breath and focus on something at the back of the room if you feel nervous when you get on the podium.”

  “What, like the exit doors?” I joke. I hop into the car and close the door and as I do I am overwhelmed with sadness on what should be the happiest day of my life.

  *****

  An hour later I’m standing in the line waiting to process into the auditorium. I’ve straightened my cap and gown and taken deep breaths as Nicholas suggested, but I feel nauseous and my mouth feels like someone stuffed it full of Weetbix and forgot to add the milk. I feel alone, so alone and I can’t help but feel I’ve done something dreadful to have this situation descend on me. I’m too scared to leave but I wouldn’t anyway. I want to get the recognition I deserve for my work. I’m too scared to take a drink from the water fountain in case it makes want to go to the toilet again — I’ve already been about a dozen times, I don’t think it’s possible for any more pee to come out of my body.

  God, I am so freaking nervous.

  The music begins and the line of students starts to traipse down the stairs and through the audience to the seating area. The Arts and Architecture degrees are being conferred today too, so there are a lot of us but, ahead of me, I can see Emily’s blonde head, her curled hair bobbing as she walks. She must be feeling uber glam today, being able to wear all black with just the hint of cerise that marks the colour of her faculty. I can picture her standing in front of that massive mirror she has in her bedroom, admiring
the new black pumps she’s bought to go with the outfit and sipping a glass of bubbles from the bottle of Cristal we always promised we’d treat ourselves with at graduation — if we saved enough. I wonder if she misses me at all? The thought makes me feel even sadder and more lost.

  I focus on her back, willing her to turn and smile at me but she doesn’t. I try to send thought waves into her brain that I’m thinking of her and wishing her well, that I don’t blame her for being angry with me. Emily always said we were like ‘hashtag soul sisters’ and she could read my mind but I don’t think she’s getting my messages. Either that or she’s finally invented that thought blocker thing she was always on about because from the night she asked me to leave she’s never spoken to me again. On the few occasions we’ve seen each other at Uni she’s run so fast in the other direction she could probably break some sort of land speed record.

  With the front students now seated I notice Mason’s carrot top head, further up the line, closer to me. Its redness is made more obvious by the black of his cap and the green tassel waving near his ear. He’s had a haircut for the occasion; it’s shorter at the back than it used to be. Suddenly, and I have no idea why, I’m incensed at the way he behaved that night of the party. I’m pissed off at him for being such a knob. Sure, it was fine if he wanted to ditch me but did he have to do it there, in plain sight of the entire world? A lame-arse text would have been preferable to what he did to me. And was there any need for him to tell his mates we split up because I’d been sleeping around? That wasn’t nice, at all. Rather vindictive actually. And untrue.

  No, I don’t will Mason to turn and acknowledge me. Personally, I’d be happier if a crow flew down and pecked out his eyes. Maybe I could will him to trip and fall down the stairs? That’d be a comeuppance of sorts.

  Resigned to the fact that Emily will probably never speak to me again and I don’t care if Mason falls off the face of the Earth, I continue the slow march down the stairs, watching the people in front of me taking their allotted seats. My eyes scan the crowd in a vein hope that I’ll see someone I know, someone who’s come just for me. It’s a ridiculous notion, I know. I should just suck it up but everyone needs someone, don’t they? Even me.

  A few more black caps take their places and as I’m about to reach my seat, I notice Mason’s family sitting in the row directly behind where I’m supposed to sit. Like, literally, close enough to touch. Close enough to say more mean things and completely ruin my day. They probably have daggers under their coats to fling at my back as I pass. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  I study them out the corner of my eye, ready to dart any flying objects if need be. Mason’s parents are straight as arrows. His mother is perched on the edge of her seat, staring at the stage as if the entire audience is focussed on her. Beside her, Brock looks incredibly bored. He’s playing with something on his phone and Bianca — who I decide is wearing white so she’d be more noticeable in the sea of black gowns — is looking all smarmy and cat-that-got-the-cream. Until she sees me, that is. Her face changes to a look somewhere between repulsion and loathing. She elbows Brock so hard his phone goes flying and lands in the aisle at my feet and as I’m trying to avoid stepping on it — which I would totally like to do — I somehow manage to stumble and fall into the person below me in the line. She topples and lands on the person in front of her and suddenly; we are like a bunch of dominoes in the World Knock Down championship. Mortarboards are flying. Girls are squealing and boys are laughing and everyone is landing in a jumbled heap in the aisle with body parts on show I’m sure they would rather have kept covered. There’s a collective gasp from the audience, then stunned silence.

  Oops, I think, as I right myself and hold out a hand to the girl in front of me. Not a good way to start the ceremony.

  On the other hand, seeing Mason’s red head crashing into the carpet and Emily’s shoe flying into the air to hit him in the nose, sort of makes it worth it.

  Blood is pouring down Mason’s chin and splattering across his shirt. A look of disgusted horror suffuses his face as he attempts to clean himself up with his hanky. Trying not to smirk, I walk composed to my seat. I am gliding like a serene angel, ignoring Mason and Emily who are glaring at me like I, totally, caused this ruckus. I don’t give a shit. In fact, I lift my middle finger ever so slowly as if to scratch my nose.

  So high school.

  And so completely satisfying.

  It takes five minutes or so before everyone is straightened out and seated before the ceremony starts. The dean makes a pathetic joke about the Class of 2015 only being remembered for falling down stairs and we laugh politely. I walk onto the stage with the rest of my year group and pause after collecting my degree; still melancholy that Nicholas and Joel aren’t here to see it. A while later, I take the stage for the second time to address the crowd as Dux of my year. My eyes sweep over the unfamiliar faces. I swallow and suck in a nervous breath. Then I spy two familiar figures standing in front of the exit doors with their hands in their pockets and my heart bursts with joy.

  *****

  My degree firmly in my grasp, I bound up the auditorium stairs. I pull up in front of Nicholas and Joel. “I knew you’d come!” I exclaim. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me here alone.”

  My heart is overflowing. I think it may be about to explode with happiness. I wish I could kiss them. Or just plain hug them but we settle for an awkward graze of each other’s fingers and a look that means more than any kiss will ever mean.

  “You did not.” Joel’s lips are curved in that wonderful grin. It’s warming the place inside me that was empty and sad two minutes ago. It fills the darkness of the auditorium with sunshine. “Nice move with the human dominoes by the way, Ariel.”

  “You saw that?”

  “Was that the famous Mason at the bottom of the pile with the blood nose?”

  “I think I managed to get him back for the humiliation he caused me without even meaning to.”

  “You’re an evil minx. I don’t want to be on your bad side. Ever.”

  “Probably a good move.” I’m so happy now, so happy the boys are here with me I don’t care who knows it, so I link my arms with theirs and we leave the auditorium, heading along the path to where the cocktail hour is to be held.

  As we walk heads turn but I don’t care. I stand tall and proud. I want to show everyone how much I love Nicholas and Joel and how happy I am that they’re mine. The curious looks and a couple of down right rude ones continue until we reach the door of the function room.

  “Can’t we bail on this?” Joel whispers, holding the door open for me. “I hate this stuff. Schmoozing is more Nick’s thing.”

  “Nope. I have to be seen. Being Dux and all but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You could wait in the car.” I’m conscious that merely by being here the boys have gone out on a limb. It might be nice for them to be here and for me to claim them as my own for the world to see but nothing has really changed. This is only going to cause the shit to hit the fan a lot sooner than before.

  Nicholas steps inside the door. He takes my hand, pulling me after him. “I’m not waiting in any bloody car. I don’t give a fuck anymore, Sadie. I’ve nothing to hide. Let them all see how much I love you.”

  Joel seems a little undecided. For once, I think he might be taking the conservative route and that worries me. “Oh what the hell,” he says at last, and follows us into the reception.

  *****

  For most of the cocktail hour, things go smoothly. Holding tight to my hand, Nicholas and I mingle. Joel is on my other side. He’s pulled back, not wanting to appear as more than a friend and I can understand that, this is a super weird situation. But every time I glance at him I see the pain in his eyes, and when he looks at Nicholas’ hand holding mine the hurt appears even bigger. I know Joel wants to be the one announcing our relationship and it hurts me that I’m hurting him so. But what can we do? If he’s not willing to stand up as my partner I’m not going to force hi
m.

  The more we move about the room, the more intrusive the questions become but when we explain nobody seems to care that Nicholas and I are seeing each other. Nobody gives it a second thought, not even when Nicholas explains he was attracted to me during my internship but couldn’t act upon his feelings. It’s as if everything is above board. We might be able to pull this off. We might be able to be seen in public like an ordinary couple with a handsome sidekick.

  Until, that is, I see Emily.

  Emily is standing in a small group a couple of metres away, her back facing me. She’s so close I have to speak to her; it would be rude if I didn’t. And whether she forgives me or not, the least I can do is apologise again and congratulate her on being the only person in history to get a degree without doing any of the required reading. We used to joke about that all the time. That and the fact that she never had books to begin the semester and somehow managed to cajole second hand ones at half the price from some poor unsuspecting boy during book sale day. Even then she never read them.

  Leaving Nicholas chatting to some people he knows, I move in her direction and as if by some sixth sense she turns. She looks me up and down, her blue eyes like ice freezing my heart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so cold and distant.

  “Hello,” she says.

  “Emily.” My voice catches in my throat. Despite the fact that she’s, like, super pissed off — still — I can’t help but smile weakly at her. I mean, Emily was my best friend; she still is in my eyes. I take a step closer. I want to make up and forget this silly fight. I want my bestie back. I raise my arms to hug her.

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “Please don’t.”

  “Why?”

  How can we be apart? We are two girls against the world, isn’t that what she always said? How can she just stop loving me? I still love her.