by Bankes, Liz
Flustered, I turn the tap with more force than I mean to, and a jet of water comes gushing out. I keep looking forward at the glass, so that if they do look over, it doesn’t seem like I was watching them.
I hear the door close.
Chapter 13
I’m on the sofa, lying on my front. Wait, no … This is one of the lounge chairs by the pool. I’m wearing a bikini and I’m waiting there for him. Sure enough, I sense someone behind me, and then hands grip mine. But the hands are coffee colored, with perfectly manicured nails. I feel long hair brushing my shoulders. I struggle to get free and feel lips brushing up and down my back. I twist around and look up. Cleo grins at me.
“Come on. We’ve got to get to the devil’s lair.”
We run hand in hand along the side of the pool and onto a path I’ve never seen before. Suddenly it transforms into a dusty red path that starts going upward and around in circles. We’re running up a mountain. When we reach the top, I can see for miles around. The sky is shot through with pink; the sun is beginning to rise. She takes my other hand and I realize that it’s not Cleo—it’s Jamie. He leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead. He rests his head against mine and looks down at me. “I love you.”
As my eyes flicker open, there’s a blurry face above me. The same one that just said he loved me.
“’Morning.”
I draw the covers up to my chin. “Were you watching me sleep?” I say, mostly out of panic that I said something weird. But then, watching me sleep would be pretty creepy too.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He plonks a plate on the coffee table next to the sofa. “You’ll need this.”
It’s a bacon-and-egg sandwich. I raise my head with a groan. There’s classical music playing again, and the violins feel like someone sawing at my skull. He turns it down.
“I was drowning out your snoring.”
He sits down next to me on the sofa, giving me no choice but to sit up. He’s got a black T-shirt and boxers on, and when he sits down, our bare legs are touching.
“Where’s Cleo?”
“On a walk? She likes to keep me in the dark.”
He puts his foot on his knee and rests his book on his leg. It means his leg is now digging into me. I hadn’t noticed he wears glasses for reading.
“It’s really off-putting, having you stare at me,” he says, without turning to look at me.
“What are you reading?”
He tilts the front cover toward me about an inch.
“I can’t read it.”
“That’s a little worrying, at your age.”
“I mean, I can’t see it.”
“Ancient Greek Myths and Legends.”
“Oh! Right.”
“What were you expecting?” He still doesn’t look up from the book, but I don’t think he’s reading it anymore, as his eyes aren’t moving. He’s waiting for my reply.
“Something intellectual and douche-y.” Apparently constantly repressing the urge to be sick means I don’t care what I say to him.
I see a smile at the corners of his mouth, but he turns the page pointedly and doesn’t say anything.
I pick up the sandwich and take a tiny, feeble bite. “Did you make this?”
“No, I got your kitchen friend to do it. Smudger.”
“What—Dan? He’s there already? Am I late for work? What time is it?”
He throws his head back on the sofa. “Don’t give yourself a seizure. Yes, ‘Dan.’ Yes, he’s there already. No, you’re not late. I have no idea why Mr. Pot Washer is here. It’s only a quarter to seven. In the morning.”
I stand up, and Jamie grabs the back of my T-shirt and I fall back against the sofa. He has his head to the side, looking at me.
“I’d like my clothes back.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to wear them to work.”
“You’d better take them off, then.”
“I will. In your bathroom.”
He’s doing his curious, amused look at me again. I feel the urge to move along the sofa toward him. I look at his lips. They’re just a few inches away. Our legs are still touching.
Jamie looks like he’s about to say something. I get that nervous feeling again. If Cleo came back in here now, this might look … odd.
“Okay, I’m going.” I stand up quickly. Too quickly. I get a massive head rush and fall forward onto the coffee table and end up with my ass in the air.
Jamie laughs. “I didn’t know you were in heat.”
“Oh, shut up,” I grumble as I scramble to my feet and then stomp off to the bathroom.
“No, really. It’s an interesting seduction technique,” he calls after me.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, hopefully with “attitude.” Then I ruin it by walking into the door frame. I try to tell myself he didn’t see, but he definitely did.
“Joseph?” Jamie says when I emerge a few minutes later after the quickest shower and clothes-change known to man. I’ve just gotten to the door, and I turn back.
“You have a lovely smile,” he says.
I smile at him involuntarily.
There’s a mist hanging over the castle as I walk back along the stony path away from the pool house. It makes the two back turrets look magical. I wonder if Jamie is watching me go.
Then I see Cleo coming through the arches, going the other way. She waves and flashes me a warm smile. I wave back and say, “Hey!” but there’s an uneasiness clinging to my voice. I don’t want her to think I’m just another girl hanging around the pool house trying to sleep with her boyfriend. Because I’m not.
Chapter 14
Work today is every kind of hell. Any part of my body that can ache is doing exactly that. Jamie and Cleo loll lazily at one of the tables outside. I try to avoid them and let Andreas serve them as much as possible. But now Omar hands me a cheeseboard and says, “Table sixteen.” I ask if Andreas can do it, but Omar says, “You take. Lazy.” So I do.
There’s a breeze coming from across the grounds that blows my hair across my face. At least I can hide behind it. Cleo’s wearing massive sunglasses, so I think she’s suffering too. I plonk the plate down and Cleo says, “Feeling good this morning?”
“My blood hurts,” I say shortly and stomp back to the kitchen. Jamie’s laughter follows me in.
My suffering is turning into a running joke among the other waiters. They keep trying to get me to take out the garbage and other jobs that will definitely make me puke. Dan hasn’t spoken to me yet. He’s hanging out by the bar, and I haven’t gone over. I wonder if he’ll be funny about me going to the party. I get the feeling it’s a bit “us” and “them” between the staff and Jamie and his friends. Not surprising, since we’re working and they’re lounging around doing nothing. I should be more loyal to “us.”
As I go back and forth around the tables, I glance over at Dan as he polishes glasses and chats to Suzy. I get a pang of jealousy when I hear them laughing together. It’s stupid, but I wish his silly jokes were just for me.
I still haven’t spoken to him by the time it’s three o’clock and our shifts end. I get a feeling of definite grimness when I remember I have to now change back into the dress I was wearing last night. It’s not how I was planning to impress him on our picnic that might be kind of a date.
I wait for him outside reception, but after ten minutes, there’s no sign of him. Maybe he’s gone home and the date’s off. He’s heard about my antics last night and thinks I’m not the sort of girl he’d take on a picnic. To be honest, as well as mortifying, the thought is a tiny bit relieving. I still feel so bad that I just want to go home and curl up in bed while my mom brings me a cup of tea.
Dan emerges from the reception door. He’s brought a picnic basket. He’s in his jeans and another rugby shirt and he’s shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Come on,” he says, smiling at me. “I’ve found this really great place.”
We walk through the grounds away from the castle, but i
nstead of going alongside the river, Dan veers off the path and up into a forest. It’s a nature preserve, apparently. I never even knew it was here. The ground angles steeply upward, and we push our way through long grass and ferns. The canopy of trees plunges us into shadow, with occasional sunlight glinting through the branches. I breathe in; it smells fresh, and it seems as though my head instantly clears. Now that the trees are enclosing us from all sides, I can imagine that we’re trekking somewhere—somewhere foreign, exciting, and not here.
I should do it, I think. Keep saving and then just go. I could even go with Dan.
No, that’s probably a stupid idea. I hardly know him.
But by the end of the summer I would.
Dan’s a few yards ahead and calls out, “Here we are!”
There’s a break in the trees, and as I walk out I’m dazzled for a moment by the sunlight bursting through. We’re at the top of a hill, looking out over a lake and, in the distance, more hills and fields. It’s beautiful.
Dan lays down a blanket. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” I kneel down and he opens the hamper. “Now, I psychically worked out your favorite food. That’s right—I know what you love most is leftovers from work!”
I laugh. “So you saw me lurking around the garbage cans, picking up scraps, then?”
“Oh, yes.” He’s unwrapping little packets of foil now. There are honey-glazed sausages, salmon mousse canapés, and slices of olive bread. “And,” he says with a flourish, “fizzy grape juice, because I think there’s a good chance you don’t want wine right now.”
There’s a lump rising in my throat, and for a moment I feel like crying. This is all so nice. I blink a few times to try to stop tears from coming into my eyes.
Dan looks a bit taken aback, understandably. Most people don’t cry when offered a sausage. “You look like you could use a hug.”
His expression is kind and smiley, with no hidden meanings. I feel my heart melt with gratitude.
“Well, my mom gives the best hugs, but I suppose you’ll do.”
“I can pretend. I’m told I look good in an apron.”
He wraps his arms around me and I press my head against his chest. It’s warm and comforting and exactly what I want. I blow out a long breath, and it feels like the first time I’ve breathed this morning. I move my head back to look at him.
“Thanks for that.”
His face is serious. “Well, it was pretty horrible for me …”
We both laugh, and then suddenly I lean forward and kiss him lightly on the lips.
“Thanks for that,” he says, half smiling.
I sit back down on the grass, surprised at myself. I’m never the first to go for the kiss. Usually my head’s full of paranoid thoughts like, What if he’s so repulsed by my kissing him he throws up? or What if I kiss wrong and no one ever told me? or What if he wants to go further and I’m not sure? But right here, in this place with Dan, it doesn’t feel like part of normal life.
“So, last night. Did you kiss all the boys?” Dan holds out a bowl full of strawberries.
“Ha. Yep, every last one.”
My stomach lurches as a memory comes back to me. Oh my God. I kissed Cleo. I kissed Jamie’s girlfriend. I remember Jamie’s “attention-seeking” comment. Maybe I was just being used. Or I wanted a bit of attention. I think I do have a slight crush on her, though. Mostly because she’s so much cooler and more confident than me. She initiated it. I just sort of responded. Plus, there was the alcohol. I’d have kissed my weird cousin Hugh after that much champagne.
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t go that far.
“Are you okay?” Dan says. “You look a bit … disgusted.”
“Sorry, I was … thinking about something.” I look up at him. I’ve got to make an effort. He can’t do all this just for me to sit here in silence. I’ve got to put effort into people who matter. Not people who aren’t even nice to me.
My phone buzzes.
“Sorry, it’s my friend Gabi. Do you mind if I reply?”
“No, go ahead.”
I’ve got about ten missed calls from home, so I also text Mom to say I’ll be back in a few hours. Gabi immediately replies, inviting me to watch a DVD at Han’s later. I’ve got a happy, buzzing feeling running through me, and when I put my phone away, Dan asks about Gabi and I just start talking, telling him about all our stupid private jokes and even the top-secret dances we made up to One Direction. He tells me about his friends, like Josh who drew a huge penis in weed killer on the school soccer field on senior prank day, and I start telling him about the girls at my school who brought a pig into class.
He’s leaning back on his elbows and I’m lying on my front playing with blades of grass.
The sun beats down on us and the lake sparkles.
I feel like I could stay here forever.
Chapter 15
As we walk back down the hill again, Dan offers me his arm. We walk along like an old-fashioned couple. There’s a warmness between us, and I want to squeeze his arm and tell him I’d like to spend as much time with him as possible. But a few worries surface as the lovely scenery of the picnic melts away and we get back into town. Are we a “thing” now? Have I implied I want to be a “thing”? Does that mean I have to tell him stuff, like I’ve started kissing random women?
It would be nice if I could just enjoy things without getting a flood of worry afterward. I look over at Dan. The sun is bouncing off his face and he looks completely relaxed as he swings the now much emptier basket in his other hand.
We get to my house and, with the worst timing in the world, Mom, Jeff, and Matthew are just getting out of the car after doing the weekly shopping. I drop Dan’s arm and see Mom’s eyes widen and her hands tense around a box of Rice Krispies as she clearly decides in her head exactly why I stayed out last night.
“This is, um, Dan,” I say, gesturing awkwardly in his direction. “This is Mom, Jeff, and Matthew.”
Matthew blinks through his glasses. “Hello.” Then he looks at me. “You look green.”
“Thanks,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. I would usually kick him, but I figure Dan would think I was a bit immature. I’ll kick him later.
“Hi, man,” says Dan and holds out his hand. Matthew shakes it absentmindedly and then says, “I’m going to read my encyclopedia,” and disappears into the house. I forgot to warn Dan my brother isn’t normal.
Mom steps forward and shakes his hand. “Emma,” she says. “That’s probably better than ‘Mom.’”
Dan laughs politely. “Can I give you a hand?”
Jeff says, in his stuttery, awkward way, that it’s terribly kind of him to offer, but when I catch Jeff’s eye, his face clouds over and it’s obvious he’s still annoyed about my late-night text. Dan and Mom go into the house laden with bags, and I sidle up to Jeff.
“Sorry. About, you know … last night and stuff.”
He sighs. “It’s fine, love. Just … I felt a bit taken for granted. You know I want you to enjoy this job, but give me a little more notice next time, eh?”
“Yep,” I say, not looking at him and concentrating on picking up bags of oranges. Why does he have to be so frigging nice? I feel tears well up for the second time today. This hangover is making me weirdly emotional.
Dan stays for a long time, chatting away to my family, and Matthew even shows him his collection of flags from all the countries in the world. He comments pointedly that it’s nice I’m not going out with a moron for a change. I think he overheard Kieran calling him a weirdo the one time I ever brought him over to the house.
We get forced into a family game of Taboo, instigated by Matthew, who by then has his friend over, Karen with the big eyes. I get stuck with Mom, who always overcomplicates everything. For instance, when I’m trying to describe the word “house,” I say, “Thing you live in,” and she starts going, “Studio? Maisonette? Igloo?” Then I say, “NO, just the normal one!” and she says, “Semi-detached?” and the timer runs
out. She’s no better when she has to describe the words, because she says stuff like, “You know, the little thing.”
Jeff and Matthew are together and storm ahead, because their rounds sound like this:
Jeff: “He was the—”
Matthew: “HITLER.”
Jeff: “The place w—”
Matthew: “LEBANON.”
Dan does well with Karen with the big eyes, in spite of her unsettling habit of linking lots of her descriptions to death. Even though I’d usually rather spoon-feed myself vomit than play a family game with a boy I like, I have a really good time.
In the evening, when I’m going over to Han’s, Dan is still there, so he comes with me. He doesn’t seem fazed by being the only boy, and definitely makes a good impression by offering up the rest of the leftover food.
“Never turn down a free sausage,” says Han wisely, and everyone nods in agreement. I try to ignore Gabi, who has started winking and pointing at Dan.
Later, when I get up to go to the bathroom, everyone except Dan “needs it too” and they all file out of the room after me. Then everyone is whispering to me in the corridor about how much they like him. I’m enjoying all the attention, but at the same time it feels a bit pressured. I’ve only just met him, and people are already labeling us as “together.” When the excitement dies down a bit, they go back into Han’s room, but Gabi hangs back.
“It’s good to see you, you punk.”
“Sorry I’ve been crappy.”
She grins. “Whatev. Come on. Danny’s waiting.”
While we’re watching the movie, I sit between Dan’s legs with his arms around me. My eyes start closing as the night before catches up with me, and I’m faintly aware of him moving his finger along my arm as if he’s writing something.
