“I’m guessing you don’t have the greatest relationship with your dad?”
“You guessed right. Our relationship is primarily driven by the power of money. I live in an apartment he owns and pays for, so he thinks he gets to dictate my life. It’s fun. Really.” He chuckles but there’s no real humour in it.
“Why don’t you just move out on your own? Take away his power.”
“Because until I get a promotion, I can barely afford to live in my car.”
“That sucks,” I say. Although it’s understandable. Sydney rentals are ridiculously expensive. Even out west. It’s why both my brother and I are still at home. It’s easier than finding a share house.
“It is what it is. But what about you? What’s something you don’t tell anyone?”
We run past a cool-looking bee sculpture covered in blooming flowers. Over the weeks, Elliot and I have discussed many things. Covering our families—his mum and dad divorced when he was young—high school—he didn’t fit in until he took up a sport and was suddenly popular with the guys and the girls at the sister school—and university—he attended Sydney uni, his full focus on law because ‘that’s how it’s done in his family’. We’ve covered all the normal ‘getting to know you’ bases, but are yet to delve into anything too personal. My walls have been a little high.
“I think you know everything about me,” I lie, flashing him a smile. “I’m not particularly deep.”
He laughs. “There’s a shitload of stuff I don’t know about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
He thinks for a moment. “Why did you react when I called you Trina?”
“It’s what David calls me,” I reply immediately, preparing myself for the inevitable questions that every guy has—have David and I ever had sex?
“And no one else can call you that?”
“I prefer it if they don’t.”
“OK,” he says, quiet for a moment.
In my mind I’m counting to see how long it will take before the next question comes out. I know what it is before he says it. I get to the number three.
“Have you two ever…” He hesitates and I can’t help but jump in.
“Had sex? No. Anything else?”
“Is there a possibility?”
I shake my head. “If my best friend was a girl would you be asking me these questions?” I really hoped Elliot would be different and not ask me this at all. On our first run I told him David and I were platonic. And David was right there when Elliot kissed me. Twice.
“No,” he says. “It wouldn’t have crossed my mind.”
“Then why, when I’ve already told you we’re friends only, are you asking now?”
“I don’t know: his level of protectiveness when we were introduced. The fact he has his own special name for you. The vibe I got from him.”
“He also calls me ‘baby girl’.”
“Well, there you go.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that any guy will have a hard time competing.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“If you say so.”
We push on for a while in silence, questions hanging in the air like tiny tension-filled bullets. I don’t want this to become an issue. I don’t want to have to defend my relationship with David to yet another guy. After the disaster that was Christopher, I swore I’d never date a guy who couldn’t accept David again.
“I’ve known David since I was nine,” I say, deciding that telling Elliot what’s behind David’s protectiveness might help. “My family moved a couple of streets away from him and I ended up at the same school, same bus. Over the years we grew close; brother and sister close, I guess. We’ve gone through all of life’s ups and downs together—other guys, other girls; broken hearts and fist fights—they all come and go, but our friendship is always there.” Up ahead, there’s a big gazebo that I gesture to. “Maybe we should sit for the rest.”
“Jesus,” he says as we alter our course. “How pissed am I gonna be at the end of this?”
“You wanted to know something no one else knows.”
“Does David know?”
I meet his eyes. “David knows everything.”
Running his tongue past his lips, he slows to a stop, placing his hands on his hips as he walks back and forth, slowing down his breathing. “I’ve gotta tell you, Katrina, I’m jealous of the guy.”
With a small smile, I gesture to the park bench, urging him to sit so we can talk. “They all were,” I say.
“OK. Hit me with it,” he says, legs bouncing nervously.
I sit beside him and place my hand on his thigh, stilling his movement. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
“We stopped running and we’re sitting down. It feels pretty bad.”
I take a breath as he meets my eyes. Here goes… “I lied to you about my scars.”
One eye narrows slightly. “You didn’t go through a windscreen?”
I shake my head. “I went through a sliding glass door.”
“Did David do that?”
“No. But he was there. He’s the reason I’m still alive.”
Both of his knees stop bouncing as he angles his body towards me. “What happened?”
“I’ve had three boyfriends in my life. None of them handled David well. They tried. Some more than others, but ultimately, jealousy got the better of them.”
“Jealousy did this?” he asks, taking my hand and running his fingers over my scarred forearm.
“His name was Christopher. He was charming, funny, and a fair bit older than me. I was… enamoured. I wasn’t quite nineteen and this guy who seemed to have his shit together was interested in me. He was one of those guys who seems to be everyone’s best friend. My parents thought he was great and everywhere we went, people knew him and liked him. Except David and my brother.” I pull my hand free and wrap my arms around my middle. “I should have listened to them.”
“What did he do to you?”
A tear falls from my eyes and I wipe it away, shaking my head. “I hate talking about this,” I whisper. “I hate being the victim in a story. It’s why I lied and said it was a cycling accident. I didn’t want you to look at me and see a domestic abuse survivor.”
“Survivor is the operative word here, Katrina.”
“I know.” I nod, blowing out my breath. “It’s still hard to talk about because you look back and you can pick out these things. These moments where everything doesn’t quite add up. But it isn’t until it’s too late that you manage to piece them all together and realise that his outburst wasn’t unusual. His control was.”
“When I was at uni we looked at a few domestic abuse cases, and no one saw it coming until it was too late. No one expects that a person who claims to love them is willing to hurt them.”
I wipe at my cheeks again, tears falling without my permission. “Yeah. It’s what I thought too. We moved in together after only six months, and I explained away his change in behaviour as teething problems. It’s difficult to share your space with another person, you know.” I clasped my hands together and shrugged, struggling to let my mind revisit those memories. “Then he became demanding, making rules about when I could and couldn’t go out, restricting my ability to see David. I thought it was just a bit of jealousy, and that eventually—for my sake—they’d learn to get along. I thought if he truly loved me as much as he said he did, he’d see that David was important to me, and that he wasn’t trying to steal me away. But he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t stand me spending time alone with another guy. He couldn’t believe we’d been platonic all these years. I mean, I even told him about David’s commitment issues and his inability to maintain a single girlfriend for over five minutes.” I looked up and smiled through my tears. “But he didn’t believe me.”
Elliot sits motionless beside me, his hand resting on my thigh as his eyes remain glued to my face, filled with emphatic emotion.
“We’d been living
together about a month and David and Christopher had an argument. It was something stupid that triggered it, but it got nasty and Christopher banned David from the apartment. I didn’t want to fight, so I just made sure David was only there when I knew Christopher was at work. It was stupid. But I kept telling myself they needed time. I never…I never expected.” My hand flutters up to my chest as I struggle to keep my composure. Elliot catches it between his hands and holds it steady.
“It’s OK,” he whispers. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard.”
“I…” I start. “No. I want to. I want to give you the chance to understand.”
“All right.” His thumb caresses the back of my hand soothingly, and I draw strength from it.
“On the night I left, David was over watching a movie with me. Christopher was supposed to be at work, so I thought it would all be safe, and I could spend some quality time with my friend.” I shake my head and swallow before I can speak. “Christopher came home from work early and lost his mind. David didn’t even have time to react before Christopher dropped him then tossed him out. Then…” I hold tight onto his hands, squeezing as my body shakes at the memory of those eyes, the anger pouring out. “He came at me. I yelled but he wouldn’t stop. It was like he’d gone mad, quit being human… He grabbed me by the back of my hair and ran—like I was made of nothing—slamming me straight through the glass sliding door.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t remember anything after that,” I say, pulling a hand free to wipe it across my face. “The police report says there was evidence he continued hitting into me after that. David kicked through the door and reported finding him tearing at my clothes with the intention of…well, you know.” I press my lips together. “I owe him my life, Elliot. He risked his to save me, and the least I can do is make sure that any man I let into my life understands that there’ll be no choosing. David is my best friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. You accept him, or you walk away from me.”
“Oh, Katrina,” he says on an exhale. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you understand. That you’ll never come between me and David.”
He places a hand on the side of my face, running a thumb down the jagged scar before he wipes my tear damp cheeks. “I promise,” he whispers.
“And you understand,” I whisper.
Letting his hand drop to my shoulder, he traces the curved scar near my collarbone, letting his fingers feel their way down my arm, inspecting my scars, touching each one tentatively with his fingertips. “I understand,” he says, lifting my hand and pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist, my heart skittering in response across my chest. “I would be protective of you too.” He presses another kiss against my shoulder, his lips lingering against my skin.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Elliot,” I whisper, my eyes losing focus as I fight the emotions coursing through me.
“I don’t. I think you’re incredibly strong,” he whispers, lifting both hands to cup my face. “Beautiful and powerful. A fighter.”
Closing my eyes, an intoxicating wave of desire floods through me as I lean into his hands, not caring where we are, ignoring the fact we shouldn’t be touching like this in the open.
I let him kiss me. At first I don’t fully respond, but as he gently sucks my lip with his, I part my mouth and let out a soft gasp, allowing him in. My body is on fire as his arms circle around me, and I move to sit on his lap, not breaking the kiss.
Our tongues dance together as they explore the crevices of each other’s mouths, replacing the pain I feel from telling that story with something new and full of promise.
My head tips back as he rains kisses down my neck and across my chest, leaving a tiny trail of fire in their wake. Our breathing heavy, I feel his arousal pressing against my own, causing me to grind instinctively against him. He moans and captures my mouth in his again, hugging me tighter as his hands caress the exposed skin on my back. My god, I’ve missed this.
A sudden beeping brings us crashing back to reality. Panting, I sit back, and he slowly releases me so I can switch off my alarm.
“I guess we better get back,” I breathe, laughing a little.
His eyes are dark as he cups the back of my head and pulls me towards him, kissing me deeply again. “Now we can go,” he says when he releases me.
I run my hand down the side of his face. “You’re going to ruin me, Elliot Roberts. I can already tell.”
His eyes sparkle as he laughs. “Then consider me destroyed.”
Standing, he holds out his hand to help me up. I do a quick scan of the park, hoping no one has seen us here and chance one last brief kiss. “I’ll go ahead like I normally do, OK?”
He nods. “I might sit back down here a while and ah… calm down.” I look down and notice he has a decisive tent in his running shorts.
“I think that might be a good idea,” I say, laughing as I move off.
“Katrina?” I stop and turn to face him. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”
“I do. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you would.”
“See me this weekend?”
I grin, walking backwards along the path. “Maybe.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a, maybe.”
“So, a no?”
I laugh and turn away. “A maybe.”
Twelve
“I’m taking you out tonight,” David says with a grin. I’m surprised to find him sitting in the foyer waiting for me after work on Friday when we normally meet outside the station. He looks relaxed with the top button of his dress shirt open and his tie loose.
“Mum will be devastated,” I say with a smile, reaching out to tug his grey tie when he stands to greet me. “She’s making lamb for dinner.”
He slings his arm around my shoulders and guides me towards the exit. “I already called her and told her we won’t be there.”
“You’re a good son,” I tease. Sometimes I think mum likes him more than me to be honest.
“I do what I can,” he says. “You up for a bit of a walk?”
“Well, I do have my sensible shoes on.” I lift a leg, showing him my trusty Mary Janes.
“Excellent.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He grins. “You’ll see in about ten minutes.”
Ten minutes passes with happy banter as we walk through the city streets until we arrive at King Street Wharf. “Are we getting fish and chips to share with the sea gulls?” I ask, watching the angular looking birds squawk in the sky above us.
“Better. We’re going on that.” He points at a small cruiser, covered in fairy lights with a banner up advertising a nineties cover band.
I grin. “Are you serious? I love nineties music.”
With a chuckle, he pulls out his phone to show me the tickets. “Precisely why I booked this. I thought it would be fun. Dinner. Dancing. You and me. No outside distractions to mess things up.”
“I love it,” I say, bouncing on my toes as I hug him tight. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
He nods his head towards the boat. “Let’s get onboard.”
“So, what’s the occasion?” I ask when we’re seated at our table. There’s an open cabin area that looks much like your regular function room, but being on a boat, it has a three-sixty view of the harbour. There’s a stage up front where the band has set up. However, they’re pumping tunes through a stereo system while they welcome everyone on board.
“Does there need to be one?” He thanks the server who stops at our table and offers us sparkling wine from the heavily laden tray she carries. She’s super cute, and while she’s trying to be professional, she does the usual posturing girls do while checking David out.
It’s OK. I’m used to being invisible beside him. But for once in his life, he doesn’t flirt with the girl. He simply takes the glasses then turns back to me. Wow.
“A toast?” he suggests, handing
me my drink.
My mouth hangs open a little as I look from him to the server who’s moved on to the next table. “Did you even see her?”
He grins. “No distractions tonight, remember? It’s just you and me hanging out alone. I never fully apologised for the way I treated you that day at the Lakes. When I saw this advertised, I thought it was the perfect gesture to show you how important you are.”
“Well then,”—I hold my glass up—“to lifelong friendship.”
His gaze drops a touch before he lifts his glass to mine. “To lifelong friendship,” he says, before we both drink.
As we cruise around the harbour eating a pre-set menu of chicken parcels and potato au gratin, the band plays slower hits like Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, and Natalie Imbruglia’s Torn. The setting is sublime and the company perfect. We never run out of conversation, chatting about my upcoming club race, and his industrial relations professor who mumbles when he talks. David does this great impression that has me almost falling off my chair laughing.
“Thank god for transcripts, huh?” he says.
“They were my saving grace when I was recovering.” My cheeks hurt from smiling.
“I remember.” He studies my face then lowers his eyes while placing his knife and fork together on his finished plate. “How’s the drama at work?”
His eyes return to mine and I press my lips together before answering. He won’t like hearing how close Elliot and I are becoming. But I don’t want to lie to him. I’ve had enough of lies and pretending.
“Well, I’m still taking morning tea in the library. But I told you Kayley, Anne and the rest are taking it there with me, didn’t I?”
“You did. They sound like good friends.”
“I think they’re becoming that way. They certainly make work a little more fun.”
“And the rest of the office?”
“Bianca still hates me, and Beth doesn’t really talk to me anymore. But that’s OK, I just make sure I only drop things at Elliot’s desk when she’s marked away from her computer.”
“Doesn’t that seem suspicious?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t stay and talk to him. I just hand him some journals and leave.”
Struggle: Beautiful Series, book one Page 12