‘They’re usually not so naked, at least,’ Leila added.
‘I’ve seen more penises tonight than I have in my entire life,’ I whispered.
‘Oh my god, I saw Alex’s. I don’t know if I can sustain my crush now . . . What?! Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean! Some things are best left to the imagination. Not that I was imagining it.’ She covered her face with her hands.
When our giggles had subsided, I looked around. I noticed there was light around the edges of one of the upstairs windows, but the blinds were down. Still, if Will’s parents chose this moment to look out . . . ‘Don’t Will’s parents care?’
Leila shrugged. ‘They’re not regular parents, they’re cool parents,’ she said, with an exaggerated wink like Amy Poehler in Mean Girls.
‘Ah, I love that movie!’
We talked about the many wonders of Mean Girls for a little while. People started getting out of the pool, and once again there was far too much flesh in my line of sight. I half laughed, half groaned. Leila cupped her hand to her eyes, blocking her peripheral vision, and I did the same.
Nudging me, she said, ‘Hey, have you been thinking about the pageant?’
I slid down and rested my head against the back of the lounge, sighing. Maybe it was because I was tipsy. Maybe it was just the weirdness of the night. Maybe it was because I knew I could trust Leila. But I finally admitted the truth.
‘You know what? I really, really want to do it.’ I scrunched up my face, embarrassed to have said the words out loud.
‘Yessss! That’s what I like to hear. You’re not going to regret it.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I mean, I want to do it – but I still don’t see how I can.’
‘We’ll work on that. Trust me. I’ll have you feeling like a million bucks.’
I snorted. Then, quietly, I said, ‘I’m scared, Leila.’
She put a comforting hand on my arm. ‘That’s how you know something is worth doing.’
Beamer chose that moment to reappear and plant himself next to me. He had a towel wrapped around his hips, but his chest was bare and still covered in droplets of water. He ran his hands back and forth through his hair, causing it to stick up in all directions. He lay back on the chair, his head a few centimetres from mine.
I sat up and moved forward, perching on the edge of the seat. ‘God, Beamer, put some clothes on.’
‘Hey, I’m going to find out where the others disappeared to,’ Leila said, walking away before I’d even registered what she was saying. I looked around and realised nearly everyone had gone inside. There were some randoms talking quietly together at the other end of the pool, and a couple in the corner making out. I couldn’t see Sebastian and Anna anywhere. I was about to get up and follow Leila inside when Beamer reached out and tapped my shoulder.
‘Hey, Maisie Martin,’ he said. He kept poking me until I turned to look at him. He had a lazy smile on his face.
‘Yes, pest?’ I replied, trying to ignore the weird way my heart was beating and the dry feeling in my throat as I looked into his dark eyes.
‘Truth or dare?’ he said.
I rolled my eyes. ‘The game’s over, Beamer.’
‘Come on, I didn’t get my go. I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Don’t you know enough of my truths already?’
‘No way. But you could always choose dare.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Fine. Dare.’
‘I dare you,’ he said, grinning and punctuating every word with a gentle prod of my shoulder, ‘to kiss me.’
I made a scoffing noise and shook my head, turning away from him.
‘Knew you wouldn’t do it.’
I just want to reiterate that I blame Kieron entirely for what happened next. If he hadn’t planted the idea in my head that Beamer was anything other than a pain in my arse, I never would have done it.
Well, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have.
But I did.
I spun around and launched myself at Beamer’s mouth. He froze for a moment, but then his lips were moving against mine. His hands were roaming up and down my back, over my shoulders, my neck, into my hair. I reached up and cupped his face with my hands, not breaking the kiss. Not thinking about anything except briefly registering that he was much better than I expected him to be. Not that I expected him to be anything, because that would imply I’d thought about it. Which I hadn’t. I swear. But if I had, I would’ve thought he’d have some terrible washing machine-style tongue action like Ryan Rodriguez did when I kissed him behind the sheds after school in Year 9.
Beamer’s tongue action . . . well, look, I’m not going to go into details because it will probably sound way less hot than it was, but let’s just say it was not like a washing machine.
Wait, did I just say it was hot?
Yes. Yes I did.
Because it was.
Oh god, it was.
What’s wrong with me?
I don’t know how long we’d been kissing when all of a sudden Beamer broke off, pushing me away and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He let out an irritated groan.
I sat there for a second in shock, staring at his back. He didn’t move. ‘You know, if you didn’t want to kiss me, you shouldn’t have dared me,’ I spat out, then I got up and rushed inside.
I heard him calling after me, but he didn’t follow and I didn’t look back.
Tuesday, 26 December
2 things I discovered today
1. Do not get in the way of Leila at a fabric sale.
Source: Leila and I went to this giant fabric warehouse to pick out material for the pageant. She was a woman on a mission in there.
2. I finally get why people make out during movies.
Source: ;););)
*
Ah, Boxing Day. When you have two choices of activity: watching the cricket or shopping the sales (aka the third layer of hell).
‘Let’s go with your mum and the others,’ Anna said this morning. They were heading to the mall. But I’d already made plans with Leila.
‘Sorry, I thought you’d be hanging out with Sebastian,’ I said.
She pulled a face. ‘He’s watching the cricket.’
‘Do you want to come with us?’
Anna considered it for a moment. ‘Nah, I wouldn’t want to get in the way.’
I told her she wouldn’t be, but she said, ‘It’s alright. I’ll convince Seb there are more interesting things to do than watch the cricket. It shouldn’t be too hard.’
Mum’s words from yesterday drifted into my head. As I’d helped her prepare the salad for lunch, she’d whispered to me, ‘What’s going on with you and Anna?’
‘What? Nothing.’
‘Something seems . . . off between you two. She seems to spend more time with Seb than she does with you. I thought –’
‘Everything’s fine, Mum,’ I’d said.
But was it?
I shoved the thought away. Of course it was.
*
Leila had assured me shopping a fabric sale on Boxing Day was not, in fact, the third layer of hell, but actual heaven. And while I wouldn’t quite go that far, I have to admit it wasn’t any layer of hell. It wasn’t even purgatory. It was just . . . fun.
There were people everywhere, sure, and the place was kind of a mess, but seeing it through Leila’s eyes, it was like a treasure hunt, and she knew exactly where to start digging.
‘This. This is perfect,’ Leila said as she held up a roll of soft material with a bright floral print. I reached out to touch the fabric. Now that was heavenly.
‘It’s lovely,’ I said, and she let out a small squeal. ‘But –’
‘No! No buts! I won’t hear any buts. It’s perfect, I’m telling you.’
‘But –’
‘What did I say?’
‘Okay, bu– I mean . . . look, what about this one? That will suit my skin tone better, don’t you think?’ I
pointed to a roll of black fabric.
‘No, I don’t think. This one will look beautiful on you. You can’t hide behind black forever, you know. And don’t even think about looking at the navy.’ She picked up the roll of fabric to take it to the counter, then paused. Looking over her shoulder at me she said, ‘Wait, babe. I’m sorry. If this is going to make you uncomfortable, I’ll find something else. Just tell me to shut up when I get too bossy.’
I walked over to examine the fabric once again. I touched it and smiled. ‘You know what? You’re the expert. Let’s do it.’
She grinned. ‘You won’t regret it!’
‘You keep saying that. But I do so many things I end up regretting.’
‘Like what?’ She wasn’t really paying attention to me as she told the shop assistant how much material we needed.
‘Like kissing Beamer.’
That got her attention.
‘What?! At the party?! I knew it. I knew there was something going on between you two. I was getting a vibe. Why do you think I made myself scarce? You’re welcome, by the way. But wait – why do you regret it? What happened?’
‘Well, for starters, it’s Beamer. You’re wrong about something going on between us. We kind of hate each other.’
She gave me a look.
‘It’s true! Honestly, I think the only pleasure he gets from my company is annoying me.’
‘And kissing you,’ she said with a smirk. ‘Seriously babe, that’s how all the best romances start out. Look at Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley. Or . . . Han Solo and Princess Leia! It’s all about the flirty banter.’
I didn’t respond immediately because I had to pay for the fabric (it was coming out of the Christmas money I’d received – Mum had said, ‘I thought you could get something for the pageant – maybe we can go shopping tomorrow?’ Like I’d voluntarily submit to that torture). It gave me a moment to consider Leila’s words. Was Beamer flirting with me? Worse – was I flirting with him?
A quick succession of images flashed through my head: Beamer snapping my swimmer straps, water-bombing me, poking me, teasing me; me telling him to shut up, whacking him, asking him to leave me alone; Sebastian and I getting ‘married’, playing together, me reading his poetry, me getting heart palpitations just being near him, his smile . . . yeah, nah, it was definitely not a thing with Beamer. Sebastian was my Han Solo. The Beamer incident – it was purely because of what Kieron had said. It had made me curious. That was all. I told Leila as much.
Except . . . except . . .
‘Except it happened again yesterday.’
‘WHAT?! What do you mean?! Tell me everything.’
So I told her. I guess I should tell you too, DJ.
Remember when I said someone was coming? Yeah, that was Beamer.
I’d been avoiding him all day. Like, more than usual. After storming away from him the night before, I’d grabbed Anna as soon as I saw her and told her I wanted to get home before Mum cracked the shits. Despite her protests, I’d dragged her out of there without waiting for the guys. I was not ready to face whatever the hell had happened with Beamer.
Christmas morning was just our family – except Dad, of course. I Skyped with him and he said how much he was missing us, and that Grandma was really excited to ‘finally be able to celebrate with some family, at least’, which is her passive-aggressive way of complaining once again that we go away every Christmas (it’s always bugged her). I handed Dad over to Eva, but she hung up after she was done without even trying to pass him on to Mum. I don’t think the two of them have spoken at all since we got here. But when Mum gave me my Christmas card (containing my Christmas cash), it said ‘Love, Mum and Dad’, so I took that as a sign they’re still together and absolutely not getting divorced – on paper, at least. Until they tell me otherwise, that’s what I’m focusing on.
For lunch we gathered in the picnic area near the Lees’ cabin to do what we do every other day – have a barbecue, play games (the kids), get drunk (the adults) – only this time in much fancier clothes that made us all extremely hot and uncomfortable. But we looked nice for photos, which is what’s truly important.
Sebastian and Anna exchanged gifts – he gave her a bottle of perfume, which kind of shocked me. Although not nearly as much as when he turned and handed me a small box in bright red wrapping paper. I protested that I hadn’t bought him anything, but he said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Maise. It’s from me and Beamer. It’s not a big deal, okay?’ I busied myself unwrapping it to avoid eye contact with Beamer himself, who was hovering nearby. When I saw it was a Funko Pop figure of the Terminator, my heart nearly burst.
‘Thank you. You really shouldn’t have,’ I said to Sebastian. He winked at me. I caught Beamer’s hopeful expression behind him, and added, ‘both of you’, before rushing away to help Mum in the kitchen.
Beamer tried to talk to me a couple of times throughout the day, but I somehow found myself very busy. I mean, I just had to help Mum and Laura with lunch, and play paddle ball with Kane and Lincoln, and ask Jimmy questions about the cricket for a good half an hour. I even wound up sitting between Eva and Bess at one stage. The situation was that dire.
Eva was doing her OTT nice thing, saying, ‘That dress looks so good on you, Maise,’ and ‘Did you make these rum balls? They’re yum,’ and ‘Bess, Maisie loves movies.’
‘Everyone loves movies,’ I said. I picked up two cherries from the platter in front of me and shoved them both in my mouth, trying to limit the expectation of further conversation, but Eva didn’t give up that easily.
‘Not like you love movies.’
‘What’s your favourite?’ Bess asked.
‘I don’t have one,’ I said around the cherries.
‘Seriously?’
‘What about Dirty Dancing?’ Eva said with a smile that made me want to spit the cherry pits straight into her face.
Instead, I did the gracious thing (it being Christmas and all) and spat them out into a napkin, then changed the subject. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you all day, your make-up is so good,’ I said to Bess, even though I hadn’t been meaning to say anything, but desperate times and all. To be fair, her make-up was awesome.
Bess thanked me and then said, ‘Yours is amazing, too. Or more like, ah-Maise-ing, am I right?’
I looked at her blankly.
‘Get it? Like Maisie . . . amazing. Ah-Maise-ing . . .’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I said. ‘Um, thanks.’ There was an awkward pause.
‘Bess is actually a make-up artist,’ Eva piped up.
‘Not professionally or anything,’ Bess protested. ‘I’m self-taught. It’s just a bit of fun.’
‘Don’t be modest. It’s art.’
For once, I agreed with Eva, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. I guess I’m not that gracious, even on Christmas. Thankfully, Laura pulled up a chair near us and settled in to eat her pavlova, rescuing me from having to keep the conversation going.
‘So,’ she said between spoonsful. ‘Eva, tell me – how did you and Bess meet?’
Eva looked over at Bess and smiled affectionately. ‘Well, I read this personal essay Bess wrote online.’
‘I’m majoring in journalism at uni,’ Bess interjected. ‘Trying to get as much published as possible before I graduate next year.’
‘Yeah, so I really liked this piece, and I found her on Twitter and we got chatting. Eventually we met up for coffee and we just clicked.’
The two of them were grinning at each other now, practically sending little cartoon love hearts out of their eyes.
‘Ah. Like mother like daughter, eh?’ Laura said.
‘You mean because Dad’s a journalist?’ Eva said.
‘Well, that. But that’s how your mum fell for him. Through his writing.’
‘Really? I thought they met at the uni bar.’
Laura laughed. ‘They did. Your mum wasn’t interested, but he asked around and figured out which college we li
ved in. He started leaving these little love notes for her in the letterbox. Full of poetry and all sorts of mushy stuff. It won her over in the end.’
Mum had appeared at Laura’s side by this stage. She rolled her eyes. ‘He was such a pest.’ But she had a tiny smile on her face. It looked strained, but it was there.
‘Dad? A poet?!’ I couldn’t believe it.
‘No way.’ Apparently Eva couldn’t either.
‘Oh yeah. You should have seen the stuff he sent her after they started dating,’ Laura said, standing up and collecting our empty bowls. ‘It was filthy. What was that one about your –’
‘That’s enough!’ Mum playfully whipped the tea towel she was holding at Laura’s butt as she walked towards the bin. But I wanted to hear more. I got up to follow Laura, then froze when I noticed Beamer at the bin, tossing his own paper bowl away. He caught my eye and took a step towards me.
‘Oh, is that the time? You know what, I’m super tired, I’m gonna go have a nap.’ I took off towards our cabin before anyone could respond.
As you know, I didn’t actually have a nap. I ended up writing for a while, spilling my guts about Christmas Eve. That is, until I heard someone sliding open the screen door. Then there was a knock at my bedroom door.
‘Maisie? Can I come in?’
I contemplated not answering, except knowing Beamer, he’d probably just keep knocking. I even considered jumping through the tiny window, but visions of getting stuck like some sort of bad slapstick comedy (or, worse, a horror movie) stopped me.
‘Hey,’ he said when I opened the door.
‘What do you want?’
‘I, uh . . .’ He cleared his throat and stepped into the room. ‘I thought maybe we should talk? About . . . um . . . last night?’
‘What’s there to talk about? We were drunk, we were there, no big deal. You’re off the hook.’
About five different emotions played across his face, but I couldn’t quite place any of them. He sighed.
‘Maisie . . .’ He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he kept changing his mind about what he wanted to say. For a brief moment I flashed back to the night before, to that mouth on mine, but I quickly pushed the thought away
What I Like About Me Page 9