Arrogant Aussie

by Masen, Kat

  CJ jumps on me, almost squashing my nuts as he begs for more monster sounds. I entertain him, tickling his sides before he runs away to hide under the coffee table.

  “I’ve got two sisters, and the youngest is twelve years my junior. Ma and Pa worked on the farm a lot her first year, so I took care of her after school. It’s been a while, though.”

  “You’ll make a good dad. Speaking of which, how are things with, um… Gabriella.”

  “Nice segue from Daddy duties to Gabs.”

  She grins proudly. “Thought it was smooth.”

  “She’s a cool chick. A bit high strung, but yeah, we have fun.”

  “Oh… you have fun?”

  “Yeah, we have fun.”

  “Like fun, fun?”

  “More like just fun. No fun, fun.” I set the record straight.

  I’d be stupid to assume Aubrey and Gabriella don’t share stories, so exaggerating fun could have landed me in hot water.

  “Anyway, she’s with Prince Charming, right?”

  If anyone knows the truth, it will be Aubrey.

  This could be a chance to get some information that Gabriella is no doubt holding back. But I have to play it smooth by asking the questions yet appear uninterested at the same time.

  “Not technically. I don’t know the details, it’s hazy. She’s engaged, or at least for all intents and purposes, she’s on a break. Whatever that means.”

  “Exactly, what does that mean, Aubrey?”

  “It means she’s not sure if marrying him is where she pictured her life, hence, why she’s here.” Aubrey grabs the remote, changing the channel to something more adult than Mickey Mouse. “As for the black and white regarding how much of a break, and what it means, or if they can see other people since I assume that’s what you’re trying to get out of me, you’ll have to ask her.”

  Damn. Aubrey is useless.

  I almost express my disappointment but carry on and wait until seven before I say goodbye and head over next door.

  Exactly at seven on the dot, I knock on Gabriella’s door. She opens quickly, dressed in a white sundress with navy-blue polka dots. I’m mesmerized by how damn gorgeous she looks in a slight pose looking all innocent like she isn’t going to break me.

  “Am I dressed all right for the secret squirrel date we’re on?”

  “Perfect.” I beam, elated she’s called it a date.

  We walk toward the car, her bag draped over her shoulder before she settles into the passenger side.

  “Nice wheels. Is this yours?”

  I want to tell her that nothing here is permanent. Home is back in Australia. Everything I have here has an expiry date including this car.

  “A rental. Always wanted a Jeep.”

  “Me, too.” She laughs, buckling her seat belt. “My father would never allow me to drive such a car. If it isn’t part of the Rolls Royce family, then it’s not worthy to be driven by a Carmichael.”

  “You have a Rolls Royce?” I laugh at the sheer notion of Gabs driving such a car. “Do you also wear white gloves when driving?”

  She punches my shoulder, soft yet affectionate. “Don’t mock, it’s a smooth ride. Besides, what do you drive back home?”

  “A Jag, and my… bike…” I trail off, remembering I no longer ride since the accident.

  Gabriella places her hand on my shoulder, massaging it softly knowing it’s a sensitive topic. I force a smile, placing my hands on the steering wheel as the engine starts. The stereo plays Maroon Five blaring over the speakers from my last ride. Turning the volume down to an appropriate level, I sing along, ignoring her persistent stare coupled with an amusing grin.

  “Olly can sing.” She nods, surprised.

  “There you go, calling me Olly again.”

  She’s cute when she’s relaxed and not a stuck-up princess, like when I first met her. The song ends, and instantly, she grabs my phone, scrolling through my playlist trying to pick a song.

  “Um… since when do you just go through my phone? I have to see you naked before you get that privilege.”

  “Why, you got nudes in here?” she questions, casually. “The ladies sending Mr. Big-Shot-Soccer-Player some tits and ass pics?”

  “More like pussy and leg shots.” She almost drops my phone to the floor. “Relax, Gabs. I’m a good boy.”

  “Good boys are the worst. They’re the hungriest because they deprive themselves, which is unnatural of the male species.”

  “I could say the same for good girls. But something tells me you’re a wild one, but you’re in the closet.”

  “Me? Please, I’m boring. The wildest place I ever had sex was in college with this guy I was seeing. Janitor’s closet after a drunken frat party. The last time I completely lost control.”

  “Until the night at the bar.”

  “Yeah, something like that,” she mumbles, turning to face the side window.

  “So, Prince Charming doesn’t get you off?”

  She’s quick to focus back on me.

  “You know, you are obsessed with Prince Charming. You want me to hook you up with him? I’m not sure he’s into the beard thing you’ve got going on, but you could get some with your body.”

  I haven’t shaved in one day, and she’s throwing the word ‘beard’ around like I’m some sort of Bigfoot ape. I did, however, appreciate the sentiment about my body. It’s nice to know she’s admiring it, even if it kills her to admit it.

  “So, you like my body?”

  “Um… ex-cuuse me?” she stutters, quick to compose herself. “Way to switch topics.”

  “It’s not a switch of topics,” I state, matter-of-factly. “Obviously, Prince Charming doesn’t do it for you, or you’d be legs spread in front of him and not in a car going to an unknown place with me. As for my body, I’ll accept the compliment. I train hard. Otherwise, I’d be just like good ol’ Santa with a beer gut.”

  “You know what you are?”

  “What?”

  “An arrogant Aussie.”

  I break out into a wide grin, watching her from the corner of my eye. “Uh-huh—”

  “For assuming that Prince Charming is not exciting in the bedroom. You know what happens when you assume?”

  “You hit the nail on the head?”

  “Wh… What does that mean?”

  “I hit the truth.”

  “No more talking.” She cranks up the stereo as Black Eyed Peas play, enough so I sing along knowing I am completely right. Prince Charming most likely has a small dick. Pompous boys like him usually do and compensate by throwing money around. If she were satisfied like I could satisfy her, she wouldn’t have requested a break. If she were with me, she’d be begging for more.

  Cue the cocky reminder. Your dick ain’t gonna calm down anytime soon.

  We pull up to Rancho Palos Verdes. The resort is situated on a private peninsula known for its relaxing spa and resort facilities. I’d read about it online, seen the spectacular pictures, yet wasn’t keen on coming by myself.

  The concierge opens our doors and guides us toward the main reception. Behind the counter, an older lady directs Gabriella to the ladies’ room, then offers me directions to the male change rooms.

  I quickly dump my stuff in the locker, eager to head back to the enclosed spa area. When researching this place, I made sure that the place was intimate, but not to the point where Gabriella would feel uncomfortable.

  The spa is hot, steaming into the warm summer’s air. Upon stepping in, I instantly find myself relaxing until she’s standing with a white robe on in front of me.

  “Well, what are you waiting for… the apocalypse?”

  With reluctance, she removes the robe, wearing only a yellow bikini. I’m certain my mouth has dropped open, drool dripping down the side as I take in her whole body.

  Every single curve is gorgeous, and despite the overbearing heat, I have to tame the wild boy beneath my shorts.

&n
bsp; She steps in, her face relaxing as her body sinks into the water. Her facial expression is priceless—content and at peace. I’m satisfied she won’t criticize me for my choice to bring her here.

  “Oh, wow, this feels amazing.”

  “It’s how we normally would unwind after a game. Much more enjoyable with you than a bunch of blokes, though.” She sits on the opposite side from me, keeping her distance. “This is the best way to avoid the soreness you’re going to feel tomorrow. Champagne?”

  “Really, champagne helps?”

  “No, but they threw it in.”

  She downs a glass, closing her eyes as I sit across from her watching intently. Gabriella has an understated beauty. Perhaps it’s because she’s so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her skin is completely flawless, shy a few freckles scattered across her cheekbones. When she smiles, her whole face lights up, just as it is right now.

  “You do this often?” she asks, closing her eyes briefly.

  “I did… back home.”

  “With your girlfriend, Bianca?”

  I’m taken aback by the mention of her name. I don’t recall mentioning her unless Chance has said something.

  “How do you know about Bianca?” I ask, with a reigning curiosity. “Let me guess, Chance?”

  “Google,” she coughs, covering up her mouth.

  “You googled me?”

  “In my defense, I had to make sure who I was jumping into a car with before I decided whether you were a serial murderer.”

  “And what did you find?”

  She stares at me, softening. “The um… accident.”

  It was bound to come up. I couldn’t run forever even though I tried to every moment I was awake. Perhaps, I should have been honest from the beginning, eliminated her curiosity to avoid tense moments like this. Chance warned me, but I was stubborn and refused to listen.

  There will be a time and a place—now is not that time.

  “I’m sorry, Oliver,” she says in a flat, monotoned voice. “It must have been awful.”

  “It was.”

  “You can talk about it, I mean, I’m half-naked with you in a spa,” she offers, with a friendly smile. “If that counts for anything, you can trust me.”

  “I’m just not ready.”

  “Okay…”

  She almost looked hurt, but she doesn’t understand the pain which followed.

  It held me hostage, tormenting me, watching me suffer relentlessly. This doesn’t feel like the moment to relive every sordid detail of falling off the bike and seeing death seconds away.

  “How does the water feel?”

  “I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” she admits, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I went to one of these places. Probably with my mother and sisters, some sort of girls’ day out.”

  “You have sisters?”

  “Two. Both older. Clara and Antoinette.”

  “You guys close?”

  She laughs as if I just threw around a joke.

  “By close do you mean I’m constantly ridiculed for my life choices?” She pulls out her hair, letting it fall against her wet skin. “Let’s see, why would a girl want to go to college when Daddy could marry you off to a senator? After they caused a stink about having to attend three years of college, my father almost didn’t bother with me. But no, I demanded he send me. He agreed, only so he could tell people his daughter was good enough to get into Yale.”

  “Why do you let him control you? You’re what… twenty-five?”

  She nods, swishing her hands against the water. “Turning twenty-six soon. I can’t explain it. My family is very influential, and my father gets his way. If I disobey him, I’ll be cut off by the family.”

  “C’mon, surely it’s an empty threat. No parent would do that.”

  She shakes her head, her expression downturned. A dark cloud hovers above her, shadowing the beautiful sunshine which graced me only moments ago.

  “You don’t know him. He will do everything in his power to get his way. This time away from everyone, I had to literally beg for it.”

  All I hear is the voice of someone scared to follow their own path. It seems unfathomable that a family could disown their own daughter over a choice to marry someone she didn’t love. Unless, of course, she does love him.

  Fuck, don’t go there.

  “It sounds to me like you’re scared of being alone. Leave that life, get a job, follow your passions like everyone else. Stand on your own feet. Honestly, it ain’t that hard.”

  With a dismissive glance, she looks at me as if I’ve said pigs could fly. “Easy for you to say, you have a family who supports you. They moved cities to follow your dream. My dream doesn’t exist. My father will make sure of that.” Her voice wavers, and I can see she’s lost, trapped by the power of a man, who, in my opinion, doesn’t respect his own daughter.

  I was too harsh, and now I feel like the biggest dick.

  I move forward, bridging the gap between us, cupping her cheek in my hand. I want to reach in and tell her it isn’t hopeless, but she won’t believe me. Her eyes stare back at me with bewilderment, allowing me to touch her skin.

  “You are worthy of living your own life,” I whisper, my voice clouded by the steam rising from the water. “Don’t let anyone else live it but you.”

  “But I don’t know how to follow my dreams.”

  I grab her hand, placing it against her chest, watching the water cascade down her heated skin. “You follow what’s in here. What does it tell you?”

  Staring into her eyes, she’s only inches away from my lips. I wanted to kiss her, beg her to unleash on me, but I know there are cameras everywhere, so I begin to pull away slowly, waiting for her response.

  “It tells me we need to get out because my skin looks like a prune,” she says, then shifts her gaze to meet mine. “And nothing good will come from being drunk with you in this spa.”

  It’s the most honest thing she’s said all night.

  Despite my reluctance to pull away at this moment, I have to respect her decision. I owe her at least that since no one else will.

  We get changed, separately, and head back to the car.

  The ride home is quiet. We listen to music and open the windows to let the cool night’s air inside.

  When I park the car out front and walk her through the gate, she says goodnight until I call her name from the bottom of the steps.

  She turns around, watching me with her curly hair falling past her shoulders. I want to go inside, make sweet love to her, and promise her more than I should, considering the time we’ve spent together. But, I don’t want to push that boundary, not when I am unsure of exactly which path to go down myself.

  I am not sure of anything.

  “I wasn’t meant to ride my bike that night, but arrogant me wouldn’t listen to my coach. I was above his direction when it came to after hours.” I clear my throat, closing my eyes. “The guy in the car, he blew three times over the limit. Ran a red light, and I had no chance.”

  Gabriella doesn’t say a word, instead stands perfectly still and listens.

  “I have nightmares every night, which is why I have insomnia. So, that’s i-it,” I stammer. “That’s it.” I didn’t know what else to say, baring my soul to her in a way I never have with anyone else. Not Ma or Pa or even my two-hundred-dollar-an-hour therapist.

  Gabriella’s footsteps move toward me, stopping at the step just above where I’m standing. Her arms wrap around my neck, and there, under the moonlight, she holds onto me tight, the scent of her skin only inches away from my lips.

  “I know that was hard,” she whispers against my ear, “But thank you, Olly. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me how you’re feeling.”

  I don’t want her to let go. Something forewarned me that opening up to her was more than getting something off my chest. I’m trusting her with my heart and soul.


  A messy way to get incredibly hurt.

  Gabriella

  I woke up the next morning feeling brand new.

  My body clock woke me at exactly half-past five, after what felt like the most magnificent and peaceful sleep ever.

  Lately, I dream every night. The dreams vary between certain animals, snakes in particular, to falling off the edge of a building. They have been so vivid, often causing me to wake up utterly exhausted from the constant worry.

  This morning was different.

  I lay on my back, arms sprawled across the pristine white sheets I had bought to match the décor of this house. Despite it being a holiday rental, using someone else’s sheets wasn’t exactly my idea of hygienic. I even went so far as to splurge on luxury pillows. If there is only one thing my mother knows how to do right, it’s purchasing ridiculously expensive bedding fit for a queen.

  The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the sound of birds chirping outside the window hint that it’s early morning. My mind begins to reminisce about last night, replaying like an olden-day movie.

  Things between Oliver and I have begun to shift. A direction I so desperately want to follow, yet knew I had to hold back.

  Oliver is so carefree with his thinking, not understanding why someone wouldn’t just live their life on their own terms. The more I tried to justify my father’s behavior, the more I sounded like an idiot. Oliver doesn’t understand what my father is capable of. I’ve seen it firsthand, how easily he destroys people’s lives without a care in the world.

  And I would be no different.

  Blood is not thicker than water. If you do him wrong, you will pay no matter who you are.

  I somewhat feed off Oliver’s confidence, desperate to have his courage, willpower, and drive. He didn’t let anything stop him—the arrogant Aussie thought he was better than everyone else and deserved only the best.

  Oliver only thought about himself—his career, his goals. Selfish, perhaps, but his determination got him this far, and nothing seems to deter him.

  I crave to be around him, looking forward to his texts, or even the way he annoyingly refers to me as Gabs. As far as our friendship goes, we are platonic. Neither one of us has physically crossed the line, and I ignore every part of me wanting to take that line and shove it up someone’s backside.