Arrogant Aussie

by Masen, Kat

  We are two very different people, raised completely opposite. The only thing we have in common is this place—Hermosa Beach. So what if she makes me laugh. So what if she challenges me more than any other woman has. This isn’t the time to start a relationship, let alone with someone who can’t figure out who the hell she wants.

  Without a plan or buddy to hang out with, I make my lonesome way toward the pub we hung out at when we first met. For the first hour, I sit at the bar, drowning my sorrows in a pint while watching a rerun of some baseball game.

  “It’s more fun to drink when you have company,” a silky voice beside me says.

  I turn around to see an attractive woman standing beside me, playing with her martini glass as her lips scrap against the glass. She’s in a tight white dress, leaving not much to the imagination. I could nail this one easily, a quick bend over and take her in the arse.

  Except then you would be thinking about someone else’s arse.

  “Sure, take a seat. You like baseball?”

  “Why not? If you like it.”

  Great, this will be way too easy. As the game plays on, she talks, I half-listen to boring, mundane topics revolving around her beauty salon and pet cat.

  Time passes, more nodding on my behalf until she grabs my cell and places her number in my speed dial.

  Destiny.

  How ironic.

  “Listen, I have to catch my ride home, but my roommate won’t be home tonight, so if you get lonely, call me.” She leans in, placing a kiss on my cheek, then struts out of the pub like a goddamn catwalk model.

  Fuck, my dick didn’t even stir with her loose offer to join her at her place.

  I’m cursed, fucking cursed.

  The more I sit here, limp dick and tipsy on beer, the more I yearn to go home. I hate the fact that I want to see Gabriella. More so, I hate the fact that I want to tell her how I fucking feel.

  The walk back in the fresh night’s air, sobered me up enough that keeping my mouth shut and opinion to myself, will be the reasonable thing to do.

  The house is dark when I enter, only the faint glow of the television is on in the living room, and Gabriella’s lying across it watching some movie.

  As soon as she hears me, she peeks up, but there’s no smile. No ‘hello, how was your night.’ I know she’s angry at me. I would be too for acting like an arrogant idiot.

  I sit on the edge of the sofa as she pulls herself up. Her hair is a wild mess and propped to the side in casual disarray. Throwing my phone on the coffee table, I watch in silence until a sex scene comes on the screen. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “Great movie choice,” I say, squirming.

  “In my defense, I haven’t seen it, so I was unaware that it contained a scene like this,” she almost chokes. “How was your night?”

  “Yeah, good. Yours?”

  “Exhausting. I finally got him bathed, fed, and asleep. I’m scared to move in case he hears me.”

  “Nah, he’s a good sleeper. He doesn’t hear his parents going at it, so I think it’s all good.”

  “Oh no, please don’t tell me you hear Chance and Aubrey?”

  I nod, pursing my lips because the fucker doesn’t understand the meaning of keeping his voice low no matter how many times Aubrey warns him.

  “I tend to sleep with noise-canceling headphones now, oblivious to anything that may be happening.”

  The couple on the screen go at it really hard. The guy has her on all fours, pounding her like a jackhammer as she moans in delight. All I can think about is Gabriella next to me, and the fact that my dick is as hard as a rock. It’s fucking painful.

  She drops the remote on the floor, and as she leans down to pick it up, my phone lights up on the table. She hands it to me, her eyes scanning over the screen.

  “Destiny says she’s waiting for you…” She pauses. “Oh, and look, a vagina.”

  I grab the phone off her.

  Fuck, she wasn’t lying.

  The pink pound of flesh is an eyesore on the screen.

  “Must have been a really good night,” she rattles off, grabbing the remote and changing channels with an angry press of each button.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I think there’s a vagina on your screen.”

  “Please stop saying vagina, and would you listen to me for just a moment?”

  Gabriella releases a puff of air, turning to face me with her arms crossed. “What could you possibly say that could—”

  I lean forward, smashing my lips onto hers. She doesn’t push me away, innocently allowing me to taste her in this moment and teasing my tongue with a hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding thrust. I want to pull away before I lose myself, but I can’t seem to. My senses have been seduced, and I can no longer think straight.

  She tastes like fucking heaven, and my mind conjures my dick sliding between her beautiful lips, her beneath my waist tasting every inch of me and watching her eyes desperate to consume me.

  She would look so fucking perfect.

  “Gabriella,” I whisper slowly, prolonging each letter as we come up for air.

  Our noses rest against each other. We both are heaving for breath, and it’s echoing in the space between us.

  She presses her hand on my chest, allowing it to rest against my beating heart.

  “Oliver,” she whispers out of breath. “I just need—”

  “Time.” I speak for her, irritated that we are once again having this conversation. “You can ask for all the time in the world, Gabriella, but one day you’ll realize that time has run out.”

  I stand, creating a distance between us, knowing the hardest thing to do is to walk away from her.

  But I have no choice.

  I’m not born to come in second best.

  In the confinement of my room, I leave all my clothes on and fall onto my bed. Staring up at the dark ceiling, my careless mind wanders back to our kiss. She wanted it just as much as I did, yet something she refuses to acknowledge holds her back from being with me.

  And tonight, the true test begins—outside my room, lays a woman I so desperately want.

  A woman who consumes me at a time in my life when I have been falling apart.

  A woman, who I hate to admit, I may even be falling in love with.

  Gabriella

  I was coming undone.

  Oliver slammed his lips onto mine—a bold move nearly knocking all the wind from my heaving lungs. There’s no moment to react or even decipher what the hell this all means before he presses his tongue to the seam of my lips, delving inside my mouth in a mad rush.

  The strong scent of beer is exchanged in the intermingling of our billowing breaths warns me this is done out of a drunken stupor and without a single thought.

  But I am not drunk.

  No, but I am also not completely and utterly thinking one hundred percent straight, either.

  My arms reach up and tangle around his strong neck until a cold splash of water laced with guilt consumes my conscience. I place my hand against his chest, the pounding of his heart beating like a drum against my palm.

  Staring into his wild eyes, I beg for more time. It’s the only thing I can ask before we both do something we might regret. Everything is moving too quickly. I’d only just met Oliver, and my feelings for him terrify me.

  Is it possible to fall for someone this quickly?

  The mixed pain and hurt reflected in his expression before he retreated to his room, alone. He was angry. The man hated the word ‘no’ or any hindrance for that matter. It’s one of his many traits I have learned about him over the past two weeks. When he wants something, he goes for it all guns blazing.

  Alone, while lying on the couch, I stare at the ceiling wishing things were different. If only I lived here and didn’t have a time-bomb ready to go off and demand my presence back in a life that isn’t meant for me.

  The tiny voice, my conscience a
s such, sits on my shoulder, a not-so-gentle reminder that I have Sebastian to think about. I owe him my fidelity. This break was never about finding someone else to be with. It was always about finding myself. Yet, this journey wouldn’t have been possible without Oliver in my life. He pushes me outside my comfort zone, makes me see another path worthy of taking.

  I would be naïve to think my family, especially my father, will accept my decision not to marry Sebastian. I have to find a way, an excuse that will satisfy my father enough that he will keep me in the family yet marry Oliver.

  Marry Oliver? Can you seriously hear yourself?

  Marriage, love, and Oliver in the same sentence is so far-fetched. I may have been feeling this way, but Oliver has other plans. I’d be a fool to think for one second, I belong in them.

  What if they did involve me?

  What if he felt the same way I do?

  My head spins in circles, back and forth, contemplating whether I go to his room and continue whatever it was we started. I even sit up and face the hallway leading to his room. Yet, something inside me warns me to stay right here.

  This is complicated, more complicated than I ever imagined my life would be out here.

  And time, as much as he hates that word, is exactly what we both need to process.

  My eyes begin to feel like lead weights, sleep is imminent as the night fades away, and my dreams all involve one man—the arrogant Aussie.

  The sounds of footsteps wake me as the sunlight shines directly onto my face through the large glass windows. Aubrey and Chance arrive back early, and with Aubrey checking on CJ, I decide to use the bathroom to freshen up before Oliver steps out.

  An hour later, Chance has cooked us what he calls an Aussie breakfast—eggs, bacon, beans, and toast with a thin layer of vegemite.

  “The trick is to lather up on the butter and spread a thin layer of vegemite on top,” Chance suggests, sliding the jar over.

  The color of the Vegemite looks rather questionable, yet I give it a go not to offend Chance. Serving a small piece and spreading it on the toast, Oliver walks in, head down, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge then silently walks back to his room.

  “How did it all go?” Aubrey whispers as Oliver leaves the room. “Do I need to steam clean the couch?”

  “No, don’t be silly. It’s not like that between us.”

  “Really?” Aubrey seems surprised. “Because ever since Olly started spending time with you, he’s been different. Not the mopey, morbid Aussie who crashed in our spare room two weeks ago.”

  “Woman has a point,” Chance mumbles with a mouthful of toast. “Different boy, that one.”

  “We kissed,” I blurt out, desperate to talk about what is eating me up inside. “But why do I feel so guilty? Like I’m cheating on Prince Charming even though we’re ‘technically’ on a break.”

  “Because you’re torn in an epic love triangle.” Aubrey claps her hands, followed with a squeal. “How exciting!”

  “Um… exciting?” I stare at her, confused by the joyous outburst. “A love triangle is hardly exciting, more like stressful and exhausting. Besides, you have to be in love to be in a love triangle.”

  I know Aubrey can read straight through me as I bow my head, avoiding her and Chance’s sideways glance. Trying to ignore the pressing conversation of love, I grab the empty plates and take them to the sink to wash up. The dishwasher could be loaded, but I find washing dishes therapeutic, something I haven’t done before my trip here.

  “Would you leave that, please. You’ve done more than enough,” Aubrey scolds, taking the dishrag from me.

  I hate the tension between Oliver and me.

  I miss him.

  I miss his annoying ways. The way he throws in his sexual innuendo at random times. I know my asking for time has upset him, and I want to make it up to him. Show him I need him in my life, but the complication which follows me won’t be so easy to shake off. I have to make him understand that.

  I just don’t know how, that is until my eyes dart to the hallway and sitting on top is Chance’s motorcycle helmet.

  “Do you think Chance would let Oliver ride his bike?” I ask Aubrey, knowing it is a long shot but hoping for the best.

  “I guess so if he asked, but I don’t think he’s ridden since the accident.”

  Chance places his empty plate beside Aubrey. I run it past him, and after much reluctance involving a lot of stubble scratching, he agrees. Though he warns me it’s his baby, and it needs to come back in one piece.

  I quickly head back home, shower then pull on a pair of black jeans and a loose blouse. My hair refuses to cooperate, and knowing I will be near the beach fighting the wind anyway, I opt to leave it out. It’s beyond a lost cause these days anyway.

  I’ve been gone for thirty minutes, praying Oliver hasn’t snuck past and left for a morning run without me. I knock on Oliver’s door, opening it before he even has a chance to ask who it is.

  He’s sprawled out on his bed with his back toward me, shirtless as usual, laptop beside him with his email application open. Purposely ignoring me, not fazed one bit that I’m standing in his room while he continues to read what’s on his screen.

  There is no doubt Oliver is beyond sexy. Even media outlets had named him Sexiest Aussie Sports Star. The night I searched him online, I stumbled across fan sites dedicated to him. They were run by groups of girls, blog posts written on how perfect his body is.

  I am not immune.

  Every inch of me desperately wants to climb into bed with him, run my nails along his perfectly tanned back, nuzzle my face into his neck and inhale his skin.

  Breathe.

  Focus.

  “Get out of bed, I have a surprise for you.”

  “All surprises should involve bed,” he deadpans.

  “C’mon, get dressed. We’re heading out.”

  He lets out a groan, falling onto his back as he rubs his face. “Gabriella…”

  “Yes, Olly?”

  I can almost see the internal battle to tell me to get the hell out of here versus the small smile playing on his beautiful lips. His eyes spring wide open. Tilting his head upward, he finally gazes at me. “Do I get clues?”

  “You’ll see,” I answer with a smile.

  I latch onto his arm, dragging him out of bed. With clothes piled in his hand, he disappears to the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the bed waiting until my eyes wander to his laptop which he left open. There’s an email on the screen, and although it isn’t my intention to snoop, my eyes wander across the title.

  It appears to be an email from a medical specialist confirming his appointment in Colorado for next Monday.

  Colorado… as in my home.

  There’s a noise near the door, prompting me to pull away.

  “Okay, Gabs, show me what you got?”

  “No.”

  Outside, at the front of the house, he backs away. He’s ready to go inside before I pull on his arm, dragging him back to the motorcycle.

  “Gabriella, you don’t understand… I can’t just… I can’t just ride.”

  “I don’t usually quote my father, trust me, I hardly ever agree with him. But one thing he said stuck. If you fail, you have to get up and try again. Allowing your failures to define you is one step away from rock bottom.” I watch him, the turmoil etched on his face as his brows draw in together coupled with a pained expression.

  He’s torn between his desire to ride and the fear of getting hurt.

  “You need to do this, Olly. Ignite your passion again because otherwise, you’re going to waste your life away not doing the things you love.”

  “Pot calling kettle black much?”

  “C’mon,” I beg, handing over the helmet. “For me?”

  “It’s not that easy,” he mumbles, touching the bars on the motorbike, admiring the steel metal finish. “The accident was…” he trails off.

  I place my hand agai
nst his cheek, caressing it gently to calm him down. He presses into me, closing his eyes briefly.

  “I guess if we can just go slow.”

  “We?” I ask, confused. “As in… I’m getting on with you?”

  He nods with a smile. “If you want me on this bike, you’re coming with me.”

  “Um… okay.” I’ve never ridden a bike, but I know how much this means to him, so for now, I will have to suck it up, even if speed terrifies me. “Now, in full disclosure, I’m scared, but for you, I am willing to give in to my fears.”

  Motorcycle riding is a combination of exhilaration, fear, relaxation, and pleasure that changes you forever. It’s physical and emotional pleasure with a layer of anxiety and adrenaline—all the things I hadn’t expected to experience as I clutched onto Oliver’s back.

  We race through the hills, weaving our way through the windy roads. The wind blows against my arms, a euphoric feeling to experience such freedom.

  Our destination is Del Cerro Park. It’s a popular spot with views of the Pacific Ocean coastline and Catalina Island.

  When we reach the lookout spot, Oliver parks the bike and turns the engine off. Pulling off his helmet, there’s a satisfied smile on his face. A sense of accomplishment.

  “How did it feel?”

  “Intense, orgasmic, like catching up with a long-lost friend,” he purrs, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Thank you for making me do this.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We begin to walk at the southernmost end of Crenshaw Boulevard, south of Pacific Coast highway. The trail begins as a wide unpaved path with expansive ocean vistas right from the start. Deep canyon walls fall off to the right, dropping to the coastline in an endless sea of blue.

  Oliver intertwines his fingers with mine, holding my hand as we walk along the trail, passing the tourists who have stopped to admire the scenery and take photographs.

  The sweeping vistas are breathtaking, and on this perfect summer’s day, the breeze is enough to take away the unwanted heat.

  Something feels so right about this moment, and not one part of me feels guilty.