by J. M. Adele
Such a bogan.
A race was a great excuse to put some distance between his air-horn voice and my ears.
I positioned myself between the boys just as the rain started to pour. After reaching over to pull up the hood of Will’s raincoat, I did the same with my own, smiling and nodding to the end zone. “Game on, little bro. A few drops of rain isn’t gonna stop me.”
“Three, two, one, go!” He counted down and sped off on the ‘one’, rather than the ‘go’.
Cheater.
Little legs kicking up wet grass, he pushed his body at speed. And he was fast. I had to pump my legs to catch him. Adam lagged behind me. Grimacing as a stitch stabbed me under the ribs, I faltered and clutched at my side, handing Will the victory, with Adam coming a decent second. Damn it.
I laughed at my little brother jerking and shaking what his mamma gave him in a forming puddle of mud. “I won. I won. You’ll have to pay up, Andy.”
“Yeah, all right. No one likes a smug winner. Congratulations.”
“Aw, it’s okay. I’ll still draw you a picture.”
“You are so sweet. But only if you want to. Thanks, Mr. Matey.”
“Ugh. Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry. I forget how much you’ve grown up. Every time I see you, you’ve added another hair on your chest.” I grabbed for his coat, pretending to open it. “How many have you got in there now? Ten? Twenty?” He writhed away, cackling at my antics.
We jumped clear, interrupted by the oncoming collision of flesh hitting flesh as six teenage boys skidded across the touchline, landing in a heap. The rugby ball flew over their heads, drawing a few swear words off loose tongues. It whacked me in the side of the face and dropped at my feet.
“Shit!” I wiped the mud off my cheek, rubbing the sting away. On the surface, at least.
Fighting off a fit of laughter, Will added, “That’s another dollar for the swear jar,” before he and Adam ran back to the chairs.
Bugger the bloody swear jar.
Stewart’s mud-slathered mop of hair poked out from the bottom of the pile of people. Of course. He was always at the root of any trouble. His tongue was the loosest of the bunch. Apparently his fingers were, too.
“Nice intercept, sis. Told ya your head was too big.”
“Shut it, Spewart.”
The ref blew the whistle, jogging over. The hood of my raincoat formed an amphitheatre around my head and let the heavy raindrops add their applause to the shrill sound. The referee motioned for the players to form a scrum. I stood there like an idiot waiting for someone to take the damn ball. Our team had lost possession so it had to go to the other team.
“No worries, Andy, I’ve got it.”
I flicked my gaze up, copping an eye-full of drenched dark hair and splatters of mud sticking to a perfect face.
Ben.
My heart started to flap.
Okay, the brutal, animal, hunter thing—totally sexy. I loved this game.
I swallowed, smiled, and ducked my head before retreating to my folding chair. Behind where we sat, the boys had moved on to kicking a kid-sized rugby ball.
“Pity.” My father sniffed.
“Huh?” I turned to him, huddled under an umbrella, tiny droplets of rain clinging to his silver beard.
“Pity Ben doesn’t wanna switch codes. He’s got instinct, that kid. Natural hooker. We want him on our team. Plenty of players have switched from union to league. Elsom. Cross. Lewis.” He swiped his nose with the back of his hand. “They shouldn’t have let him play on their team. It must be against the rules.”
“Would you be saying that if he was playing for our team?”
He grunted, hunching his shoulders.
I’d known the union thing would be an issue.
Despite the unrelenting rain, only a few people left the grounds. The rest of the half-drowned onlookers stayed, staunch supporters for their boys. En masse, people jumped from their seats, cheering as our team intercepted the ball and made for the try line seconds before the siren sounded.
I didn’t bother watching the play. My eyes were glued to Ben as he clapped his hands together, congratulating his opponents on their narrow victory. Most of his teammates weren’t so gracious, kicking at the soggy mess of mud at their feet as they sulked off the pitch.
“All right, kids, grab your gear. We’ll go home and get cleaned up, and then how does some Macca’s sound?”
Will threw a fist in the air, shouting, “Yes,” before turning back to Adam. “Can Adam come, too?”
“Only if it’s okay with his mum. Gimme a sec to pack up and then I’ll walk you over to ask. Okay, Adam?”
The little boy nodded, enthusiastically.
My father stood, struggling to fold his chair while holding his umbrella. I took it from him and held it over his head so he could get the job done quicker. The rain pelted so hard, it pressure-washed everything in its way. I would’ve happily stayed in it if it meant watching Ben a bit longer.
We trudged back to the ute before throwing the chairs in the back. Will and I jumped inside, out of the downpour, while Dad secured the cover over the tray. The air in the car was rife with stale sweat and energy drinks. Dad was a plumber, so he didn’t care that we were covered in mud when he’d sat in this car with way worse all over him. On the downside, I really hated sitting in here when I was actually clean.
We watched the blurry outline of my father talking with Adam’s mum through the rain-drenched windshield. A whimper escaped my little brother’s throat when his friend disappeared inside his mother’s car and Dad headed back empty-handed.
I sat up straight, my gut dipping with excitement from a pressing nugget of information. “Relax, Adam’s coming.” And he’s bringing his brother.
“How do you know that? It doesn’t look like it.”
“I just do.”
It’s complicated.
With a protesting squeal, the driver’s door opened, moist air rushing in to greet us. Will’s head bumped my shoulder, the whole car shaking as our father hefted his weight into the driver’s seat before slamming the door.
“She said no?” Will whined.
“Nuh. They’re gonna meet us there.”
Will’s gaze darted back to mine, his smile infectious. “Cool.”
Yeah. Kinda.
Taking in my mud-soaked jeans and shoes, I wiggled my toes against the squelchy feeling. Desperate for a shower, I curled my lip at having to wait around for Stewart. We’d better go home first. I didn’t want to eat lunch in front of Ben looking like I’d had a bath in a pig pen.
The car swayed again as Stewart opened the door and took a seat in the front with Dad, bringing noxious gases with him.
I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Even Mother Nature isn’t strong enough to wash away your pong.”
“Nah. I know how you love my smell. Blends in with the shit wagon, hey, Dad?” He slapped the dash, baring his teeth in a grin.
“You’re disgusting.” I rolled my eyes, frowning at the passing scenery.
“Watch your language, and don’t insult the Plumber Hummer.” My dad tried to pull the authority card, but his smirk made it worthless.
“Hey, if it’s not pissing down tomorrow, are we still going fishing?”
Dad white-knuckled the steering wheel. “Stewart!”
“Oh, come on. Are you telling me you never swear in front of Will?”
“Anna doesn’t like it.” Dad stared hard at the road ahead, his tone gruff.
Swearing. Another concession for Dad’s second wife. He was so concerned with her feelings and eager to keep her happy. When he’d lived with us, he’d swung between angry and absent. I guess part of being truly in love was being motivated to be the best version of yourself.
“You’re a sixteen-year-old boy. You shouldn’t be talking like a ... forty-five-year-old plumber. Apologise to your brother.”
“Sorry, bro.” Stewart reached behind to give Will a fist bump.
Tha
t was the thing about Stewart. He made mistakes all the time, but he was happy to own up and ask for forgiveness. He wasn’t trying to do anyone damage. He just ... didn’t use his brain.
_____
After a production line of showers in our one bathroom, and a change of transportation to something sanitary, Anna’s car, we descended upon the golden arches. Dad and Stew aimed for the lunchtime line-up at the counter, while Will and I headed straight for the play equipment. I raced him to be the first one up the colourful tubes. His squeals echoed in the hollow plastic space as we climbed to the top. I didn’t care that I was supposed to be too mature to want to use a slide. Who said growing up meant you couldn’t have fun?
I crouched at the top of the slide, twisting my neck to see Will waiting eagerly behind me for his turn. “Do you want to go together?”
He frowned, almost looking insulted. “No. I’m big enough to go on my own.”
“Fair enough. You go first then.” I pretended to back out of the way. He tried to move past me, but I blocked him, getting my legs in place. “Too slow!”
I laughed all the way down with his complaints chasing me.
I only had a second to register that there was an obstacle blocking the exit before I crashed into a pair of hairy, muscled legs. With my crotch. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Kill me now.
Limbs splayed either side of his, I reluctantly lifted my head to find Ben, his eyelids peeled back in shock. He side-stepped, turning away as he coughed. Or choked. Or maybe he was laughing. I dunno. I didn’t have a chance to figure it out as Will landed on top of me, followed closely by Adam.
“Shit!” That hurt.
“Another dollar for the swear jar,” Will sang, rolling away before he sprang to his feet.
Fucking swear jar.
Ben offered a hand to pull me up and I grabbed on, twitching as warm tingles rippled along my arm.
Oh, yeah. The slide had nothing on the slippery slope that offered itself to me in his blue eyes. If I decided to take the ride, I was definitely gonna end up hanging by my fingernails. And I’d love every second of it.
I gave him a grin, only just stopping myself from adding a wink. ’Cause that would be wrong. He was my brother’s friend. If I should be avoiding anyone, it was a person who actually thought Stewart was funny. But it was endearing that he humoured Stew. Most people got pissed off and offended by him within the first hour of meeting him. And if Ben and I were going to spend the rest of our lives together, it was important to me that he got along with my family.
Ben was going to be my husband—he just didn’t know it yet. Don’t ask me how I knew. I just ... did. Did I understand it? Nope. Did I trust my knowing? Sort of. Kinda. No. Not really. I wanted to. So badly. But every time I pictured walking down the aisle to meet Ben at the altar, I felt completely insane.
He let go of me before I let go of him. I was shameless. Any opportunity to touch him, I’d take it.
Adam launched himself at the gate until he’d monkeyed up high enough to raise the latch.
“Wait up, champ. You’ll break the gate and they’ll refuse to feed you.”
“What!?” Adam’s feet dropped so fast he lost balance, stumbling back into his older brother. “Really?”
Ben unlatched the lock and the boys and him made their way through to the outdoor eating area. He guided the younger two, teasing them as he led them to their seats. “Yes, about the gate. No, about the food. Of course they’ll feed you. They haven’t booted Stewart out yet and he’s done way worse.”
Tall and broad, way too big for his sixteen years, Ben’s presence alone could have parted the tables even though they were bolted down. Those boys hung on his every word. Chaos churned my insides as Ben threw a grin at me over his shoulder. I was still standing in the play area like an idiot. I scurried out and grabbed a seat two tables away. Leaning on my elbows, I dropped my chin to inspect the scratched tabletop, and prayed for the riot in my gut to stop. I expected Ben to go inside and join the others at the counter, but the chair beside me squeaked as he plonked his weight down.
“You’ve gone quiet. What’s wrong?”
I flicked a glance at his nose, knowing that if I looked him in the eye he might see something I wasn’t ready for him to see. Something I was trying to understand for myself before I admitted it to anyone else. I wouldn’t be admitting it to him, that was for sure.
“Hm? What? No, nothing. I’m just hungry.” I hid my hands under the table. Way to play it cool.
One of Ben’s brows inched up.
Tapping a finger on the edge of my seat, I ignored the weight of his stare. The silence was like a wedgie that you couldn’t get rid of.
I cleared my throat and aimed for casual conversation. “So, are you a league convert yet?”
He scoffed. “Never. I was only helping out a friend.”
“If you hate it so much, why’d you do it?”
“I don’t hate it. I’m just loyal to my code.”
“Plenty of players switch.” I picked my brain trying to remember the names Dad had said at the game. “Like, you know, that guy, The King. What’s his name?”
“Wally Lewis?”
“Yeah, him.” I think. He was the only player I could think of.
“Just ’cause The King switched doesn’t mean I have to.”
“Fair enough.”
Ben stood by his convictions. I liked that. My eyes drifted sideways in a bid for some reprieve from his gaze. Two tables away, the boys were slapping each other’s hands, doing some customised shake thing, and laughing like loons.
“They’re good mates.” Ben’s comment brought me right back to those crystal blues.
“They are.” I tilted my head. “Why are you friends with my brother? Seriously?”
His lips quirked. “Stewart’s all right.”
“He’s different with his friends, I guess.”
He hooked an arm behind his seat, twisting his chest towards me. “I know he can be a dick sometimes. He has a weird way of getting attention. He means well.”
The fact that he was defending my brother endeared him to me even more.
“Do you play any sport?” Ben scratched behind his ear like he was uncomfortable talking about Stewart.
I was happy to change the subject. “I dance.”
“You dance?” His brows rose as he leaned back a little. “Like ballet?”
“God, no. I’m not graceful enough for that. Hip-hop is my thang.”
“Your thang?”
“Yeah. Like this.” I jumped out of my seat and gave him a demo—legs popping, arms locking, all while Nelly Furtado and Timbaland sang about promiscuity in my head.
His mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out.
Am I that bad? I slid back onto my seat, heat infusing my cheeks.
“You’re good.”
Pulling my shoulders back, I puffed out my chest. “Thank you.”
“No, I really mean that.” He blinked, swallowing.
I relaxed against the back of my chair. Sincerity. Another tick on the list of his good characteristics. I was sure there had to be some negatives.
I already liked so many things about him. His commitment. His discipline. His arse. But if I told him, I’d scare him away. He wouldn’t get it. Not for another few years at least. I wasn’t sure how I knew that either. I just did. The thing was, I didn’t understand how or why it was going to take a few years. And that worried me. What was about to go down that I’d have to wait so damn long to have him by my side?
The air grew so thick, my lungs had trouble dragging it in. I shuffled my butt, fighting against the unbearable tug urging my eyes to connect with his. “It was nice of you to help out the opposition, even though they couldn’t find a uniform that fit you.”
He placed his arms on the table, his elbow bumping mine. It was the final yank in the tug-of-war. My gaze snapped to his crystal blue stare.
A hint of a smirk played on his lips. “It’s no biggie.” Deliberately
bumping my elbow again, he set his grin free.
He’s laughing at me! My mouth popped open before clamping shut.
The rest of our group approached through the glass, trays in hand. Their arrival would mean the end of our conversation. Last chance to make an impression. “Yeah, you’re right. Their team lost. You were no help at all. I don’t know why Dad whinged that you’re not a league player. Seriously, you sucked. Stick to what you know, Benji.”
Ben’s grin dropped off his face, and his eyebrows jumped high as he barked a laugh.
Like idiots, we grinned at each other, and something more passed between us. That thing that I couldn’t yet define, but saw behind the gaze reflecting back my smiling face. It was so familiar. I’d seen it before. I knew it.
Unbelievably, his face aged ten years in ten seconds. Suddenly he was a man with the beginnings of wrinkles fanning from his eyes. And I was ... huge. I checked myself out. A wedding ring dug into my swollen finger. My stomach was round and full. And moving. We were both naked. Naked!
My gaze snapped back to his, finding his face in transition again. Light reflected off his bright blue irises, splitting into a prism of colour before swirling and blending into a muddy dark brown. A colour that could swallow you whole if you let it.
“Emmeline.” I saw his mouth move, but it wasn’t Ben. I was staring at a young man with scruffy brown hair, sweat and dirt smeared on his neck. “Emmeline,” he pleaded.
Who was Emmeline? Who was he?
I didn’t get a chance to find out. My body jerked as I was abruptly brought back to awareness.
I screwed up my face, recoiling at the sight before me. Spewart. Fuck.
“Space cadet. Hellooo. Where’d ya go?” He clicked his fingers in my personal space, his ugly mug pulling a stupid expression.
“Rack off, Spewart.” I gripped my stomach and squeezed my legs together, feeling like I’d lost something. Where had my mind gone? When had my mind gone? I could’ve sworn ... Patting my flat tummy, I frowned. It just felt wrong. I chanced a glimpse around my brother’s fat head. I wanted to sink under the table as the pinpricks of everyone’s scrutiny bit into my skin.
Tiny bits of food sprayed from Dad’s mouth as he barked at my brother. “Sit down, Stew. Stop being an idiot.” Wiping a hand over his mouth, he turned to me. “Eat your lunch before it gets cold.”