He should never have invited her to Queensland. He’d learned to live without hope and bringing it back into his life had been a colossal mistake. If he had to live through losing her again, it was going to be worse. Much worse.
He marched on, trying not to grind his teeth. Just get through tonight.
Perhaps he could go on a long run. Burn off all this jealousy making his body toxic. Then have a shower, dinner and get on his Xbox. He could kill aliens till his brain went dead. When he could no longer think, then he’d go to bed and hopefully smother any further frustration in sleep.
Satisfied with this plan, he put part one into action as soon as he got back to the resort that night. Changing into shorts, T-shirt and sneakers, he took off down the road and straight towards the beach. His feet hit Salonika’s white coastline and he began to run right along the water. His thighs burned as the sand made it that much harder to keep pace. But he loved it. Running along the beach was his favourite thing to do around here. Where else could you get a more picturesque workout?
The surrounding bushland was alive with the sound of cane toads and birds. Occasionally a white-faced heron or crow would squawk at him as he ran past. He ran till it was dark and his whole body ached.
Physically, he felt great until he saw Emily getting into a vehicle with Dipper when he walked across the Silver Seas car park. A muscle cramped in his neck as he clenched his jaw too quickly. Their eyes met across the car park but she neither smiled nor waved. Clearly she was still angry with him.
She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white top with no sleeves – nothing particularly spectacular but he thought she looked beautiful. Those jeans were as snug as a glove, showing off her shapely hips and long legs. And the top looked soft and silky to touch. The neckline skated the top of her breasts in an inviting fashion that made him yearn. So much so that his voice came out on a croak.
‘Hi, Em.’
No response.
‘Have a good night, Boy Scout,’ Dipper called out to him, as he opened the door for Emily. ‘We certainly intend to.’
As they drove away, he realised that whatever benefit he had gained from the run was gone. He was now back to square one. He walked into his unit, had a quick shower and ordered dinner. When he caught himself pacing the floor at one point, he sat down on the couch and turned on the television. The pictures moved past his unseeing eyes in abstract flashes. And then there was a knock at the door.
Dinner had arrived.
He got up to answer it and found he was wrong.
It was Nova with a large bottle of tequila and a bucket of fresh prawns.
‘I’ve cancelled your dinner. We’re having prawns and getting pissed.’
‘What?’
As he was still processing what was happening, Nova pushed past him and went straight into his kitchen. ‘You got a pot in here?’ He began opening cupboards.
‘Nova, I don’t think I’m in the mood for this.’
His friend snorted. ‘What are you talking about? You’re in the perfect fuckin’ mood. Depressed, lonely and bored. Consider me your saviour.’ He took a bow and then went back to opening cupboards.
For a moment, Will stood there in indecision, his hand still resting on the doorknob. The image of Emily getting into Dipper’s car once more flashed before his eyes. Her smile so uncertain and yet so kissable.
He shut the door. ‘Did you bring any lemons?’
Nova dropped a bag on the counter. ‘Now you’re talking!’
Will awoke to a sharp tapping on the side of his head – like someone was trying to carve him a second nose. He swatted his hand clumsily in the vicinity of the pecking and it momentarily stopped. But he was awake now. Or at least awake enough to register that his mouth tasted like he had fungi growing between his teeth. He opened one eyelid a crack only to be blinded by the light blazing through his sliding door. He shut it again and moaned. The sound of his own whimpering hurt his ears.
Wait? Sliding door?
He opened one eyelid briefly again before squeezing it shut.
Yes, he was in his living room. On the floor. The reason why his back hurt so much suddenly became clear. He must have been here all night. Something pecked his shoulder. This time, when he put his hand out to brush it away, his fingers felt feathers. And he heard gobbling.
Great. He groaned. There’s a turkey in here.
No doubt the flyscreen on his sliding door was open. As the bird continued to peck at him, he sat up. The room spun for a moment and he cradled his head in his hands while it took its time to right itself.
What happened? And why does that thing keep pecking me?
They weren’t usually this forward or aggressive. Then he realised it wasn’t trying to attack him, it was actually trying to pick something off him.
Is that hair?
It did, indeed, seem to be human hair cuttings. All over his shirtless chest and all around him on the floor. Wait a minute.
If the hair was on the floor then what was left on his head? He reached up desperately to feel his face. His chin was as smooth as a boiled egg. I’ve been shaved!
His fingers roved upwards into his hair. Thankfully, he wasn’t bald. But huge tufts had been cut in random places all over his head. On the coffee table, just at his eye level, was a selection of empty bottles and lemon skins and a saltshaker.
Two tequila.
One bourbon.
And some dodgy-looking Mexican stuff, no doubt bought on special at the local pub.
‘You had quite a night, didn’t you?’
He nearly jumped out of his skin as a crackly voice penetrated his senses. His gaze swung to the couch where seated quite primly was a rather frail-looking woman in an old-fashioned pink nightgown. She smiled indulgently at him, her eyes travelling down his naked torso with some interest. ‘I hear celebrities like you like to trash hotels all the time.’
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘I’m Virginia Templeton.’ She held out her hand, which he took gingerly. ‘Thank you for staying in my resort. It’s not often we get a member of the Brisbane Lions with us.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s great you’re back in the team for another season. They must really like you.’
‘Right.’ He winced because it hurt to talk.
This woman had to be Charlotte’s mother – the woman with Alzheimer’s. Had anyone or anything else wandered in last night while he wasn’t looking?
He felt around on the floor for his glasses so he could get a better look at her. Luckily they were on the rug, near where his head had lain previously. He put them on and swore. Someone had removed the lenses from the frame. It was like wearing a useless piece of wire.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Virginia asked.
‘No so much,’ he croaked and, standing up, stepped over a smelly plate of prawn shells and then over an empty bag of chips. Where the hell was Nova? That guy had a lot to answer for. He went to the phone on the wall and dialled reception.
A rather breathless-sounding Charlotte picked up.
‘Hi, Lottie, it’s Will,’ he said. ‘Are you looking for your mum? Because she’s at my place.’
‘Oh thank God!’ she said, sounding relieved. ‘I’ll be right over.’
With effort he hung up the phone and turned around. ‘Okay,’ he pointed at Virginia, ‘you stay right there. I’m just going to go put a shirt on.’
‘Don’t do anything on my account,’ Virginia called after him.
Rubbing his temple, he made the small but painful trek to his bedroom and stopped in the doorway.
What the . . .?
There was screwed up white paper all over the floor. He must have emptied at least a ream last night. Where he’d got it all from, he had no idea.
He had very few clothes in addition to his site uniform, so he didn’t bother to hang them in the wardrobe but just lived out of his suitcase. Paper crunching beneath his feet, he walked over to the brown case sit
ting under the window and flipped the lid.
It was empty.
Where the hell are my clothes?
He went into his walk-in robe and was relieved to see a couple of uniforms still hanging there from when he’d washed them last.
Stumped, he walked back out again and looked at the floor. He picked up one of the bits of paper and unravelled it. Holding the crumply paper a couple of inches away from his face, he squinted at the page and just managed to discern his own handwriting.
Dear Emily, I don’t know how to tell you this but
That’s where it stopped. He dropped it and picked up another.
Dear Emily, Do you remember when we first met? Well
That one broke off too. He looked around the room at the rest of them and then shut his eyes.
‘Aw shit!’
The doorbell rang and he glanced down at his boxers.
Oh stuff it!
It was only Charlotte come to collect her mother anyway. He’d just hurry her along and then sort this mess out later. He threw open the door.
‘Emily!’
‘Will!’ Her mouth dropped open. ‘What’s happened to you?’
Oh crap.
‘What are you doing here?’
She wrung her hands. ‘After we left things yesterday, I wasn’t sure if we were still going to the reef today.’
The reef!
Oh crap.
‘I mean, I’m still mad at you,’ she said sternly. ‘But I’m willing to talk about it if you are.’
‘Of course I’m willing to talk about it.’
Just not right now!
‘Can I come in?’
Just then, Charlotte strolled up, repeating quite unnecessarily, ‘Shit, Will! What happened to you? That’s the worst haircut I’ve ever seen.’
Geez! Can’t a guy catch a break?
‘Thanks,’ he muttered.
‘Where’s my mum?’ She stepped round him and went into the unit; her voice sounded again a second later as she entered the main living space. ‘Damn it, Will! I thought you were different from the rest of the louts paying me to destroy my rooms.’
‘I’ll clean it up!’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘Promise!’
And when I get my hands on Nova, I’ll strangle him.
He turned back to Emily, whose eyes he noticed were running down his bare chest with some interest as though she were noticing some strange birthmark on his skin that hadn’t been there before.
He cleared his throat. ‘Er, do you want to come in?’
‘Yeah.’
She stepped inside.
He shut the door. ‘Look, Em, I’m sorry about Trent.’
Her eyes lifted from his chest as she crossed her arms. ‘It’s okay. I think I probably over-reacted anyway. I just got really angry thinking about the two of you gossiping about me.’
‘It wasn’t like that. I haven’t told him anything you’ve told me in confidence,’ he assured her. ‘He was angry about you dating someone new and he texted me to find out what was going on. It just sort of threw me when I received his message because I didn’t already know about it. I was really surprised because normally you tell me everything. And it just seemed really weird, especially when you assured me you weren’t going to go out with Dipper.’
Her chin lifted and she looked rather satisfied. ‘Really? He was angry about Dipper?’
That’s what you took from what I just said. He sighed. ‘Yes.’
She smiled delightedly. ‘Good. It’s about time he had a taste of his own medicine. I hope he was stewing all night.’
‘Yeah,’ he said weakly.
‘So if I went out with Dipper again . . .’
‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘A man can only take one night of pain before he cracks.’
‘But –’
‘Trust me.’ He shuddered. ‘Trust me.’
Just then, Charlotte and Virginia rejoined them in the hallway. ‘So,’ Charlotte drawled, ‘are we still going to the reef?’
Will glanced at Emily. ‘I’m still game if you are.’
She groaned. ‘Fine. I can never stay mad at you for long, can I?’
And then she hugged him, which would have been fine if he’d had a shirt on and her bare cheek hadn’t been pressed against his chest, giving him an instant flash of lazing in bed the morning after.
Virginia snorted. ‘Some people will do anything to sleep with a celebrity.’
Charlotte cleared her throat uncomfortably and Emily quickly pulled away, blushing like a red traffic sign.
‘I’ll just take Mum back and get her sorted,’ Charlotte said hastily. ‘My brother’s coming by in an hour to look after her while we go out.’
‘Er, Charlotte, I don’t suppose your brother’s got any clothes I can borrow?’ Will asked desperately. ‘All of my casual gear has been stolen.’
Emily wrinkled her nose. ‘No offence, Will, but I don’t think anyone’s interested in your old-man cardigans and those dorky T-shirts that should have been replaced ten years ago.’ He glared at her and she rolled her eyes. ‘Who could possibly have taken them?’
‘Nova!’
‘Nova?’ She shook her head. ‘I doubt it.’
‘I’ll give Luke a call and see what he can rustle up before he comes over,’ Charlotte promised. ‘In the meantime, you might want to try and do something about your hair.’
He touched his head. ‘It is rather uneven, isn’t it?’
Emily giggled.
‘Any chance I can get your autograph before I go?’ Virginia called as Charlotte pulled her out the door.
‘Come on, Mum.’
As the two of them left, Emily reached up and touched his damaged locks. The gesture was so intimate his heart rate doubled.
‘Do you want me to neaten that up for you?’ she smiled roguishly. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve always wanted to take to your hair with a pair of scissors.’
‘Thanks.’ He shook his head and stepped out of her reach, which was becoming more and more dangerous by the minute.
It was strange how much a haircut and a lack of glasses could make everything clearer. Will looked fantastic. Once he was dressed in surf wear he obviously didn’t own, it was almost like she was meeting someone new. Emily could appreciate for the first time how bloody good-looking he was. He was lean, but muscular, like he did a lot of physical activity. It wasn’t until this point that she’d thought about how much. She knew he loved running and did so on a regular basis. There were other hobbies too that she hadn’t until now taken much notice of. She remembered all through university he’d been a big fan of Aikido because it was a martial art that used swords. She had to wonder if he was still into it.
The other thing was . . . now she could see his face . . .
It seemed like a silly point to make but it was true.
When he was hidden behind that scruffy beard of his, she hadn’t realised how startling his eyes were, how easily he blushed and how strong and prominent his jawline. She’d seen a muscle clench in his cheek when she brushed her fingers through his hair earlier, which was so soft to touch and not nearly as coarse as it looked.
She’d seen his cheeks stain pink when she saw all the paper on the floor in his room. In fact, she’d never seen him so embarrassed but then she supposed Will was a bit of a neat freak.
‘What have you been doing in here?’
‘Leave it!’ He quickly stalled her from bending over. ‘I’ll sort it out later. You don’t want to be cleaning up my mess.’
They pulled a dining chair into his bathroom and he positioned himself in front of the mirror for his haircut. Sitting in that tiny bathroom, her fingers wading into his hair – the whole act seemed way too familiar. Almost forbidden.
A new awareness moved through her body as she worked, deeper and more potent than anything she’d known before. It brought to the forefront so many things that she knew but had always taken for granted or never looked at too
closely.
The way their eyes could connect across a room because they got the same joke.
The way they talked for hours about the most inconsequential subjects.
Or when they sat in silence, it didn’t really matter.
The way they ate like pigs and reprimanded each other for being gross.
The way they both sang loudly in the car when a song they liked came on the radio.
When she was in trouble, he was always there for her.
When she needed someone to talk to, he was always there for her.
He knows everything there is to know about me.
Every dirty little secret.
Every embarrassing moment.
Every fault.
Every failing.
And yet . . . he was still here.
She’d been sitting with Dipper at dinner last night in Mackay. They’d gone to Victoria Street, Mackay’s restaurant hot spot. There had been plenty to choose from. Spicy Asian cuisine, Italian and, of course, plenty of Aussie favourites. Dipper had chosen a pub, which was definitely really nice. Good atmosphere. Great food. Yet all she had thought about was how much she’d love to come back to that area with Will.
‘Except maybe we’ll go to that Asian place on the corner,’ she told Dipper. ‘He loves spicy food.’
Dipper sighed.
‘What?’
‘You’ve mentioned Boy Scout three times since we got here.’
She bit her lip. ‘Sorry. It’s just that we are such good friends, it’s kind of hard not to.’
Dipper dejectedly moved his pasta around in his bowl without actually eating any. She could appreciate that he’d gone to an effort over this dinner. His hair for a start was wet and combed. She’d never seen Dipper with a parting before. He was wearing a collared shirt, a sure sign of an occasion, and the faint smell of his cheap aftershave wafted across the table towards her whenever he moved. He looked up. ‘I suppose that’s your way of telling me I’ve lost.’
‘Lost what?’
‘The competition.’
‘What competition?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Don’t know what?’
Dipper began to turn a strange shade of purple. His fat lips formed a wide ‘Oh’ and he looked down into his bowl, confining his gaze there and refusing to look up. ‘Aw shit.’
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 20