by Kirsty Eagar
If Mitch was in the crowd, then there’d be no way he could avoid seeing her, Jess realised. Up on another guy’s shoulders, having a good time. With that, the decision not to shrink became something more flamboyant. She raised her arms, swishing her hair from side to side, really getting into it. And as she was doing this, she happened to catch sight of the object about to hit her in the head. It was a can of beer—Heineken, actually—and it turned out to be close to full when Jess felt the clunk of it, heard the sound echo around her brain.
Then the world turned to static and flickered out.
CHAPTER 26
’CAUSE I’M A MAN
Three hours later, Jess tried the door to her room and found it locked. She pressed her ear to the wood and then attributed the impulse to having a swollen brain. She wouldn’t be able to hear anything over the Tame Impala blasting out of Allie’s room—she’d left her door wide open as usual.
She knocked, saying loudly, ‘It’s me. Jess. Open up.’ At first nothing happened, and Jess wondered if she’d just imagined her call to Mitch. Well, her call to the Knights office, where a polite boy had put her through to the phone in Mitch’s room without asking for her name, and the phone had rung out, going to message, and she’d hesitated for too long before she’d actually left one.
But then the door swung open to reveal Mitch, wearing shorts, a T-shirt, turf boots and football socks, looking a little flushed in the cheeks, and Jess wondered if it was from exertions on a field somewhere, or from rushing over to see if she was okay. She chose the former. Because he also looked like she felt: fed up. Jess slid past him without saying anything, hearing him close and lock the door behind her. Dropping her bag on the dresser, she palmed her Zippo and took two Panadol with a sip of water. Mitch had re-tied her window, reducing the gap, and she had to bend to see outside. It was nearly dark, the dying golden light turning the trees along the river a vivid green. Then she sat on the bed. Flicked her Zippo on, snapped it shut.
And through all of that, Mitch stared at her expectantly, his arms hanging by his sides.
So Jess said, ‘I thought your game was yesterday.’
‘We were just having a kick. You’re lucky I even checked my messages. Normally, I’d head straight to the shower.’ He sounded like he wished he had.
‘Okay, I’m sorry I called,’ Jess said. Mitch didn’t seem satisfied, though, so she added, ‘I’m annoyed, too. I’m going to miss all the best acts.’
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his voice brusque.
‘I got knocked out.’
‘You said that. Did anyone take a look at you?’
Jess nodded. ‘My friends took me to the medical tent.’
‘Why’d they let you come back by yourself?’ Mitch sounded disapproving, but Jess had the feeling it was because he’d been inconvenienced. Or because she’d committed the unpardonable sin of calling him.
‘Allie was going to come with me. But I told her I’d go to my aunt’s place—which is what I really wanted, by the way, not this. But when I got there nobody was home, and I waited for ages before I remembered they’re in Adelaide for the weekend, so then I got another cab here, and that’s when I called you, because my head’s still hurting and the lady in the medical tent said I wasn’t supposed to be …’ Jess broke off to take a breath, rubbing her eyes, suddenly tired and teary.
‘Alone,’ Mitch finished for her.
Flick-spin-scritch! ‘And I wouldn’t have called, except everybody I know is at the festival—’
‘It’s all right.’
‘—and it’s so stupid that you can live at a college with three hundred other people, and still have to rely on the one person who doesn’t want to be relied on.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
Snap! ‘Yes, but you don’t want to be.’ Jess finally looked at him. ‘So I’d rather be alone, thanks. Sorry for wasting your time.’
Mitch exhaled, taking the Zippo out of her hand and placing it on the desk. He knelt in front of her, his hands on her bare thighs, the tension gone from his face, replaced by something much nicer. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked again—this time the right way.
‘Have you been listening at all?’
Mitch smiled. He examined the side of her skull, rubbing her hair gently with his fingertips, and Jess swallowed, feeling funny. He frowned when he found the big lump above her left ear. ‘Did they ice it?’
Jess nodded. ‘They gave me a pack at the medical tent.’
But he was already opening her fridge, taking out one of the T-shirts and throwing some ice cubes into it. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to do it a bit more. Have you vomited at all?’
‘No. I felt like it in the cab here, though.’
He sat at the head of her bed, putting a cushion on his lap. ‘Lie down.’ So she did, and he held the T-shirt ice pack gently to her head. And of course she could have held it herself, but it was nice that she didn’t have to.
‘It was kind of funny, really,’ she told him. ‘One of my all-time great exits.’
‘Do you feel tired? You’re not supposed to sleep after being concussed.’
Jess wrinkled her nose at him. ‘How come you’re the concussion expert?’
‘Rugby.’ Mitch ran a finger over her nose. ‘Are you ever going to tell me how you broke that?’
Jess yawned. ‘Nope.’
‘Maybe I should stay with you,’ Mitch said, as if he was thinking aloud. ‘Make sure you don’t sleep.’
The fact that he was still weighing up how long he had to be there was too much for Jess. ‘Oh, forget it.’ She sat up, knocking the ice pack out of the way. ‘Go. Go! There’s the door. My friends keep texting to check on me, so if I tell them I’m back here by myself one of them will come.’
‘Settle down. I was only thinking about what happens when everyone gets home and I’m—’ Mitch broke off as Jess covered her mouth with her hand. Then he was off the bed, handing her the bin. Jess bent over it, waiting, but the nausea gradually subsided.
‘You know what? I’m going to take a shower.’ She breathed in through her mouth slowly, a hand pressed to her throat. ‘That might make me feel better.’ Mitch sprang to attention, grabbing her towel. ‘I’ll be fine,’ Jess told him, her voice croaky, no fire left now. ‘See ya.’
‘I’m not going,’ he told her firmly. ‘You could pass out and hit your head again. People die from secondary concussions.’
‘Whatever,’ Jess said, collecting her dressing gown and toiletry bag, moving like an old woman. Mitch took these things from her and she let him. She let him walk her to the bathroom. But when he went to follow her inside, she blocked him, saying bluntly, ‘Not feeling it.’
‘I’m not interested in that. You can’t go by yourself, that’s all,’ he told her. When she didn’t move, Mitch frowned. ‘Jess, it’s me.’
Jess looked at him for a moment, tasting the trust implied by that, then she let him in. Mitch followed her into one of the shower cubicles, which were actually quite roomy, the shower at one end, a small dressing area with a bench at the other, and took a seat, suddenly becoming the poster boy for correctness, staring steadfastly at the opposite wall.
And even though she was cross at him, Jess had to smile. She pulled off her T-shirt, throwing it over his head. ‘At ease, soldier. We’re probably well beyond false modesty anyway,’ she said philosophically, gingerly pulling her hair into a loose bun.
‘Just trying to do the right thing,’ he said, his voice muffled.
Contrary to her words, though, Jess was relieved that Mitch left the shirt where it was while she stepped out of the rest of her clothes—stripping off in broad daylight required a confidence level she wasn’t hitting right then. It was only as she was soaping herself that the shirt slid to the tiles.
‘Look at that. It fell off,’ Mitch said. And not even a head injury could stop Jess from feeling embarrassed by the frank and admiring assessment he gave her. She buried her face in the flow of water, feeling her skin tighten into goose bu
mps, her nipples harden.
‘Thought we were beyond false modesty,’ he commented.
‘It’s not false!’ Jess protested. She dug around in her toiletry bag, finding and buttering her toothbrush. Aware of Mitch’s scrutiny, she held it up to show him. ‘Just for the record? I wouldn’t normally clean my teeth in the shower.’
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I bet you do it all the time.’
‘I do. Completely grotty, I know,’ she admitted, garbling the words through a mouthful of foam. ‘Sometimes I even clean them in my room and spit out the window.’
‘Ever hit anybody?’ he asked, sounding interested.
‘Walk by sometime and find out,’ she told him, and he laughed, and Jess loved the way he looked right then. So relaxed. Like he was enjoying himself. But all too soon Mitch’s face hardened, and he watched her with a hunger she’d seen before.
Except this time it hurt. He was more than happy to hang around now.
You bought in, Jess reminded herself. She spat, rinsed her mouth.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Jess said, letting water stream over her face. ‘It’s all good.’
She turned off the taps abruptly, holding out her hand for the towel. Mitch didn’t give it to her, making her meet his eyes. He didn’t need lines anymore. He could ask the question without any words at all.
‘Not here,’ she told him, pulling the towel from his hands.
•
Back in her room, things happened fast, like they were taking part in a coordinated military operation. Mitch closed and locked the door; Jess shelved her toiletry bag and hung her towel over the window ledge. As she lit candles, he killed the light. She heard the thud of his turf boots hitting the floor, the flick of elastic as he pulled down his socks, the soft rasp of his shirt coming off, and she wondered how far they were going to go. Then he was behind her, turning her around, stripped down to his shorts, and Jess pressed herself against him, wanting the warmth of his skin, but he pushed her back, focused on untying her bathrobe, his movements rough and urgent, not looking at her face once.
And all of it was wordless. And all of it was awful.
‘Stop it!’ Jess cried, not able to bear another second. ‘We’re not making a fucking porno.’ Mitch froze, looking completely taken aback. ‘Can’t you at least be gentle? Because my head really hurts, and you’re supposed to—’
Care. Jess covered her face with her hands. At no point had they ever discussed care being part of their arrangement.
After some time, Mitch slid his arms around her. ‘Is that better?’ he asked, holding her cautiously.
‘No. Now I feel stupid,’ Jess said, burying her face against his chest.
‘You’re not stupid. I should have taken things slower.’
‘This isn’t because you were rushing,’ Jess said with some heat. ‘I happen to like that, sometimes. I’m angry because I wasn’t even a part of that, and I don’t know who the hell you turned into.’
Mitch exhaled, and then said, in a tolerant voice, like he was educating her, ‘Look, Jess, sometimes I just want to get off. That’s all. I am a guy.’
‘You think that’s just you?’ Jess headbutted his chest. ‘Because you’re a guy?’ She headbutted him again. A dull ache started inside her skull, and she pulled back to look at him. ‘Let me pop that bubble for you. Sometimes I want to get off so badly that I’d give anything for somebody to walk through that door and just do me. Over the desk, on the floor, standing up, sitting down, me on top, upside-fucking-down. I want to be fucked fast, fucked slow, but most of all fucked senseless, and preferably more than once. If it’s the middle of my cycle, I can feel myself throbbing for it down below. If that makes you a guy, Mitch, what does that make me? No, don’t bother answering because I already know the way you think and it’s why we’ll never have sex. The difference between you and me is that I know my fantasy fuck buddy doesn’t exist. If someone did walk through that door, they’d be an actual person, and I would freak the fuck out.’
Mitch appeared even more stunned by this secondary explosion. ‘Okay,’ he said eventually.
She glared at him. ‘Being human isn’t two separate experiences. Get that into your thick head.’ Then she buried her face against his chest again.
Mitch exhaled slowly, and Jess felt him relax. That annoyed her. She breathed in his bare skin, and that annoyed her, too, because he smelled good—like salt and sunshine, in fact. He started stroking her hair. That annoyed her also, for a while, and then it didn’t. And at some point she realised she wasn’t tense anymore. She just felt drained, and her head hurt.
‘You okay, now?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘You gonna look at me?’
‘No.’
‘I’d like to see you.’
Jess sighed, lifting her face to his. Their eyes met and there was an odd moment. Then Mitch kissed her nose.
‘You know, I haven’t smoked at all today. I have had a few drinks, but I did just clean my teeth, so I’m pretty sure I’m not that disgusting.’
‘Jess, please. Just respect the fact that I don’t do that, all right?’ Mitch sounded perilously close to begging. ‘And there is nothing about you that I find disgusting, believe me. Not even the fact that you clean your teeth and spit it on people out your window.’
That knocked a smile out of Jess, but it was only a small one. ‘It’s all right, you can go,’ she told him in a quiet voice. ‘I know I’ve wrecked everything.’
‘I don’t want to go. Anyway, I’m on sleep watch.’ He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. ‘But can we lie down for a while—I mean, rest?’
So Jess threw the cushions off her bed, pulled the quilt back and lay down. She kept her bathrobe on, but didn’t bother retying it. Mitch crossed to her dresser and returned with two Panadol and a bottle of water.
‘Thanks,’ she told him gruffly after she’d taken them. He slid in beside her, holding out his arm so she could rest her head on his shoulder, and then hugged her to his chest.
‘God,’ he said, sounding exhausted, and Jess figured they’d reached the point where a voiceover would normally intone: And he was never seen again. The black humour in that bit her without warning and she smothered a laugh.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Sorry, it’s just … What a mess.’
Mitch was silent for a bit, then he said, ‘Can you say that thing again? The fuck speech.’
‘Oh, shut up.’
‘It turned me on.’
‘Liar. You were terrified.’
‘I was.’ Mitch turned on his side to face her, and they smiled at each other. He touched her cheek, and Jess thought he might be about to relent and kiss her, but apparently all he wanted to do was gaze. So when he ran his thumb over her lips, she nipped him.
‘Ow.’ He gave her a look. She gave him one back. He pushed his thumb into her mouth. She sucked it obediently. His breathing changed, his eyes glazed. She reached down and rubbed the front of his shorts. He pushed her hand away.
‘Let me,’ she told him.
‘Not yet.’ Mitch rolled on top of her, pinning her arms, and went to work on her breasts, scratching her skin with his stubble as he turned his head from one to the other. He kissed her nipples, bit them gently, and then sucked them swollen, and Jess moaned, feeling it again, that tugging sensation down below, as if there were strings being pulled by his mouth, and she didn’t care what she sounded like, she just wanted him to keep going.
But Mitch moved on, moved lower, suddenly off the bed completely, kneeling on the floor, pulling her hips towards him. He’d kissed his way up her thighs and had very nearly reached his destination when Jess grabbed his hair, trying to pull him up. ‘No, no, don’t worry about that. Just do the boob thing.’
Mitch stopped, frowning up at her from beneath his brow. ‘You don’t want me to? Or you haven’t had it before?’
‘I have, but …’ Only with Brendan. Only once. And he
’d sucked her clitoris too hard, too vigorously, without any build up at all, and it just hurt, and not in a good way either, and then he’d done this weird tapping thing with two fingers that made her want to punch him in the head, but he’d acted like she was supposed to go crazy, so she’d acted like she had, as though she’d die if she didn’t have him right then, and when Farren said things like, Davey loves it; he’ll do it for ages, she’d always thought it was an exaggeration, wondering why on earth you’d spend any more time putting up with that than you had to.
Mitch considered her, his eyes amused, as though he could hear this stream of consciousness.
‘It’s not funny!’
‘It’s not supposed to be hell either,’ he told her with a frown. ‘So just relax.’
‘But I’m not used to relaxing! I haven’t done much relaxing. I’ve only done sex. Sex and kissing. I haven’t been with people like you, who are into touching, who are into—’ Jess’s face flushed, her voice dropping three octaves, ‘—going down.’
‘I’m into touching you. I want to go down on you,’ Mitch corrected. ‘Normally, I wouldn’t bother.’
‘Oh,’ Jess said. Then doubt arrived. ‘Is that a line?’
‘Yeah, Jess. I’m feeding you lines so that I can go down on you. There’s a situation your mother warned you about.’
‘But it’s like you always have to teach me stuff. I’m nineteen, for God’s sake. It’s embarrassing.’
‘Hey. Ego. Whatever this thing is between us? It is not a competition. That is not what this is, all right?’
‘Do you even know what you’re doing? You’ve just admitted you don’t practise regularly.’
‘I’m pretty confident,’ Mitch said, looking pretty confident. He grinned, waiting for her answer.
Jess made a noise. ‘All right, then. I mean, if I haven’t ruined the moment.’ Mitch gave her a funny look, his mouth twisted sideways, and then he just lost it. And once he started laughing, he couldn’t stop, his face screwed up, his shoulders shaking, the whole bed vibrating from it. ‘Mitch!’ Jess cried, squeezing his shoulders with her legs.
‘Sorry,’ he wheezed. ‘It’s just—’ He exhaled sharply, trying to get control of himself. ‘You look like you’re going to the dentist.’ That set him off again. And, despite everything, Jess got pulled in too, because it’s hard to resist laughter like that.