Stan

by C. J. Duggan

  “I was going to say something,” I said.

  Stan pulled away, looking down on me, his eyes taking in my face in a silent question.

  “You’re not with Ellie,” I breathed out.

  Stan’s brows rose in surprise. “Ellie?”

  I could almost see the cogs turning inside his head as he was trying to piece the mysteries of the universe together. “Surely you didn’t think that—”

  I cut him off, pressing my lips to his, feeling the tension of his shoulder melt as his arm swept around my waist, drawing me near him.

  I spoke against the softness of his lips. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “But …” I pressed my finger to his lips. I didn’t need an explanation, or the long story about the history of him and Ellie. I just wanted to erase it from my memory and be lost in this moment. Just Stan and me, in the here and now. His beautiful, inquisitive eyes flicked over my face causing my smile to broaden.

  “You’re a terrible host, Stan Remington.”

  He arched his brow, looking down on me with slowly forming smirk as he reached up to slowly pull my hand away from his mouth.

  “I just kissed you until your legs buckled, and I’m a terrible host, really?”

  I giggled, taking in the genuine mystified expression lining his face. I just shook my head.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  ***

  I walked around Stan’s small living room taking in the sight of his bachelor pad. An old, brown suede couch that looked like it folded into a sofa bed, the small L-shaped kitchen and dining table and chairs made it the epitome of open living, none more so than the bed I stood at the foot of at the other end of the room. I turned, curving my brow.

  “Ah, yeah, there’s not much to it, I’m afraid,” he said sheepishly.

  “I love it!” I beamed, taking in the sweet effort of how he had attempted to make it a home, the matching lounge cushions and the colour-coordinated rug on the floorboards.

  “Will your parents be wondering where you are?” Stan sat on the edge of the sofa.

  “I think they are allowing me one last night of freedom,” I said, choosing to sit on the end of Stan’s bed; the subtle gesture had Stan looking down into his hands, as if his palm was the most interesting thing in the world.

  Was he blushing?

  “So Cinderella has no curfew then?” he mused.

  “Nope,” I said, sliding my shoes off and criss-crossing my legs on the end of his bed, patting the space beside me. My heart spiked with approval, the way the deep set of his eyes flicked from me to the space beside me, a mixture of shyness and amusement. I don’t exactly know where this newfound confidence had come from; I mean, I wasn’t a saint by any means, I had had boyfriends before, but nothing and no one made my heart beat the way Stan did when I was with him.

  His eyes lifted, the corner of his mouth pinching involuntarily. He stood, delving his hands deep into his pockets, something he tended to do when he was nervous. He walked over to me, stopping just before the end of the bed. He shook his head, almost in disbelief.

  “I’ve got no TV, you know.”

  I shrugged.

  “No stereo.”

  “Thank God.”

  “No pool, no games room, no vending machines.”

  I couldn’t help but grin bigger. “What will we do then?”

  Stan leant down, placing his arms on either side of me, caging me in, as his mouth hovered against mine and he slowly pushed me back.

  “Oh, I think we can think of something.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Stan

  I’m not sure what this was.

  But all I knew was that I had a girl in my bed: a warm, beautiful girl that looked like an angel and smelt like heaven. I blew out a laugh through my nose.

  Jesus, Stan, with thoughts like that, you should be a freakin’ poet.

  “What’s so funny?” Bel asked sleepily, her warm body nestled closely up against me, so torturous it had made me unable to sleep. That, and the thought I would have her parents on my doorstep with sticks of fire and bloodhounds at any given moment. I know Bel said she had a night of freedom, but somehow I kind of doubted that. Her head rested on my shoulder, her arms lazily snaked across my rib cage. I couldn’t feel my arm anymore, it was numb from the lack of circulation. Still, I hadn’t had the heart to move her, to wake her. It was hard enough stopping the first time, not giving into those pleading eyes, and her soft whisperings that she wouldn’t regret it in the morning. But as much as it killed, and oh, how it killed me, I had to draw a line. We fooled around but nothing that would have us regretting anything in the morning; at least, I hoped not. I sighed, peering at my side table clock: two a.m. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew she couldn’t stay, that her being here was pushing it beyond any sane limitations. Bel might have wanted to risk it but the last thing I wanted was her to get in trouble and not be allowed to come back to Onslow ever. With that motivation in mind, I gently kissed the top of her head, moving into her as I rolled her gently off my dead arm. Thinking I was home free, Bel reached out, and taking my hand she guided it underneath the covers, sliding it under the thin fabric of her top and onto her breast. I sighed.

  “You’re so bad.”

  “I will be if you let me.”

  Bel teasingly rubbed her thigh against me; the back and forth friction was enough to make me forget my own name. I thought maybe I could distract her movements by claiming her lips. Feeling her body melt into a different kind of pleasure that made her more pliant to me, I trailed my mouth along her neck, hoping maybe the distraction would numb her thoughts, but of course, it didn’t.

  She arched into my touch. “Stan, please.” She breathed it out in such a way I was almost willing to give her anything she wanted, but then as her tender hand splayed over my stomach, lower, lower, breaching the elastic barrier of my tented boxers, reality slammed into me. I snaked my hand around her wrist, breaking away from her fevered mouth. I swallowed, trying to blink myself back into some form of logical thinking.

  “Bel,” I pleaded. “You’re killing me.” My words were the agony I intended it to be as I rolled onto my back, running my hands through my hair.

  Bel nuzzled into my neck. “Last night of freedom, remember? I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” Her voice was low, sad.

  I hitched myself onto my elbow, looking down on her, the darkness hiding me from those big blue eyes that had me undone every time.

  “That’s exactly why we should wait; you think this is hard now? I don’t want to have a taste of something amazing and then have it taken from me. If we’re going to do this, I’m doing it for keeps, not for one night. That’s not who I am.”

  Silence fell between us. I could feel my chest constrict; the sudden unease surfaced in me in thinking maybe this was just what Bel wanted: one night, a summer fling with the caravan park boy she could tell her friends about back home.

  I thought her silence was the answer I feared, until she lifted herself up, her hand touching the side of my face as she kissed me, so gently, so sweetly. The warmth from them parted too soon. I couldn’t read her expression; I was unable to tell if it was a kiss goodbye or something else.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Bel

  The darkness hid my tears.

  Stan’s words, the Stan that didn’t say much at all, just said all the things I wanted to hear. He wasn’t like any other boy I had ever known. He was shy and sweet and respectful, that was in a way, hard to believe. Most boys would have done the deed and then be walking you to the door with a ‘have a nice life’. But not Stan. As much as it killed me to leave him, I knew he was right.

  My lips ghosted against his gently, before pressing into a soft sweetness. I breathed the words into him. “I’ll wait.” My voice shook. “I’ll wait for you forever.”

  Leaving the warmth of his bed, the cocoon of his arms, was like a form of torture as I gathered myself to leav
e, watching on as Stan pulled his top over his square shoulders and over his toned body and covering himself again.

  Yep! Torture.

  I slipped my shoes back on, readying myself to make the long trek back to the van before I really pushed my luck with my parents. Knowing them, they would be up by dawn packing up the campsite and readying for home. The very thought of it was like punching a hole into my chest.

  “You ready?” I heard the jingle of the keys, my eyes snapping up to see Stan by the door.

  “You didn’t think I would let you walk back in the dark?”

  ***

  Stan’s car pulled up in the same place Sean had picked me up from. This time, he came closer to the vantage point so as to see me make it down the incline and into my van safely.

  He killed the engine, resting his arm on my headrest. He gently tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear.

  “Will I see you tomorrow?” I asked, trying not to let emotion override me.

  “You mean today?” Stan’s eyes flicked to the dashboard clock.

  I rolled my eyes. “Tomorrow, today, will I see you?”

  The light from the moon illuminated his teeth into a brilliant glow. “You’ll be seeing me,” he said, and with that he leant over and kissed me, slowly and tenderly, lingering with an essence that had me wishing I could stay here with him forever. When he broke away, my stomach dropped.

  “See ya,” I said quietly, sliding from the passenger side and clicking the door shut as quietly as possible. I lingered a moment, our eyes exchanging silent meanings before I turned, jogging down the incline, my path lit by the headlights of Stan’s car guiding me all the way to the safety of my front door. Only then did the headlights fade as Stan turned his car back on and drove away.

  ***

  Somehow, some way, I had managed to slip into the van undetected, and by morning with the mad running around I knew would be happening, it would be the perfect distraction for me. Not once did my parents ask what time I came home. What my movie was like. Nothing. It kind of put me in an even worse mood knowing, potentially, I could have stayed longer with Stan.

  Stan, who I still hadn’t seen.

  I was sulking around all morning, and by lunchtime I was damn right unbearable. Screaming at poor Alex, snapping at my dad and blaming him for everything apart from global warming. And having found out that the reason my mum had been missing for the past hour was because she took it upon herself to have a last-minute cuppa with Paula Remington. How fucking fabulous was that?

  I slung the last of my bags in the back of the Pajero, trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall, when I heard the distant, familiar whistle of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ close in from across the track. Shielding the sun from my eyes, I took in the sight of Stan, leading the way as Glen, Paula, and Mum walked behind him. He had his sunnies on which made it difficult to make eye contact with him.

  “G’day, Stan.” Dad met him with a handshake.

  “All packed then?” Stan asked, chirpy and cheerful as ever.

  “Yep, almost.” My dad nodded, his hands on his hips, looking around the campsite making sure he hadn’t missed anything.

  “We just thought we’d come and see you off,” chimed Paula.

  “Yeah, we changed the sign to ‘Back in ten’. Seemed more realistic.” Everyone chuckled.

  Crazy!

  Stan didn’t even look at me, he smiled along, toed the dirt with his infuriating hands in his pockets.

  Is this how it was going to be? He was just politely going to say ‘See ya?’ with his folks and walk up the track whistling without a care in the world? Had he not wanted to have sex with me because he wasn’t really interested? He hadn’t said much, so perhaps I had been wrong about him after all. A new anger burned within me. Along with relief I hadn’t slept with him last night. I was wrong, so wrong. He was just like all the others. I slammed the car door so hard, everyone turned to look at me.

  “Let’s go!’ I snapped, barely trying to keep it together, wishing I had sunglasses.

  “Are all your bags packed?” my mum asked. There was a no-nonsense tone in her voice.

  “I only have the one.” I glowered.

  Mum moved toward the back, double-checking the cargo like the control freak she was. “This one?” Mum lifted a large purple Quicksilver backpack.

  It took everything in me not to create a scene and scream at her.

  Yes!

  But as she lifted the backpack from the back with a groan, and carried it around the car and dumped it at my feet, my mouth fell open.

  “That’s not going to Maitland.” She looked at me pointedly.

  “W-what?”

  “You’re not going to Maitland.”

  I searched my mum’s face, her bemused yet earnest face, before it flicked to my dad who merely shrugged in good humour.

  “I don’t understand.”

  My focus shifted toward Paula and Glen who watched on with much amusement. By now, Stan had lifted his sunnies and was looking at me with a devilish look in his eyes.

  Mum clasped my shoulders. “Paula and Glen said they would be happy for you to stay for the summer.”

  “It’s true,” added Paula. “If you don’t mind staying with us, we’d love to have you.”

  Still unable to voice any words from shock, my mum squeezed my shoulders. “It’s not your fault we have to go home, and it hasn’t been much of a summer for you.”

  I tried to look at Stan. If only they had known what kind of summer I had had.

  Mum swept the hair from my eyes. “There are, of course, conditions attached.”

  “Anything, anything!”

  “Well, as you know, you’ll be staying up at the house.”

  “Agreed, totally,” I said all too quickly.

  “You’ll be home for Christmas,” Dad said sternly as he came to stand beside Mum.

  “Look forward to it.”

  “And this might be the deal breaker.” Mum smirked. “You’re to help out around the park; it’s not going to be a free ride.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’m afraid you have Stan to thank for that one,” added Glen.

  I turned to Stan, curving my brow. “Oh?”

  The same boyish smile I so loved was there. “Yeah, I’m starting a new job. I’m going into partnership with my mate, Sean.”

  So that’s what Sean had to see him about.

  “Sounds too good to refuse,” I said.

  “That’s what we think,” Paula said.

  “So if you don’t mind sweeping verandahs and manning the office …” Stan teased.

  “Scrubbing toilets?”

  “That too,” he said, stepping forward and lifting my bag onto his shoulder, looking down on me with a knowing smile.

  I couldn’t contain my own goofy grin, squinting against the sun. “Sounds perfect!”

  Epilogue

  Some things were meant to be.

  For instance, mopping out the bathroom floor of cabin seventeen seemed more than appropriate.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Max said, watching on from the doorway of his cabin.

  “Oh, get over it. I had some spare time so I thought I would just give it the once-over. Besides, you don’t want to fall into the eternal realm of this feeling like a bachelor pad,” I said, carrying out the mop and bucket and wiping my brow.

  “So does your boyfriend know you’re here?”

  I smirked, looking away. “My boyfriend?”

  “Stan? You can’t tell me that any girl would willingly spend her summers scrubbing toilets for the sheer thrill of it,” he teased, taking a seat and leaning back on the legs of his chair, picking up his guitar. “Must be love,” he said, strumming lazily as he watched me pour the dirty water out of my bucket. “I see he is moving back into the main house.”

  I spun around, almost dropping my bucket. “What did you just say?”

  He shrugged one shoulder in that cool, casual way of his. “I heard Paula
talking about it while I was doing laundry.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was kitting out his room for the return of her prodigal son. Apparently it would be ‘easier’ for him to stay up at the house with his ‘new job’.” Max air quoted each word sarcastically, but he knew, like I knew, the ‘exact’ reason Stan was coming back to the house, and my stomach twisted with delight. My summer had gone from bleak and non-existent to each day being a new discovery, with every stolen moment with Stan like heaven, and all of a sudden ‘waiting’ didn’t feel like forever.

  “Try not to look so happy about it.”

  I sighed. “Goodbye, Max, a pleasure as always.”

  Max started strumming and singing the words to Dire Straits’ ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ I spun around, walking backwards down the drive, laughing.

  “Stan loves that song!” I called.

  “I bet he does.” Max winked. “I. Bet. He. Does.”

  Can’t wait to read more about the Onslow Boys?

  Be sure to catch the next book in

  C.J Duggan’s Summer Series…

  An Endless Summer

  By C.J Duggan.

  Every Onslow Boy has a story.

  Next summer it’s all about Sean!

  Acknowledgements

  Much love to my amazing husband, Mick, for being the beautiful part of my reality and supporting me in all I do; I know it’s not easy, but I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.