“You OK?” He knits his brow, releasing me as I push away and nod.
“Let’s keep going.”
My skin tingles everywhere his hands were, causing a war between my mind and body. He’s a guy you can’t have and don’t want, Katrina. Stop being ridiculous. Still, I can’t deny the fact that every time I see Elliot, I somehow imagine him naked… on top of me… underneath me… stop it!
“Are you in training for something? Or do you run for kicks?” he asks, interrupting my not-so-innocent thoughts.
“Huh? Oh, I’m a triathlete,” I blurt, hoping he isn’t reading my mind.
“Ah, explains the good pace.”
That gets a smile out of me. “Thought you’d have to slow down running with a girl?”
“I did actually.” He flashes me a smile. He’s gorgeous when he smiles. “You any good at triathlons?”
“I’m decent. I’ve been competing sprint distance in under nineteens until now. Went to nationals and worlds a couple of times. But I’ve never had to race against the big guns of the sport. That’s the next goal; to be competitive against them.”
“Worlds. I’m impressed.”
I shrug. “Just in my age group. When I make the Elite World Championships, then you can be impressed.”
“Nah. I think I’ll be impressed right now. I know how competitive top level sport is. I used kayak in my late teens. Qualified for nationals, but never made it to worlds or anything big like that. Anything world level is a massive achievement. Be proud.”
“I am proud. I guess I’m just feeling behind the eight-ball these days. I had an accident, and it took a bit to recover.” Oh my god. Why did I just say that? “I, uh, came off my bike.” I recover quickly with a lie. “It was pretty bad.”
“That’s what this scar is?” He touches his own forehead in the same location as my most obvious scar.
“Yeah. Had a run in with a minivan. Went through their windscreen. Got pretty cut up. Broken ribs, snapped forearm. I look like I’ve had a fight with a lawn mower.” I laugh it off, uncomfortable in my lie, but happier with the narrative. I don’t want Elliot seeing me as the girl with a damaged past. I want him to see me as a fighter.
I don’t know why that’s so important to me.
“Well, I’m always up for a lunchtime run if you want a training partner.”
I smile his way. “I might take you up on that.”
“What age category are you in now?”
“If that’s your way of fishing for my age, I’m twenty.”
“I wasn’t fishing. But that’s good to know.”
“Why’s that?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I have no idea. I guess I’m just glad you’re twenty and not a teenager or something.”
“Why would it matter if I was a teenager?”
His laughter becomes a little uneasy. “Because I’d look like a dirty old man hanging around you.”
“Dirty old man?” I raise my brow in question. “What are you? Thirty?” I tease. He doesn’t look thirty.
“I’m twenty-five,” he says, giving me a sideways glance. “Do you seriously think I look thirty?”
Releasing a big belly laugh I shake my head and slow my pace, my watch vibrating against my wrist. “You don’t look thirty.”
“That’s a relief.” He stops running, turning to me with a frown. “Why are we stopping?”
“So, I can get back in time.”
He checks his watch. “There’s still half an hour until the end of lunch. Another five minutes and we’ll loop around.” He moves his arm in an arching motion to demonstrate, causing his muscles to flex and my mouth to go dry. My lord, this man is hot with a capital H.
I swallow then squint against the sun. “I need to shower and what not. Gotta put my makeup back on, do my hair: pitfalls of being a girl,” I call out as I start to run away from him.
“You don’t need makeup. You’ll be just as gorgeous without it.” He thinks I’m gorgeous?
I laugh and shake my head. “That’s not helping.”
Elliot frowns and holds his arms out to the side. “Helping what?”
Helping me not visualise you naked. “Goodbye Evan.” I wave over my shoulder before running back to the office, leaving him to finish the circuit on his own.
I walk the last stretch along Phillip St for a cooldown and do a quick stretch before going inside to ride the elevator back up to my floor. There are maybe fifteen people waiting for the next one to arrive, and I’m not very excited to see Bianca is one of them. I try to hang back, but of course she notices me straight away.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought you were a man with muscles like that.” She titters as she looks me up and down, grimacing like my running gear is covered in cockroaches. “What are you wearing?”
I take up her challenge and do the same to her, slowly sliding my eyes over her clothing with an unimpressed look on my face. “I don’t think you’re really in a situation to be giving out style advice,” I say, even though her skirt and blouse combo is actually quite pretty.
She rolls her eyes and huffs out some air. “Why don’t you use the gym upstairs like everyone else. We shouldn’t have to look at, or smell you when you’re like that.”
Most girls would gasp at a slight like that. But the thing about us Western Sydney girls is we’re not afraid to put our fists forward. It takes a lot of effort not to grab her hair and throw down in the elevator bay. Growing up, I quickly learned that you either keep your mouth shut, or you prepare for things to get physical. Normally, I opt to keep my mouth shut. But with Bianca, I’m willing to make an exception.
“I’ll tell you what,” I level with her, already tired of her horrible attitude towards me. “Why don’t you use that stick up your arse and go fuck yourself?”
Her mouth falls open, and I can hear some muffled snickers from the people waiting around us. She narrows her eyes, surely preparing some witty retort, but the chime on the elevator cab pings, stealing her moment as the small crowd waiting with us surges forwards.
We stand in opposite corners, ignoring each other as we ride up eighteen floors. When the doors open, she’s quick to storm out in front of me. I pretend not to notice and make my way to the bathrooms to shower and change, trying to put the energy of the altercation behind me.
Why is it that those kind of women exist everywhere I go? Sometimes, I feel like high school will never be over.
Four
“Hey, Mrs Mahoney,” David calls out as he saunters into the kitchen after letting himself in. Years of coming and going has made him like a family member. If the door’s open, he comes right on in.
“Hey, baby girl.” He smiles when he spots me in the kitchen too, walking over to kiss us both on the cheek.
“Did you come straight from the station?” I ask. He’s still in his button-down shirt from work, dress pants and Hi-Tops. He had to work back later than me so we caught different trains home.
“Yeah. Didn’t want to miss dinner.” He leans against the bench next to me. “Smells good, Mrs M. Your carbonara is the best.”
Mum looks up from the pasta she’s stirring and smiles. “You know I always make extra just for you, David.”
“A woman after my own heart.” He gives her a cheeky grin then steals a piece of the garlic bread I’ve just cut up. I tap his hand playfully, and he just chuckles as he pops it in his mouth.
“You’re the worst.”
He winks while he happily chews. “You love me.”
Don’t I know it. I ignore the pang in my heart as I transfer the bread from the cutting board to the basket.
“I was just about to tell Katrina about my tennis game today,” Mum says as she taps the spoon on the edge of the pot. “It was my first game since you kids were all little.”
“I remember hanging out at the courts during school holidays,” David says.
“How’d your wrist pull up?” I ask, knowing tendinitis was the reason she gave up.
“I
wore a brace, so it was OK. I’ll see how it feels tomorrow before I pay my membership fees. But I had a wonderful time. Met a few lovely ladies. One of whom is the mother of someone you might know from work, Katrina.”
“Really? What a small world,” I say, genuinely surprised. “Although, I’m not sure I’ll know them; I haven’t even met everyone yet.”
“Well, her name is Katey Roberts, and her son's name is Elliot. She said he’s a junior solicitor there.”
“Elliot, huh?” I place the cutting board next to the sink to mask my surprise at hearing Elliot’s name. David watches me closely, obviously recognising the name also, and I shoot him a warning glance. I have to think carefully about how I respond as my mother has a tendency to see relationship potential where there isn’t any. Her life’s goal is to see me married off and popping out gran-babies. She’s never really gotten off my back about how much time I spend with David. Even though both David and I have been adamant that our relationship wouldn’t work as anything but friends, she clings to the hope that one day David will officially become her son.
“Do you know him?” I move out of the way when she picks up a colander and sets it inside the sink, pausing to look at me.
“I think so,” I say carefully. “I met one guy called Elliot on my office tour. I’m not sure what he does though.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a common name. I’m sure that’s the one. Is he young?”
I shrug. “Mid-twenties, I think.”
“That’d be him.” Confident with her summation, she collects the pot and pours the pasta into the colander. “His mother is very nice. She invited me to a lunch with all the tennis girls next weekend. I think I might go.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun, Mrs M,” David cuts in, and I hope to god he’s about to change the subject. “Would you like me to take the bread and bowls to the table?”
“That would be lovely, David.” She smiles and I mouth ‘thank you’ to him as he reaches for the bread basket. He winks then indicates the stack of bowls with a glance.
“I’ll give David a hand,” I say, picking them up and following him to the table.
Like clockwork, Mum calls out, “I don’t know why you two aren’t a couple yet. You spend so much time together.”
“Mum!” I admonish, rolling my eyes as I set the bowls down.
“What? You’re so in sync with each other. I don’t understand you two.”
“Oh Mum, I couldn’t date David. Even if I wanted to, he wouldn’t have time for me because he sticks his dick into a new girl every night.”
“Untrue!” David laughs and throws a piece of garlic bread at me. With lightning reflexes, I catch it and take a bite, sticking my tongue out at him.
“I don’t believe he’d do that," my mother says adamantly. “He spends most nights here. So, he can’t be sticking his… as you put it: his dick in a new girl every night.”
David and I burst out laughing at my usually very straight mother swearing. “Thanks, Mrs M. Glad someone has my back,” David says as mum busies herself mixing the pasta and sauce together.
“Where’s your dad and Tom?” David asks as we lay the bowls and cutlery around the table.
I lower my voice before answering. “Dad’s at work, and Tom is out with his girlfriend who Mum and Dad don’t know about, so shhhhh.”
David’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is she hot?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met her yet.”
“Haven’t met who yet?” Mum asks, catching the end of our conversation as she carries in the serving dish.
“Here, Mum. Give that to me,” I offer, reaching out for the bowl.
“Thank you, sweetheart. So, who haven’t you met?” she asks again.
“Oh… just the big boss at work,” I lie, taking my seat. “Supposedly he’s a bit abrasive and I’m nervous about making a good impression.”
“You’re so smart. I’m sure you’ll wow him,” she says, smiling as David fills our bowls for us.
“I agree,” David says. “Did you go running today?”
“Uh, yeah.” My cheeks heat even though no one knows I went running with Elliot, so I focus on my bowl to hide the reaction. “The Botanical Gardens is real pretty this time of year.”
“Yeah?” he says. “Shame our lunch hours don’t totally align or I’d come running with you.”
I open my eyes wide and nod, thankful my mouth is full of pasta. That wouldn’t be awkward. The guy I’ve always wanted with the guy I’m not supposed to want at all. What could possibly go wrong with that?
“What do you mean your lunch hours don’t align?” Mum asks. “I thought you had lunch together on Monday.”
“We did,” David says. “But I had to take it early, which isn’t really the done thing.”
“I see. Well, that’s a shame. I’d be happier if Katrina wasn’t off running in the city alone. Is there a nice young man at the office you could go with?” she asks, almost causing me to choke on my carbonara.
“I’m fine running on my own, Mum.”
“Oh, but surely there’s someone you could go with. A good-looking fella with the same interests as you. It could turn into something more.” She practically sings the last part, giving me her hopeful wide-eyes.
“I’m not interested in having anything become more with anyone right now,” I retort, immediately annoyed.
Giving me a sad and sorry look, she turns to David to enlist his influence. “Don’t you think she should date again? I’m just concerned she’ll miss out on the right guy because she’s worried he’ll turn out like Christopher.”
“Mum.” I put my fork down hard.
Like a deer in headlights, David seems too afraid to move, frozen with his fork midway to his mouth.
“Well, David?” she presses.
“Um… I think she’s only twenty, Mrs M. She has plenty of time.” He sticks his fork in his mouth and flicks a careful glance at me. I feel sure there’s nothing but storminess brewing behind my expression.
“But time goes so fast,” Mum argues. “And she’s very mature for her age. I don’t want her turned off men just because of one bad decision.”
That pisses me off. “One bad decision? Mum. Please leave this alone.”
“But—”
“Stop. I’ve had enough of this. I only moved in with Christopher because you pushed me to. I wanted to wait until I was at least finished Uni before moving in. But you insisted I shouldn’t wait. Seriously, Mum, stop trying to marry me off. If you don’t want me living here again, that’s fine, I’ll look into campus housing tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Katrina. I’m happy you’re home. But I don’t want you to end up like your brother; nearly thirty, still at home and no partner in your life.”
David, very sensibly, keeps his head down and shovels food into his mouth.
“Mum, it’s my life. Please let me live it. I don’t need you to push me again, especially after what happened.”
A wounded expression fixes itself upon her face. “How could I have known what Christopher was like? He was your boyfriend, and you didn’t know yourself. Don’t you put that on me.”
I shoot up from my seat, anger flashing behind my eyes. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it? If you hadn’t pushed me, David and I wouldn’t have been there, and none of this”—I hold up my forearms and flash my hands at my face and shoulder—“would have happened.”
“Katrina, that’s not fair,” David puts in.
“It might not be fair. But you both know it’s true,” I spit as I flee to my room.
Flopping on my bed, I grab my pillow and cover my face with it, letting out a muffled scream. Is it over the top? Maybe a little. But, I’m angry. Angry that I can’t be left to heal and move on in my own time. I think it’s the least she can do since she is literally the reason I was living with Christopher. We’d only been dating six months when he asked me to move in, and I’d wanted to say no. I didn’t think it was the right time
of life for me. But she convinced me that, “Good-looking young men with great jobs like Christopher don’t come around too often, you know.” She campaigned for me to say yes to him, and when it all went horribly wrong, all she could say was, “How could we have known?”
I just keep thinking if she’d left the decision up to me, I would’ve waited. I don’t know if things would’ve ended up the same way, but I’d like to think they would’ve been different. I’d like to think I would have seen Christopher for who he was before I was trapped under the same roof as him. Then I wouldn’t be scarred, and David wouldn’t feel the need to keep such a watchful eye over me.
It feels like he’s waiting for me to break.
Mum was right, before. He is here almost every night, and it makes me wonder when he finds time to see these women I'm always accusing him of sleeping with. Truth is, I haven't seen him with a single girl in the past year. I'm just assuming he still has his roster of women like he did before. Since my accident, he hasn’t mentioned anyone to me. But he also hasn't denied it when I make comments, so....
I’m still brooding when there’s a gentle knock on the door. It opens slightly, and David’s hand slides in, waving a white sock as a surrender flag. “Is it safe to come in?”
“Of course.” I can’t help but laugh at his choice of flag.
With his dark blond hair looking unruly, he pokes his head in first, and seeing me sitting calmly on my bed, he walks in and joins me, putting his sock back on. “Your mum’s pretty upset.”
I place a hand on the top of his head, taming the mess of hair before I sigh and sit back against the wall. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Then why did you? After all this time, it seems kind of out of the blue.”
“I know. I just want her to stop pushing me to find a ‘good man’.” I roll my eyes. “We’ve been down this road already, and even though the last time put me in hospital, she hasn’t changed. Why can’t she wait until I’m ready?”
“Have you ever thought she already blames herself over what happened? That maybe encouraging you to get back out there is her way of trying to help?”
Beautiful Series Boxset, books 1-4 Page 5