The Boys of Summer

by C. J. Duggan

  Screw it, I thought, and picked up the phone.

  My fingers threaded nervously through the curve of the phone cord as it rang. Then he answered. Much like Ellie, there was surprised silence after I told him a (sugarcoated) version of events. He didn’t need to know about the dry humping. But if he was about to echo the same spiel as Ellie, for one, I didn’t think I could stand it and two, maybe they couldn’t be all wrong?

  Adam blew out a breath. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Oh, you know, just the typical summer drama.” I winced.

  “Tess. I have been finger knitting. A typical summer is not in my existence.”

  “I guess you’ll have to live vicariously through us, then.”

  “I’ll say. Toby Morrison, huh?” He sounded as if he needed it to sink in, as the phone line fell into more silence.

  “So do you think I’m the rebound girl?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Possibly. But aren’t we all on the rebound from someone? I mean, no matter how much time goes by, the next person will always be the rebound person. Was Stan the rebound guy for the tourist sleaze bag? Or was the tourist sleaze the rebound from Stan?”

  I sat up straighter now. “I guess.”

  “Do you want some advice?”

  I nodded, which in hindsight was pretty dumb on the phone but he continued anyway.

  “Don’t over-think it. Trust me, blokes aren’t complicated creatures.”

  “So do you think I should hold back?”

  “What for? If you like him – I can’t believe I am having such a chick conversation with you – but if you like him, let him know. Not in a stalkerish ‘I want to have your babies’ way, but if you wanna hang with him, do it. If he’s keen, he’ll appreciate your honesty more than playing stupid games with him. Good God, woman, you’re taking boy advice from Ellie? Seriously?”

  “You weren’t around, Adam! Besides, it’s not exactly like I talk to you about this stuff.”

  “Yeah, well, this is the one and only time I like not having a vagina.”

  “Gross.”

  “Like I said,” Adam continued, “the male species isn’t as complicated as you think, so just go with it and do your own thing.”

  I felt a wave of relief pass over me at Adam’s no-nonsense, honest words. Maybe it was because it was what I wanted to hear, but it was also good to get a guy’s point of view. Adam was my last point of call before I picked up my mum’s copy of Men are from Mars, Woman are from Venus.

  “Thanks, Adam.”

  “No sweat. I better go, this scarf won’t knit itself, you know.”

  “You sure you don’t have a vagina?”

  “Whatever, Toby lover!”

  “Don’t say anything to Chris, okay? It’s not exactly common knowledge.”

  “Ha! That’s what you think.”

  I froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Here’s another helpful insight into guys, Tess: opposed to what girls think, mates talk. We are mostly apes with our brains in our pants, but don’t underestimate the power of the bro code.”

  “The bloody bro code.”

  “It is a strong, unbreakable bond.”

  “Ellie broke it,” I laughed.

  “I bet she freakin’ did.” He laughed, too.

  “Any last words of advice, oh wise master?”

  “If you take up finger knitting, make sure you use talcum powder so the wool doesn’t rub on your fingers.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  “Stop playing games and go get him.”

  As I hung up the phone, that was exactly what I decided to do.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I had looked down this drive maybe a thousand times before, but none of those numerous times held as much weight as it did now.

  I lowered my foot to balance my bike as I came to a stop. A singular porch light shone like a beacon down the long curving driveway, casting a shadow across Toby’s car.

  Light on. Car in drive.

  He was home. I supposed anyone would be at 2am on a Monday morning. I was in two minds, I was ready to turn around and head for home; I paused, a murmur of music inside had my heart thumping in a matching rhythm. He was definitely home, he was awake and before nerves demanded I leave, I walked my bike down the drive, towards the light, towards the music.

  I propped it near the wall of the cabin, moving through the darkness of the carport, skimming myself sideways so as not to scratch Toby’s car. I placed a hand against the bonnet. Cold, Toby must have been home all night. I realised how creepy that was so quickly pulled my hand away.

  Stop being such a stalker, Tess!

  Before I could put too much thought into where I was and what I was doing, I followed the ever-increasing thud of music that led me around the back. Then I had a thought. What if he wasn’t alone? I faltered for a second, then pushed forward. If I chickened out now I would never get any peace. I wanted – needed – to do this so before any more self-doubt forced itself into my mind, I turned the corner.

  A dim single bulb lit the back deck that housed a couch … in which Toby sat. And he was alone! Surprise lit his face as he saw me. He paused mid-sip of his beer, and went to speak then thought better of it.

  As he sat there, all relaxed, nursing his stubby, my heart leapt into my throat. He was so incredibly sexy in low-rise jeans and a black Bonds singlet, he was barefoot with bed-tousled hair and he was here, at his home, sitting and staring at me.

  All of a sudden I felt weird and out of place.

  An amused crease tilted his brow. “What are you doing here?”

  What was I doing here?

  When I didn’t answer, Toby melted further into his couch, swigging on his beer, only momentarily taking his eyes from me.

  “You want one?” He held up the stubby.

  “Sure.”

  He stood, towering over me. Skimming past as he walked towards a bar fridge on the back deck, I quickly concentrated on trees that lay beyond Toby’s backyard, silhouetted in the moonlight. Crossing my arms and staring into the nothing, it took every ounce of my strength not to watch Toby bend to the bar fridge, clinking the bottles as he rearranged the shelves. I didn’t really want a beer, but I thought it would make me seem less awkward, have more of a purpose, because that’s what friends do, right? They hang out on back decks listening to music and downing a few beers.

  As I tried to justify my presence, something blisteringly cold pressed against the back of my neck. I gasped and stepped away, spinning around. Toby grinned wickedly as he held out a beer.

  “Cold enough?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and threw him my best death stare. That only seemed to amuse him more. His gaze dipped to my shoulders, then back up to my face again. He stepped forward, all amusement suddenly sobering into that serious gaze I’d seen so often.

  “You caught a bit of sun today.” He ran the back of his knuckles gently along my upper arm. His hands were both full of our beers but that didn’t stop him from touching me. I didn’t know if it was the shock of the ice-cold beer on my neck or Toby’s touch that caused gooseflesh to form on such a warm night.

  The song ended, and Toby’s attention was drawn away from me, snapping me out of my own daze as he placed my beer into my hand.

  He disappeared through the sliding glass door; I could barely make him out in the dim interior. He restarted his tape, the same melodious symphony I’d heard from the driveway.

  I took a swig of beer and fought not to choke on the vile taste of it. Seriously, how did people drink this stuff?

  Toby increased the music’s volume this time, and I was plunged into blackness as the back porch light switched off. Toby skimmed through the sliding glass door and moved towards the couch again.

  I had an idea of what the darkness meant; it was a ‘do not disturb’ sign. I swallowed deeply. I could just make out Toby as a light from the kitchen window shrouded the couch in a light orange glow through the mottled gl
ass.

  “Do you like this song?” I asked.

  It’s his tape, he put it on, of COURSE he likes this song.

  “It’s my absolute favourite,” he said in a low, dreamy voice. He sat back down on the couch and slowly patted the space next to him.

  Why is it that people take a long swig of alcohol before they do something they need courage for? One sip could hardly give me enough to conquer my nerves and fears, so I took two big ones and sat next to Toby.

  “What’s it called?” I asked, trying not to cringe at the disgusting taste, to keep the conversation flowing casually.

  Toby’s arm lay carelessly across the back of the couch, my neck pressed against it. The couch seemed a lot smaller than it looked. It was cosy; I relaxed into the dip in the middle so that I leaned in to Toby. He ran his fingers through my hair in a slow, comforting motion. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder.

  “It’s called, ‘A Change is Gonna Come’,” he whispered into my temple.

  Toby leaned forward and rested his beer on the floor with a delicate thud; my eyes opened, breaking my dream-like state as he took the beer out of my hand and placed it on the floor next to his. All of a sudden finding a place for my hands didn’t matter as Toby closed the distance between us. My tummy tingled with the gentle, lingering touch of his lips to mine. I reached up, my fingers entangled through his thick, dark hair as our bodies pressed closer, melting into each other as the music played and the darkness hid our roaming hands. Toby broke away first, leaving me breathless and fearful that he had decided to stop, but his eyes met mine in a silent question, and I gripped his singlet and pressed my forehead to his.

  Toby’s breath drew in a long shudder. “Are you sure?”

  I answered only in trailing light kisses along his jaw leading to his mouth. I could feel Toby’s Adam’s apple swallow hard, his breath laboured as I playfully hovered over his lips, deliberately looking into his eyes as if memorising the moment. I captured his beautiful mouth with a sweet, teasing caress, and that was all the invitation he needed.

  The couch creaked with each movement as the weight of Toby’s body pressed down on me, and we desperately maneuvered into place. I could taste the remnants of beer on Toby’s tongue, but it was strangely intoxicating on him: I liked it, as opposed to when drinking it myself. His hands moved, skimming up my thighs, bunching my skirt to my waist. Each movement was slow and deliberate at first, as if with each bold unraveling he expected me to stop, push him away, but every touch only caused my stomach to twist in excitement. A heated look of understanding flashed in Toby’s eyes as he knelt back and looked down at me. I sat up, peeling my top over my head, and we lay down again. The heat of our bodies melted together, his strong assured hands grabbed at the elastic of my knickers and dumped me out of them. Panic jolted through me in the swift movement as Toby’s dark form hovered over me, blocking out the moon. It was then I heard the confident fumble and flick of his jean button and then the zip.

  This is really happening, this is really happening.

  Toby lowered my bra strap, then paused. “You’re shaking.”

  Was I?

  I fought to keep my breath steady. “I don’t mean to, I just …”

  Toby’s voice was low, soft near my cheek.

  “We don’t have to …”

  “I want to!”

  If he stopped looking down at me and just kissed me that was all I would need. Instead, he kept his concerned gaze focused on me, his beautiful face highlighted by the tinted, mottled glass from the kitchen. It shone a warm glow across us.

  Toby’s lips tilted, forming a coy, lopsided smile. His fingers traced lazy, comforting circles against my skin.

  “It’s only me, Tess,” he whispered.

  It was all I needed to hear. I pushed myself up to sit before him and gathered the fabric of Toby’s singlet, slowly peeling it over his head.

  I knew this face.

  I knew this boy.

  My fingers traced a line over his smooth, bronzed skin, from his shoulder, across his collarbone; they trailed a long, teasing line down to his jeans. His breath hitched as my fingers rested on the parted buttons of his Levis, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Did I know what I was doing? Did I have any idea of what I was getting myself into?

  He snaked his arm behind my back and lowered me onto the couch again. In that very moment, there was only one thing I knew for certain: I wanted Toby to block out the moon.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  We lay on the couch in silence for the longest time.

  The music had long since stopped and a warm, gentle breeze swept over the deck, cool against my dampened skin as I lay in Toby’s arms.

  A deep chuckle vibrated against my cheek.

  I tilted my head up. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just thought I was in for a quiet night, and then you showed up at my door.”

  I leaned on my side and looked down at his flushed face. “Do you wish I hadn’t?”

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “No, I’m glad you did.” He smiled. “You lunatic.”

  I frowned and went to hit him but he caught my wrist, dragged me down into a heated kiss, and I crumbled into him. Toby pulled down the rug draped over the back of the couch and arranged it over us. We lay in a twisted cocoon until the first rays of light pierced the sky. I managed to doze in short bursts, but even though I was sore and exhausted I couldn’t still my mind.

  Wow. So that was sex.

  I lay on my side and watched Toby’s peaceful, sleeping profile; the rise and fall of his chest; his arm curved over his forehead, and his perfect bow shaped lips slightly swollen from our kisses. He looked so young, and I smiled as I pushed a wayward strand of hair off his brow. He rolled toward me, blindly moved my wrist away from his face, snaking an arm around me.

  “Get some sleep, McGee,” he mumbled.

  I giggled. “I can’t.”

  He peeked one eye open. “You’re going to kill me, go to sleep.”

  “Oh that’s right. I’m much younger than you, I keep forgetting,” I teased.

  He poked me in the ribs, and I squirmed with laughter. His eyes were still closed but a broad smile spread across his face.

  “Get some sleep, Tess.”

  I nestled into Toby’s warmth and closed my eyes, but sleep did not follow easily.

  Hours must have passed as the sounds of bird calls in the surrounding bushland greeted the morning. Toby stirred next to me, and I knew what he wanted. I wanted it, too. This time it was easier. His movements were slower, his mouth captured my gasps and moans. He pushed me to new points of madness, a blinding intense place, a place I never knew I could belong, but Toby took me there.

  I was still sore, but I was able to immerse myself in his warmth. There was nothing else in that moment except Toby and me as he gathered me against his chest, both breathless; his thumb stroked my bottom lip as he tilted my head up, to look into my eyes.

  “You’re shaking,” I whispered.

  He kissed the top of my hair, and I listened to the frantic beat of his heart; I smiled, revelling in the fact that I was the one responsible for it.

  Sleep must have found me eventually, as I jolted awake when the blanket shifted. Toby sat up stretching, his bones clicking and popping as he stifled a yawn. I smiled, shifting towards him, squinting; I shielded my eyes against the morning sun’s rays. As Toby shuffled his jeans on, I watched the muscles contort in his back. He glanced back down at me with a coy smirk.

  He leaned back on his elbow, his eyes studying mine and we watched each other openly, comfortably. Toby’s hand rested on my stomach and as he began to sit up he froze as his gaze dropped towards my crumpled skirt pushed high above my waist.

  He sat upright, swearing under his breath.

  “Jesus, Tess!” Frantic, apologetic eyes met mine.

  I sat up to see dried blood smeared against my thighs.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I
just thought that … oh, Christ, did I hurt you?”

  I shifted the skirt downwards as I sat up and gave him a reassuring smile.

  “Only a little.” I grabbed his hand, but he flinched away which hurt more than anything that happened last night.

  “I’m so sorry, Tess. I thought, if I had known …”

  Suddenly all the wonder and beauty of the languid, lazy affection we had shared moments before was gone, overcome by shame and guilt. As I searched for my shirt and undies, wanting to quickly cover myself, I hardly noticed that Toby had moved away from me. The sliding door was shoved open, and Toby appeared with a washcloth. He knelt down and wiped at my legs, his gaze intense, focused, as if erasing the blood would erase what happened last night.

  I stilled his hand and took the cloth from him.

  “Thanks.”

  Comprehension dawned on his face, and he left to let me clean myself up. I stood up and wiped my legs clean, then redressed. I found the empty condom wrapper at my feet, which I discreetly tucked into my shoe. I flamed crimson, in the heat of the moment I hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t even realised Toby had used a condom. I was silently thankful that he had.

  Toby came back outside, this time in a clean T-shirt and holding a glass of juice.

  I held the cloth awkwardly, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. He handed me the juice and took the cloth from me.

  “It’s okay,” he said, “I’ll sort it.” He ducked back inside and quickly disposed of it before returning with his own glass of juice. I wanted to die.

  I gulped on my pineapple juice in an effort to distract myself from the awkward silence that loomed over us.

  After a moment, Toby took my glass and set it aside. He lifted my chin to meet his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  I tried to smile and nodded, but it wasn’t very convincing.

  “You’re a bloody lunatic, you know that?” he said, lips tilting into a lopsided smile as he shook his head.