by Kat Colmer
‘If he’s anywhere as edible as these,’ I say, snatching the last Mint Slice from the packet, ‘then what are you waiting for? Play the damn movie already.’
She grins at me and hits play.
I’m okay. It’ll be okay.
I try to lose myself in the fairy tale; it’s a little corny, but I generally like it.
Until someone pounds on the door.
Sandy pauses the movie. ‘This better not be Lucy asking to borrow my computer again. Last time she chewed up all her weekly data and begged to use mine, I ended up with a search history full of gaming strategy sites.’
But when she opens the door it’s not Lucy. It’s a couple of Year 7s.
‘There’s a guy downstairs who wants to talk to you,’ one says to Sandy, all but bouncing on the spot. Next to her, the other one erupts in a fit of giggles.
Sandy shoots me a frown over her shoulder. She’s definitely not happy about this interruption. ‘Give me a sec while I tell whoever it is that I’m busy, then we’ll get back to the movie.’ She grabs a jumper and follows the girls downstairs.
I use the time she’s gone to swap my damp T-shirt and jeans for a PJ top and trackies. Technically, I’m a visitor here tonight and should head home after the movie, but I can’t face Mum and all her disappointment right now. I’ll call Dad later and ask him to tell the boarding house I’m staying in for the rest of the weekend.
I’ve just settled myself under the bedcovers when Sandy comes back. One brow lifted, her eyes find mine. ‘It’s Luke. He’s just asked me for your address. I’ve told him he can save himself a drive since you’re here.’
My heart skids to a stop then picks up like it’s getting paid by beats per minute. ‘You think I should go talk to him?’
Sandy huffs and gives her head a shake. ‘Yes, MJ. You should definitely go talk to him. Have you learned nothing from the movie? When Prince Charming rocks up at your door, you talk to him!’
Talk to Luke. I should. There’s so much I want to say, but the fear that he may not want to hear it freezes my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Even if he did drive two hours to see me …
Sandy crosses to my bed where my back seems to be glued to the wall behind me. She snaps her laptop shut and shoots me a look filled with a meaning my fuddled brain can’t quite decipher. ‘If I’m right, you won’t be needing to watch this anymore.’ Her lips flirt with a smile even as her eyes flash with warning. ‘And this time don’t screw it up,’ she says with a squeeze of my arm before she grabs her laptop along with the empty packet of Mint Slice and shoos me off my bed with an encouraging smile.
On my way down the stairs, my heart pumps like mad.
Luke is here.
What does that mean? You’d think the oversupply of oxygen to my brain would help me come up with an answer, but my grey matter is nothing but a useless mass of mush.
Luke is here. In the common room, hands shoved deep into his faded jeans, and surrounded by a band of boarders subjecting him to the Boarding House Boy Test.
‘So, Luke—’ Ally glances down at a familiar-looking red clipboard, ‘—tell us about your post Year 12 aspirations.’
‘Teaching,’ Luke says with a proud smile. ‘I’m already in my first year at uni.’
‘An older guy!’ One of the Year 7s whoops from the back of the room, and my face flames.
Ally puts a double tick next to the first question on the clipboard. ‘What about extra-curricular activities?’
‘Drumming,’ I say as I step into the living room. ‘Luke is the best drummer I’ve ever seen.’
Luke’s eyes fix on mine and we stand there—or rather he’s standing and I’m kind of swaying stupidly on the spot, my tongue well and truly glued to the top of my mouth again.
Another tick on the clipboard and Ally snaps it closed. ‘I think we’ve got everything we need.’ She gives me a wink and herds the younger girls down the other end of the room where some of the juniors are playing Balderdash. It doesn’t stop them stealing curious glances our way.
I’m only allowed to talk to Luke here in the common room. No boys allowed in our rooms. I motion for him to move closer to the potted palm in the corner so we can at least pretend to have a bit of privacy.
It’s only been a few hours since I last laid eyes on him but I drink him in. His hair sticks up in spikes like he’s shoved his fingers through it so many times the rain-dampened strands have said ‘stuff it’. The zip on his hoodie is half undone, revealing the rapid up-down, up-down of his chest under a V of white T-shirt. My greedy gaze treks up the naked column of his neck to find a corresponding beat pounding under the skin beside his Adam’s apple. The urge to kiss him there sets off a tingle in my lips.
As though he’s heard my thought, Luke sucks in a sharp breath and I trip into the intense green of his gaze just as his eyes lift from my mouth.
‘What are you doing here?’ I don’t remember moving but I must have, because I’m standing close enough to soak in the warm outward rush of his breath.
His gaze dips briefly to my lips again, then lifts and drops anchor in my eyes. ‘I could ask you the same.’
I frown. ‘I decided to stay at the boarding house tonight.’ I do it all the time. Why would he think that’s weird?
His mouth twitches like it wants to break into a smile but is too afraid of the consequences. ‘And the science comp?’
The science comp. The one that now seems a distant memory. ‘I, um, the science comp, it’s …’ Unimportant compared to you. Something knots and twists inside me, urging me to tell him the words, but a flash of him and Annie holding hands—touching lips—dissolves what I want to say.
I swallow and grasp for another explanation. ‘I realised the comp wasn’t right for me after all.’
‘Why?’ It’s just one quiet word, but his eyes are asking so much more.
I swallow. ‘Because my edges were blurring.’
His smile is the taste of rain breaking a decade long drought. The understanding in his eyes should be no surprise. This is Luke. If anyone understands, it’ll be him.
But then the sunshine slips. ‘How did your parents take it?’
God, my parents. An image of Mum’s horror-filled expression flashes behind my eyes and I grip the hem of my T-shirt. Only the echo of Dad’s words stops me from tearing the cotton to shreds. I take a deep breath. ‘Dad doesn’t like my edges blurring.’
That earns me another smile. ‘Neither do I.’
Then we’re silent again, standing, staring, Luke’s gaze a fiery feather across my features. Laughter from the board game lot as they read out the next round of Balderdash definitions is a distant noise.
‘Rosie saw you,’ he eventually says. ‘At the concert.’
There’s nowhere to hide so I close my eyes. When I brave lifting my lids, Luke’s gaze reaches so deeply into mine, I’m sure he sees all my secrets. ‘Why didn’t you stay?’
Do I tell him? I know what I saw, but if Sandy is right, then him being here might really mean there’s no need for Mint Slice or The Princess Bride. But I know what I saw.
My fingers twist the hem of my shirt. ‘Why are you here?’
Luke shakes his head and tugs my hand from the abused cotton. ‘Why didn’t you stay?’ he asks again, his thumb drawing warm circles into my palm.
‘Rosie might have seen me but I saw you … with Annie.’
‘And?’
And? And? And it killed me! That’s what it did. But I don’t tell him that. ‘And three’s a crowd.’ I’ve heard Sandy say this expression so many times, so I borrow it. I shrug like I’m not crumbling on the inside. ‘I didn’t want to be the third wheel.’ That stupid sting behind my eyes fires up again so I drop my head, an old hot chocolate stain on the carpet near my feet suddenly mighty interesting.
A gentle tug on my hand leaves my toes touching
Luke’s. His other hand cups my cheek, lifting my gaze to meet his. ‘What makes you think you would have been the third wheel?’
I open my mouth to say something but Luke’s warm lips wipe away all thought of words. And I no longer care what I think I saw; the only thing I need is the sweet truth of Luke’s mouth on mine.
Then there’s the bone dissolving sweep of his tongue, and the gentle yet desperate grip of his fingers on my scalp as they slide into my hair. My mind whirls, full of lemony pine needles, and I burrow closer, aching to taste more of him, all of him, only him. If our first kiss melted time, this one has me scrambling for my calendar.
The room erupts in hoots and giggles, and—too late—I remember where we are. My face is on fire, but I tug Luke out the door and into the hallway. At least there it’s only Ms Kelso who’ll be watching from behind the reception desk.
Luke tugs me closer and touches his forehead to mine. ‘I should never have taken up Annie’s offer of help. It gave her the wrong idea and—’ He stops, brushes his thumb over my cheekbone, along my hypersensitive lips. ‘I don’t want to talk about Annie. I want to talk about you. About us.’ He dips his head, making sure I can’t avoid his eyes. ‘There is an “us”, isn’t there, MJ?’ The quiver of uncertainty in his voice breaks me.
‘Yes.’ I nod to reassure him. ‘You know, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.’ Luke’s brow creases in scepticism, so I hurry on. ‘Because you care about people, not their achievements.’ I close the distance between us, press my length against his. ‘It’s a different sort of intelligence.’
His answering smile, the sudden ochre flare in his eyes … oh wow. This moment is worth a thousand science competition wins.
‘Maybe we should wait to start on an “us” until I’ve had the Huntington’s test. That way if you change your mind because it’s all too much …’ It’s painful, but I look him in the eyes so he sees I won’t hold it against him if he chooses to walk away.
Luke simply takes my face in his hands again and holds my gaze. ‘MJ, I’m not going to change my mind because of something you have no control over.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘We’ll deal with whatever comes our way as it lands at our feet. Okay?’
I nod. It’s all I can do. And because his mouth is back on mine, stealing any opportunity for me to tell him I feel the same. At least until Ms Kelso clears her throat and we pull apart—too soon—much too soon, and grin at each other until our faces hurt.
Luke
Second Drum Balm
‘I’m getting better, man.’ Derek gives the high hat one last bash and slides off the drum stool. ‘I can feel it. Feel the rhythm.’
A whole year he’s been coming for lessons but whatever he’s feeling, it’s not the rhythm. I don’t have the heart to tell him though; the guy’s determination is a thing of beauty. Painful on the ears, but a thing of beauty.
I scratch my cheek. How to respond? ‘Yeah, you’ve made headway.’ Not a complete lie. At least now he occasionally gets through a piece without dropping the sticks.
He gives me the thumbs-up, reading way more praise into my statement than there is. ‘I’ve got time to go through another song if you want?’
I glance at the clock on the far wall and shake my head. ‘Can’t. I’ve got another student.’ And I need him out of here before my ‘student’ arrives. A grin splits my face just thinking about the lesson I’ve got planned for her.
A couple minutes later, Derek takes his defective rhythm out the music room door just as MJ bursts in.
‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ She dumps her messenger bag on the floor a step before her arms slide around my neck. She half rises, half pulls my head down for a quick—too quick if you ask me—hello kiss. ‘Professor P wanted to explain all the available options, which took longer than expected, but it looks like all the subjects I did for the Head Start program this year will give me advanced standing for a genetics degree, and since I don’t need to decide on a specialty area until—’ She stops mid-ramble, angles her head back and eyes me suspiciously. ‘What’s with the twitchy lips?’ Her eyes narrow on my growing smile.
We’ve spent all possible waking hours together since the start of the summer holidays, but damn if the spark lit by her new uni plans doesn’t still make me wanna grin.
‘Luke, what?’ she asks again, this time with a tug on my neck meant to jolt me into giving her an answer.
I wind my own arms around her waist and drop a kiss on her nose. ‘I love that you’re happy.’
Her body softens and she smiles up at me. ‘I love that you’re here to share it with me. And speaking of sharing …’ she’s still smiling but there’s another tug on my neck, ‘Straight Distinction, Luke? Why didn’t you call me as soon as you found out?’ Her arms tighten. Another too-quick kiss. Something I’m going to rectify before this ‘lesson’ is over.
‘The marks only came in this afternoon. You were about to talk with the Prof and I knew I’d see you after so …’ I shrug. ‘How’d you find out anyway?’
‘Professor P told me.’
My head jerks back. ‘Doesn’t that go against some privacy of information code or something?’
‘Don’t be mad. The tutoring came up in conversation. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.’ The vote of confidence in her smile sends warmth skirting down my spine. Or maybe it’s the lazy way her fingers are toying with the hair at my nape. Almost makes me regret that I won’t be doing any more chemistry.
‘He also told me he’s happy to write you a reference in case you need one to help with the application process.’ Her look turns serious. ‘You’ve filled out the Special Ed minor application form for next year, haven’t you?’
‘Emailed it yesterday.’ She’s been at me to do it since she discovered I could swap my science minor for Special Ed, and it would smooth the way into a Masters of Special Education after I graduate. The more we talk about studying something we love, the more she’s got me believing I can do it, even all the post-grad possibilities. It scares the life out of me and gives me a thrill all at the same time. No-one ever said jumping into the rapids would be a swim in a calm ocean.
‘Good.’ I’m rewarded with a smile. ‘What am I learning today then?’ she asks as we head for the drum kit.
I turn to plug my phone into the stereo system—and to hide my grin. ‘Seeing as you’re such a fast learner, I thought we’d give a twelve-eight piece a go.’
She snorts behind me. ‘I’ve had three lessons, Luke. I’m not ready for a twelve-eight piece. Let’s do that soft rock track we did last week.’
I shake my head and make my way over to her. No way is she getting out of this. ‘You keep telling me not to underestimate myself. Walk the talk, sweetheart.’
‘Oh come on!’ She pulls a face. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘It’s twelve-eight but feels like four-four.’
Her expression tells me she’s not convinced.
‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll help you out with this one. Scoot forward.’ It’s a squeeze, but I slide in behind her on the drum stool and pull her back against my chest.
‘Okay. Sure. Because this won’t be distracting at all.’ She squirms in my arms, and man do I deserve a medal for sticking with my plan instead of turning her around and …
I lean in to whisper in her ear, trying hard to ignore the apple and spices scent that’s been filling my dreams for the last two months. ‘You’ll know this one, promise.’
Another snort. ‘Knowing it and being able to play it are two different things,’ she says with a trademark MJ nose twitch. Sitting behind her doesn’t allow me to silence the twitch with a kiss so I settle on a quick peck on her cheek as I slide my hands to cover hers.
I tap her right thigh with my knee. ‘Put your foot on mine.’ Her nose is still twitching but she follows my instruction. ‘You hit the kick on one and
three and ride the high hat on the beat.’ My hands and foot guiding hers, I demonstrate. ‘Then add the snare on two and four and …’ Slowly, I pull my foot from the bass pedal and let go of her hands. Her tempo’s a bit wobbly for the first few beats, then I catch her reflection in the window across the room—jaw set, brows drawn; total determination—and a few bars later she’s got it. No surprise there; when MJ sets her mind to something there’s no giving up. Like coming around after Theo’s cinema shift every Monday and watching mindless TV with him so they can spend more time together. Or making sure I’m invited to every one of her family events for the coming year so her parents—make that her mother—get the message that I’m here to stay. My smile tugs at my face and a few places around my heart.
‘Okay. Now with the music.’ I reach over to the stereo and hit play. My chosen track only gets through half a twelve-eight bar of arpeggios before MJ whips around.
‘Are you kidding me?’
The disbelief on her face is priceless. ‘What? Unchained Melody is a classic twelve-eight.’ I bite the inside of my cheek to kill my grin. ‘Come on, sticks up. Kick on one and three.’
She narrows her eyes at me but turns, squares her shoulders and sits up straighter. ‘No funny business,’ she shoots over her shoulder.
‘What, me?’ I’m glad she can’t see my grin.
My hands cover hers. I help her find the rhythm for one-two-three-four-five-six, two-two-three-four-five-six then … fingers slide up her arms … three-two-three-four-five-six … brush away hair from nape … four-two-three-four-five-six … lips taste behind her ear …
‘Luke.’ Her voice is all raspy but my girl is keeping time. Looks like I gotta work harder.
‘Yeah?’ I place an open mouth kiss on that sweet spot where neck meets shoulder.