‘Which style do you prefer, Jacob,’ asks Aria. ‘Mine or Harper’s?’
Jacob’s lips move, but can’t form words. He looks from me to Aria. As he’s about to answer, Colt leans forward for a second helping of potatoes.
‘It’s a chick trap, mate,’ he says. ‘Stick with “No comment”.’
Aria cuffs Colt and tosses what is now the sort of hair that can’t be tossed.
It’s Christmas Eve and Aria’s organised a pool party. Her friends start arriving, and members of Jacob’s band. Aria confesses that while I slept away the afternoon she asked Colt who we could invite for him and me and he’d suggested Kim and Natalie. Natalie arrives in a gunmetal-grey BMW. With her blunt-cut fringe, square chin and feline eyes rimmed with dark make-up, she’s the spit of Cleopatra.
As daylight seeps out of the sky a starless, charcoal night lurches in. We take drinks and snacks to the poolside and Jacob switches up the music before jumping from the deck railings into the pool. I taught him that years ago, but Dad threatened to dig up the pool and we’ve not done it since.
Natalie attracts a crowd with a series of tennis tour stories, and whether she’s telling them at the poolside table or in the pool, she’s always next to Colt. After describing how the wind cost her three match points in a row at Wimbledon – ‘It literally gave my ball toss a life of its own’ – she starts on an anecdote about Dominic Sanchez. I sit on the edge of the pool, watching her new groupies take in every word.
‘I mean, Sanchez was about to compete in the final of the China Open and he’s playing blackjack in the players’ lounge,’ she says. ‘He lost his bet and afterwards said that fired him up so much it helped him win the match. But Colt, don’t try that – he’s a total bullshitter.’
Colt nods. ‘Zuri was lucky to make the final as it was.’
Natalie wrings out her hair. ‘The headline read, “Zuri lucks in while Sanchez lucks out” – which reminds me. I got stalked by a reporter when I went to the gym today. He wasn’t interested in me, though – he was sniffing around about you.’ She rubs Colt’s arm. ‘You’ll have to be careful. He asked me if you get drunk or take recreational drugs or steroids.’
From the tilt of Colt’s shoulders and the way his smile plummets off his face, I want to shout ‘shut up’ to Natalie. I know she helps Colt, and I’m sure she’s a great person, but I wish she’d go home. I’m trying to get Colt to relax and forget about the tennis world, like Milo asked. And it’d be nice if he paid a little attention to me.
Natalie follows Colt to a table, her fans in tow, while Kim mucks about with Jacob in the pool, getting tanked. I’ve recently overtaken her in the world rankings, but neither of us mentions it. She flings herself off the deck railings into the pool until Natalie yells, ‘If you don’t stop that I’ll take my flip-flop to your bum. That goes for you too, Jacob.’ Everyone cracks up.
But Natalie’s expression turns dark when Kim ambles over and starts flirting with Colt, slurring and patting his arm. ‘Does only rubbish come out of your gob, Kim?’ she scolds, but Kim has selective hearing.
My emotions are balled up and dropped into a pinball machine when Jacob acts overly flirtatious with everyone, including me – I can’t bear for Colt to see that. At the same time, watching Kim skirt around Colt makes me want to break her serving arm. I also can’t decide if Natalie is a friend to Colt, or a hopeful would-be girlfriend.
I take myself away from them and make small talk with Jacob’s band members until they’re too drunk to make sense, at which point I seek out a lone sunlounge, nurse my juice and monitor the dark clouds sailing across the moon.
My life is a chess game – and I don’t know what the next move is. I should tell Jacob about Colt, but tell him what? That we kissed? We’re together? But are we? I have no clue. What’s the point of telling Jacob about a kiss that might never be repeated? He’d be hurt and angry. Especially as Jacob still thinks we’re waiting to be together when Aria has moved on. I’m too much of a coward to have that talk with him. Or maybe I’m not ready to let him go forever.
I watch Jacob playing a game of shoulder wars. He’s teamed up with Kim, and her legs are now wrapped around his neck. It occurs to me that I’d be sort of relieved if they hooked up. So maybe I am ready to let Jacob go. Or does that just get me out of an awkward conversation in which Jacob will know for sure he’s the reason Aria skipped her audition? I feel as fickle as my ball toss.
Later, when most people have gone home, Jacob sprawls out behind me, straddling the sunlounge. He pours the last of a beer down his gullet.
‘Don’t overdo the booze,’ I say, rubbing my always-stiff shoulders. ‘I don’t want to be jumping in the pool to save you.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a little mouth-to-mouth.’ Leaning closer he massages my shoulders. It’s something he’s done a million times, but after everything we’ve said, after Dad’s warning, why’s he doing it?
I shrug him off. ‘I’m good.’ But he peels away a streak of sunburnt dead skin from my arm like we used to as kids, flicks it, and moves closer behind me, kneading my muscles.
‘When can we spend some time alone – to talk?’ His lips brush my ear as he speaks.
Hopping up, I search the handful of party-goers in the pool then the tables. Natalie is aiming jelly beans into Aria’s throat and – crap. Colt’s blatantly scrutinising me and Jacob. Crap.
‘Can I get you a drink, Jacob – some water?’ I ask, pulling a towel around myself.
‘Good thinking.’ He waggles his eyebrows and slings an arm across my shoulders as we walk upstairs to the kitchen. I cringe, confused by the need to pull away. I love Jacob.
In the kitchen he cracks open another beer.
‘Shouldn’t you swap to soft drinks?’ I open the fridge door and cast around inside. I’m not even thirsty. Jacob moves behind me, breathing me in, his lips next to my ear, and massages my shoulders. I understand that he’s doing this instead of kissing me, instead of cuddling me. And I’m sad for him. For us. But it still irritates me. We’ve gone over this and it can’t happen. ‘You’re wasted,’ I say, more forcefully than I intend.
‘Harper’s right.’ Colt strides into the kitchen. ‘You’ve had enough to drink.’
Jacob swivels toward Colt, takes a swig from his bottle. ‘It’s the fun police,’ he sneers. But Colt snatches Jacob’s beer and pours it down the sink.
Jacob squares up to him. ‘Who d’you think –?’
‘Stop it.’ I slide between them. ‘Jacob, you have had enough and Colt’s had bad experiences with – think about it, yeah? Back off.’ Jacob glares over my head and I wonder at Colt’s expression behind me. When Jacob makes no move to back down, I push him backwards and step him further away from Colt. ‘Go swim it off. We’re meant to be having fun. It’s Christmas Eve. I’ll fetch some mince pies, okay?’ He peels his glare away from Colt and inspects me, his stance softening. Then he walks out, eyeballing Colt the whole way.
I whirl to Colt. ‘Sorry. He’s had too much to drink – he’s having a rough time.’
Colt grips the bar stool, ready to punch something. ‘He touches you too much. Does he – is there something going on between you two?’ This time, he’s asked me straight out.
But what’s the point of telling the truth now? The truth has changed anyway. Nothing can happen between me and Jacob anyhow. Isn’t our brief relationship over and done with and therefore a secret best left alone? And how can I tell Colt when Aria doesn’t even know?
Swinging around to open the pantry door I step inside to find the mince pies. ‘I told you, we’re like brother and sister. He’s always tickling and fighting with me.’
‘And massaging you?’
‘Yeah. I’m a sucker for it. My shoulders are always sore. Aren’t yours?’
Balancing two Tupperware containers of pies, I bump the pantry door shut with my bum, then place the
pies on a wire rack in the oven.
‘Want ice-cream with it?’ When he doesn’t answer I look up. He’s leaning straight-armed on the breakfast bar, head averted. ‘Colt?’
‘Double of everything for me,’ he says.
‘Where do you put it all? Certainly not in that flat stomach I felt last night.’ The final words dribble from my lips, trailing off. I want to stuff them back in.
But Colt just laughs. ‘You felt pretty good too.’ He brushes my arm with the back of his fingers, frisking my face with intimate eyes. My breath hobbles out of my chest and I command my eyes downwards. He hadn’t made a move to suggest something had changed between us so I’d jumped to the conclusion that last night was another one-off.
My cheeks flaring, I dip the ice-cream scoop into a jug of hot water. I feel Colt’s gaze on me and raise my chin. He slides a hand under my jaw, guiding me toward his lips, and kisses me, mouth warm and giving, and tasting like chlorine. My legs turn to pudding.
When he releases me I’m holding the scoop in mid-air. He grins and takes it, dips it into the hot water, and pulls a ball of vanilla out of the tub. I grab some bowls.
‘I didn’t think you’d do that again,’ I say. ‘Every time you kiss me you run away.’
‘Do me a favour and forget those first two kisses.’
‘You’ve been counting?’
He fails to flatten a smile. ‘I lost count last night.’ His neck flushes.
‘But today you’ve behaved as if nothing happened.’
He keeps scooping ice-cream, dumping one mound into every bowl. ‘I guess I’m still not sure if it’s a good idea.’
My stomach revolts into a ball of steel. I stab a spoon into each hunk of ice-cream.
Colt wraps his fingers around the spoons in my hand. ‘But I do know you make the world a less scary place.’ His voice is low and smooth. ‘I can let my guard down.’
I resist softening, tug free, and check the pies in the oven. When I turn back, Colt’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smile on his lips. ‘I’m sure your dad wouldn’t approve, not right under his roof – and after what Milo said –’
But I’m hurt and say, ‘And because of what happened with that girl before – how it affected your game.’
‘Yeah. That especially.’ Colt’s tone swings to icy. He straightens and loads the bowls onto a tray. ‘I’ll take these down.’
I wait for the pies to heat and for Colt to return, but the pies almost burn and he doesn’t come back.
A skinny morning light sneaks around the curtains. I’m already awake. I hug a pillow and monitor the brightening dawn. Unable to face either Colt or Jacob last night, I’d gone to bed. But sleep had done nothing to improve my mood or resolve the secrets, the things left unsaid, the lines crossed. I haven’t told Colt about Jacob and Aria’s relationship either, maybe because it’s hard to talk about, but probably because if Colt knows that Jacob crossed the friendship line once with Aria, he may suspect the truth about what happened between Jacob and me. But should I care what Colt thinks?
Wriggling into a damp bikini, I creep downstairs. It’s Christmas morning and the tree in the kitchen is surrounded by presents.
The sun still crouching behind the woods, I slide into the pool and my body opens up from sleep like a flower. The water is crisp against my skin after a humid night. Loving the sense of my own strength, I carve through the water, counting laps to still my mind. When my limbs grow heavy I stop in the deep end and fold my arms on the ledge, my legs dangling. I rest my cheek on my arms and wriggle my toes.
Two hands capture my hips and Colt emerges from underwater. Arms as barriers on either side of me, his chest presses against my back, trapping me against the wall.
My insides whip up as if in a blender. ‘I didn’t hear you get in.’
He kisses me under my ear. ‘I’ve been watching you for ages.’ His lips brush my neck. I lean into him, rotate between his arms and soak up the brief warmth of his lips on mine. He looks toward the house then pushes off the wall and freestyles to the other end of the pool. I wait for him to come back, to hold me again, but he tumble-turns and keeps going.
He does it again and again and I’m shocked by how much I need him to stop and kiss me.
Mum rules Christmas – her flashing earrings tell us so. A party hat propped on her bob, she presents a turkey dinner fit for the Queen of England. As always, she’s invited Jacob’s parents to join us so that Jacob can enjoy a family Christmas lunch. Jacob sets himself up as barman and makes piña coladas to snub his dad, who’s brought two bottles of Dom Perignon. ‘Let’s see how long he takes before he mentions the champagne,’ chuckles Jacob as he sculls his second cocktail.
The only time Colt and I spend alone is on a training run before lunch. We complete an hour’s interval training, ending up on the grass at the beach doing starfish impressions. Our arms criss-cross. Colt winds his fingers through mine and empties a water bottle over his head to cool off. Just as I’ve caught my breath he rolls toward me and rests his forehead on mine.
My pulse pounds through me and into the earth.
Our noses almost touching, he pauses for an excruciating moment before brushing my lips open. But he breaks again, pulling up enough to harness my gaze. Water from his wet hair drips onto my cheek. He wipes away the droplets, tenderly, as if they’re tears. His eyes are smoky with desire, but they contain something even better: certainty; a promise of a future.
I slide my arm behind his neck until his mouth is on mine in the most exquisite, most perfect kiss in the world, because it contains a promise too.
Aria must’ve put Colt on her Christmas list. She teases him, collars him to help in the kitchen, brings him orange juice and soda filled with cherries and cocktail umbrellas, and they chat easily about stuff other than tennis. At first, it’s comical, but then I realise Aria’s probably a better match for Colt than I am. She’s older, more earnest like him, and won’t compete on court.
While in the kitchen loading the dishwasher, I whisper, ‘Aria. Back off Colt. He’s my doubles partner, not your next boyfriend.’
‘I thought stealing boyfriends was off the table, not tennis partners.’ Her mouth in a hard line, she coughs, rubs her nose. ‘It’s not Colt I want anyway.’ She eyes Jacob, who’s sitting next to his mother at the table. ‘I’ll never be able to let him go.’ She takes a ragged breath.
I inspect Jacob. His expression is quick to jump into happy mode, but behind the clowning around, his mood yo-yos from daft to subdued. Aria must think her plan to make him jealous is working, but judging from the long looks he casts in my direction . . .
Something inside me shrinks and pinches. I silently promise to somehow make it up to Aria – to help her be happy again. And now I’m feeling more sure of me and Colt, I have to come clean with Jacob. But I won’t hurt him on Christmas Day.
After lunch, Jacob’s parents leave. Everyone’s relieved because they only talk about themselves, their cases, their triumphs, and argue elements of the law. Jacob’s father is especially loud and forceful with his slurred opinions as he drains the last of the champagne; they drink like fishes. His mother begins repeating how this is the only day of the year they take off work, as if it’s something to be proud of, and that’s the signal Dad needs to suggest a game in the pool – they’d rather be disbarred than play childish games.
Mum and Dad join the four of us for a rowdy volleyball contest, then after a leftovers supper they go upstairs while we stay up playing cards. Although Colt positions himself next to me, his leg pressed against mine under the table, he’s the first to go to bed.
‘Sweet dreams,’ he whispers to me when he pushes back his chair. To everyone else he adds, ‘Not used to all these late nights.’
I’m drifting into sleep when the bathroom door opens. I roll over, expecting to see Aria. But it’s not Aria.
‘Jacob? If Dad finds out –’
The shadowy figure looms nearer. ‘He won’t. I need to see you, Harps.’
‘You’ve seen me all day.’ I suppress a ripple of annoyance.
‘Without everyone else.’ He lifts the sheet and slides in beside me, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. ‘I’ll go in a minute. Promise.’
‘Jeez, Jacob. What are you doing?’ I sit up and lean against the wall, knees pulled up to my chin. ‘Last time you snuck in here in the middle of the night Aria heard us. You’ve got to go.’
He watches my retreat, his eyes pulsing with a hundred emotions. ‘I need to say this. I can’t not.’
I think of Colt, asleep downstairs, and wonder how this happened – sneaking around with not one but two guys after hardly kissing a boy before. Is this called growing up? I’m not sure I can survive it.
‘Aria’s going away in a month,’ Jacob says. ‘She’ll be gone for a year or two. More. She’ll move on. Jeez, she’s already all over Colt.’
Even the sound of Colt’s name shoots a powerful tingle through my veins and into my heart like a heat-seeking missile finding its target. ‘She’s trying to get over you, that’s all.’
Jacob considers this, then adds, ‘Maybe. But she’ll meet guys in Europe and once that happens, we can be together. But in the meantime, she won’t live here and it’ll be easy to – your dad won’t catch us – I miss you – it’s as if my life is over. We won’t tell anyone until it’s the right time.’
Jacob is in my face, about to kiss me.
But this has to stop. I’m so gutless for not telling him the truth earlier. But what if he rants at me now, and storms around the room so someone hears us?
I take his face between my hands, search for the perfect words. ‘We can’t do this. We can’t lie. We can’t risk tearing this family apart if anyone finds out. We’ve talked about this. We can only be friends, nothing more.’ I take a breath and then say the words I haven’t had the courage to say until now. ‘Not ever.’
The Harper Effect Page 19