This Is Now

by Maggie Gilbert

  Chapter 13

  Simone, the other waitress on shift, was just saying we could think about closing the restaurant when Sebastien came in through the door.

  ‘Sorry, we’re closed,’ I said, grinning, and he smiled and asked me what a guy had to do to get a coffee round here.

  ‘Ask,’ I said, and we both laughed. Simone grabbed a tray and went out to clear the tables, leaving me free to wait on Sebastien.

  ‘Seriously, I can get one down the road if it’s too late.’

  ‘No, it’s fine, the last customers only just left.’ I tapped used coffee out and filled it fresh, twisted it into place on the machine.

  ‘I’m not on close tonight,’ I said.

  ‘I remember,’ Sebastien said. ‘Make one for you too. Takeaway.’

  ‘No way are you paying,’ I said, prepping a double shot and getting two of the takeaway cups out from under the counter.

  ‘I totally am,’ Sebastien said, ‘And then if you want, we can go out.’

  ‘I really shouldn’t,’ I said. ‘I should study for a makeup maths test I’ve got next week.’

  Sebastien must have sensed the reluctance in that one word, ‘should’.

  ‘How about if you come out tonight and I’ll help you study for maths. What’s it on?’

  ‘Simultaneous equations.’

  ‘I’m excellent at simultaneous equations,’ he said.

  ‘Sounds kinky,’ Simone said, going past with the last of the glasses and plates from the tables.

  I took refuge behind the milk steamer, which created enough noise that you couldn’t really talk. It gave me time to recover from Simone’s comment, and think about what to say to Sebastian. Could he really help, or was it just a way to spend more time with me? Actually, who cared? Sounded like a win-win for me, either way.

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  It didn’t seem such a good idea the next afternoon, when I was sitting with Sebastien at the desk in his bedroom, clutching at my hair and wondering why I was so stupid. I particularly didn’t want to keep looking so dumb in front of him, and I could already feel frustrated panicky tears gathering, clogging my sinuses.

  It didn’t help that I’d had too little sleep last night, going with Sebastien to a late movie screening and then to McDonald’s for a midnight feast of burgers and fries. I hadn’t slept well, jazzed with too much caffeine and grease and sugar and too much Sebastien, which all combined to create too much confusion. Even after I’d got home and gone to bed, I’d lain awake in the dark, too wound up to sleep, my thoughts circling round and round without coming up with anything constructive.

  And still, I didn’t know what he wanted. He hadn’t even kissed me, and I couldn’t fit his attitude and the way he acted into place with what I knew of guys. Which was that they didn’t spend this much time with a girl unless they wanted to have sex. And if they bought her stuff, they definitely expected it. I really hoped we weren’t heading for a Mercedes-Kurt moment. I had no interest in being some gay guy’s BFF. Not to mention that the thought of Sebastien being gay was totally heartbreaking from my own perspective. My skin itched with the desire to kiss him. That probably wasn’t helping my concentration either. And even though the house was empty, I kept expecting Anna or his Mum or Dad to turn up. I don’t know who I was most worried about; his parents were pretty intimidating, but I had a feeling Anna wouldn’t be happy about me seeing her brother. It was one thing to go slumming on my side of the neighbourhood, but you probably didn’t expect it to follow you home.

  I looked up from my notebook and caught Sebastien staring at me.

  ‘You can do this, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Actually, I don’t think I can.’ I dropped my pencil on the desk and put my face in my hands, willing the tears not to come. As usual, the more desperately I wanted something to not happen, the worse it was when it went ahead and happened anyway.

  Sebastien must think I was a total freak. I thought I was a freak.

  Then I felt his hand on my back, and he started rubbing in firm, brisk strokes, up my spine, across my shoulder blades, back down again. It felt wonderful, and almost made me totally lose it.

  ‘Jess, hey, don’t cry. I can help you get this sorted out, maybe not in a single afternoon, but I promise you, I can show you how to do this.’

  ‘I’m too stupid, I just don’t get it,’ I sniffled. I dragged my hands across my face, and peered at him self-consciously. I’d managed to choke off the waterworks after only a few tears but my face felt tight and hot, and I knew my eyes would be red and puffy. A couple of the glamour girls at school have nailed the art of crying and remaining pretty, but I couldn’t. It might have helped if I had better material to start with I suppose. Even as bad as I was feeling, I figured I was on a downhill slide to wallowing in self-pity with that kind of thinking, and I pulled myself up. Feeling sorry for yourself wasn’t attractive at all, ever.

  ‘You are not stupid.’

  I sat up, gave Sebastien an uncertain smile, and sniffled again, blinking.

  ‘Thanks. Sorry. I just get so frustrated that I can’t do it.’

  ‘Oh, I get it, don’t worry. You should see me when I’m learning a difficult new piece, or even when I muck up something I know well. Cry like a baby.’

  ‘No way.’ I smiled, imagining it.

  ‘Way. Are you OK?’

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I didn’t believe him, of course, but I appreciated the effort to snap me out of it.

  ‘Ready to have another go?’

  I nodded again, and picked up my pencil.

  Half an hour later I fiddled with that same pencil while Sebastien checked the solution I’d just written out. He didn’t even need to use the answers in the back of the book. Brainiac.

  ‘How come you’re so good at maths?’

  ‘It’s just like music,’ he said absently, without looking up from my notebook.

  ‘Really? I would have thought they were about as different as you could get.’

  ‘Music is maths, basically. Now stop trying to distract me.’

  I shut up, concentrating on the pencil.

  ‘Jess,’ Sebastien murmured, and I guiltily stopped tapping the pencil on the desk.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. I got the textbook and looked at the next question, started working on solving it.

  ‘It’s right.’

  ‘Hmm’ I said, frowning. If x = 11 then why was I getting a negative? That couldn’t be right.

  ‘Jess?’

  ‘Hang on.’ I wrote numbers across the page, stopped to re-read the question, wrote some more. X was -11, that was what I’d done wrong.

  ‘Jess.’

  ‘What?’ I said, finally looking up.

  Sebastien reached over and with a hand on either side of my face, he leaned in and kissed me. He caught me so totally off guard I didn’t even try to kiss him back, I just sat there like a dummy, my lips yielding under his, as every nerve in my body lit up in disbelief and delight. He pulled back then, but not completely, his hands still framing my face. I held my breath.

  ‘I’ve wanted to do that for ages,’ he said, and I could feel his lips move against mine. I dropped my pencil and put my hand on the back of his neck.

  ‘It was probably a fluke,’ I said. ‘Do another one.’

  His lips curved against mine in a smile, briefly, and then he kissed me again, and this time I was ready. I curled my fingers into his hair, fingertips brushing the back of his neck, and he groaned and kissed me harder, opening my mouth with his, exploring with his tongue.

  I grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged him closer, and I don’t know which one of us stood up first, but I was eager to get closer, and pushed my body up hard against his, as his arms folded around me. I couldn’t get close enough, wanted him to just keep kissing me, as I got my hands under his tee and found warm, bare skin, running my hands up his back. My stomach was going crazy, butterflies and knots unravelling, and then I stopped worrying about whether he thought
I could kiss OK, or if he was getting a crick in his neck because he was so much taller than me, overwhelmed by the feel of his hands in my hair and on my skin, his mouth and tongue and how good it felt to be crushed against his hot, hard body.

  And then we were on his bed, that wonderful big body heavy on top of mine, hands everywhere, trying to touch and taste and feel as much of each other as we could reach. I could feel how excited he was, that part of him that was just that bit harder than the rest of him pressing against me through our jeans as we squirmed around, kissing and touching. I was shaking, my stomach still doing such ridiculous acrobatics I was almost nauseous, and when his hand went up under my top, over my stomach, and cupped my breast, I almost swallowed my tongue.

  ‘God, no bra,’ he muttered against my neck, and he rubbed his hand over my nipple. I bit my lip, and dug my hands into his hair, and he kissed me again, hungrily, and I tilted my hips against his, aching and dazed. My boobs had never been sensitive, but when he trailed his fingers across me again I thought I was going to die. It seemed like every inch of skin on me shrivelled tighter, and I shivered and gasped and wrapped my arms and legs around him as we kissed and kissed until I ran out of air.

  ‘Jess, I have to stop,’ he said, his breathing as harsh as mine.

  I made a disagreeing noise and pulled his head down for another kiss. His hand closed around my hipbone and my stomach quivered in response, but then he pushed away, and broke the kiss.

  I stared up at him, seeing hungry eyes and hair sticking up from where I’d had my hands in it, and I could have sworn the last thing he wanted to do right then was stop.

  ‘Why?’ I blurted.

  ‘Because I don’t want to stop.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  Sebastien climbed off me, and stood up, dragging his hands through his hair, smoothing it down. He turned away from me and went back over to the desk.

  ‘I don’t want my sister or my parents to come home and catch us doing it.’

  ‘Jesus,’ I said, sitting up hastily and checking my clothing was in order. ‘Are they due back?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  I stared at him, a suspicion growing that he was just making some bullshit excuse.

  ‘Sebastien, if you don’t like me that way you can just say so,’ I said. I strode across to the desk and started packing up my books and pencils.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. He put his hands on my arms and tuned me so I was facing him.

  ‘I like you like that. If you didn’t already know that, the way I just practically attacked you should have been a clue.’

  ‘I was up for it, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  He ran his hand over my hair.

  ‘I was hoping I wasn’t imagining it.’

  ‘You weren’t,’ I said, rising up on my toes. I kissed him, hard, plenty of tongue, sucked on his lower lip as the finishing touch.

  Sebastien looked at me for such a long moment I wondered fearfully if I’d crossed that invisible line my brothers warned me about.

  ‘I think that might have been a fluke,’ he said, that magical grin appearing.

  I grinned back, relieved. ‘Guess I’ll have to have another go,’ I said and as I stretched up to him his hands came to rest in the small of my back.

  But this time, he was careful to keep us away from the bed.

  Chapter 14

  There was something exciting about sneaking around with Sebastien, although it was mixed with a fair smack of guilt that I was the only one out of the two of us who actually knew we were sneaking. I always found a plausible reason for him not to pick me up from home, and arranged it so he picked me up from school, or the restaurant, or I met him somewhere.

  I didn’t want him meeting my brothers or my mother, or seeing the state of my house. I didn’t want him to know my brothers didn’t actually have day jobs, drugs and car parts being more of a night time occupation, and that my mother was a functioning alcoholic with an ex-bikie-but-still-connected boyfriend. Sebastien seemed to have slotted me into the ‘friend of Anna’s’ category and that was just the way I wanted it to stay.

  And I didn’t want Jay to find out I was seeing someone.

  When I’d broken it off not entirely successfully with Jay, I’d told him I was too young and not ready to be in such a serious relationship. As I’d recently discovered, he seemed to think that was code for wanting to go and screw some different guys to find out they just weren’t as good as Jay, and then go back because of what I’d been missing.

  Couple of problems with his theory: 1) I had no interest in screwing guys in general, and 2) I didn’t miss him. But I didn’t feel comfortable discussing the first point with Jay, especially because with Sebastien around I did sometimes find my mind wandering off in a sex-like direction. And I wasn’t going to hurt Jay by telling him about point two.

  Everyone we knew seemed to expect me and Jay to end up together. Except me. I was fifteen when I started seeing him, and after a roller-coaster four years I still felt like for some reason we were a bad fit. Something else I could never tell him.

  It wasn’t like I thought he’d do something terrible if he found out about me seeing Sebastien; I didn’t think he’d go all stalker psycho on me or anything. I just, well, it was complicated enough, trying to figure this out, without whatever Jay might do thrown into the mix. And when he was around, he melted me. I wasn’t ready to test how committed I was to Sebastien. I didn’t want to even think about that until I knew how committed he was to me.

  Class ended, finally, which meant I was free for the weekend. I didn’t even have to work that night; Simone had asked if we could swap shifts this week, so I had a rare Friday night off without having had to call in one of my favours.

  ‘Miss Carter, stay a moment.’

  Half out of my seat, I froze awkwardly, completely caught off guard. I couldn’t imagine what my maths teacher could have to say to me. With Sebastien’s help I’d finally managed to do my homework. The feeling of relief and pleasure when I handed it in was amazing. I hoped I hadn’t screwed something up. Certainly Mr I Hate My Job didn’t look very happy.

  He waited until everyone had left, and beckoned me over to his desk. Standing on his side, he handed me a stapled booklet I recognised as indeed being my homework. Glancing at it quickly, I saw the red 86 scribbled on the top and a whole line of ticks down the first page. 86! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a mark like that. I turned my sheet upside down just to check it wasn’t some sick idea of a joke, and the other way round the numbers were 32% or something, but it was OK. From the other side it was 98%, and there was no way in hell I got that. Had I? Heart thumping, I flipped the page, but no, there was some big fat red x’s. I stopped and read over the question again, and my answer, but I couldn’t see what I’d done wrong. I’d ask Sebastien if he could go over it with me. I’m sure I could find a way to sweet talk him. I felt heat flood my face at the thought.

  ‘So you should be embarrassed, young lady,’ Mr Maths said.

  ‘What?’ I gaped, almost overwhelmed with guilty horror, my face burning even hotter. He couldn’t possibly know what I’d just been thinking about, could he?

  ‘I’m giving you the chance, which is probably more than most teachers would, to explain yourself.’

  ‘I — what? I don’t know what you mean.’

  He pointed at my homework.

  Again, I had that sensation of being the only one who didn’t get the point. Or in this case, just being too stupid to get whatever he thought was totally obvious.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you being obtuse?’ He demanded.

  ‘No,’ I said, trying not to show how odd I thought that was, and how I couldn’t work out what the connection was. ‘At least, I don’t think so. I’m not sure what you mean. It’s something to do with angles isn’t it?’ I said, dredging something up from the darkest corners of my brain.

  He stared at me, and he didn’t say anythi
ng for so long I started to wonder if maybe he was having a seizure or something. Brain tumour? I think I remember reading somewhere that people with tumours could suddenly start saying things that didn’t make any sense.

  ‘Mr Boyd?’ I’d freak out if he keeled over. I didn’t like him much, sure, but I really hadn’t meant it all the times I wished he’d drop dead.

  ‘Never mind. I’ll put it more simply for you. Explain to me why last week you didn’t have a clue how to do these equations, and this week you can get most of them right?’

  ‘I got someone to help me,’ I admitted, and I knew my face was going an even brighter red. ‘I’m sorry, but I just don’t get it when you tell us in class.’

  ‘You mean you got someone to do your homework for you.’

  ‘Of course not! I got my boy — I got a friend’s brother to help me. He’s good at maths.’

  ‘He must be exceptionally good.’

  I worked to keep my face totally blank, and tried as hard as I’d ever tried to stop my face from going red. This whole scene was starting to freak me out. I had an inspiration.

  ‘Yes! He’s in a gifted program.’ It was even true, I was just leaving out that his gift was in music. But hey, it wasn’t really a lie, Sebastien was excellent at maths, just like he’d said. He had to be, to get me to understand it. At first, I’d taken it for a sign he was trying to get into my pants. Never been so lucky to be wrong.

  ‘Is he tutoring you?’

  ‘Ye-es.’

  ‘Are you paying him?’

  ‘No! What, do you think I’m a cheat or something?’

  Again, he gave me that long stare, but this time he actually spoke before I got too worried.

  ‘It’s not cheating to pay a tutor to help you. Usually, tutors are paid.’

  ‘I knew that,’ I said quickly, and I also knew all the wishing in the world wouldn’t stop me going red this time. Every way I turned to look at it, I stumbled over an embarrassing problem. I hadn’t even thought to ask Sebastien if he wanted payment, and I was mortified. Not to mention Mr Maths had planted an ugly thought in my head. What if Sebastien had been expecting payment all along, but he just hadn’t collected yet? Could this explain why he hadn’t tried to screw me yet? God, all this wondering what he wanted was doing my head in.