Yes, I typed back.
Cn I call u?
Yes, I typed again. I turned the volume down on my phone and wriggled down under the covers, pulling the doona over my head so it would muffle the sound of me talking. The boys were still out but Greg and Mum were home, and I didn’t want to disturb them. Things were still a bit awkward between me and Greg.
I answered it as soon as I saw the screen light up.
‘Hi.’
‘Hey, Jess. What are you up to?’
‘Nothing much. In bed, reading. How was the concert?’
‘Not my best,’ he said, and I could hear how flat he was.
‘That’s a bummer.’
‘Yeah. It went OK, I suppose. What did you do to tonight?’
‘I went to a party up the street for a while, but it was boring, so I faked a call from work.’
‘Must have been a crap party if work was better.’
‘I gave them a hand with the washing up and that and they fed me. It’s freezing tonight.’
‘It’s not so bad here. I mean, it’s cold, but not that bad. Although I haven’t been out in it much, just hotels and taxis and the concert hall.’
‘You sound tired.’
‘I am. You don’t, you sound wide awake.’
‘Good book.’
There was a pause, and I tried to think of something to say to fill it, but everything I came up with sounded lame.
‘I missed you,’ Sebastien suddenly said, and my stomach rolled over. Oh my God.
‘I miss you,’ I said, realising it was true. I hadn’t been able to settle to anything since he’d been away.
‘I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Want to do something?’
‘Yes. What time?’
‘I reckon it will be about four, by the time I get home from the airport.’
‘Sorry I can’t pick you up or anything.’ In that moment I regretted not having a proper licence or a car. But, you know, the whole saving my money thing was in operation there with regard to the car and it seemed pointless to get my licence when I didn’t need it. Brian and Troy would never let me drive their precious cars and the engines were so hotted up I’d probably kill myself anyway.
‘That’s OK, Mum’s meeting me. I’ll dump my stuff at home and come and get you.’
‘I’ll meet you, just text me where.’
A moment of silence from Sebastien.
‘It’s no trouble to pick you up, Jess. Saves you walking for miles to catch buses.’
‘No, that’s OK. I need the exercise, I’m getting a fat arse.’ Idiot! Shut up about the big arse, so didn’t need to go there.
‘You don’t have a fat arse, Jess. At least not the last time I looked.’
‘You’ll have to inspect it tomorrow,’ I suggested, feeling the usual burn in my face. I was so crap at this flirting stuff, but at least on the phone I could be braver, and say stuff I couldn’t imagine coming out with in real life.
‘I can’t wait,’ Sebastien said, and little shivers ran up and down my back at the tone of his voice.
‘Me too,’ I whispered, and after we hung up, I lay there with my head under the doona for a long time, my brain whirring. Wondering if he liked me as much as it sounded, and hoping that he did. And a bit afraid of how much I liked him.
I drank the last of the white chocolate mocha and stuck my finger inside the cup, running it around the rim to scoop up every last trace of the foamy goodness. Putting my finger in my mouth, I licked it clean, practically purring. Looking up, I caught Sebastien watching me intently, and I took my finger out of my mouth, my skin burning with embarrassment. It might look cool and sexy in the movies but I wasn’t going to kid myself that I was anywhere close to being in the league of hot actresses like Angelina Jolie.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘My bad.’
Sebastien picked up his cup, still half full, and held it towards me.
‘Want mine too? You, ah, looked like you were enjoying that.’
My face burned hotter, and I shook my head, shrinking back a little in my chair, hands tucked into the ends of my sleeves. He’d think I was a pig as well as having no table manners if I took the offered drink. I did want it though. I slid my hands under the table, to avoid temptation.
‘So what did you get up to while I was gone?’
‘Nothing much. Homework. Maths.’
Sebastien looked at me intently. ‘Why do you care so much about that? Your teacher cooled down didn’t he?’
‘Yeah, but he’s just waiting to catch me out.’
‘He’s not going to catch you out, Jess. Getting help is not the same thing as cheating.’
I shrugged, and stared into my empty cup. It felt a lot like it to me, but I didn’t know how to explain that to Sebastien. But even if it made me uncomfortable, I was going to keep taking his help as long as he would help me. If I failed maths there was absolutely no way I’d get into any of the courses at Uni. Some days going to Uni at all seemed a stupid dream, like wishing for a pony when I was little, but other days I dared hope that I might be able to make it. I’d realised I was on the wrong track with the pony idea, when I noticed I was more interested in what kind of stable you could build than the horses.
‘Jess?’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘It isn’t cheating, OK?’ He reached across the table and pushed my hair back from my face, and I caught my breath. Jay always did that, and for a moment I felt stupidly guilty that some other guy was sitting across from the table from me, touching my hair.
‘OK,’ I managed. ‘If you say so.’
Sebastien shook his head. ‘You’re determined to think the worst of yourself, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I said, but I don’t think I sounded convincing, probably because I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t think I actually thought the worst of myself, more like I expected the worst. I’d feel stupid trying to explain that to him, though.
‘I got you something,’ Sebastien said, digging into his jacket pocket.
‘What?’
‘I’m not going to just tell you, it’s a surprise,’ he said, putting a small gift wrapped package on the table.
‘I didn’t mean what is it, I just — oh, never mind. Uh, thanks.’
I reached out hesitantly and slid the little parcel across the table towards me, flicking a glance at Sebastien, who was watching me intently. I wondered what it was and whether I’d like it. I was excited and nervous in about equal measure, and I was afraid my hands would shake as I started unwrapping the gift, and make me look like an idiot. I so hadn’t expected him to get me anything, I didn’t know what to do or say. As in, totally unprepared. I picked at the ribbon tied around the package.
‘Come on, the suspense is killing me,’ Sebastien said. ‘Just tear it off.’
I shook my head, and kept unravelling, carefully. He might want me to hurry up, but no way was I rushing this. He’d bought me something. He must really have missed me, or anyway this was proof he had thought of me at least once while he was away.
When I finally undid the wrapping paper, I found tissue paper. Biting my lip, I slowly unrolled the tissue, still wondering about whatever was hiding in there. It wasn’t heavy, and I could feel something about as long as my palm, and I had absolutely no frickin idea what it could be.
When I carefully teased away the last folds of tissue, I held a hair clip in my hand.
But a hair clip doesn’t begin to do it justice. It was a shiny metallic black filigree design with curling vines and emerald leaves entwined all over it. It was solidly made, but not so heavy that I couldn’t imagine wearing it. But first I had to stare at it until my eyes burned.
‘Do you like it?’
I tore my eyes away from my prize, hearing the anxiety underneath his question even through my befuddled state.
‘I love it,’ I said. I rose up out of my chair and leaned across the table, took his face in my hands and kissed him. I don’t know exactly what I was thinking or feeling w
hen I kissed him, but whatever it was he seemed to like it. He threaded his hands in my hair and kissed me back with such enthusiasm I crabbed around the table and climbed onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his back and turning my full attention to exploring his mouth with mine.
When he drew away from me I rested my forehead against his for a moment, then, remembering we were in a café, I eased off his knee and returned to my seat, my face burning. I snuck a glance at him, but he didn’t seem to mind me mauling him at the table.
I squeezed the snap on the clip to open it, stuck it in my mouth and gathered the hair from around my face, pulling it to the back of my head and securing it with the clip.
I turned my head around to show him. ‘You like?’
‘I like,’ he said. ‘Very much.’
I slowly turned back towards him, hoping I wasn’t reading too much into that, but it sure sounded like he wasn’t just talking about the clip. I reached up and ran my fingers over it, feeling the little grooves and bumps with my fingertips.
‘Thank you so much, Sebastien. It’s beautiful.’
‘Like you,’ he said softly, and took my hand. I didn’t know what to say, or where to look, and luckily he threaded his fingers through mine, because it stopped me fidgeting like a fool. I mean, what the hell can you say when your dream guy tells you that you’re beautiful? Thanks? You too? I tested and rejected a half dozen stupid responses like that and had to settle for smiling and giving his fingers a squeeze. Lame, I know.
Sebastien lifted his other hand and again ran his hand through my hair, letting the long strands slide over his fingers. Had I thought the white-chocolate mocha was purr-worthy? It had nothing on this. I definitely wanted to roll over on my back and let him rub my tummy. I puffed out a breath.
‘This isn’t your natural hair colour, is it?’
‘No,’ I said. The colour had washed out a fair bit now, and it didn’t look anywhere near as startling as it had when Michelle first did it.
‘What made you dye it?’
‘I didn’t,’ I said, and explained about being a hair model for Michelle.
‘Wow,’ Sebastien said, making big eyes. ‘Never thought I’d be going out with a model.’
‘I never thought I’d go out with a cellist,’ I said, but my heart was pounding, and I couldn’t help myself. ‘If that’s what we’re doing.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’
We stared at each other.
‘Always awkward, this part,’ Sebastien said.
‘Mmm,’ I said. I didn’t know how many girlfriends he’d had, and how many times he’d been at this admittedly tricky part of a relationship, but I managed not to ask that question.
‘So, Jess. Will you be my girlfriend?’ He asked it mock seriously, and a grin tilted the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, dark and unblinking.
‘Yes,’ I said, and even though my heart was threatening to climb out of my mouth, I didn’t hide it behind a joke. I was going to, but then I just couldn’t. I waited to see what he’d say, and he didn’t say anything at all. I glanced at him anxiously, but he was looking at me with that steady gaze of his, and I wondered if it really was possible for someone to hypnotise you without meaning to, because once I looked I couldn’t look away.
‘Excellent,’ he said, and lifting my hand, pressed his lips to my knuckles.
I think my bones melted.
‘Jess?’
‘Yes?’
‘What colour is your hair?’
I blinked. ‘Why?’
Sebastien pulled a surprised face. ‘No particular reason. I just wondered, you know, I was trying to picture you with different hair, wondering if I’d met you before when Anna had parties and stuff, but I can’t.’
‘I haven’t been to any of Anna’s parties,’ I said, uncomfortably, more sorry than I could say that the sweet moment when he kissed my hand had been so short.
‘Oh, right,’ Sebastien said. He looked at me for another of those long moments, but I was afraid where his thoughts were going.
‘So, what colour is it?’
‘Why, what’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I thought you liked it.’
‘I do.’
‘But you think I should dye it back.’ Shut up, Jess, just shut up. Don’t run your mouth and ruin this.
‘I didn’t say that at all.’
‘But you think it.’ Jesus! Shut UP!
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Well then what does it matter what colour my hair is?’ I said, and, feeling the horrid tickle of tears against my eyelids, I pulled my hand out of his and prepared to make an undignified dash for the loo. Or I tried to, but Sebastien grabbed hold. Cellist’s hands. I wasn’t going anywhere until he let me. That should have made me feel threatened, I know, but it was his wanting to know so much about me that was freaking me out. Physically, for some reason, despite his strength and size, he had always felt safe to me.
‘It doesn’t matter what colour your hair is, Jess. I was just asking, because I want to know more about you. I don’t care if your hair is red or black or green. OK?’
‘Green?’ I did make a joke this time, too shaken to say anything else for fear I’d cry. Why was I such an idiot? Maybe I really did expect the worst of myself. And what was even worse, maybe I actually sabotaged myself all the time, and so I made the things I was dreading happen. It was enough to make my head ache, thinking about it. I picked up my cup for something to do, but put it back down, remembering it was empty.
‘Green,’ Sebastien agreed. ‘Or shave it all off, I don’t care. I’m interested in you Jess, not your hair.’
I snorted. ‘Bald, right. You’d love that look.’
‘You never know.’ Sebastien snagged the passing waitress (not one I’d seen before, and she couldn’t be either really good or suck too badly or I’d have noticed) and ordered more drinks. I huddled in my seat, guilty that my cup fiddling had made him think I wanted another one. Well, I did want another one. But I hadn’t meant to let on that I did. Or had the cup-twiddling been a subconscious way of getting another drink? Gah, stop thinking all this shit. Why did I think so much when I was around him?
I felt his fingers in my hair, sliding along the length of it, then pushing it back over my shoulder, and then his hand moved to touch my face. A move that was all Sebastien’s and my skin tingled with pleasure where his palm cupped my jaw.
‘I do like your hair, and so no, I hope you don’t want to shave it all off. But if you did I’d still like you. It’d take more than a bad haircut to scare me away.’
For a moment, staring into his eyes, it all hovered at the end of my tongue. I almost spilled it, the answers to the questions he’d been asking me over the past few weeks, and more. Then we’d see what it took to scare him away. But I wasn’t that brave, or stupid, or whatever, and I hesitated. I wanted to stop having to think all the time before I opened my mouth, in case I let something slip about my brothers, or my Mum, or God forbid, about Jay, but I didn’t want that badly enough to risk everything else. To risk this.
So I just covered his hand with mine, and copying his earlier gesture, turned my face to press a kiss into the palm of his hand.
His gaze sharpened and his lips parted, as if to kiss me or maybe to say something, but the waitress appeared with the drinks, and the little bubble we’d been in popped, and took the moment with it.
Carefully taking a sip of my drink, I wasn’t sure whether to be sorry, or not.
Chapter 18
After class on Monday, I went to Michelle’s to make plans about the hair expo. She had a customer when I walked into the salon, so I said hello and went through to the back and cleaned and prepped her coffee machine. I pulled a load of wet towels out of the washer and put them in the drier, and got the next load going. Then I started cutting aluminium foil into the various sizes Michelle used to put coloured streaks into people’s hair, and I’d totall
y zoned out, so that when she walked in I jumped and almost cut my fingers off.
‘Step away from the scissors,’ Michelle said, pulling me up off the stool. She took the scissors from me and jerked her head towards the coffee machine. ‘How about you do the honours while I clean up out there.’
‘Sure,’ I said, and with a final inspection of my thankfully intact fingertips, set about making two cups of coffee. Michelle’s machine was highly temperamental, but I’d spent a Saturday afternoon not long after I started at the restaurant practising, so I had the timing down to perfection.
Michelle was just sweeping the last of the hair scattered on the floor of the salon into a long handled dustpan when I went back out front carrying two cappuccinos.
‘You’re a legend,’ Michelle said, abandoning broom and pan and coming to get her cup. She sat on her stool, hooking her foot onto the curved steel rest.
I took one of the customers’ chairs, sinking into the cushiony seat and propping my arms on the armrests. The chairs here were awesome; Michelle had explained that she wanted customers to want to sit there, so she’d spent good money on chairs. The seats at the basins would give you a massage while you got your hair washed. Also awesome.
‘Have you got a new boyfriend, Jess?’
I stopped with my cup inches from my face, and carefully lowered it to the saucer.
‘What have you heard?’
‘So you have, then.’ Michelle calmly picked up the little almond cookie I’d put on her saucer, and bit it in half, crumbs spilling down over her apron. She brushed them away, and followed the cookie with a sip of coffee. ‘That’s so good. I thought you were crazy when you got that job at the restaurant, but I’m glad now you did.’
I sipped my own coffee, unable to think of the right thing to say.
Michelle eyed me over the rim of her cup as she took another mouthful. Gulp, really. She must have been hanging for that coffee.
As usual when I came here, guilt washed over me with the smell of shampoo and chemicals. As prickly and impossible to ignore as the hair slivers that got under your clothing and itched and tickled and finally made tiny little cuts in your skin. If I’d agreed to be Michelle’s apprentice when she asked she wouldn’t be working fifteen hours a day. She wouldn’t be going for hours without a break, without lunch, without even a coffee. I kept saying no and she kept saying OK but she still hadn’t put an apprentice on. Everyone knew she was keeping the spot for me, and I didn’t know how else I could tell her that I didn’t want the job.
This Is Now Page 13