“Where are you going?” Byron shouted over the crashing rain.
“Home!”
“What about our dinner?”
“Dinner? You ignored me when I tried to help you on stage and now you want dinner?”
He tilted his face up to the rain and swore as it poured down over his face.
“I hate that you saw me fall like that in front of the entire fucking pub.” His eyes, when they locked with mine, were so filled with pain my breath caught in my throat.
“That’s…” I was about to say stupid, but the wounded look on his face stopped me. The rain continued to beat down on us while I thought of something better to say.
Another car honked at us before careening past dangerously close.
Byron steered me to the side of the road. He didn’t let go of my arm once we were there. “That’s what?”
“Nothing. Forget about it. I don’t care that you fell. I mean I care, but it doesn’t make me feel any different about you.”
“But I do care, Ruby.” He pulled me in close, his warm lips brushing my ear, and groaned softly. “I don’t need your pity. I had plenty of that back in the city.”
I drew back a little and stared up into his face, wishing I knew more about Byron’s life in the city. “I care about you, Byron. I don’t pity you. There’s a difference.”
“I saw it in your eyes, inside, after I fell.”
I shook my dripping head from side to side.
“No. It wasn’t that.” I made a shelter above our faces with my hands. “I just wanted to do…to do what Madeline was doing.” Heat flooded my face. “I wanted to be the one holding you.”
Byron stared at me for a long time before drawing me in close, his arm around my waist, pressing me against him.
“Forget about her, Ruby,” he said in a low husky voice. “You can hold me now, right here.”
I stiffened. Not because I didn’t want to be in his arms, but because thinking of Madeline made me think about Martin and our fractured friendship.
“I knew it.” Byron smiled bitterly before taking a step back onto the road. “You’re disgusted by me because I fell on the stage like some invalid. Admit it. You think I’m weak.”
“What? You’re insane!” I stepped forward and reached for his hand, but he jerked away, his eyes hostile and dark.
The rejection hurt, really bad. And if the rest of the night was going to be one great succession of hurts then I was out of here.
The rain blinded me as I ran back across the highway, disregarding the traffic. Lights and shapes zigzagged across my path. It was strange. In this moment, this ridiculously dangerous moment, all I could think about was my mother. Was this how she’d felt when she’d pressed the razor against her wrist? Did a person truly want to take their life or was it just the intention? And then, when it was too late, in that last second, blood seeping, did they want to reverse it all for another chance?
Tyres screeched somewhere to my right and suddenly two arms wrapped around me, flattening my own arms against my sides, and dragged me off the road.
I kicked and thrashed around until I fell onto the concrete footpath.
Byron fell down with me, his hands cradling my head.
“Are you crazy, Ruby? You nearly got us killed!” Though his words sounded angry, Byron’s eyes softened. He stroked my cheek with his thumb, tenderly. His hand and entire body trembled.
Rain dripped from his hair onto my face, into my mouth. I could taste the wax he used to shape his fauxhawk, which was now non-existent.
“Would it really matter to you if something happened to me? You’re leaving anyway,” I said.
“Oh God, Ruby,” he said, bowing his head. “Of course it would.”
Suddenly his lips were on mine, tender and urgent at the same time. His hard, wet arms wrapped around me and drew me up against him. His tongue stroked mine, making me groan softly. He tasted sweet, like cola.
It wasn’t until we rolled over the curb and landed in the gutter that we came apart, our chests heaving for air, soft laughter on our lips.
The rain eased up and slowed to a soft trickle.
Side by side we sat on the curb, our legs and arms touching.
“Do you still want to come back to my hotel room?” Byron’s eyes were dark and shiny with desire beneath the soft glow of the street light.
I nodded without hesitation. Byron was going to vanish any second and I wasn’t yet ready to say goodbye.
He helped me to my feet, keeping me close against him with his arm around my shoulders.
I slipped my own arms around his narrow waist and gave him a squeeze.
Perhaps if I held on tight enough he’d stay.
Chapter 14
We didn’t say anything, not a word as we crossed the highway, as we entered the double doors of the hotel, as we scaled the steps up to the third floor, or while Byron unlocked the door to his room with trembling hands. As though we both knew our words would be awkward and unjust to what we were feeling in our hearts.
Once we were inside, he leant his back against the door and watched me take off my sopping wet jacket and hang it over a nearby wooden chair.
“We forgot dinner,” he said, a half-smile on his lips.
“That’s okay…I’m…” My stomach rumbled like the thunder outside.
“Not hungry?” He laughed. “Maybe we’ll order room service…” he cleared his throat and added, “… later.”
The loaded ‘later’ send a rush of heat to my cheeks.
“Would you like to sit down?” Byron tossed some sheet music aside and sat down on the edge of his bed.
My heart working overtime, I sat down beside him. I had to tuck my trembling hands beneath my thighs so Byron couldn’t see how nervous and excited I felt to be alone with him, finally.
“Welcome to my humble, temporary abode.”
The room had a double bed and a bedside table littered with used coffee cups and half-drunk water bottles with a bunch of different coloured pills beside them. The fat Lord Byron book lay across one pillow, face down and open. Actually, the room appeared to be lived in and showed no signs of somebody about to up and leave. Could he have changed his mind?
We both remained quiet for some time, listening to the muted tones of neighbouring conversation through the thin hotel walls, until Byron managed to coax one of my trembling hands out from beneath my legs. He shifted in closer, the bed creaking, our thighs touching, and let out a shaky breath.
“Would you…” Byron’s pupils were dilated, giving his dark blue eyes even more depth. “Would you like me to kiss you again?”
Instead of answering I nodded my head, my breath quickening.
The instant his lips touched mine I closed my eyes. This time he tasted of rain.
As I slowly fell back against the mattress, I gripped Byron’s wet shirt and drew him down on top of me. His clothes were cold, but his skin felt wickedly hot beneath them. I groaned with pleasure and in response a tremor shuddered through Byron’s body. His breath quickened against my cheek and then he kissed my mouth, harder than before, then my neck, and then my breasts through my wet clothes.
I moved my hands to the top of his jeans, my fingers hastily undoing the button. Byron moaned at my touch and pressed himself against my hand. He was hard. Little lightning bolts of pleasure scissored into my lower belly. I drew the zipper down.
“Wait,” he whispered against my neck, his chest heaving against my own. “Are we going to, I mean, do you want to…?”
Have sex? Yes!
“Um…I don’t know,” I whispered back before deciding to be honest. “What I really mean is yes, I want to. Do you?”
He pulled back and eased himself off the bed before rummaging through the bed-side drawer for a square of shiny plastic.
“I’ve got one of these…if we go through with it.” He half smiled, his cheeks tinting pink while he hovered over me. “I mean, yes, of course I want to.” He swallowed thickly and locked eyes w
ith mine before burying his face in my neck. “I really, really do.”
My stomach fluttered with nerves and my teeth began to chatter. Byron raised himself up on his elbows and gave me a long look.
“Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes. I can lend you one of my shirts.”
I sucked in a short, sharp breath and nodded.
Byron began unbuttoning his shirt. When the shirt fell to the floor, he started on his jeans.
Heat flooded my body as I stood up on shaky legs and tried to wiggle out of my wet jeans as elegantly as possible. They made a squelching sound as they fell to the ground.
Next I fumbled with my bra, my face on fire, while I watched him drag his jeans down his hips and thighs.
Seconds later we were naked.
While I covered my front with my arms and hands, my eyes roved over Byron’s body, pausing momentarily on the still-raw pink scar just below his chest. Even though I’d seen it before, in the river, it still made me gasp out loud and wince just to see it.
“Don’t look at it. It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” Byron’s voice was edged with anger and disappointment.
“Sorry, I…”
“I’ll cover it up, then.” He snatched his shirt back up, the muscles in his arms rippling with tension.
“No. Please don’t.” I snatched the shirt from his hands and tossed it aside. It landed somewhere behind the bedhead. “I think you’re…” My face and my entire body flushed as my gaze drank his naked form from head to toe. “You’re so beautiful.”
Byron made a low sound in his throat and moved in closer, his heated gaze on mine. When we came together I lowered my mouth to the raw scar below his chest and planted a feather-light kiss there, then another on the smaller scar that sat below his collarbone. Byron sucked in his stomach and groaned, his hands twisting in my hair. Gently he tugged me upwards so that I could look up into his eyes.
“Ruby…I’ve never been with anyone before,” he said, heat flushing his cheeks.
I stared at his face and wondered how on earth that was possible with somebody so gorgeous.
“Same here,” I said, my heart thudding wildly.
“So should we?” He swallowed. “I want to, badly. But only if you do too.”
“I do,” I said, blushing. “But, I don’t want you to think I’m easy or anything.”
“The easy virgin,” Byron said, his serious expression giving way to a soft smile. He brushed a strand of damp hair away from my eyes and cupped my face gently with his hands, the smile now gone.
“I wish I could have met you so much earlier…” His voice cracked with emotion—sadness and possibly anger. But the way he gently caressed my face between his hands and the way he brushed his lips against mine, feather light, was anything but violent.
“Me too,” I whispered, not wanting to dwell on dark secrets or goodbyes for the moment, not wanting to cry—just wanting to stay right here and now, in Byron’s arms.
***
“Ruby!”
I sat bolt upright in bed, and felt around, my hands shaking and my heart pounding, until I remembered where I was.
“Byron?”
Warm hands found mine and Byron tugged me back down to the right side of his chest.
“Are you okay?” I whispered as he wrapped me tight in his arms. Beneath my head his chest rose up and down while he caught his breath.
“Sorry, I was dreaming,” he said after a while.
“What about?”
He swallowed thickly.
“Just darkness.” His voice quivered while he spoke.
I leaned up against my elbow and stroked his fringe away from his face. His skin was hot and damp with sweat. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could just make out his eyes, wide and hollow.
“Everything was just black…and nothing was there, just nothing.”
“It’s just a dream,” I whispered sleepily, before burying my face into his neck. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I was going to ask him about Mrs. Patfield when he woke up, because it was obvious that she’d been messing with his mind.
But for now I just wanted this, here in Byron arms.
***
Hours later, when the post-storm morning sun peeked through the threadbare curtains of the hotel room, tickling my eyes with light, I woke with empty arms and a rumpled, empty bed.
A letter lay against Byron’s pillow, where his head should have been.
No, no, no.
The paper trembled in my hands as I read.
Dear Ruby,
I’m sorry. Don’t hate me for leaving. I have to do this. For you.
Love,
Byron.
Chapter 15
Byron’s guitar was gone. So were his clothes and the Lord Byron book. He’d packed while I slept. Did he even kiss me goodbye?
I’d never know.
I have to do this, for you…Just what did that mean?
I rolled out of bed and got dressed in my damp clothes and underwear, determined to find Byron in the street and demand some answers. After last night, I at least deserved to know the reason why he had to leave and what he was running from. Had his parents really hurt him? Was his friend really contemplating suicide? Or—my heart stalled just to think it—was Byron the actual friend?
First place I stopped to check was the pub, in case Byron left a lead or something behind, but it was too early and the doors were shut and no doubt the owner, who wasn’t beyond enjoying a few beers on a busy night, wasn’t waking up any time soon.
I pressed my nose to the grimy windows and tried to peak through the slit in the curtains but saw nothing. When I moved to the next window, I saw the stage empty and bereft of Byron.
Next I tried the bus stops which dotted the highway, running frantically between each, but Byron wasn’t at any of them.
He was truly gone.
Then it hit me, like smacking my head against a brick wall.
Jay! I’d stayed out the entire night. I’d left Jay at home with Dad. Mira would have gone home at some stage…leaving my baby brother alone with Dad, whom I just wasn’t ready to trust yet.
My hair whipped my back while I ran down the empty highway. How could I have forgotten about my little brother? I was no better than Mum when she’d started staying over at Derek’s house, leaving me to wake up and tend to Jay at night.
I couldn’t get up the driveway, up the veranda steps, and to the front door quick enough, but as I seized the brass doorknob, footsteps came from behind.
“Byron?”
I spun around, my heart pounding in excitement.
“Ruby!”
My heart sank. It wasn’t Byron, but my high school teacher, Mr. Brackinson, dressed in electric blue bike-pants and a matching singlet, out on his morning walk.
“I really can’t talk right now, Mr. Brackinson, I’ve got lots going on.”
Donny Vale High’s slightly balding but otherwise young and fit school principal bounced his yellow tennis ball—that came with him everywhere since he quit smoking several months ago—repeatedly against the bricks of our house before responding to my rebuff. “Do you want to talk to me about it, Ruby? You know I’m—”
“Here to be an ear. Yeah, I know.”
He smiled, happy that I’d remembered his catchphrase.
“I’m actually here to pay your father a visit. Apparently he’s looking for work and the school groundsman just quit.”
“It’s seven in the morning.”
He smiled.
“I was passing by on my walk and thought I might catch him watering the garden.”
“Believe me, he’ll be too…” I had to be careful of what I said in front of Mr. Brackinson, should he report something to the children’s welfare office. “He’s pretty tired from looking after Jay and me.”
“He sounded awake on the phone.”
“You spoke to him already? On a Sunday morning?”
“First one to r
espond to the ad in the paper. An hour ago, actually.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll go in and see if he’s around.”
“I’ll wait out here,” he said, thwacking the ball against the wall. “Gotta hit my one hundred.”
I entered the house, bracing myself for the onslaught of chaos, the screaming and the tears.
But, as it was, the house was quiet with Jay nowhere to be seen and Dad reading the paper in the kitchen.
“Morning,” said Dad cheerily while he folded his paper in half. He scooped up his empty coffee cup and moved towards the kettle. “You look like you could use a coffee.” He called out over the white noise of the boiling water.
“Sorry for not coming home last night. I…um…I stayed at a friend’s house.” Saying the word friend out loud made me think of Martin. I missed him so much, especially right now. “How did Jay get on with me gone?”
Dad stared at me for a long time before he sighed.
“We took Jay to the hospital last night.”
It took me a few seconds to process his words before my heart kicked into gear.
“What?”
“Steady on,” Dad said calmly, his palms upheld. “He’s okay now.”
“Okay?” I threw my purse to the ground and raced down the hall to Jay’s room.
Bursting through the door, my heart thudding like a herd of bulls in my chest, I found him sitting in his cot, playing with his squeaky duck and his soft toy train.
“Jay! Ruby’s here.” I scooped him up into my arms and checked him over. There wasn’t a mark on him. With a sigh of relief I smothered my little brother’s face with kisses.
“He’s okay, Rubes. I drove him there. Mira was—”
“You drove?” I hugged Jay tight to my chest and glared at Dad. “How could you have endangered Jay’s life like that?”
“Ruby,” Dad’s face turned bright red. “That’s enough, now. Jay’s my son, I would never hurt him. I didn’t drink one drop yesterday.” He paused and caught his breath. “Last night, my son had a temperature and I drove him to the hospital, sober, like I did many times for you…when you were a little one.” Dad’s voice broke then, and his chin trembled.
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