How to Convince a Boy to Kiss You

by Tara Eglington

  ‘Jelena, seriously?’

  She looked at me with an arched eyebrow. ‘Aurora, let’s not have the girls write him off on the first day of camp because of some mismatched socks. Women are particular about the details. You know, female birds tend to go for male birds with symmetrical feathers. Make sure Jeffrey’s a symmetrical bird.’

  ‘I thought this devastating combination for day one.’ Jeffrey tossed a bright red T-shirt and canary-yellow pants onto the couch. ‘With my orange sports sneakers.’

  He was going to look like a traffic light. I shot a nervous look at Lindsay. We’d stretched the truth and told Jeffrey that the matchmakees all got a free wardrobe consultation in their own home.

  ‘He’s not colour-blind, is he?’ Lindsay whispered as Jeffrey darted out of the room to look for his other sneakers.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I whispered as Jeffrey sprinted back into the room.

  ‘How about these bad boys?’ he asked.

  The sneakers were purple with red, orange and yellow lightning bolts down the side.

  ‘You know, Jeffrey, I was actually thinking a cool palette would suit you,’ I said, grabbing a deep blue T-shirt from the mountain of clothing he’d dumped on the coffee table.

  He made a face. ‘Mum bought me that. It’s kind of boring. What about this one?’

  ‘No!’ Lindsay and I almost shouted at a lurid lime-green shirt. It looked like something that had been slimed at the Nickelodeon awards.

  Jeffrey jumped.

  ‘Your eyes look amazing with this blue,’ I said quickly and held the shirt against him.

  He actually blushed.

  I made the decision for him, folding the shirt and sticking it into his empty backpack.

  ‘These are blue too,’ Jeffrey said, holding up a pair of wide-legged jeans that he wore almost every day at school. The bottoms were ripped and stained from dragging on the ground.

  Lindsay whipped the pants from him. ‘Less boy, more man,’ she said, tossing him a pair of denim shorts that were cut off just below the knee.

  Jeffrey looked pained. ‘Mum’s pick again?’

  ‘Like Lindsay said, we’re giving you a more mature vibe.’ I grabbed the pants and added them to the backpack.

  ‘Oh, I can handle mature themes.’ Jeffrey winked.

  ‘Fantastic!’ I gestured for him to sit down on the couch. ‘Let Lindsay and me make some sartorial choices to back that up.’

  After pulling together a camp wardrobe that was a traffic-light-free zone, Lindsay and I waved Jeffrey goodbye and headed off down his very steep and long driveway.

  ‘Thanks for your help, ladies!’ he yelled after us. ‘I’m going to be Ryan Gosling before you know it!’

  The next morning I headed into school just a little bit early, as I was hoping to cross paths with Hunter. Lindsay had told me that Lucy said he used the music room to practise before class. About 7.45 am, after picking up a coffee from a café near school, I swung by the music room.

  The most exquisite melody was emanating through the partially open door. I took a sneaky peek, careful to keep myself hidden as I watched a guy, presumably Hunter, eyes shut and brow furrowed reverently, playing with almost superhuman rapidity. He finished the piece, but his eyes remained closed. I half-hoped he would begin it again so I could hear it from the start. I could see why the entire orchestra had been mesmerised.

  However, instead of continuing to practise, Hunter opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the door. It was as if he could feel my presence there. I thought I’d better make myself known so I pushed the door open.

  ‘Hi — Hunter, isn’t it? I really do apologise for interrupting you —’

  ‘Do you play?’ he said, staring at me unblinkingly. His eyes were the colour of amber.

  ‘Oh no. I mean, I’d love to, but I can’t even count out a simple three-four rhythm. Even in clapping exercises I get totally out of sync.’ I laughed.

  Hunter didn’t crack a smile. ‘Do you need the room?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You aren’t a music student then.’ He looked intrigued. ‘And I can assume by the outfit that you aren’t a cleaner.’

  I looked down at my black and white polka-dot wrap dress. ‘No, I’m a matchmaker.’

  Hunter’s eyebrows went up. ‘Yes. I remember now. You were standing at the edge of the pool when Jelena did her Botticelli number.’

  Thank goodness someone had seen beyond ‘that famous naked clam chick’. I was sensing that Hunter might prove to be the artistic, culturally educated guy that Chloe had specified.

  ‘You put your name in the draw that night,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Yes, rather a mad moment.’ He looked as if he regretted it.

  ‘Well, it came up.’

  Hunter laughed abruptly. ‘I’m not the lucky type.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  I meant it lightly, but Hunter seemed to vibrate with intensity — his fingers were drumming the edge of his seat — and in that atmosphere the question sounded penetrating.

  His dark eyebrows drew together. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know at all. Maybe I take the musician archetype too much to heart. Beethoven, Schumann, Shostakovich — they were hardly happy people. Freakishly talented but not happy. Or maybe someone up there decided that it was enough to give me the blessing of musicianship, and every other sector of my life should be doomed to disappointment.’

  It had been a long while since I’d heard the word ‘doomed’ in such a serious context.

  ‘It’s not an absolute rule that musical genius equals a life without love. Mahler married, you know,’ I pointed out, remembering the short bio I’d read in the program when the NAD had taken me to a symphony at the Opera House.

  Hunter grinned. ‘Well, Mahler — now, that’s a long story.’ He stretched out the hand that wasn’t holding the violin. ‘You’re an interesting interruption to the everyday ritual. Aurora, wasn’t it?’

  I nodded as we shook hands. His grip was strong — obviously from extensive practice sessions — but his fingers were long and slim.

  ‘I’m hoping to introduce you to the woman who’s going to end your unlucky spell once and for all,’ I told him.

  It took a good half-hour to bring Hunter round to the matchmaking concept. Although he’d put his details into the draw, a large part of him had assumed his name wouldn’t come up. Like Lindsay had said, it was clear that something had happened over the summer, and from his vague references while we talked, that ‘something’ appeared to have been a heartbreak.

  ‘Love is comparable with the myth of Icarus,’ he said. ‘Under your beloved’s adoring eye you feel invincible. You don’t notice that you’re too close to the sun until it’s too late — by then, your wings are ablaze and you’re plunging to the ground.’

  I was stunned by the mythological comparison; it was so similar to Chloe’s reference to the Aeneid. If he’d hoped it would discourage me from setting him up, it had achieved the opposite effect.

  I assured Hunter that we’d build him sturdy wings this time round. And his co-pilot in love was cautious too due to having previously been burnt.

  Hunter paused for what felt like forever before nodding his agreement. I had no idea how his slender musician’s frame would cope with three days of high-ropes activity, but I was bursting to see what his dynamic with Chloe would be like.

  CHAPTER 16

  I spent most of Saturday helping the NAD pack for school camp, checking that we’d both got sleeping mats, rain jackets, water bottles and enough socks and shirts to get us through three days. I very much doubted we were in for a Survivor experience, but I still wanted to be fully prepared.

  On Sunday it rained, so the girls came round for an impromptu movie day. Sara, as part of her research for her novel, had hired Vertical Limit and Sanctum for us to watch. Jelena was busy with camp preparation, so it was just the four of us. Lindsay covered her eyes for three-quarters of Vertical Limit due to the vertically extre
me alpine scenes, despite Sara’s yells that she was missing out on Chris O’Donnell at his prime.

  ‘Okay, what’s with the sighing?’ Sara asked me when the movie had finished. ‘Is it a Hayden thing? He’s allowed to come on camp, so why are you stressing?’

  I sighed again. ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand boys. Hayden was so enthusiastic about getting up close and personal before the stitches. But he’s been stitch-free for about seventy-two hours and nothing. You saw him when he had lunch with us on Friday. Not even a kiss on the cheek. And he sat next to Scott instead of me. It’s totally weird.’

  ‘But you said you’d decided you were a hundred per cent not kissing him at school,’ Cassie said.

  ‘And the poor guy’s grounded,’ Lindsay added. ‘He’s got no options for kissing you anywhere but school till next week. If he’s of the same mind as you — i.e. not wanting to pucker up in front of everyone — that pretty much explains the non-demonstrative behaviour.’

  ‘He could have asked to walk me home,’ I pointed out. ‘If he was really keen, he’d think outside the box.’

  ‘Aurora, you guys have three whole days together coming up. Give the poor guy a chance.’

  Sara had a point. I’d just have to wait it out. If Hayden was still acting distant by the time camp rolled around, then I’d know there was an issue.

  ‘Isn’t there a side street you could take?’ I begged the taxi driver on the way into the city on Tuesday night. Every lane of traffic was banked up ahead of us. There’d obviously been an accident.

  ‘Sorry, miss, nothing but one-ways,’ the driver answered. ‘If you want me to drop you off at the hotel, we have to stay on this road.’

  I looked at my watch: 6.55 pm. There was no way I’d be arriving in five minutes. Mum was going to be furious. It had been obvious from our conversation the other day that she was nervous about introducing me to Carlos and my being late would only put her even more on edge. I pulled out my phone and dialled her number. It went straight to voicemail.

  Was it normal to be this nervous about a simple dinner at a restaurant? I supposed meeting Carlos for the first time was rather major — the man could be in my life for decades to come. What if he didn’t like me? What if I didn’t like him? My relationship with Mum was already tricky — if Carlos and I didn’t take to each other, it would become even more difficult to maintain regular contact with her. Mum’s role as my mother had always been far from traditional, but I didn’t want to lose what we did have. It might not be the easy familiarity that Sara, Cass and the other girls had with their mothers, but it was still something. I was her daughter.

  By the time the cab pulled up in front of the hotel, I was sweating. I fanned myself with my hands as I jumped out, hoping I had no sweat marks on my floaty pale aqua dress. I dashed into the lobby.

  ‘Can I help you, miss?’ a concierge asked, observing my stressed expression.

  ‘I’m late for a dinner,’ I explained breathlessly. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting my mother and a group of her friends tonight.’ I gave the concierge both Mum’s and Carlos’s names. ‘Can you tell me which restaurant the booking’s for?’

  Mum had just told me the name of the hotel, she hadn’t specified which restaurant.

  ‘Oh, this event is in one of our reception rooms,’ the concierge said with a smile. ‘Let me show you the way.’

  Event? Mum had told me it was a few close friends and Carlos.

  The concierge led me to a large, glass-walled room. I could see lush greenery, oriental flowers and twinkling lights through the glass — and about two hundred people.

  The concierge smiled and opened the door for me. As I stepped through, I was enveloped in sound — music, chatter, laughter. People were mingling and drinking champagne. No-one looked familiar. I stood on my tiptoes and scanned the room for Mum. There! She was near the back of the room, wearing a long and fascinatingly draped sapphire-blue gown. As I moved closer, I saw her laugh, take a sip of champagne and place her hand on a man’s arm. He was tall, dark-haired, roughly about ten years older than her and very formally dressed.

  ‘Mum?’ I said as I reached her side. My stomach muscles tensed, hoping she wouldn’t be angry.

  ‘Aurora!’ She let go of the man’s arm. ‘You’re late, darling.’

  ‘Traffic,’ I said as she leant in to give me a kiss. Fortunately her face was still relaxed.

  ‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ the man said with an ironic smile. He had a very English accent. ‘I don’t think I knew what a traffic jam was until I came to this city.’

  Mum took in my curious stare. It couldn’t be Carlos, he’d have a Spanish accent. It must be another friend.

  ‘Aurora, I’d like you to meet Carlos,’ Mum said. ‘Carlos, my daughter Aurora.’

  ‘I thought you were Spanish,’ I blurted out.

  Mum looked horrified at my directness, but Carlos laughed.

  ‘The accent trips everyone up,’ he said. ‘I was born there and am now based there, but my father was English. I was educated in England — Eton and Cambridge, to be exact.’

  ‘Carlos’s family have connections with the English peerage,’ Mum explained. ‘They’ve been there for centuries.’

  Carlos raised an eyebrow. ‘Essentially a bit of paper with a long list of names on it. They complain dreadfully at my making a living in hotels and nightclubs, although they don’t complain about the lifestyle it affords them.’ He turned his attention to Mum. ‘Goodness, Avery, she’s the image of you. I’d rather expected a child by how you described her. Fifteen, correct?’

  ‘I’m sixteen,’ I said.

  Carlos shook his head, staring at me. ‘Well, that’s certainly a relief. I’m not good with children, I’m afraid. Your mother knows that, which is why I suspect she kept quiet about you. But I see we have a grown-up, thankfully.’

  Before I could think of a response, Carlos nodded to someone across the room. He gave my mother a kiss on the cheek. ‘Darling, excuse me. I need to talk business briefly. The paperwork around new nightclubs is a nightmare in this country. Aurora, we must talk further. Your mother tells me you model. I know many people in Paris and London — you could use Spain as your base. Much better to be in Europe if you want to establish a profile.’

  He was gone before I could tell him I had zero interest in chasing down catwalk work overseas.

  ‘You see, darling?’ Mum said, watching him walk away. ‘I knew you two would get along once he was accustomed to the idea.’

  ‘So he wasn’t pleased when he heard?’ I asked, trying not to feel hurt.

  ‘Oh, darling, as he said, he’s not good with children. He’s a very busy man and his life is his hotels. But this is working out wonderfully. He and I will be able to offer you the very best opportunities career-wise. I know you’re not keen on the modelling thing, but he could get you a job working in international events, or the entertainment business.’

  I was feeling overwhelmed. I hadn’t even worked out which universities I wanted to apply for at the end of next year yet. Hammering out the details of a high-flying career beyond that was too much.

  ‘Would you excuse me?’ I said. ‘I need the ladies’.’

  There were huge, soft-looking chairs in the open area near the washbasins. I sank into one. From the few moments I’d spent in his company, I could tell Carlos was very similar to Mum. Any relationship that developed between us would be about what he could do for me in terms of opportunities. The detachment both of them showed towards me made me feel rather insignificant.

  I could see Mum was happy to be marrying into a family with links to the English peerage. It rather trumped the NAD and the advertising agency.

  The NAD. I put my head in my hands. How was I going to break all this to him? I’d told him I was going for dinner with Mum tonight, but not that I was meeting Carlos.

  Fifteen minutes had elapsed by the time I felt more together. You can do this, I reasoned with myself as I headed for the door. I could smile polite
ly, eat some canapés and look pleased to be here. After all, things could be worse. Carlos could have been cold towards me or rude.

  Mum spotted me as I re-entered the room and motioned for me to join her and Carlos, who’d returned to her side.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ she said, and smiled. ‘We’re just about to make an announcement.’

  A member of staff handed Carlos a microphone.

  ‘Hello, everyone.’ Carlos’s voice reached over the chatter. The room fell silent. ‘My first announcement of tonight is, of course, the launch of the Centaurus Group in this city. I’ve just met with the board and we’ve received full approval for the development of a new entertainment mecca, including a series of bars, several fine-dining establishments and an exclusive nightclub. This is a whole new lifestyle and luxury investment, akin to those we have developed in Ibiza and London. These projects will be launching over the next five years and I look forward to many more celebrations in the new spaces.’

  Carlos paused and took my mother’s hand. ‘I am also delighted to officially announce my and Avery’s engagement. We hope to see you at a very special celebration in the near future. We will be keeping the details private for the moment, to avoid media interest, but you will receive invitations shortly specifying the date. Details of the location will be revealed on the day.’

  He handed my mother the microphone. Mum looked the picture of relaxed elegance as she addressed the room.

  ‘As Carlos just said, I’m thrilled to share the news of our engagement with you this evening. Also, while we have your attention, I’d like to introduce you to my beautiful daughter, Aurora.’

  Mum stretched her hand out to me. I took it and stepped into the spotlight beside her, feeling every face turn to me. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Having her acknowledge me as her daughter in front of hundreds of her friends and at Carlos’s side meant so much to me that I felt as if I might cry. It was a proclamation of my existence in her world.

  Mum didn’t even like me calling her ‘Mum’ in public; she preferred ‘Avery’ when we were with other people. So I could never have seen tonight coming. Was this a turning point for us? Was it a sign that she wanted to develop our relationship beyond weekly catch-ups? Part of me didn’t want to hope, and another part of me couldn’t help it.