by Dale, Lindy
“Stop!” he yelled. “Get off me now, Court. And put some clothes on, for Christ’s bloody sake. People are starting to believe you really are the slag you keep pretending to be. And we both know it’s not true.”
I blinked in disbelief. Womble was incapable of stringing more than two sentences together unless they involved rugby. I was unsure how he coped in the workplace — he was an accountant — but I assumed he could converse when it was number related.
Courtney stopped. Her full lips were pouting and was that a glint of a tear in her eye? “Didn’t you like my dance, Wombie?”
Had she just invented a nickname for his nickname? Was that even possible?
“No, actually. I didn’t. I thought it was degrading to you as a woman and I can’t believe you would be so desperate to be a part of this group of knobheads that you’d even consider doing it. You’re a smart girl, Courtney. You’ve got a degree and a career. You don’t need to be the ‘ho’ of the group to get us to like you.”
“A degree in man stealing with honours in acting like a skank doesn’t count,” Sasha mumbled.
“No, I think she’s like totally got some marketing degree or something. She, like, has a company with real clients and everything. She was, like, in the newspaper.” Kirby whispered back.
I wasn’t game to ask how Kirby knew this when she read nothing in the paper other than the lifestyle sections. There were things that girl knew about what went on in Perth that could probably make me cringe.
“You didn’t think it was sexy?” Courtney asked him. She seemed genuinely upset that Womble hadn’t enjoyed his gift. “I’ve been practising all week.”
“It was sexy. But not entirely my thing, if you must know.” Womble stood up and wrapped his Santa jacket around Courtney’s shoulders to cover her nakedness. Facing the group, he swallowed, his big Adam’s apple moving nervously in his throat. “Now’s as good a time as any to tell you all—”
“—You’re not, like, having an affair with Courtney or something? Oh God, that would be, like, the living end.”
“Hardly.” He turned to Courtney. “No offence, Court. You’re a gorgeous looking chick but I’m gay.”
Cue dropping of bombshell and silence great enough to fill the Simpson Desert.
“You mean, like, you don’t like girls, gay? Just, like, to clarify?” Kirby asked. Clearly, she was having trouble processing the information. She wasn’t the only one. Womble was six foot three. He had to be well over a hundred kilos. He loved cage fighting and cricket. He drank like a fish and tried to hook up with anything in a skirt — not that we’d ever seen him succeed. He was the most unlikely looking candidate for a gay man in the world.
Womble stood a little taller. “As in I don’t like girls. I like boys.”
I was speechless. I think we all were.
Until Millie screamed from the depths of my kitchen, “Oh my God… the turkey! The turkey!”
Seemed as though I should have organised that caterer.
*****
An hour later, disaster averted, we sat around the makeshift Christmas table. My own dining table had the seating capacity of two, so Kirby had ordered two trestles and stuck them in an L shape so we could see each other. The tables were covered with festive cloths and decorated with tiny trees and huge candelabra dripping with baubles. Sitting there with everyone I loved in the world I was feeling, well, a little melancholy. The room looked beautiful, the pizzas — hastily ordered by Sam to replace the turkey that Millie had burnt to a crisp (in her defence we were slightly distracted) — tasted delicious and the company was the best. Even Courtney seemed to be fitting in. And that’s something I thought I’d never say. Who’d have thought that a girl who went round shagging everything that walked and getting her boobs out in public at the drop of a hat would morph into a high-powered business woman during the week? Not me, that’s for sure. But then, if it was good for the boys why couldn’t it be good for us? There didn’t need to be double standards. I’d been trying to get them to see that for years but maybe, in some bizarre backhanded way, Courtney had done it for me.
As I relaxed back in my chair, Johnny, who had found a seat beside me, leant in, his voice soft in my ear. “You seem pensive.”
“Mmm. Maybe.”
“Something wrong?”
I looked around the table. Sam and Millie had their heads together like they so often did. He was holding her hand. Kirby and Sasha were interrogating Womble as to which cast member of Vampire Diaries he thought was hottest and Rambo, Simmo, Tony and Courtney were laughing and playing some form of drinking game that could only lead to trouble. Everyone had someone. Everyone but me. It was almost as if, in this place, in this time, I didn’t exist. I was nothing to them.
“I… I just feel so alone.”
Beneath the tablecloth, I felt Johnny’s hand reach for mine. He squeezed it gently and I felt a lump begin to form in my throat. Oh shit. I couldn’t cry. Not now. It was bloody Christmas.
“You don’t have to be alone,” he said.
“This isn’t an invitation, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I know. I was just saying you don’t need to be alone.”
I frowned. I couldn’t understand who this person was. Why was Johnny being so nice to me and why, why was he looking at me like that? He had to know the effect it was having. Beneath the table, my legs had begun to quiver. I never quivered. Okay, well, only when I saw those hairy moths with the wings that looked like eyes and then the quivering wasn’t with excitement, like now. I had a real phobia about moths.
“I don’t just mean tonight, Johnny. I mean forever. I’m tired of always being the strong one, the organiser. I’m tired of being the ice queen and of everyone having someone. I want someone too.”
There I’d said it. I’d said what he’d been begging me to say for ages. I’d owned the fact that I was lonely, that no matter how I presented myself to the rest of those imbeciles I was not beyond feelings.
Johnny smiled. It was the kind of smile that could make a girl weak at the knees if she let it. Maybe I should? Then, his face moved close to mine and I felt his breath hot against my neck. “I’m lonely too,” he whispered. His voice was so quiet I had to double take to make sure I’d heard right.
“Chasing chicks is fairly exhausting, Mel.”
“I can imagine.”
“I’m tired of chasing when the only girl I want is right next to me. Look,” he continued. “You’re lonely. I’m lonely. We like each other. Why don’t we see where this takes us? I’m not asking for anything. I’m just saying I like you. I have for ages. If you hate my guts again tomorrow, that’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I want to be with you tonight. ”
It was like the world faded away in that moment. Every stupid thing Johnny had ever said, every ridiculous thing he’d done didn’t matter. His sincerity was overwhelming. He really did care for me. All that mattered was us.
“Yes.”
Johnny’s lips were close to mine. “You mean it?”
“Yes.”
He put his mouth to my mouth, grazing it softly. Beneath the table, his fingers played in the palm of my hand.
It was so romantic.
Then he jumped to his feet. “Right you bastards. Party’s over. Get out.”
Kirby looked across the table at him. “But we haven’t had pudding yet. I’ve been totally starving myself all day for Millie’s pudding.”
“Take a traveller.” He began to clear the plates and take glasses from people’s hands in case they thought this was another of his jokes.
“What’s up?” Sam asked, draining the last of his red wine. “The night’s but young.”
The grin on Johnny’s face was bigger than the one Heath Ledger had when he played The Joker in the Batman movie. “Exactly. And Mel and I want to spend the rest of it shagging each other’s brains out. So nick off home, the lot of you.”
Okay. Maybe not so romantic.
But worth it to see the look
s on everyone else’s faces as they were bustled out the door.
7
Johnny and I were lying in my bed. His arm was slung around my shoulder keeping me near as he could and my cheek was against his naked chest, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud of his heart.
“So, it’s Christmas on Saturday,” he said.
“Like I wasn’t aware of that.” Through the open door, I could see the remnants of the party littering my living room. Even after the cleaners did their magic, it was going to take hours to pack it away. I slid my hand under the covers and down to his groin.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What? Now? I was thinking about going down on you again but if you have a better idea…”
Johnny pulled me closer. His eyes twinkled as he rolled me over so I was lying along the length of his body. “I’d like nothing more, but I was actually referring to Christmas Day. What are you doing on Christmas Day?”
It wasn’t a difficult answer. Most Christmases for me consisted of a dinner eaten alone at an expensive restaurant, followed by the consumption of copious bottles of red wine in the privacy of my own home. Sometimes I bought myself a present and opened it on Christmas morning, pretending I didn’t know what was inside. If I was lucky my mother would deem to call me on the day but, mostly, I was ignored. It had been that way since the day my father had left us. My mother had descended into some sort of bubble where she blamed me for his leaving and, so, for the past two decades she’d been behaving as such. It didn’t matter that I’d been a kid, that I’d done nothing. I’d effectively lost both my parents that day. I’d been alone my entire life since then. And my heart had turned to stone because of it. But that seemed to be changing. I circled my finger around Johnny’s nipple and bent my lips to kiss the spot. “Nothing, most likely. Christmas is a non-event to me.”
“Why not come to my place? You can meet the family. I warn you though; Christmas lunch is always pretty big. Mum will try to overfeed you and old Uncle Arnie invariably drinks a shitload too much wine and tries to feel up the younger cousins.”
“Ahh, a genetic trait. At least your family will have someone to carry on the tradition when Arnie drops off the perch.”
Johnny pinched my bum. “Funny. I’m a reformed man. No more groping for me.”
“Why?” I wriggled against him.
“I don’t feel the need to grope… not unless it’s you I’m groping.”
Aww. That was sweet. Luckily I wasn’t the blushing type.
“Don’t go getting mushy on me, Johnny. You know I’ll run for the hills.”
“You won’t. You’ll stick around and get used to me. You’ll come to love me for the handsome, irresistible larrikin I am.”
“And you know this how? You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am. I’m the only bloke on Earth who can put up with your incessant screeching during the rugby.”
“That’s because you wear Sports Ears and can’t hear me.”
“And I like that you think the book is always better than the movie because I do, too.”
“It’s amazing how much we have in common,” I joked.
“Plus, I’m the best damn shag you’ve ever had. How can you knock me back?”
To prove it he began to do that certain thing he knew I loved. I felt myself beginning to give in to him, to surrender parts of me I’d never let see daylight. It frightened me. This wasn’t one-night-stand sex or friends with benefits. This was moving to a level that shook me to the core.
“Stop, Johnny, stop.”
His hands cupped my face. He looked so earnest and so very endearing. “What’s wrong?”
“I just—”
“—You think I’m only after one thing. You don’t believe me when I say I’d give up the wild life for you?”
“Can you blame me? You do have something of a reputation.”
“You have to trust me, Mel. My playboy days are over. I won’t let you down. I promise. I—”
My hand clapped over his mouth. “Shhh.”
He looked into my eyes and said the words without uttering a single one.
No. No. No. He couldn’t, could he? It was too soon. I might have been warming to the idea of a relationship but I certainly wasn’t ready for any type of statement involving the L word. I didn’t even know if that was in my vocabulary. I had to stop this ridiculousness before it went any further.
“I’m going for a shower. The cleaners will be here any minute to rectify that shithole in the lounge.” Faster than if Johnny announced he had some hideous transmittable disease, I leapt from the bed and ran for the safety of the bathroom. I contemplated the lock on the door but realised that was probably taking it one step too far. I mean, he was Johnny, not some degenerate axe murderer.
“Did I say something wrong?” he called after me.
I turned back. “No, no. Just get up. Get dressed.”
“Am I allowed to take a shower?”
“Not with me.”
“What about solo? I reek of sex. Not that that’s a bad thing.”
“Yes. Solo. By yourself. There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet.” And I slammed the door.
As I stood under the shower, my breathing began to return to normal. What wrong with me? Why did I keep pushing Johnny away? Of course, I didn’t have to thing for long. I knew I had issues with trust. The action wasn’t exclusive to Johnny; it was all men. As soon as I got to a point where it looked like something serious might be happening, I bailed. The insecurity was crippling me and I knew I had to move past it or I’d never be able to have a sensible relationship. And I couldn’t keep using my career as an excuse. And I certainly wasn’t going to start seeing a therapist for the problem. I wanted to be with Johnny. All I had to do was suck up my feelings and take it slowly. I could do it. Hell, if I could go skydiving for a dare, I could bloody well keep a boyfriend.
I hoped.
I rinsed my body and turned off the taps, standing for a second and watching the last drips of water run into the plughole. All I had to do was let down my guard. Try to see the positive rather than be eternally cynical. And what better person to do it with than Johnny? He was my best friend aside from Millie. He knew every little detail about me, things that I never shared with anyone. He was hot and intelligent and he looked great in a pair of rugby shorts. If I let myself admit it, he really did turn me on. Plus, he seemed to like me in a non-platonic way — a crucial factor if we were going to move beyond friends.
I slipped into my underwear and went back to the bedroom where the man in question was sprawled on the bed wearing only his boxers. Now that I’d decided to give it a go, the sight of his big hard body was enough to make me want to jump him, but I didn’t.
“What are you reading?” My eyes registered the book he had in his hand.
“Jane Eyre. I found it in your bookshelf. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? I was astounded that of all the things on my bookshelf that was the book he’d chosen.
“Not at all.”
Johnny flipped through the pages. “I haven’t read this book for years.”
“You’ve read Jane Eyre?”
Okay, clearly there was more to Johnny than even I knew.
“A few times. I’m not nearly as moronic as you seem to believe. I’ve read some Jane Austen too and Oscar Wilde.”
“Quite the Rhodes Scholar.”
“Come here.” Johnny put the book down and beckoned me to him. I lay down beside him and he wrapped his arm round my waist, his hand coming to rest on my bum. “You feel nice,” he whispered.
“Thank you.”
He rolled to his back and picked the book up, thumbing through the pages. “You know this part where Rochester tells Jane he feels like he has a string connecting his heart to hers?”
“Mmm.” I loved that scene. But then, being alone for most of my life, I connected with the story on a number of levels.
“Well, that’s sort of how I feel about
you.”
Oh God. Not again.
“I think we’re sort of the same,” Johnny continued. “We pretend we’re tough and we don’t need anyone but we’re not like that at all.”
That was true.
“Johnny?”
“Yes?”
“Can you stop being so nice to me? The whole idea of a relationship is freaking me out. You know I don’t go for all that soppy stuff and if you keep quoting the classics I’m going to start laughing.”
“Relationship?” He feigned horror. “I was only thinking I might get into your pants on a more regular basis if I showed you my tender side. I wasn’t going to propose.”
“Such a charmer.”
“You don’t want to be wooed, then?”
Oh puh-lease.
“It depends on how you intend on wooing me. If there’s going to be flowers and going down on one knee, you have to know I’ll most likely clock you with them.”
Johnny chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. How about we start with Christmas? You never gave me an answer.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know if I can do a big family Christmas. I’m not ready.”
“If you can handle a night at the club, I’m pretty sure you can give my family a run for their money. They’re pussies.”
“But I’m not used to crowds. I spend my holidays alone. I like being alone. I think we need to get to know each other a little more before I go foisting myself on your olds.”
Johnny sat up on the bed. “Sure. Okay. Well, if the actual day is a step too far, how about we meet for dinner tomorrow night? Let’s do a bit of a romantic first date thing where you frock up, we drink a shed load of expensive champers and then have rowdy Christmas sex.”
I couldn’t believe I actually agreed to the idea. But that was Johnny. He could charm the wool off a sheep’s back.
8
Christmas Eve.
I hadn’t seen Johnny for a whole day. Crazy really, that I’d been counting the hours but at odd periods during the day that’s exactly what I’d found myself doing. As I’d stood in the kitchen, gazing out over the rooftops while I drank my morning coffee, a vision of him in his boxer shorts and apron had crept into my head and forced my lips to curve against my coffee mug. He’d looked so cute — not that I’d ever tell him that. Johnny already thought he was God’s gift. He didn’t need an excuse to make his head swell any further. After that, I’d found myself thinking about him intermittently during the day. As I’d been out jogging, I’d imagined him running beside me. As I stood in the line at the checkout getting rammed by some old dear and her trolley, I thought of him putting his body between her and me, being protective the way that Sam was with Millie. Johnny would be good at protective. He had that look about him. When Kirby had rung to ask if I wanted to have Christmas dinner with her and her family, I’d declined but my mind had instantly gone to Johnny. If I was going to do Christmas he was the only one I wanted to do it with.