Plight

by K. M. Golland

  “Why are you laughing at me?” I snapped.

  “Because you’re funny. You always were, and, clearly, you still are.”

  “I’m not. I’m being serious. I have a boyfriend. His name is Chris. I live with him.”

  Elliot’s smile faded, and he uncrossed his arms. And for a moment, I thought I noticed disappointment brush over his face when he cast his stare to the ground. But it was only momentarily — his response far from passive.

  “Another lie. If you were dating this Chris, Jeanette would know about it.”

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  “She would not. I don’t tell her everything.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “I do not.”

  He waggled his eyebrows, and by the god of fertility, it made my ovaries multiply. Why is he so frustratingly sexy?

  Growling yet again, I stormed toward the door and kicked the shovel out of the way, allowing it to swing open and let light explode between us.

  He lifted his hand to shield his eyes, and when they were able to focus I smiled, sweetly. Victoriously. “Fine. You think I tell her everything? Then I will. Starting with the fact you lied about us.”

  What had I gotten myself into? Never in my life had I felt so caught in a web I couldn’t get out of. A web spun by my own arms and legs … and big mouth. And that said a lot considering I’d dealt with my fair share of corporate sharks and hardened criminals. But even then I’d always worn an I’ve-got-this-in-the-bag pretence and managed to seal said bag and toss it over my shoulder like the cocky solicitor I was.

  Not this time, though. And not with Danielle. Shit! Is she really going to break my mother’s heart and tell her I lied? And does she really have a boyfriend? Naaa, she doesn’t. She was lying about that Chris dude. She had to be.

  Watching her brown hair swish over her puffy, marshmallow-looking, coat-covered shoulder, she stormed out of the shed and into the light of day with a renewed sense of determination, sending my stomach into a series of backflips. She IS going to tell my mother. Fuck!

  “Danielle, wait!” I scrambled after her, trying not to draw attention to the fact I was about to piss my pants.

  I loved my mother. She treated me, and my sister Laura, well. But she wanted what I hadn’t been ready to give her — more grandchildren. Laura had recently disembarked the baby train, so the onus had quickly fallen upon me to climb aboard. And it wasn’t that I was opposed to riding baby trains, I just hadn’t wanted to ride them with the few girls I’d dated. The trains we’d been on were express trains to a destination of ‘It was fun, but goodbye’.

  Mum wanted more little Parkers running and crawling around. Badly. And she wanted me to finally tie the knot. Really badly. She was forever on my case about finding ‘the one’ and settling down, even having attempted to arrange a few blind dates on the odd occasion. Sure, she was meddlesome, overly pushy, and extremely annoying, but she meant well. Her only wish was to see me happy and in love, which wasn’t something she’d been privy to during my adult life. She was also quite sensitive and excessively melodramatic, which meant that, in mere seconds, when Danielle delivered the news that I’d been bullshitting about us being engaged, my life was about to end, or at the very least be horribly miserable for the next umpteen years.

  Falling into step beside the power-walking Yeti, I lowered my voice. “Please wait.”

  “No! We need to set the record straight!”

  “We will. I promise. Just not yet. Please!” I took hold of her arm and spun her toward me, securing her to my chest.

  She smelled like roses and oranges. And the way her hair curled like chocolate as it fell over her shoulder, she could quite easily be mistaken for a lavish dessert.

  “Elliot, let me go,” she hissed, her cheeks glowing.

  “Hear me out first.”

  “No.”

  Danielle tried to pull free of my grip, but all I could do was hold her tighter and smile.

  “Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that? It’s creepy.”

  I ignored her and smiled wider. “Remember that time when we were standing on the rope swing at the park together?”

  Recognition blazed from her brown eyes and she, too, finally smiled. “Yes.”

  “It was a bit like we are now, huh?”

  She shrugged and blushed, and I liked it.

  “Neither of us wanted to let go first for fear of falling off the swing.”

  “That’s what you think,” she scoffed. “I wasn’t afraid of falling, Elliot.” Danielle bit her lip and tried to look over my shoulder, and all I wanted to do was take that lip into my mouth and help her nibble on it. I’d only ever tasted those lips once before, and by my very vivid memory, they tasted like she smelled.

  Heat waved over my body, and my cock stirred. Shit!

  “You weren’t afraid?” I asked, bending just slightly to create less friction between us.

  “Nope.”

  “So why’d you hold on to me for so long?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to fall.”

  I nearly laughed in her face; she was funny and still overly stubborn. She was also refusing to look at me, her eyes darting back and forth, fighting their pull toward me.

  “Elliot, you need to let go of me, now. Reminiscing about the past isn’t helping us in the present.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Her eyes finally met mine, but only fleetingly, because they soon found my lips. I swallowed and lightly licked them for her.

  “Oh no!” she objected, her tiny finger snaking its way between us and nearly poking me in the eye. “No, no, NO!”

  “No what?”

  She pointed to my lips. “No that.”

  Just as I was about to lick them again, teasingly, because I knew she both loved and hated it, my mother called my name. Fuck, not now.

  “Elliot, I need your help lifting these logs.”

  Danielle snapped her head toward my mother’s squawking voice before flicking her eyes to me then back to my mother, her enthusiastic eye-tennis a good indication that she was getting ready to confess.

  “Please don’t,” I begged.

  Her mouth opened, and I panicked and did what any normal, longstanding, lovesick friend who hadn’t been in this position before would do.

  I kissed her.

  Hard.

  Unashamedly.

  A wave of heat hit me once again, but unlike before, nothing could compare to the inferno blazing up my legs and exploding into my heads the moment my lips touched hers. And yeah, it was definitely heads, as in plural, because the head of my cock was its own Survivor torch. It was life in a jungle of trousers and boxer briefs, and there was absolutely no extinguishing it while she was in my arms.

  “Ell … ee … ot,” she mumbled around my tongue. “What … are … you—”

  Mum giggled. “Ooooooh! Look at you two no longer hiding in your closets. JEANETTE, are you seeing this?”

  Danielle squirmed just like my eleven-month-old nephew did when I picked him up for a hug, but when I softly and meticulously stroked her tongue with mine, her fight waned and she fell limp against me. Victory.

  In that moment, the world faded away. There was no mum, no Jeanette, no fake Chris, and no barking dogs. It was just Danielle and I, like when we were kids, except we’d never been this close, enough that I could feel her breath on my face, thread my fingers through her hair, and clench my hand over her hip … close enough for her nails to dig into my skin like a Velociraptor. Jesus Christ!

  Fighting the pain shooting up my arm for as long as possible, I persisted against her sudden attack. But I was only human — a human that could bleed and probably was.

  “What are you doing?” I groaned, pulling back to assess the damage she’d inflicted to my arm

  “What am I doing?” she growled, quietly. Danielle fired an embarrassed, sweet smile toward our gawking mothers then turned back to me, her sweetness gone. “The question is what are you doing
?”

  “I’m kissing you. What does it look like?”

  “Did I say you could kiss me?”

  I rubbed my arm and fake chuckled for the purpose of keeping up our ruse. “No. I didn’t know I needed a written invitation?”

  “Well …” she paused, her chest huffing, her face gorgeously flushed. “You do.”

  We stared at one another for a few moments more before she turned on her heel and stormed off, and, thankfully, it was in the opposite direction of our grinning mothers.

  Over an hour later, she hadn’t returned. I was worried, and not because I thought she’d confessed my excellent lie. I was fairly sure she hadn’t, seeing as I was still alive and kicking and that my mother wasn’t in tears nor giving me her silent treatment. So I was confident our secret was still … secret. What I wasn’t confident over was Danielle’s whereabouts or frame of mind, and I honestly felt like a bucket of shit as a result.

  I’d come on strongly because I hadn’t been able to help myself. I hadn’t seen her in so long and it had made me a little needy. She hadn’t changed and yet she’d changed so much. She was a woman now; a feisty, sexy as hell woman that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. There was just something about her, about our connection and our past that fizzled like a firecracker between us. And it couldn’t just be me that felt it — forces and feelings such as those were never singular.

  Plunging my shovel into the ground, I pushed it in further with my foot before levering what felt like my billionth scoop of dirt before dumping it into the wheelbarrow beside me. I couldn’t complain, though; the constant movement was keeping my balls from freezing solid. I adjusted them, for added reassurance, then pushed the wheelbarrow across the garden site toward the skip bin, slowing when I heard distant music that sounded like a ringtone.

  Lowering the handles to place the wheelbarrow down, I pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, heading toward the sound, a heavy drumbeat, which I soon recognised as the theme song to Game of Thrones. Humming along to the tune while scouring the ground in front of my feet, the song’s volume increased with every step I took until I spotted a phone.

  I reached into the grass and picked it up, answering it. “Hello?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Who’s this?” I replied, smiling, her voice sounding familiar.

  “Lots?”

  “Danielle?”

  “Why do you have my phone?”

  I shrugged like an idiot. “Because I just found it.”

  “Where?”

  “On the ground.”

  “Crap.”

  “It’s fine. Still works.”

  “Clearly,” she grumbled. “Crap. Crap. Crap. I need it.”

  I scratched my head. “Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  My scratching stopped. “Really? You left without saying goodbye?”

  “I was in a hurry.” Bullshit! ‘In a hurry’ my arse.

  I didn’t believe her. She’d bailed because she didn’t want to admit she’d just experienced the best kiss of her life.

  “DAMN IT! I really need my phone.”

  “Then come back and get it.”

  She let out a long, whiny moan. “I can’t be stuffed driving all that way.”

  “All that way? Where do you live?”

  “Essendon.” Fair enough.

  Essendon was roughly an hour’s drive. I wouldn’t want to travel all that way just for my phone, either.

  Glancing at my watch, I decided I’d help her out. “Look, I’m about to finish up here. What’s your address? I’ll drop it off on my way home.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you going out of your way.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Really? Where do you live?”

  “In the city.”

  “In the city city?”

  “Yes, in an apartment.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Okay, so long as it’s not too much trouble.”

  “It’s not.”

  It was … a little, but I wanted to see where she lived.

  “Okay. Do you have a pen?”

  Again, like an idiot, I patted my chest for a pen and notepad. “No. I have a wheelbarrow and shovel, though.”

  She laughed, which made me feel a little better. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t really need to write it down. It’s easy to remember, especially for you. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, fire away.”

  “23 Court Court, Essendon.”

  “Court Court?”

  “Yep.”

  “Too easy.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Silence.

  I waited for her to say something but it was clear she wasn’t going to after several seconds of nothing. “Right. See you soon.”

  “Yes. Bye.”

  Danielle hung up, and I grinned as I pocketed her phone. Right. Let’s see if this Chris really does exist.

  Chris existed, because he was the six foot four, tower of lean muscle who answered her door.

  “She’s just out back with Pugly,” he explained, after I clarified I was at the correct address and we introduced ourselves. And, yeah, I took note that he never mentioned being her boyfriend, instead saying, “I’m Chris. Come in.”

  “Pugly?” I asked with a chuckle, as I followed him into a fairly new, two-storey townhouse.

  “Yeah, Dani’s ugly as fuck pug dog.”

  Another clue to strengthen my case against Chris being her boyfriend was the fact he referred to her as Dani. She’d always hated that abbreviation so I doubted she’d allow it as a term of endearment.

  I smiled to myself. “Pug dog? Riiiight. So, do you live here, too?” I casually added, taking in the polished floorboards, freshly painted walls, and stunning framed scenic photographs lining the hallway we were walking along, one in particular catching my eye and halting my steps.

  Chris smirked and double-backed. “Yeah, I do.”

  “This is a great pic.”

  “Sure is!”

  “Is it the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge?”

  “Yep. My cousin took it.” He gestured up and down the hallway with his hands. “She took all of these shots.”

  “They’re pretty impressive.”

  So impressive, that I was considering asking for her details so that I could buy a few for my office.

  “They are, but that one’s my favourite because she’s scared as shit of heights.”

  I pursed my lips. “That’s a fair effort then.”

  “I reckon. I’m shit scared of snakes but would never hug one just because I love to hug.”

  I narrowed my eyes but didn’t look his way. Coming from a tank of a guy, let alone any guy, it was a weird thing to have said, despite making perfect sense.

  “Anyway,” he added, continuing along the hallway. “It’s amazing what you can achieve when you put your mind to it.”

  Again, I narrowed my eyes, confused, and smiled wryly as I followed him into the living room area, a jungle of gym equipment, inspirational quote pictures, and buckets of protein powder helping me find instant clarity. Of course! It all makes sense now. He’s one of those optimistic, bodybuilder life-is-what-you-get-out-of-it dicks.

  Swallowing my laugh, because I’d be willing to bet my left testicle that he was Danielle’s gay friend as opposed to her boyfriend, I pointed to the Essendon Bombers football team photo on the wall above the weight bench.

  “Bombers supporter, huh?”

  He smirked. “You could say that.”

  Something in his smirk stirred an uncomfortable niggle in my gut, as if he was secretly laughing at me and not the other way around. I didn’t like it. Just like I didn’t like it when I was in the courtroom and my counterpart had the upper hand. Plus, there was an uncanny familiarity about Chris that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  I stepped closer to the picture. “I’m a bulldogs supporter, myself.”


  He punched the boxing bag. Twice. “You’d be happy with their efforts last year then.”

  “One of the happiest years of my life,” I said, ignoring his show ponying. “Seeing them hold up that premiership cup was pretty special.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I reckon it would be.”

  My eyes zeroed in on the picture and I blinked then blinked again, finding him standing there, beside his teammates. “Shit! I knew you looked familiar. You’re Chris Mitchell.”

  “The one and only,” he said with a cheesy grin, adding in a few extra punches to the boxing bag.

  “Well, technically, there’s probably millions of Chris Mitchell’s in the world.”

  His grin dropped, as did his arms. “So, how do you know Dani?” he asked, his tone flat and serious.

  Before I could answer, a skittering, scratching sound grew louder and louder until a four-legged, ball of ugly canine barrelled into me.

  “DUDLEY! Get back here. I haven’t dried your feet.” Danielle rounded the corner and pulled to a stop, towel in hands, her nose as red as Rudolph’s.

  Lowering my hand to her overexcited pug’s head, I inconspicuously held him and his wet paws away from my pants.

  She winced. “Sorry. His feet are wet.”

  “Paws,” I clarified.

  “What?”

  “Paws, not feet. Dogs have paws.”

  She glared at me. “You’re early.”

  “Traffic was light.” I picked up Pugly and held him out to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, collecting him within her towel. He licked her face, and she spat. “Damn it, Dudley. Why can’t you eat roses?”

  Chris opened his bar fridge, pulled out a beer, cracked it open, and offered it to me. I declined, so he swigged it himself and flopped into an enormous beanbag. “So, how do you two know each other?”

  “We were neighbours when we were kids,” Danielle answered, quickly, as if I would offer an alternative explanation.

  She knew me well.

  Chris looked between us both and nodded, a shit-eating grin on his face. Yeah, he’s definitely not her boyfriend.