Sunkissed
Bronte Meredith
Copyright © 2020 Bronte Meredith
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
For Sophia, Andrew and my teenage self.
And for Jules. Robbie and Drew belong to you just as much as they belong to me. Thank you. You know what for.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter 1 – Robbie
Chapter 2 – Drew
Chapter 3 - Robbie
Chapter 4 – Drew
Chapter 5 – Robbie
Chapter 6 - Drew
Chapter 7 - Robbie
Chapter 8 – Drew
Chapter 9 – Robbie
Chapter 10 – Robbie
Chapter 11 – Drew
Chapter 12 - Robbie
Chapter 13 – Drew
Chapter 14 – Robbie
Chapter 15 – Robbie
Chapter 16 – Drew
Chapter 17 – Robbie
Chapter 18 – Drew
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Books In This Series
Dear Reader
This is an Aussie summer holiday Christmas book,
written by an Australian.
There are some words, phrasing and spelling that
may be unfamiliar to a non-Australian audience.
I have included just a few below for your reference.
You can contact me at
hey(at)nadiamackauthor(dot)com if you want to
ask about these or any other Aussie terms.
Enjoy Robbie and Drew
Bronte xx
Boot - the trunk of the car
Bush - native Australian forests
Caravan Park - a holiday park where you stay in
caravans, usually near a beach or a lake, some
families own permanent caravans on site that they
use as weekenders
Cozzie - swimming costume, bathing suit
Esky - a common brand cooler box
Goanna - a large monitor lizard native to Australia
Mozzie - mosquito
Patrol - volunteer surf life saving team who rescue swimmers at the beach
Thongs - flip flops
Vegemite - salty yeast based spread
Chapter 1 – Robbie
25th December - Christmas Day
Robbie threw his towel over his shoulder and pulled on his red and yellow cap as he grabbed his phone off the charger.
“Don’t forget the Esky, Rob,” his mum said. “Your dad wanted you to bring over the prawns, and I put some drinks in there too.”
Robbie passed the lounge room where his mother laid on the lounge in her latest one-piece swimming costume and some kind of gauzy, floaty beach wrap.
“Aren’t you supposed to be down there already with your dad?”
“Yeah, just getting my stuff together. It’s Christmas day, mum. He won't care if I’m a bit late.”
His mum looked away from her annual holiday viewing of The Lord of the Rings with an amused and slightly incredulous look. “You think? Tell your dad I’ll be down later with the BBQ stuff and beers.”
Robbie dropped a quick kiss on his mum’s cheek and grabbed the Esky, taking it down the stairs, through the front yard to the garage. Not particularly hopeful, he checked his phone to see if any of his mates were coming to the beach. One of them might be able to escape family time.
The three wheeled bicycle was parked out the front, the big basket in the back perfect for the Esky, an extra bag of ice from the garage freezer, Robbie’s volunteer lifesaver beach patrol bag, and the low deck chair he’d commandeered during the last school holidays from the surf club Lost and Found. He shoved his headphones on and hopped on the bike to ride to the beach.
Robbie wondered who was at the caravan park this Christmas. His mates were alright, boys he’d known since they started school when they were six, but their low grade, constant teasing about him being into guys had gotten old. Had been old, since the moment he’d come out to them, three years ago. The kids that came to their parents' permanent holiday caravans in the park each year, acted differently to his friends, or at least had the potential to be different. The high season for the permanent vans and the holiday cabins always gave Robbie a thrill of possibility and anticipation of someone new turning up.
An old, brightly coloured rent-a-combi van parked near the beach amenities block. Nearby, a family with a bunch of kids in brand new fluro two-piece cozzies and boardshorts ate watermelon. Had the parents decided it would be awesome to take three kids for a summer beach holiday in a tiny converted van, or were the family visitors from the caravan park?
The door to the combi opened and a young couple with dreadlocks and way too much tie dye tumbled out in a rumpled, laughing heap. Huh, no prizes for guessing what they’d been up to after a lazy beach Christmas day. He guessed the neon kids were from the caravan park.
Robbie lugged the Esky, now slippery with condensation, his huge duffle, and the deck chair to the beach patrol’s volunteer tent in front of the surf club.
“Rob. Glad you could join us, mate.” Robbie’s dad’s voice rang out from prime position at the centre of the patrol tent.
Robbie rolled his eyes but didn't respond. All the other old guys on patrol would just mock him more. They picked and picked at whatever they perceived as a weakness, teasing until they got a reaction, then teasing even more. When Robbie had first come out, the comments about ‘wearing a dress’ and ‘girly crying’ had shocked and upset him. His father had been furious with his oldest friends, insisting Robbie’s gayness was off the table as fodder for their amusement. Robbie had been grateful, but it had clarified to him how his father saw homosexuality: as something fragile and feminine. After that, Robbie had to ensure his dad and his dad's friends had no fuel for their teasing so he joined his dad at the most difficult and grueling Whitehaven Beach surf club events and volunteer roles.
Robbie ducked under the tinsel-adorned edges of the tent roof and dumped the Esky behind his dad's chair, taking a water bottle out of it. He grabbed his low deck chair and set it in the sand outside the tent. The mingling smells of sunscreen and food made Robbie’s belly rumble, though Christmas lunch had stuffed him. For Robbie, that specific scent— sunscreen, sickly sweet watermelon, and baked thank you treats from beachgoers— made up the scent of Christmas.
The Christmas day beach patrol was a mixed bag of volunteers, some rostered on, and some just taking the opportunity to spend the day at the beach instead of at home. Three girls Robbie knew slightly lay in tiny bikinis on towels next to the tent. They were almost identical, with their sun-bleached, blond hair, salty from the lazy beach days between the end of school and Christmas. Their red and yellow caps hung down their backs from soggy strings, the only indication they were part of the volunteer patrol team. They chatted and laughed, sharing a magazine claiming celebrity marriage disaster on the front. It didn't look like a group he could join easily — as if he’d want to, anyway.
Robbie stripped his vintage Billabong T-shirt and slathered on sunscreen, pushing his red boardshorts low on h
is hips to keep his tan even. He dropped into his chair and shoved his headphones on, turned up his old school, nineties rock playlist that his dad had set up for him as a kid, and closed his eyes. If they needed him for a rescue, someone would grab his attention.
Chapter 2 – Drew
25th December - Christmas Day
Drew flopped into a familiar hammock in the huge eucalypt trees overshadowing his mum’s small garden. When they’d first bought the permanent site with the caravan in the Whitehaven Beachside Caravan Park, she had spent that entire first summer creating the private haven. The muggy heat intensified the scents of her eclectic collection of English country garden roses and prickly, drought-resistant native bushes. Insects from the muddy trickle of a creek at the back of the caravan park droned and buzzed around him, kept at bay by full strength Bushman’s Friend insect repellent.
His mum’s loud, uncensored laughter carried. She and his dad were having post Christmas drinks a few sites away, not that she needed them. She’d busted out the champagne when they’d woken up to ham and mustard on toast for breakfast, and they had just kept going from there: through the present opening; the Christmas lunch preparation; all the little visits to neighbours to borrow, or lend, or share some essential food item forgotten in the rush to the van.
Lunch had been, as always, ridiculous. Drew’s mum insisted on squeezing the full turkey dinner into the tiny camp oven. She didn't even seem to like turkey. Drew certainly didn't. His dad did though. Maybe she did it for him.
Drew wished Isaac hadn’t gone to Spain with his parents for Christmas. The hurried, hidden kiss they shared the day they'd all travelled home the year before had replayed in his mind for months, fuelled by almost flirty texts and hidden innuendo when they spoke. Anticipation had instantly morphed to disappointment when Isaac called to tell him he wasn’t coming to Whitehaven. Without Isaac, Drew would hate the summer break.
He tried to access his data, no luck, of course, nothing had changed since he’d last tried fifteen minutes before, no WIFI access and he’d used the last of his prepaid data on the drive from Sydney. He wondered if he could hotspot from someone. If Isaac had come, he’d share his internet.
Drew closed his eyes and lay back in the hammock, foot still on the ground, pushing himself in a gentle swing. Summer holidays used to be filled with the same bunch of kids hanging out at the beach. Not just summer either, all the school holidays, weekends too. Last year he and Isaac had been the last two kids still coming to Whitehaven from the group, this year, Drew was alone.
Drew had just wanted to stay home in Sydney, but more than that, he didn't want to be at Whitehaven beach, without anyone, without Isaac. This Christmas holiday would be lonely. Drew sighed loudly.
“Andy, sweetie.” His mum’s loud voice echoed from somewhere out the front of the caravan. “Do you know where the chocolate covered almonds are?”
Drew had been slowly eating the packet over the last two days while his dad set up all the bikes and surfboards and BBQ implements for their fortnight at the beach. He didn't answer. She’d have a look, not find them, and put it down to too much alcohol; besides, he wasn't sure how she could possibly be hungry— not after the ridiculous amount of roast turkey lunch, with all the usual baked vegetables, coleslaw and prawns and the insane trifle that she always pulled out for dessert. How could she even think about food, let alone move to look for some?
“Andy.”
Drew opened his eyes. She stood over him, big dangly light up Christmas tree earrings flashing, paper hat from a Christmas cracker on her head, full plastic wine glass dangling from one hand. Damn, he thought he’d get away with not answering.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing? Do you know where the chocolate covered almonds are? Why aren’t you hanging out with the other kids?” Drew just looked at her, not that she gave him time to answer anyway. “Oh, sweetie, are you still sulking because Isaac isn’t here? There are loads of kids here who you can hang out with.”
“Really, mum? There’s nobody here within three years of my age. Do you want me to go hang out with the fourteen-year-old girls, or with Greg and James?”
His mum's eyes darkened at the mention of the older boys. They weren’t bad exactly, but if things went missing or got a bit damaged, Greg and James likely had something to do with it.
“Why don’t you go for a bike ride?” she asked, gesturing to the old bikes his dad had spent the entire first day of their holiday tuning up.
Drew rolled his eyes. The bikes were crap and the temperature had risen way too high to ride, anyway. “Can’t you just top up my data for me?”
She took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself to make a point. “You can’t play around on the internet on Christmas day. Go down to the beach or something. Go hang out with the boys from the club.”
Chapter 3 - Robbie
25th December - Christmas Day
Whenever a beachgoer slogged through the sand between Robbie and the sun the dark flicker of shadow penetrated his sunglasses and his closed eyelids. He dozed to the music of Guns and Roses, Nirvana, and Silverchair.
Robbie woke to a change in temperature as something blocked the sun. He scratched his belly, nails stinging recently sunburned skin, and opened his eyes sleepily.
Someone had set up a huge shade tent right in front of him. A wave of irritation hit him, followed by another escalating wave that he had to be at the beach for patrol at all. Thanks a lot, mate. He might have slept his way through it in a Christmas food coma without the interruption to his sunbaking. Seriously, couldn't this guy have set up two meters to the right? The beach was crowded, but it wasn’t so bad he had to pitch a tent next to the patrol.
Robbie huffed, tempted to stand over the inconsiderate person and glare til they were uncomfortable enough to move their whole operation. Instead, he sighed and stood up, picked up his stuff and moved out of the shade. He dropped his chair a bit further down the beach and huffed again, staring at the guy.
He was young, way younger than Robbie expected. His dark unruly hair flopped in his face and he flicked his curls back out of his eyes with an absently irritated air, turning the page of his book.
The realisation that honestly, moving two meters for the sun was not that big a deal hit Robbie suddenly and he laughed. It was Christmas, for God’s sake. And he slept on the beach, full of food, listening to a great playlist.
The guy looked up and Robbie smiled, recognising him immediately: Andrew freaking McConnell. Gorgeous Andrew freaking McConnell, who he hadn’t seen since last Christmas, or talked to in years.
The Holiday Park kids were fine but seasonal, and Robbie hadn’t made the effort to hang out with them the last few years. He had local friends, living in Whitehaven all year round. Besides it was bad enough that his embarrassing lack of control over his emotions at fourteen had pushed him to come out to both his friends and the transient holiday makers in one explosive outburst. He didn't need to spend time with those kids every year, and relive that overly emotional response to his friend's gay "jokes".
Andrew had always been kind and quiet, somewhat peripheral to the packs of caravan and town kids that formed every holiday, but always there. He seemed to be a little bit different, a little bit other, more interested in one-on-one conversation or holiday reading than hanging out with the group.
When Robbie’s family and friends made a point to be inclusive and overtly accepting of him being gay, he felt he should be grateful because they tried not to make a big deal about it. Except they did make a big deal about it, and Robbie resented that, and then felt guilty about resenting it. Seeing Andrew opened up the summer holiday to possibility and the anticipation of a potential friend who wasn’t tainted by the local behaviour towards him— the possibility to ignore any embarrassing memories.
“Andy?” Robbie stepped forward, hoping to have found a mate for the day.
“Robert,” Andrew said.
Robbie’s smile immediately dimmed. “Robbie.”
> “Huh.” Andy tilted his head and looked intently at Robbie’s face. Then he smiled, his seriousness blooming into a beautiful open expression. “Drew,” he said.
Robbie wasn't sure what he meant for a moment, then he realised.
“Huh,” he said.
Drew didn't reply. He jigged his leg, glancing at Robbie every few moments then back to his book.
Looming over him felt more awkward than leaving, and Robbie gazed around, kind of hoping something would happen on the beach to call him away, as long as nobody was seriously hurt.
Robbie grabbed his chair, when he turned to take it to the patrol tent, Drew stared at him. He blinked rapidly and turned quickly back to his book.
Robbie wondered if Drew knew how he looked when he was flustered. So hot. He plonked his chair in the sand, next to Drew’s towel. “How was your Christmas?” Robbie asked after a long pause. He tried, really tried to start some kind of conversation.
“Okay.”
Robbie waited for more, for anything really. He tried not to stare at Drew’s bent head, the line of his neck that dipped into his long-sleeved white t-shirt.
“Yours?” Drew’s voice interrupted Robbie’s verging-on-inappropriate thoughts.
He shook his head to clear the conjured image of Drew, all skinny and leanly muscled, pale with a dark smattering of hair running from his belly downwards.
“Hmm?”
Robbie shook his head again at a reminding grunt from Drew. “Yeah, uh, it was ok.”
He wasn't sure if it was him, or if Drew just wanted to read on the beach in silence and would dismiss anyone who interrupted. Robbie decided to leave him alone. Drew would be at the caravan park for a couple of weeks at least.
Robbie lay back in the chair, stretched his legs out and tried to remember if he and Drew had spoken during the past three summers. He didn't think so. Nothing about the boy beside him sprang to mind when he thought of summer days packed with caravan park holiday teenagers and locals banding together to swim and surf, take over the fish and chip shop, or make out with their latest holiday crush.
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