Whilst I agree with him, I get the feeling he’s super passionate about this. Tread lightly. “True. I guess it depends on what kind of work you do.”
His brows pull together. “What do you do?”
Finally, a question about me. Now with all the environmental talk, I don’t want to answer. I clear my throat. “I’m in event planning. You know, weddings and functions.”
He snorts. “So, you’re all about the table settings and decorations and stuff.”
Is that what he thinks event planning is all about? “Yes, that’s a part of it, but there’s more to it, of course. It’s about the experience. Food, music, lighting, the entertainment.”
“And you like your job?” He says it as if it’s not his thing.
I push out my chest and hold my head higher. “I love it.”
“Does your company use all sustainable products?”
“Um …” Do they? “I’m not sure. I’m not in management. I’m sure they’re onto that kind of thing.”
He clears his throat. “And what do they do with stuff after an event?”
I shrug. “They reuse some things. I guess it all comes down to what the customer wants.”
“Yeah, well, if I were you, I’d be confronting my boss and making them accountable.”
My brows pull together as I contemplate how to respond. I don’t want to get into an argument with him over this. “If there’s an opportunity to bring it up next staff meeting, I will.”
Whilst he has a point, I’m not in a position to start questioning my boss’s business decisions.
Silence overtakes the conversation as we step up the narrow footpath to the main car park.
A sense of relief washes over me. The date is almost over. I hate that I’m feeling like this.
“I’m sorry, Abbie,” River says and shakes his head.
I turn and focus on his dark eyes. “What for?”
“I’m passionate about the earth. I don’t want to come across as pushy, but if we don’t take responsibility and step up, what will be left for future generations?”
If anything, I admire his conviction. The world does need more people to take climate change seriously. “Do you want kids someday?”
“God no. The world is already overpopulated.”
Wow. A future with River is one without the prospect of children.
I guess it’s good to know now where he stands on the issue, because someday, I want kids. At least two. To River, I guess that makes me a burden on the earth. I should tell him I want children, but I can’t see the point. There’s no spark here.
When we approach his van, River slides open one of the rear doors and tosses in his jacket. It makes a tinkling sound.
I peek inside. Woah. Giant hessian bags are loaded up to the ceiling. A fermented smell hits me. Are they full of aluminium cans?
“Sorry about the smell,” he says, “I didn’t get time to get to the recycling point on my way.”
Crap. He must drink a lot of soft drink. “Oh, that’s okay.”
My mum collects them, and she earns her ten cents apiece reward even though she rinses everything first. Should I share that tip with him, or would that be rude?
He laughs. “You know, I got this haul from a dumpster on a building site. It’s constantly loaded from all the tradies. They’re throwing away money. Not only that, but think of what they’re doing to the environment.”
River goes dumpster-diving?
“Yeah,” I say, and let out a heavy sigh. “Gotta recycle.”
“Speaking of,” River says and jingles his car keys, “better get to the depot. Otherwise it’s going to be a pretty uncomfortable night’s sleep.”
He sleeps in his car? For real?
What now? I don’t want to see him again. How do we say goodbye? The thought of hugging him and having to hold my breath to avoid the stench has bile rising up my throat.
He smiles and extends his hand. “All the best, Abbie.”
Thank you for making this easier.
I smile, more out of relief, take his hand, and shake. “You too.”
Without another word, River gets in his car and vacates the car park.
***
When I get home, after washing my hands twice, I flop back on the bed. Is it my imagination or are these dates getting worse?
My phone beeps with a message.
River: Abbie. Whilst our signs are compatible, and you seem like a lovely person, I don’t think we’re aligned when it comes to what we can contribute to the earth. I wish you all the best and hope your boss is responsive to the sustainability chat. River
I roll over and bury my face in my pillow. It barely muffles the scream that erupts from my mouth.
That’s it. I am SO done.
A series of taps comes from my door.
I sit and brush back my hair from my face. “Yeah?” I croak.
The door opens. Will is standing there, arms crossed against his broad chest, shoulder leaning against the doorjamb.
I swipe the wetness from my cheeks and swing my legs over the edge of my bed. I’m crying over the dumpster-diver?
His shoulders drop. He shakes his head and steps farther into my room. “Abbie Yabbie,” he whispers.
“What?” I bark, and instantly regret it. It’s not his fault I’m doomed.
“Hey, I need help with something.”
Really? He needs help now?
“With what?”
He holds out both hands. “It’s important.”
I huff and slip my hands in his. Will pulls me to my feet. Strong arms wrap around me and hold me to his warm chest.
Don’t cry.
He leans back and grips my shoulders. “Three Mills Bakery have put out two new flavoured doughnuts today. I can’t go alone. Do a guy a favour?”
Something between a laugh and a sob blurts from my mouth. God, I love this guy. Snot dribbles from my nose onto my lip.
Will laughs and reaches for a tissue on my bedside table. He hands it to me.
I wipe my face and lean into him for another hug.
He runs his knuckles over the top of my head and walks me towards the door. “Come on. Let’s go. You can tell me about the latest douche on the way.”
I swallow down. “What makes you think there’s a douche?”
“Why else do you go screaming into your pillow, Abs?”
He’s got me there. Sometimes it annoys me how well he knows me.
“So what are these new flavours you speak of?” I ask to change the subject.
“Um, white chocolate and berry and some other custardy concoction.”
My taste buds’ water. “How fast can you drive?”
Chapter Nine – CALLUM
Late November
I run through the shopping list once more and check my basket. Icing sugar, flour, eggs, butter, sugar, raspberries, and white chocolate buds.
That’s everything I needed for my goodies for the office bake-off except … vanilla.
I reach for the small bottle of extract on the shelf beside the icing pens. An arm stretches out in the same direction. I pull back my hand.
“Oh, sorry,” a deep voice says.
I turn to face a tall guy with a solid build and a baby face.
“You go ahead,” he says in a smoother tone.
I find myself staring at him as I snatch up the vanilla. Do I know him?
He grabs two different brands of sprinkles and shakes them. “They have to be the right shade of purple and pink apparently.” He smiles, revealing a nice set of teeth. Sigh. The state of someone’s teeth says a lot about them.
I return his smile. “I agree. Colour is everything.”
He tosses the containers in his shopping basket, and then goes back for a third on the shelf below. “They’re not for me,” he says and smiles. “In case you were wondering.”
“Oh yeah?”
He runs his free hand down the front of his plain white tee and slips it into his jeans pocket, drawin
g my eyes lower. Eyes up, Abbie. “They’re for my sister.”
“Sweet. I wouldn’t have held it against you if they were for you. Everyone deserves sprinkles.”
“No doubt.” He runs his tongue over his lower lip and grins as he takes a step right into my personal space.
My heart beats faster and my palms break into a sweat.
“You’re Will’s little sister, right?”
“Um, yeah?” He knows my brother? Is that why he seems familiar?
“I’m Callum. I used to play footy with him. That was a while back, though.”
I squint as I take in his face and try to picture him. Will gave it up when he was eighteen. That was like twelve years ago.
“I was the fullback.” He runs his hand over his super-short light brown hair. “My hair was much longer then. I was a lot faster too.”
My eyes widen as I recall the coach and parents calling out to Sullivan from the sidelines. He was the fastest on the field by far.
“You’re Sullivan?”
He winks. “That’s me.” He snorts air from his nose and shakes his head. “Wow. I can’t believe you remember.”
“I spent every Sunday on the sidelines for years.” I play-punch him in the shoulder. “I thought you looked familiar. I just couldn’t work it out.”
“I can’t believe it,” he says. His shoulders drop. “Little Abbie Yabbie.”
I laugh. “Oh God. My brother still calls me that.” He remembered?
“Little, Abbie, huh?”
“Hey, I’m not little anymore, so you can’t call me that.”
He moves closer, his breath warming my ear. “That’s right. You’re not so little anymore.” He leans back and runs his eyes up and down my body.
Goosebumps ripple over my skin as if I’m standing in the middle of the supermarket naked.
“You got—” he says and breathes in.
“Tall,” I bark out before he gets the chance to say curvy or booby. He probably wouldn’t say it, but he’s definitely thinking it. “I think the word you’re looking for is tall.”
“Nope. Beautiful was the word I was looking for, actually.” He looks in my basket. “So, Abbie Yabbie. Are you stocking up on ingredients to make your boyfriend a cake or something?”
“Nope.”
“So, no boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Cool. Me either.”
I laugh. He’s funny. “We’re having a bake-off at work to raise funds for Rural Aid. I’m making raspberry and white chocolate cupcakes.”
His shoulders drop as he sighs. “That’s awesome. I mean, about the cause.”
I place my free hand on my hip. “So raspberry and white choc isn’t your thing?”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Anything sweet is a dead-set winner for me.”
“Well, if you’re anywhere near Black Tie Events in Kingston tomorrow, I guarantee your sweet tooth will go crazy.”
He tilts his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
There’s a pause in the conversation as Callum stares at me with soft eyes.
“What? Is there something on my face?” I swipe my hand over my mouth and chin.
He grins. “Do you wanna go out some time?”
I swallow. Am I ready to put on some heels and do the first date dance again?
I’ve been stolen from, been stalked, had my nose broken, been sleazed on, saved the broken-hearted from drowning in their vomit, been lectured on environmental responsibility, escaped from a mummy’s boy, convinced someone to come out of the closet, been pummelled with paintball pellets, and been catfished by a creep. Can I put myself through it again?
Christmas is this time next month. I promised myself I would try.
Dad always said fishing was a game of patience and persistence. He’d probably have the same theory about dating.
I have to take another shot.
“Or not,” he says breaking the silence. “That’s cool.”
“Sorry,” I say on an exhale. I reach out and grip his bicep. It’s harder than I expect. “I’ve just had a rough year when it comes to dating.”
“I tell you what.” He shrugs. “How about we get together, have a burger or something. If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
I extend my hand and we shake. “Sounds good.”
We exchange numbers.
At home, my spirits are higher than high as I prepare to make the best damn cupcakes I’ve ever created.
***
My eyes bulge as Callum walks into the open foyer of my office.
Crikey!
He’s here.
His smile grows wide as his long legs stride to the long trestle table loaded with sweet treats. In a fluorescent orange polo shirt, fitted navy cargo pants, and boots, with his head held high and a cheeky smile, he’s a walking dream. I’ve always had an eye for a tradie.
“What’s your fancy?” Chanti says, stepping around the table to greet him.
A sting of jealousy hits me. I have no idea why. Chanti’s just being friendly.
Despite her greeting, Callum’s eyes don’t leave mine. “I’ll take every last raspberry and white chocolate cupcake you’ve got.”
Chanti turns to me, just in time to witness my face and neck flare with heat.
I swallow hard as I reach for a cardboard box and start loading the ten cakes which are left.
Callum places a hundred dollar note on the table in front of me. “Morning, Abbie,” he says in a deeper voice.
I didn’t say ‘hi’ already?
My voice catches in my throat when our eyes meet again. “Morning to you too, Callum,” I say when I find my voice.
“I’ll get you some change,” Chanti says, sweeping up the money.
“No, please,” Callum says, and waves his hand at her. “Just add it to the tally.”
Sweet and generous.
I pass him the box. “Thanks for coming in and for your support.” I draw a deep breath and control it as I release it. “It’s nice to see you again.” And so soon.
Callum takes the box and tilts his head to the side. “Walk me out?”
I nod. “Sure.”
He brushes his shoulder against mine as we stroll towards the main door. It sends a shiver powering up my spine.
“You doin’ anything tomorrow tonight?” he asks.
I had planned on a night with Netflix. With any luck, I’m about to get a much better offer.
“Nope. You?”
He shrugs. “How about we grab a bite? Catch up.”
Butterflies rip around my stomach in frenzied celebration.
“I’d like that.”
***
After a warm week, the strong afternoon breeze has cooled things down. The weatherman has been predicting rain, but it hasn’t eventuated. I’ve ditched the Spanx and chosen a long flowy dress.
Will drops me off at the far end of Kingston Foreshore. I need to take a walk first and calm my nerves. I couldn’t tell Will who I was meeting tonight. That’d only add to the jumpiness in my stomach. It’s been more intense leading into this first date than any other.
Is it because I’m putting too much pressure on myself? The fear of dating failure? Or is it because I’ve already had a taste of the sizzle of chemistry between us and I want more?
I mean, the guy bought every single one of my cupcakes—without knowing what kind of cook I am.
Lucky for him, I’m a queen when it comes to baking.
When I reach the far end of the foreshore, Callum is waiting out the front of Beef and Barley holding a black jacket.
He’s in dark jeans, a grey V-neck T-shirt, and black Converse sneakers.
My mouth waters as if my brain computes that I’m gawking at a delectable dessert cabinet.
Snap.
He looks suitably yum.
His eyes are fixed on me like he knew I’d come from this direction.
I can’t hide the smile that splits my f
ace as I walk until my toes almost meet his.
“Abbie,” he says and plants a soft kiss to my cheek. He leans back and smiles. “You look … wow.”
I swallow. “You look pretty wow, too.”
God, that sounds so cheesy.
He winks and grabs my hand and pulls me towards the main door. Kisses and hand holding already?
It feels right.
A waitress shows us to a table for two.
“You know, I was pretty popular on the building site yesterday,” Callum says as we take our seats.
“Oh, yeah?” I smile.
He chuckles. “Yeah. The sugar slump was real, but we got shit done.”
“What do you do on-site?”
“Oh, I’m a carpenter. Went into the trade straight out of school and haven’t looked back.”
Good with his hands … “Nice.”
“And I’m guessing you’re in event planning,” he says as menus are placed in front of us. “How long have you worked at Black Tie?”
“Almost three years. I started as the admin assistant and worked my way into events. I work with some great people.”
“You gotta be with a good crowd,” he says and clucks his tongue.
I smile. “Absolutely.”
As we scale the list of burgers, I tell Callum about my studies and plans within the company.
He listens intently. It’s a little unnerving having his full attention, but at the same time, electrifying.
Eventually we are interrupted by a waitress. I order a cider and the Turbo Bird burger. Callum orders the Uncle Sam and a beer.
When the waitress leaves us, the late afternoon sun beams across Callum’s face. His jawline shimmers.
Oh, crap. Is he a closet drag queen? He has great bone structure and a smooth baby face. He looks after his skin. Is it from wearing make-up and cleansing and moisturising?
“Um, I think you have glitter on your cheek.”
His eyes widen. “Well, this is embarrassing.” He smooths his hands over either side of his face. “Did I get it all?”
I take a napkin from the holder and reach across and dust off the remaining sparkles. “I think I got the last of it.”
Nine First Dates Page 8