Chapter Sixteen
After the long, agonising walk home, I shuffled my flip flops across my front lawn and thought to myself how heat stroke can make you delirious.
I stood in the open doorway of the fridge, basking in the coolness that poured over my overheated, sweat-sheened skin. I greedily downed a bottle of water. It was a good thing that Mum and Dad were out as I made my way to peel off my bikini, ever grateful to be rid of it as I headed for the shower.
I let the lukewarm cascade of delicious clean water wash all the sand, sunscreen and sweat from my body. What a disappointing, frustrating end to what had been such an amazing day. Adam's distance, Toby disappearing without so much as a "catch ya later". No, he had to leap to Angela's beck and call. I was grumpy and tired; maybe there was something to Adam's claim of fatigue making him act strange towards me.
But I wasn't in the mood to make excuses for him. I was now too busy trying to think of my own excuses, if I was going to get to Stan's party tonight. I sat on the edge of my bed, the towel wrapped around me. I had darkened at least two shades today, with a slight tinge of red that I hoped was my temperature and anger and not sunburn. It was nearing on 6 o'clock, and Mum and Dad would be home any minute. I was pretty beat. Did I even feel like going to the party? Did I just want to crash and wallow? You bet I did. I had dressed myself in my cut-offs and spaghetti strap navy singlet when the phone rang.
"Where are you?" Ellie all but shouted down the phone like a pissed-off parent.
I yawned. "Home."
"I'm coming over." The line went dead.
I groaned and flung myself back on the bed. And so would begin an array of predictable events.
It would start with "What are you wearing? We have to get our stories straight, what's wrong with you? What do you mean you're not going? Of course you're bloody well going!" and so on until I gave in and just went to the party.
My head pounded already.
There was little time to corroborate stories before my parents got home. I felt bad about the half-truths I was feeding them of late but I needed to have some sort of fun over the holidays, it just happened to involve a twenty-something-year-old's party. A twenty-something-year-old boy. This wasn't going to be easy.
Mum and Dad had just pulled into the drive when Ellie rocked up in her Sunday best. She radiantly beamed a smile at my parents and chit-chatted pleasantly with them. If only they knew what happened as soon as my bedroom door was closed, and she flipped her backpack off, the contents vomiting onto my bedspread. She all but cried a war chant as she stared me down and started whispering about tonight's plan of attack.
My parents seemed happy enough that Adam was back in town and that we had plans to meet up with him. Those usual occurrences meant late nights watching DVDs at one of our houses. We didn't give the specifics, but I told them I would have my mobile on me. They just told us to have a good time. With an "I'm not sure what time the movies will finish" I was curfew free. Mum and Dad were usually in the deep stage of sleeping by the time I crept through the door. Not that I had made a habit of it. And this was the first time I felt the pang of guilt, because usually what I had just said was the truth.
I folded my make-up bag and choice of clothing in Ellie's pack; we would go via her place for the change so as not to raise any questions. Ellie's mum was a nurse and on night shift, so we could be in and out undiscovered. Ellie's dad would barely glance up at us, especially if the cricket was on. I had always thought her incredibly lucky to be given such a free rein, but now, the lack of attention they paid her made me kind of sad.
"So has Adam been filled in on our plan of deceit?" I asked rather unenthusiastically.
"He has and he is going to meet us there." Ellie looked at me side on as we walked along the street.
But I didn't offer any reaction. I half expected her to ask what was going on between us but either she didn't want to pry or she was way too distracted by Stan and his impending party to worry herself with the drama. I was betting on the latter. She talked animatedly about Stan, and how he had apologised again for not coming. Said he'd make it up to her. I'd tuned out by the time we crossed McLean's Bridge.
The plan was to rendezvous at the Onslow Hotel, before wandering off to Stan's later on. It felt surreal and a bit intimidating walking up the grassy embankment, even though we had been there only a mere hours beforehand. This time the sun had dimmed and the fairy lights lit the eaves above the picnic tables that were now occupied by a mass of people, enjoying the music from within. We had never been here when we weren't working. Never been ordinary patrons. I felt as if I didn't know what to do with my hands, as if I should be reaching and collecting empty glasses on the way in. We were stared down by a group of older girls, and were cast a wink and a smile by a guy we brushed passed; some older gents nodded "Ladies" as we weaved our way to the bar.
Chris was flat out taking money and filling pots; he looked up to see us standing before him as he pulled on the beer tap. His serious gaze didn't change.
"Two Lemon Ruskis, please, Chris," Ellie said sweetly.
"Everyone's in there, don't draw attention to yourselves." He set two glasses of coke on the bar for us, and walked away to serve the next customer. I guessed that was a no to the Ruskis, then.
Ellie slumped in bitter disappointment. "Could we look any more like teenagers?"
"We are teenagers," I said.
"Yeah, but I don't have to be reminded." She took a long draw from her straw. "I suppose people might think it's Bourbon and Coke?" she said hopefully.
"Well, don't complain too much, they were free. I doubt Chris's generous mood will last."
The poolroom was packed, a trail of gold coins lined up along the pool table's ledge indicating there was a fair wait for the next game. The forty-four-gallon barrels dotted around the room were stained by circles of drinks and ashtrays, as people sat around them on bar stools. The couch in the far corner was overcrowded to the point people were forced to sit on the coffee table or perch on the arms of the chair. The French doors were wide open letting a breeze roll off the lake and filter through the bar, which helped a little with the smoke and strong cologne all the boys caked on for the night's festivities. I was only interested in one kind of cologne and I looked around, wondering who Chris had been referring to when he directed us to the poolroom.
Then I saw him.
Toby was leaning in the alcove of the French doors, talking to someone I didn't know, a shorter guy with a buzz cut and a sock tan that clashed against his boat shoes. He leaned closer to him struggling to hear over the loud music. 'Hurts So Good' blared from the flashing jukebox. A couple of girls flipped eagerly to find some Shania Twain. Ellie spotted Stan leaning over the bar for a straw; she made her way over, sneaking up behind him, and whispered in his ear.
"Hands behind the bar, please," she said. He spun around, grinning from ear to ear.
"You're not going to tell the big guy upstairs, are you?" he teased.
"Maybe, can't make any promises."
I wanted to roll my eyes at the goofy looks they were giving each other, but an inner pang of jealousy overcame me. I envied how they could be openly flirtatious with one another. They were sending out signals to each other, and they both knew they were reciprocated. I was used to unrequited love and just as I was about to cast my usual doe-eyed longing glance across the room to the boy I knew I couldn't have, I froze to see his eyes were on me. I smiled, and he mirrored me. I made my way over, and he watched my every step as he took a deep drink from his beer then placed it on the window ledge and leaned back on the doorframe.
I looked at his beer with an arched brow.
"Can't even hold your own beer," I said. "Are your arms that sore from all the swimming today?"
"Almost as sore as my ego, but I'll live." He looked at my drink with a frown. I didn't want to have to confirm I was only drinking Coke. I wanted to pretend as Ellie had done that I was not seventeen, and that I was just hanging with
a boy in a bar on a summer's night.
"I'll have the contract drawn up by my solicitor and have it to you as a matter of urgency." I felt nervous, half thinking that he would laugh at me and say, "You didn't expect me to follow through with the bet, did you? I was only joking, kiddo." But instead he grinned; it was the teeth-exposing kind, the true grin, the unhinged Toby that made my tummy flutter.
"I suppose two out of three would be out of the question?" he mused.
"Not on your life, I couldn't handle the humiliation," I said.
"Yours or mine?" he laughed.
"Wow, were you seriously not there today when I shamed you? You were literally choking on the lake water I was kicking up in your face."
He crossed his arms, laughing. I sipped on my drink, innocently looking at him, loving every minute of our exchange, the exchange I was hoping to have this afternoon that never happened.
Toby was wearing jeans and a navy polo shirt. He smelled amazing, his cologne was fresh and sharp. I wanted to step closer to bask in it all.
Instead, I played it cool, waiting for his retort.
"Tess, if it wasn't for your manicured nails, I would have beaten you today, that's how close it was, photo finish."
"You mean I have my dainty nails, on my dainty hands, to thank?"
He picked up his beer, and then nudged me playfully with his foot.
"You know I didn't mean anything by it, right? When I said your hands were dainty. I meant it as a good thing."
"Oh yeah, sure." Act cool, Tess.
I knew it wasn't meant in a spiteful way. Had I gone home and looked up the meaning of dainty in my pocket Macquarie dictionary? Maybe. Did the meaning state:
Dainty: Delicately pleasing in appearance of movement?
It sure did.
And perhaps he didn't know the meaning of the word so thoroughly as I did now, but it definitely wasn't meant as a bad thing.
As we gave each other a sly smile, each almost lost in our own world, a figure walked in the open French doors and wrapped herself around Toby like an octopus.
"There you are! I wondered where you got to." Angela smiled.
And the moment was gone.
Angela completely ignored my presence, turning her back to me as she pawed at Toby who stiffened in the surprise of her appearance.
So much for being away for two weeks.
"You sure you won't come?" She pouted.
"No, you go with the girls. Have a good time." He held her upper arms, which were linked around his neck. I tried to sidestep away. I wanted to dissolve into the crowd, retreat into wallflower Tess again. I was about to back out of the French doors when I heard it, that all-too-familiar voice shout out from behind me.
"TIC TAC?"