Paradise City (26 page)

Chapter Fifty

All the Year Twelves were still riding on the adrenalin of the last-day-of-school shenanigans; muck-up day had been a complete success. No-one was mortally wounded, maimed or expelled. An excellent result.

The annual end-of-year school social was being held at the local town hall; apparently heels on the indoor basketball courts wreaked havoc one year, so now it was an off-premises arrangement – a fascinating history lesson courtesy of Aunty Karen who sat chatting to my mum up in front. I sat in the back wedged in between Laura and Amanda, praying Aunty Karen wouldn’t drop us off right out front.

She did.

It wasn’t easy to manoeuvre quickly across a leather back seat in a mini skirt; how do celebrities manage an elegant entrance onto the red carpet? There was no red carpet here, though, not even close. The height of Paradise High décor was the helium-filled balloons in the school colours adorning the entrance. Navy and white.

‘What time do you want to be picked up?’ Aunty Karen called from the open driver’s window.

Amanda looked as though she might die of embarrassment. ‘Mum, I told you, we have a ride home,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘You never told me that,’ Aunty Karen insisted.

‘I did tell you, you weren’t listening,’ Amanda snapped.

Aunty Karen wouldn’t have it, and so the back and forth between mother and daughter continued. So much for a grand entrance; this was just embarrassing.

‘Well, how are you getting home?’ asked Aunty Karen.

Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘Ballantine’s mum is picking us up; they live just around the corner.’

My attention snapped towards Amanda.

‘What?’

Aunty Karen tilted her head. ‘Oh, that’s lovely of her.’

‘Happy now?’ Amanda asked, turning away and heading towards the glass doors.

‘Yes, I am!’ Aunty Karen called out. ‘Have fun, girls.’

A blind panic clawed at my insides as I chased after Amanda, catching her arm before she disappeared inside.

‘Why wouldn’t the boys drive here? Why will Ballantine’s mum be taking us home?’ My eyes were wide with horror, surely it couldn’t be true.

Amanda’s gaze darkened as she pulled her arm away from me. ‘Oh my God, you are so lame. I was lying, unless you really want to be picked up by our parents,’ she scoffed, before turning and heading through the doors.

I stared after her, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Laura stood by me, bringing me out of my stupor.

‘Come on,’ she said, dragging me into the hall, squeezing past a group of boys loitering out the front dressed in their casual best and doused in enough aftershave to deem them highly flammable.

As we walked through the dimly lit foyer, my heart pumped in time with the beat of the muffled music coming from the hall beyond the double doors. Mr Branson stamped the back of our hands and told us to be good as we were edged forward from the push of the impatient people in line. All this onslaught of sight and sound would have made me giddy with excitement if I had not been totally consumed by skimming the crowd.

I had to find Ballantine.

As Laura dragged me through the double doors, the blinding strobe lights and deafening beats of Spiller’s ‘Groovejet (If This Ain’t Love)’ hit me. It took me a minute to adjust and adapt to the multicoloured bodies that were busting moves on the dance floor. Laura led the way. Dancing through the sea of people, she never let go of my hand as she guided me to the other side of the hall. Aside from making sure I wasn’t hit in the face by a flailing arm, I was intent on looking around for Ballantine.

Is he here? He did say ‘see you tonight’. I hadn’t imagined that.

Maybe I’d been lulled into a false sense of security; just because Ballantine’s mum hadn’t told him about the pregnancy test kit yet, didn’t mean she wasn’t going to. One thing was for sure, I wouldn’t be at peace until I got it off my chest and explained myself.

‘Bloody hell, Lexie, you look terrified. Don’t they have social gatherings in Red Hill?’ asked Laura.

‘Not like this,’ I said, my eyes skimming around the perimeter of the hall. Amanda wasn’t plastered to Boon’s face, which was a definite indication that the Kirkland boys were yet to arrive.

‘Hey, do these stamps on the back of our hands mean we can go in and out of the hall?’ I asked Laura, shouting above the music.

‘Going somewhere?’

‘I thought I might wait for Ballantine.’

Laura looked at me like I was deranged. ‘Um, wouldn’t that look a bit suss?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m not hiding it anymore, I don’t care who knows about us.’

It had hit me the moment Ballantine kissed me in the girls’ toilets, the way his cheeky smile appeared when he removed his balaclava. He’d looked at me, really looked at me; a spark lit his eyes as he’d pulled away from me. The memory of Ballantine breaking away tugged at my chest, as if the mere action of him leaving caused me to physically ache. What if people knew about this boy, what if I shouted from the rooftops that I, Lexie ‘no middle name’ Atkinson, was head over heels for the hottest boy in school? What did I have to lose?

Laura smiled brightly. ‘About time.’

My smile mirrored Laura’s. I felt determined in my pursuit, ready to take charge from this moment on. As this would be my last night then I would have to go out, guns blazing. Weaving through the dancers I felt every bit confident until the crowd parted and my gaze locked with a familiar set of deep brown eyes. There Ballantine stood in the doorway of the hall, flanked by Boon and Woolly, their eyes skimming over the crowd. Heat crept up my neck; my heart pounded more violently. Blue, red, green hues flashed across Ballantine’s beautiful face, the light from the foyer backlighting him as if he had a glowing aura around him; seeing him there stole my breath away. His stony exterior gave nothing away. The heat of his eyes was unnerving; I could feel my heart thunder, my pulse race as a new anxiety overtook me. I was ready to turn and run back to Laura when something unexpected happened.

Ballantine smiled.

That sweet, sexy, dimple-forming smile that had dominated my every living, breathing memory from the first night I saw him. Just when I thought my heart might explode, he started to move across the floor towards me. A long, purposeful line. The world fell away with every step he took; it was as if the room had plunged into darkness, all that remained was him and me. Before I could work to steady my breath he stood before me; without saying a word he took the choice away from me – he cupped my face and kissed me so passionately I thought we might catch fire. Right then the entire world slammed back into the here and now: the deafening pounding of the music, the flashing disco lights, the loud whoops and hollers from shocked onlookers as Ballantine kissed
that
new girl from the country, as Luke Ballantine kissed Lexie ‘no middle name’ Atkinson.

Ballantine broke away slowly, looking down at me with a small, yet ever-so-cocky smile tracing his lips as I worked on catching my breath.

‘I don’t want to be a secret anymore,’ I blurted out.

Ballantine laughed. ‘Oh, I think we’ve established that.’

‘You don’t care that people know?’

Ballantine frowned. ‘I’ve never cared.’

My heart swelled with a new emotion, a raw, unidentifiable emotion and I could have died from happiness. It was all I had wanted: to be standing here with Ballantine for the world to see. This was just how I had wanted my last night in Paradise to be – a declaration of us to the world and who cared what anyone would say: Amanda, Uncle Peter, Lucy, Ballantine’s mum . . .  
oh God.

‘Luke, I have something to tell you.’

‘You’re pregnant?’

I paused.

‘W– what?’

Ballantine laughed, actually laughed. ‘Do you honestly think anything can remain a secret in Paradise City?’ He shook his head. ‘Boon told me what you did, how you helped Amanda.’

My mouth was agape. ‘You know? Oh my God, does your mum know? The truth, I mean.’

Ballantine laced his fingers with mine as he gently tugged me into a walking motion. ‘She does . . .  
now
.’

‘Oh my God.’ I felt the relief wash over me as I briefly closed my eyes and praised all the gods in the entire universe.

Ballantine leant into me, whispering into my ear, ‘Don’t think there won’t be a safe sex lecture coming from her though.’ Ballantine winced as he pulled away.

‘I think I can handle that,’ I said, laughing and thinking how things could have ended up so much worse. I would be forever grateful to Amanda for being honest with Boon, and to Boon for being the biggest mouth in the southern hemisphere; it really was a very handy combination. Even if Amanda didn’t know what she had done, I still wanted to hug her. It would be priceless seeing her reaction to such a thing, even more priceless than the expression that was spread across her face now as Ballantine and I sidled up to the group hand in hand.

She looked confused, if not a little bit horrified, as her eyes flicked to our linked hands.

Boon stood next to Amanda, his arm slinked around her shoulders, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

‘Well, well, well,’ Boon said, shaking his head. ‘And to think I tell you everything.’

Amanda elbowed him. ‘Better not be everything,’ she warned.

Boon simply held up his hands in innocent surrender, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about.

‘Christ, does this mean that I have to hook up with Laura?’ added Woolly, who playfully nudged a less-than-amused-looking Laura.

Boon’s head snapped around. ‘You touch my sister and you’re a dead man.’

Everyone broke into side swipes and digs about our loved-up group; it actually felt quite good, being treated in that smart-arse, innuendo-heavy, Kirkland-boy way. But the one thing that was very clear to me was that Amanda looked less than happy about it.

Chapter Fifty-One

I had never felt so alive, so happy as Ballantine spun me on the dance floor, flinging me in the air as if I weighed nothing more than a feather. Dragging me around he had me laughing and pleading for him to stop, but I didn’t want him to stop, not really. The only thing that eventually ended our questionable rock ’n’ roll dance moves was the sudden dimming of the lights and a change in tempo as Coldplay’s ‘Yellow’ flowed from the speakers with its unmistakeable guitar-strumming start.

A slower song would usually banish all the serious dancers – they’d groan and leave the floor, opting to rest their legs, grab drinks or duck to the toilets. Instead, as the music started up, the opposite happened: there was an almost stampede-like effect. Some groups of girls linked arms in a circle, swaying to the melodic music, and then there were the coy, loved-up couples who took to the floor to join the out-there couples who completely ignored their surrounds entirely and spent the night slow dancing and pashing to every song, like Boon and Amanda. I looked away from them, blushing and feeling suddenly very exposed on the floor, until I felt Ballantine’s arms slide around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I slid my hands over his square, broad shoulders and lifted my eyes to meet his, only visible with eerie flashes of red that swooped around the room – red for romance, at a guess – and then the smoke machine puffed out a surge of smoke, another means to build a sexy atmosphere or give the poor kid with asthma an attack. Ballantine laughed as I looked at it almost as if it were some kind of poisonous gas.

My eyes drifted up to see that Ballantine knew all the words; he sung and rocked me from side to side in the darkened hall, linking my hands around his neck, and I watched on with much amusement as he jokingly smirked and serenaded me. I couldn’t help but get lost in him. As much as this moment made my skin tingle and my heart pound, every minute that passed was like a countdown to the inevitable: tomorrow would come, and I would go home. It seemed like an impossible ending to something as amazing as this; Ballantine must have read it on my face as he lifted my chin up to look at him, his questioning eyes looking down on me. I smiled weakly.

He leant forward, brushing his lips against my earlobe. ‘Do you want to get some air?’

It was exactly what I wanted to do; it seemed the entire school was on the dance floor. With the heat of the lights, the smoke and the crush of swaying bodies, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Ballantine led me through the crowd, expertly dodging and weaving a line to the exit, both of us making sure not to make eye contact with Mr Branson on the way out. Our pace quickened as soon as we pushed the double doors towards freedom. Compared to the stuffy hall interior the fresh air felt cooler and welcoming on my skin as we ran into the night, turning around the concrete wall and down a path towards, well, I wasn’t sure; I just ran after Ballantine, not an easy thing to do in a mini skirt and knee-high boots.

We crossed the main road and ran until the bright lights of the hall and the highway became faint and all I could see was his shadowy outline. We continued into a park, running along a dirt track and finally coming to a stop as Ballantine stepped up onto the top of a concrete picnic table, panting and slowly circling as he took in his night-time surroundings before looking down at me.

I leant against the tabletop, breathless. ‘Can we stop now?’

Ballantine laughed, stepping down onto the bench seat and sitting down on the table, his dark eyes visible from the full moon that hung high in the sky. ‘You really want to stop?’ His voice was as dark as the night, sexy as hell. ‘You tired of chasing me?’ he asked, nudging me playfully with his leg.

Tired of chasing Ballantine?

I smirked, shifting to move around the picnic table, my hand skimming across the roughened concrete surface. ‘Never,’ I crooned, stepping up on the seat and sitting next to him, trying for my best seductive gaze; I hoped I wasn’t giving him the crazy eyes.

Ballantine slid his hand across my knee, gliding up along my thigh and back down again in a gentle caress that made my mind go all blurry. His fingers brushed across the hem of my suede skirt, inspecting the fabric. He smirked. ‘Nice skirt.’

I smiled. ‘You like it?’

Ballantine nodded, his hand skimming down my leg, lifting it up as he cocked his head to the side.

‘The “come fuck me” boots are a bit of a worry though.’

I burst out laughing, so loud Ballantine’s eyes snapped up in question.

‘Oh my God, that’s what Dean called them.’

Ballantine froze; all humour slipped away as his eyes bore into mine, a heavy silence pressing down on us.

Oh shit.

I said it because it was true. I said it because it was an innocent enough statement. I said it because I was a bloody idiot who had no filter whatsoever.

Ballantine scoffed, shaking his head. ‘Fucking Dean.’

I blinked, shocked by the sudden change in his demeanour. I had to say something to get the old Ballantine back, to make him see that Dean wasn’t even in the picture – but how do you put a stop to what was no doubt an age-old sibling rivalry between the two?

He let my leg go. ‘How is it his name always comes into things? Tell me that there is nothing between you and Dean, because I’m beginning to think there just might be.’ He looked at me hard, his anger barely contained. I could see it in the way he clenched his jaw.

I slid off the table, moving to edge my way to kneel between his legs. I placed my hands on his thighs, hoping that the light of the moon made my eyes clear enough to him, so when I looked up at him he knew I was telling the truth.

‘Tell me, Lex, tell me the rumours aren’t true.’ He said it as if challenging me.

My mind was reeling, panic building at the thought of Ballantine walking off into the night if he didn’t believe me; he had to believe me, he just had to. My eyes searched the stern lines of his face, looking for a trace of the carefree Ballantine from moments before.

It took all my energy to keep my voice even. ‘Right now I am confused about everything in my life . . . except you.’

Ballantine’s eyes burned into mine, his body coiled with such tension it was palpable; I grabbed his hand, turning it over, exposing his palm to the moonlight. I studied the lines, biting my lip as I worked up enough courage to voice what I wanted to say.

‘Luke.’ I swallowed. I barely had enough nerve to look him in the eyes, but somehow I did. ‘I want you to be my first.’

Ballantine’s eyes flicked rapidly across my face as if searching, gauging whether I was telling the truth or not.

I felt my cheeks flush as I shifted uneasily under his surprised stare.

It was then that I felt the tension melt from his body; the uptight rigidness of his shoulders lowered as did his resolve, the hard lines of his face softened and I could once again be drawn into the deep, dark depths of his eyes, but it was only when he smiled, and that infamous dimple formed, that I truly felt at ease. Ballantine shook his head, breathing out a laugh as he pulled at my shirt. Bringing me near to him he wrapped his arms tightly around me, hugging me in a way that left me in no doubt as to how he felt about me. Even if nothing more happened tonight, I knew I could leave Paradise City feeling like he belonged to me and I belonged to him. Ballantine kissed the top of my head before lowering his lips to graze my earlobe.

‘You’re a bloody lunatic,’ he whispered.

•

As for the rest of the school social, well, I didn’t see much more of it; the closest thing to a light show was the streetlight Ballantine and I stood under at the top of our road. Our fingers laced together, we looked into each other’s eyes as we stood on the highest point of the street. Under the light it was like we were on a stage, so the fact that Ballantine edged me back against the pole and slowly lowered his mouth to mine, capturing my breath in a slow, hot kiss, made me worry we might be seen by someone. I worried for like a second until Ballantine slid his tongue teasingly into my mouth; the minty taste of him on my lips made me forget the world around me. My hands splayed across the broad back of his shirt, working to pull him into me. Ballantine’s hand lowered to skim down my thigh, gliding behind my knee so as to bend and lift my leg around his waist, as he pushed against me.

‘You want me to be your first?’ he whispered against my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip, tasting me, and taunting me with his wicked mouth.

‘Yes,’ I said, my voice shaking.

He took my hand, lowering it to touch him through the strain of his jeans. ‘This is what you do to me.’ His voice was uneven, his breaths laboured as he kissed me sweetly against the line of my neck. Ballantine was always intent on pleasing me, now I wanted to do the same for him. I kissed him deeply, taking control as my shaking hands clumsily unbuttoned his jeans and worked the zip down.

‘Lex!’ His voice was almost inaudible as I slid my hands inside his briefs, feeling the long, smooth, sensitive line of him as I pulled him free. I grabbed his hand and placed it over mine. ‘Show me,’ I whispered against his mouth; he didn’t need any more explanation as his hand covered mine firmly, and began to pump slowly at first before guiding the rhythm into a more frantic pace that had us both breathing heavily. Ballantine let go, leaving me to finish the long, firm strokes as he grabbed onto the pole, anchoring himself as I worked him towards mind-numbing pleasure. I watched the vulnerability on his face, the soft, raspy words of encouragement that I only just caught the edges of, but the one that pleased me most was the deep groan against my neck and his frenzied words: ‘Lex, I’m coming.’

I felt a hot dampness pool against my thigh; Ballantine gripped the pole as his release ripped through him, moaning my name into the night. It was the sexiest thing I had ever heard in my life. After a long moment, Ballantine inhaled deep shuddering breaths as he regained his composure. He breathed out a laugh that flowed over the sweat of my skin.

‘Jesus, Lex,’ he said. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’

I smiled, pride bubbling to the surface; never before had I felt more powerful than I did right then.

Ballantine straightened, zipping up his jeans and doing up his button before taking off the outer dress shirt he was wearing over his white tee and using it to clean the stain off my now-ruined skirt.

‘Shit, sorry, Lex.’

I laughed, grabbing his hand, stopping him from rubbing a hole in my skirt.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

Ballantine’s dreamy, soft eyes looked down at me, a small smile lining his lips; he almost looked bashful.

Our trance was broken by the distant sound of a car engine, closing in on a crisp, quiet night.

‘Shit,’ Ballantine cursed.

He pulled me from the post and towards the shadows of a neighbouring grassy yard, shrouded by bushes. Sure enough, the car veered down our road, way too fast, before doing a wide turn into a driveway, the headlights illuminating Aunty Karen’s house as it pulled up.

Crap! Boon was dropping off Amanda.

I sighed. ‘I better go, if she goes in without me they’re likely to send out a search party.’

I turned to Ballantine; he was still looking down the street at Boon’s car.

‘Will you come and say goodbye tomorrow?’

Ballantine’s attention snapped to me, frowning as if I was crazy. ‘Of course.’

‘Uncle Peter will be there,’ I warned.

Ballantine looked unfazed. ‘I can deal with that.’

‘And my parents.’ I curved my brow, waiting for a tell-tale sign of fear. Ballantine just smiled. ‘There’s no crazy uncle or over-protective parent that could ever stop me from seeing you off tomorrow,’ he said.

I smiled, standing on my tippy toes and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. ‘Don’t you forget about me, Luke Ballantine,’ I teased.

He grinned. ‘Not likely; I’m not one to leave things unfinished, remember?’ His eyes were heated, piercing.

I broke into a winning smile, fearing less about the future and wishing more than ever that I could skip forward a month or so to when I would return to Paradise City and back to Ballantine.