The Boys of Summer (11 page)

Each time the cool breeze flowed through the
trees it whipped around me, fluttering my loose peach singlet and
refreshing my skin that was slick with a light sheen of
perspiration. I stopped in the shade of a towering gum tree.
Letting the bike rest on my hip, I pulled my hair up off my neck
and closed my eyes, allowing myself to cool and rest for five.

The serenity was disturbed by the distant
sound of kookaburras mocking me with their laughter. I peeked one
eye open and listened closer. A sound was slowly closing in with a
murmur that became louder and louder. What was that … a car?
Possible salvation? Oh,
please
don’t be a serial killer. I
was desperate, but not desperate enough to hitchhike with a scary
local who liked to play the banjo. I grabbed my bike and continued
to walk, cool, calm and collected, instead of sweaty, bloody damsel
in distress. I would politely decline any invitation and rough it
alone, surely it wasn’t much further?

The thudding of a burly vehicle and sound of
music closed in behind me. The engine slowed, causing the hairs on
the back of my neck to raise. The music volume lowered.

Oh no, no, no. Please keep going.

I walked faster, looking straight ahead, my
bike chain rattling more insistently.

Leave me alone, it’s a nice summer’s day,
can’t a girl take her bike for a walk?

The car crawled now, it could be a creepy
white van with a hooded deviant behind the wheel, I just knew it. I
had watched enough late-night horror movies with Adam and Ellie to
know all about stranger danger. My heart was leaping out of my
chest. I know I said I would never leave my bike, but, honestly, I
was getting to the point of ditching the sucker and heading for the
hills screaming MURDERER.

That’s when I heard my name.

“
Tess?”

I stopped abruptly, before I spun to see a
navy Ford crawling along beside me. I tilted my head slightly and
found a mystified expression peering out at me through the open
window.

“What are you doing out here?” said Toby.

Toby? Toby was behind the wheel. It wasn’t a
serial killer, it was
Toby
.

I inhaled a deep breath of relief. “Oh, thank
God it’s you! I thought you were a murderer.”

His brows raised in surprise.

“Are you alright?”

No
, I wanted to pout,
I am
suffering from sunstroke, dehydration, starvation.
And I was
all of a sudden keenly aware of how sweaty and awful I must have
looked. I discreetly pushed my fingers through my hair and smiled
in good humour, my eyes flicking to my bike.

“I’m afraid she has given up the ghost.”

Ugh! That would be something my dad would
say.

Toby pulled over and got out of his vehicle
in one fluid movement. He was in his work pants and work shirt that
had Tobias embroidered in yellow on his pocket. The little detail
made me smile. I had only ever heard Sean call him that, and I was
pretty sure it was to deliberately hit a nerve.

He gave me a coy smile as he made a direct
line to crouch and examine my bike. I was mesmerised by his swiftly
moving hands; he had beautiful hands. I had often wondered how they
always seemed so amazingly clean, considering his job was to be
covered in grease and oil all day, every day. He must have some
heavy duty industrial cleaner to wash his hands with every night.
This thought led me to visions of him at home, showering, getting
ready for a night out with the boys at the Onslow for dinner and
pool. His hair was always slightly damp, with just the slightest
touch of hair product. He wouldn’t do much more than that, he
didn’t need to; he was naturally perfect. Whenever I brushed past
him in the crowded poolroom, there was always a hint of a fresh,
clean, crisp aftershave. It made me want to be close to him, to
bask in all that was Toby.

I snapped myself out of my daydream when he
looked back up at me.

“This chain’s history. Where are you
headed?”

I didn’t want to confess I was just goofing
around on my summer holidays, giving little thought to much else.
That was the beauty of it. It was meant to be a voyage to forget
all my troubles, all thoughts of him and Angela last night. And
then here he was straightening up in front of me, looking down at
me with those questioning brown eyes.

“Oh, I should be getting home, I hadn’t
planned on being out so long.”

Ugh! God, that sounded like I had a curfew;
that I would be in trouble if I didn’t scurry home to Mum and Dad.
Why didn’t I just say I was headed to the Onslow to pick up my pay,
because I was a responsible working woman? I could have even asked
if he wanted to join me for a drink? Like grownups do. Have a
friendly chat.

About what exactly? Cars? School? His
girlfriend?

“If you want, I can give you a lift home,” he
said.

I tried not to look so overjoyed, but the
thought of being rescued by Toby was an even better outcome than I
could have ever hoped for.

“Yes, please! I don’t want to die out here,
not like this.”

He smirked. “Murderers, death; you have a
dark mind, Tess.”

And before I could hide my smile, he grabbed
my bike and lifted it onto the bed of his ute. The very same one I
saw parked in his drive, or occasionally at the Onslow Hotel. Deep
navy, big and bulky, this was a man’s vehicle. A vehicle I was
about to climb into.

I fought to overcome my nerves as I opened
the passenger door. I hoisted myself up inside. Toby was busy
securing my bike in the back. On the passenger floor was a lunch
box and thermos. I slid my feet away from the items, which wasn’t
difficult considering the ample room inside. There weren’t
individual seats but a light cream bench seat, with nothing
dividing me from Toby. I leaned my arm on the open windowsill and
pondered. You could fit three bodies in for a ride with ease if
someone was pressed up next to the driver. I wondered who had
ridden in this car with him. Sean? Stan? Angela?

Okay, let’s not think about that.

Toby pulled open the driver’s door, and he
filled the rest of the cab’s interior. He fired up the beast of an
engine and pulled into gear, gloriously tearing up the bitumen. I
stole a quick glance in the side view mirror and grabbed my hair
that was flailing around from the open window. I held it back at
the base of my neck, and my wispy fringe momentarily blinded me. I
stole a sideways glance at Toby. He met my eyes briefly and smiled.
I looked quickly out the window. In my peripheral vision, I watched
as Toby’s suntanned arm rested on top of the wheel, his other arm
leaning casually on the open window. He was relaxed and confident
behind the wheel. It was of little wonder; if he got his learner’s
at sixteen he would have been driving for six years by now. I
calculated it in my mind. I would have been 11 when he started
driving. I tried not to think too much about that.

An awkward silence swept over us, only to be
broken by Toby’s cough before he spoke.

“So, where did you go last night?”

I tried not to shift in my seat at his
question. I was hoping that my sudden disappearance after the
glass-breaking episode would go unnoticed. I guess not.

“Oh, you know, kitchen duties beckoned.”

“Oh?” He seemed surprised.

“Yeah, whenever a crisis breaks out they
shine a giant K in the sky, and I hightail it.”

“So you head to the phone booth and change
into your apron and rubber gloves?” Toby’s mouth turned up at the
corners. Just a little.

“Isn’t that Superman?”

“Oh right, sorry. My bad, giant K in the sky:
you’re rocking it Batman style.”

“Exactly. Except if I was Batman, I wouldn’t
be needed in the kitchen full stop. Bruce Wayne doesn’t do
kitchens.”

“You could serve customers like the speed of
a bullet.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Again, Superman.
Why don’t you know this stuff? What did you do as a kid, spend it
outdoors or something?”

“Misspent youth, clearly. I obviously don’t
know my superheroes at all.” He frowned as if deeply distressed. “I
must look into that.”

“I would if I were you, that’s kind of
embarrassing.”

He flashed a smile my way, before turning his
gaze back to the road. There was more silence, but this time it
wasn’t uncomfortable. I turned to peer at my bike rattling away in
the back.

“So, the old girl,” I tilted my head
backwards, “will she ride again?”

Toby glanced at me then back to the road;
that elusive upward tilt of his lips reappeared as if he was
fighting not to smile.

“Let me put it this way. I thought I’d have
to surround it with some sheets and bring out the 22 to put it out
of its misery.”

My eyebrows rose. “You carry a 22?”

“You think carrying sheets isn’t weird?”

“Yeah, but sheets aren’t deadly.”

“You haven’t been to an all-boys boarding
school.”

“Ew! Okay, give me a gun.”

There it was, that smile. He made no effort
to hide it now. It shone brightly, lighting up his entire face.

“Are we talking about guns and dirty boys’
sheets?” Toby frowned.

“You started it,” I said. “Sheets aside,
which I really don’t want to know about, did you really go to
boarding school?”

“Yep, my parents shipped me off in Year 7.
The longest year of my life. I ended up just mucking up until they
had no choice but to bring me home.”

I stared at him for the longest time. Trying
to imagine Toby ever being bad, I just couldn’t picture it.

“So the sheets were that bad, huh?”

He burst out laughing; it was a wonderful
sound, rich and warm. It made my skin tingle.

He shook his head as he refocused on the
road.

“You have no idea!”

It was a bizarre conversation, our first
formed sentences alone together. Well, there was the party but that
doesn’t count. How would I tell Ellie about my bonding session in
Toby’s ute?

She would squeal and insist that I tell her
everything, and she’d ask the most obvious question. “So what did
you talk about?”

Umm, guns and dirty sheets?

It would probably be better to go all cryptic
and tell her: ‘stuff’.

We pulled into my driveway; Toby killed the
engine and jumped out, rounding the back of the ute to untie my
bike. While I climbed slowly from the cab, I watched as he lifted
my bike like it weighed nothing, his flexed, bronzed biceps the
only proof of any strain.

“Where do you want it?”

In my bedroom.

I mentally slapped myself and fought not to
blush.

He waited for me to answer.

“Umm, I just keep it in the garage.”

He nodded and walked it over, leaning it
against the far wall.

“Just there’s fine,” I said, “thanks, Toby.”
His name sounded so strange, so intimate on my tongue. I wanted to
say it again.

He looked at the bike, in deep thought.

“You’ll be out of action until you get a new
chain.”

“Yeah, I’ll go and buy one tomorrow.”

Because I was now a responsible working woman
who could buy things like that. I would forgo the cute little skirt
from Carters and buy a bike chain.

So depressing.

“Well, if you need someone to fit it …”

“Oh, that’s okay, my dad will do it.”

And as soon as the words came out, I wanted
to kick myself, preferably with steel-capped boots. Had he just
offered to fix my bike? And I had blurted out that no, my daddy
would do it?

IDIOT!!

“Cool, well, they’re not that dear so you
should pick one up down at Mac’s store.”

I started to walk him to the car, but he
paused, head tilted as he looked at my leg.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, just had an
up-close-and-personal encounter with the bitumen,” I said. “It
doesn’t hurt.”

Like hell it doesn’t!

His brows creased with concern and he
crouched to examine it closer. My breath hitched in my throat as he
lightly touched the skin around my knee. I fought to keep my
breathing steady with the intimacy of it. He straightened, his look
still serious.

“I have a first aid kit in my glove box; come
on, let’s clean you up.”

We had a first aid kit in the house, but I
wasn’t blowing it a second time. I followed him to his ute.

“Jump up on the tray,” he called over his
shoulder as he headed to flip open the glove box and retrieve a
small, blue zip-up case. I had planned to follow his advice when I
noticed, due to my five-foot-nothing stature and the height of the
tray, there was no way I could master it gracefully. Before I could
even voice the issue, Toby had read the troubled look on my face.
Without a word, he was by my side. With a small smile, he placed
the first aid kit and a bottle of water on the tray.

“Here.” Before I had time to think, his hands
were on my waist and, as if I weighed nothing more than a feather,
he boosted me up to perch on the tray. I fought not to squeal in
surprise and my hands grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage.

“You okay?” he asked, his hands still on my
sides, as if securing me in place.

I nodded all too quickly. He smiled at the
affirmation and let me go. I could still feel the pressure of his
hands, the feel and flex of his muscles as I was suddenly airborne.
I could tell I was blushing profusely and hoped it might pass as
sunburn.

I straightened my leg for his attention, as
he rummaged through the first aid kit.

I arched a brow. “Rescue many damsels in
distress?”

A crooked grin formed on his lips, but he
didn’t meet my eyes. “Every day! It’s a tireless job.”

My skin tingled from his touch as his hand
clasped under my knee to hold my leg steady.

“Looks like you’re the Superman then? Coming
to the rescue and all.”