The Boys of Summer (28 page)

He tipped his head back and gave a deep belly
laugh.

“The look on your face is classic. You don’t
have to look so frightened, Tess, I was referring to a beer.”

He held out a freshly poured pot towards me
with a knowing twinkle in his eye. He wasn’t just referring to the
drink. We both knew it.

I straightened my back and lifted my chin. I
didn’t want the drink, but I took it, had a sip and nursed it like
an old familiar friend. Sean watched me with an amused smirk. Damn
him.

“Of course,” he said, “if you had something
else in mind, I would be open to suggestions.” He took a deep swig
of his glass.

“What? Dry humping on picnic tables?” I posed
innocently.

Sean coughed, spluttered, and beer shot out
his nose. He thumped himself on the chest, his eyes watering.

Ha! One-all! I proudly took a sip of my
beer.

Urgh, it was awful.

I gagged and squinted, after far too big a
mouthful.

“How do you drink this stuff?”

Sean fought to speak past his spluttering.
“Even worse, try swallowing it down the wrong way.” We must have
looked a funny pair, coughing, wincing and spluttering.

I was hyper-aware of every movement as I
scanned the beer garden. My heart fluttered, pulse thumping in my
ears. Beads of sweat dribbled down my back and I started to feel
nauseated. Maybe it was the heat? I took another swig of my pot in
the hope it would cool me down. Urgh! Maybe it was the beer? My
stomach churned, and I fought not to cringe afterwards, because
that’s not what cool people did.

I caught Ringer giving me a long, side-on
look.

“What?”

“Better not let Chris catch you with
that.”

Oh, right. I’d forgotten that I was downing
alcohol in a public place. So weird, society’s rules. Sure, people
could dry hump and make out, that was acceptable, but underage
drinking was seriously frowned upon.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me
whole from the embarrassment. I hated being reminded of how young I
was. I pushed the beer away and wiped the cold condensation from
the pot glass on my thighs. I straightened defiantly before getting
up, walking a direct line to the bar where Chris was pouring a line
of shots.

I needed something to wash down the
aftertaste. Something legal.

Chris glanced up at me as he reached the last
shot glass. “The usual?”

I nodded. “Straight up on the rocks.”

“Coming up!” He smiled, flipping a glass into
his hand and scooting ice into it with smooth precision.

Chris handed me my Coke, and then looked
directly at me. “Hey, Tess?”

“Yeah?”

Oh God, did he see me with the beer?

He leaned forward so we could hear one
another.

“Do you think you could go and request some
decent music? I don’t think I can handle more crap like this.”

My shoulders sagged with relief. That I could
do.

As I carried my drink carefully over to the
DJ, I dodged a few flailing limbs as they struck their best
Saturday Night Fever poses.

Dear God.

The DJ was housed in a little protective
alcove with black velvet drop sheets behind him, which advertised
in tacky, glittered block letters ‘DJ Rosso’. Doesn’t everyone
secretly dream that their name would be up on velvet someday?

The disco ball glinted off the thick gold
chain around Rosso’s neck and he kept re-tucking the cigarette
behind his ear so the ladies got a good look of his arms in his
muscle top. He probably didn’t even smoke, just thought it made him
look cool.

My eyes watered as I leant towards DJ Rosso;
his cologne took my breath away, and not in a good way. I asked if
it was possible to play something a bit more modern; he shrugged
and pointed me to behind the velvet curtain where I found a thick,
yellowing, well-used book full of songs. Thumbing through the
selections, I took my time in the privacy of the little alcove. I
took my job seriously; I had to save the party from cheesy hits of
the ’80s.

I leaned against the table, sliding the book
towards the disco lights that didn’t quite reach behind the
curtain, only in dim flashes from the disco ball. A trail of fairy
lights twinkled above me, but they weren’t exactly bright enough to
read by.

The song ended and another started up. I
noticed the difference straight away as ‘Funky Town’ died out and a
slow melodic guitar swept into the space. A pleased patron let out
a ‘woop’ somewhere on the other side of the curtain as Live’s
‘Lightning Crashes’ filled the speakers. A smile curved my lips. I
loved this song.

I held the book closer to my face, squinting
at the song list.

“You’ll hurt your eyes doing that.”

I squealed and spun around, knocking my knee
on the table. The book fell out of my hands but Toby caught it in a
juggling motion as he tried not to spill his Corona.

Toby.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said,
grinning that gorgeous grin. My heart hammered against my ribs like
an excited butterfly. I fought to catch my breath.

“You chose this song?”

“Guilty.” Toby took a long swig of his beer,
but his eyes never left me. He leaned forward, placing the book
back on the table next to me.

“You don’t need that, haven’t I taught you
enough about good music?”

I tilted my head to look up at him, he seemed
different, more relaxed than I had ever seen him. I wondered what
number Corona that was in his hand.

“I like this song.” I smiled, my gaze darting
downward. If this was a staring contest, he would outdo me every
time.

I didn’t know if it was the Corona, or the
song, or the secluded atmosphere. This new, electric swirl of
tension between us drew my gaze back to his, into those eyes. His
tall silhouette glowed with the backdrop of fairy lights, his
beautiful face lit by the blue, green, red strobes through the
fabric.

“So, what’s it gonna be, McGee?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot and
inched closer to me. He was so incredibly close I could feel the
heat of his skin, feel his breath. I struggled to answer; it felt
like my brain had completely shut down.

His gaze flicked to the song book with an
amused smile. “What song have you chosen?”

“Oh,” I said, blinking, “right … um …” I
burned red, thankful for the dim light. I turned but his hand
stilled me; he clasped my elbow and drew me around to face him.

I was drowning. I was drowning in him. My
heart raced, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say, all song
choices, all reason, all ability to construct coherent sentences
was lost. So I just said the first thing that came into my
head.

“Is your name really Tobias?”

What …?Why had I …? Why was I such a
freak?

Amazingly, he didn’t seem taken aback by my
random question. Instead, the edge of his mouth curved up, and he
handed me his beer as he reached into his back pocket and flicked
out his wallet. He frowned, holding it high to find some good
lighting. He caught the edge of a wayward fairy light and dragged
it down towards us.

I had to step closer to him in order to see
the licence. As he held it over us, the fairy light lit my face; it
wouldn’t hide any blushes. On the plastic card, I saw the line of a
serious face, a frowning younger image of Toby, which made me
smile. I then saw, right there in block letters, sure enough it
read: Tobias E Morrison.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

I curved a brow. “What’s the ‘E’ stand
for?”

Toby laughed and tucked his wallet back into
his pocket.

“Not a chance.” He took the beer from my
hand, his fingers brushing mine. Goosebumps prickled on my heated
skin.

I crossed my arms. “Come on,
Tobias
,
don’t be shy.”

He finished off the last of his drink and
placed it on the table beside him. Without a word he grabbed my
hand and elevated my arm, leading me into a twirl as Live’s lead
singer (and a whole bunch of party goers) hummed on the other side
of the curtain. I went with the twirl, and he pulled me back
towards him, closer still.

He was trying to distract me. He was pretty
good at it.

I tried to remember to breathe as he held me
close.

“Nice distraction technique,” I said.

He snickered, pleased. “Pretty good, isn’t
it?”

“I didn’t think you were a dancer.”

His hand squeezed mine and a flicker of some
new emotion spread across his face. He leaned so close to me I
could feel the press of his lips against my ear.

“Who said anything about dancing?”

He pulled back slowly keeping his face near
mine. I was dumbstruck, the way his heated gaze rested on me with a
knowing smile, his words … was this really happening? He stilled,
watching me. I swallowed hard. Toby Morrison slowly closed the
distance between us, his eyes closing. This was really happening.
This was really –

The alcove was flooded with light.

“Where’s the song book? I don’t see it?” A
beehived, sequined girl flung the curtain out of the way and
stumbled into the alcove. “Rooooosssoooooo, I can’t see it,” she
whined, hands on her hips, ignoring us completely.

Toby let go of me, grabbing the book to hand
over to her. She accepted it with a hiccup instead of a thank you
and stamped her way back to the DJ. The curtain snagged on the edge
of the DJ booth, leaving us exposed.

Toby picked up his empty beer and waved it
with a shy smile. The moment was gone.

“Better fill ’er up.” He went to step through
the curtain and then paused and turned back.

My eyes lit up hopefully.

“Did you want a drink?”

Oh. I glanced at my Coke on the table, now
watered down from the melted ice.

I offered him a weak smile. “No thanks.”

He turned to go, and my shoulders drooped. I
looked at my feet with a sigh. When the curtain didn’t lower again
as Toby left, I looked back up. He was still there. And he was
staring at me. I couldn’t read his face; I didn’t know what he was
thinking. What was he doing?

Just when I thought he would turn to leave,
he stepped forward, back into the alcove, placed his empty bottle
on the table and in one fluid moment, without taking his eyes from
me, Toby yanked the fabric back into place, enveloping us in
darkness. My heartbeat spiked at the unexpectedness of it. Toby
strode towards me, his hands cupped my face and his lips claimed
mine. My surprise soon melted into his touch, my hands entwined
around his neck as I kissed him back. Toby’s hands were in my hair,
his soft lips brushed against mine, gentle at first and then more
intently as the pressure of his kisses coaxed me to open my mouth,
his tongue delving gently to taste my own. I followed his rhythm
and pushed more eagerly against him, my hands moved to divide the
thick, silken folds of his hair. I had dreamed of those lips, but
never had I imagined they would be so soft, so utterly mind
shattering. A small noise escaped me in pleasure; I could feel Toby
smile against my mouth as he slowly edged me back against the
table, the weight of his body pressed against mine; it felt like a
dream, like I should wake at any moment, but no, this was real,
this was definitely real!

My hand slid up under the back of his shirt
to feel the long, lean flex of his muscles. Toby shuddered as my
finger lightly traced his spine downwards, he kissed me so
passionately as his hand slid towards my hip, down along my thigh,
bending my leg to curve around his waist. I thought I might die of
happiness then and there at such an intimate gesture. The edge of
the table dug into me through the thin fabric of my skirt, but I
didn’t care. All I knew was Toby, the feel of him moving against
me, the sensation of his tongue in my mouth, of his hands circling
gently on my skin. As if breaking the trance, he let my leg slowly
fall to the ground and eased his body off me a little, but his lips
still hovered over mine. Our breath laboured, he reached out and
tucked a wayward strand of hair gently behind my ear and his thumb
slowly ran down my cheek. His eyes flicking momentarily to the
motion of my tongue sweeping along my bottom lip, Toby pulled away
slowly, a knowing tilt to his luscious mouth. He backed away and
with one last lingering look he grabbed his empty bottle, peeled
back the curtain and was gone.

I wasn’t overly surprised that as I lay in
bed after the disco, sleep eluded me that night. I stared up at my
bedroom ceiling replaying the evening’s events over and over in my
mind.

I had kissed Toby Morrison. I had fucking
kissed Toby Morrison!

Or more to the point,
he
had kissed
me
, and I had most certainly kissed him back, oh yes I
had.

When Toby kissed me it was like I burned from
the inside; I had never felt more alive, more wanted. The edges of
any doubts I’d had, had melted into him. It had been fast, hot and
completely unexpected, and then like that he was gone, leaving me
in the darkened alcove, my hands shaking as I had touched my
kiss-swollen lips.

When I had finally ventured out from behind
the curtain, I had watched Toby’s every move. He had mingled at the
disco, his eyes darting towards me every now and then with an
amused glint. And what did I do? I sat at the picnic table in a
catatonic state of shock. As midnight struck, I lost Toby in the
crowd as everyone poured out of the beer garden and lingered on the
footpath under the bug-infested lights. I wandered around, trying
to seek him out, but his truck was gone. It was a bittersweet
feeling; he was gone but the memory of his kiss replayed in my
mind.

The sun eventually crept into my room, and if
I dozed at all, it had been briefly and with a wicked smile on my
face.

It wasn’t a dream.

As I skipped into the kitchen, already
showered and ready for work, Mum and Dad both did a double take.
Dad peered at the time on the microwave and cast a confused look
back at Mum.