That One Summer (The Summer Series), Page 22

  I was met with silence and the sudden realisation that he was no longer stroking my hair. Instead, he lay there, sound asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, his beautiful bow-shaped lips relaxed and no lines etched his brows in worry or stress. He looked so peaceful.

  My heart ached for him – he had had no sleep last night after our awkward exchange. He had then had a long day’s worth of driving, only to end it with a moonlight skinny dip with me.

  I smiled at the memory of every kiss, every touch. I didn’t want to wake him, especially not to tell him about Toby. I would let him get a good night’s sleep, rest up for the last leg of the journey tomorrow. If anything, I had to fight the selfish urge to wake him up to assure me that no matter what, in the light of day there would be no weirdness or regret between us.

  I had seen it so many times before – late night Saturday rendezvous usually led to awkward avoidance the next day. The one thing in our favour was that there had been no alcohol involved, but still Chris wasn’t the most predictable creature I had ever met. I tilted my head, looking down at the sleeping, gorgeous Onslow Boy. His features twisted into a familiar frown in his sleep. I didn’t know what was racing through his mind to cause such a worrisome look, but I did what I had often thought of doing before brushing the insane moment away.

  I leaned over him and gently kissed his forehead. I felt the puckered worry lines melt under my lips and I smiled, lifting myself slowly to admire my handiwork.

  Chris shifted slightly and I froze, hoping he wouldn’t wake. He pressed his lips together and a fleeting frown creased and disappeared as he sighed.

  I moved now. Edging my way carefully to lie beside him.

  “Tam?” his voice croaked.

  “Yes?” I whispered.

  “You got to put the pool cues back.”

  I bit my lip to stifle my giggles. Dreaming of work. No wonder he scowled in his sleep.

  “Okay, I will,” I assured him, lying down in the space beside him.

  “Tam?” Chris called out.

  I sighed. “Yes, Chris?”

  “I love you.” He turned onto his side leaving me stunned, silent and staring at his back.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  You can never read too much into a dream.

  How could I possibly? It was just a dream; he had no control over it, he had been dreaming of pool cues only seconds before, for Christ’s sake. And if I believed that dreams had any weight to them, considering my reoccurring dream in which my teeth fell out, I was in serious trouble.

  The night had left me frustrated, confused and in a bed full of sand for no reason. Sure I was clean and comfortable without my flannelette PJs, but the only problem now was that my thoughts plagued me, making sleep fitful.

  I awoke with the sun streaming across my face, an unexpected intrusion considering the panel van’s windows were blacked out. Shifting onto my side and shielding my eyes, I peeked through one squinted eye to spot a blurry silhouette standing at the open doors of the panel van.

  “Morning,” Chris beamed.

  I sat up, stretching and groaning. I brushed my matted locks of hair to the side and cringed at its Brillo pad-like consistency. Suddenly I became very aware of my appearance.

  Chris stood in the doorway, a warm, friendly smile spread across his lips as he leaned casually against the open door. He was dressed in navy shorts and white T with an open checked shirt over the top. He looked like he belonged in a David Jones catalogue, and here I was looking like a bag lady.

  “Morning,” I croaked.

  “You hungry?”

  I rubbed my stomach; it was hollow and begging for substance. “Famished,” I said.

  “Get dressed and we will hit the road.” Chris stepped back in the sunlight and stretched his arms to the sky.

  He seemed awfully chipper. It was a welcome sight to wake up to. I’d had a fitful sleep plagued with dreams of waking up with a note next to me, telling me he had hitchhiked back to Onslow – Happy New Year. So when I had woken to Chris’s beautiful smile instead, butterflies fluttered happily in my stomach. Or maybe it was hunger? No, it was definitely butterflies, and it was nice.

  By the time I got dressed into some cut-off denim shorts and a lime green singlet top, I had opted to throw my hair up into a messy bun style. Using my drink bottle I washed my face and brushed my teeth, staring off into the distance, admiring the sandy, scrubby surrounds and how different everything looked in the light of day.

  What did look different, as in a hundred times better, was Chris Henderson. He whistled animatedly to the radio as he leaned over a map he had spread across the bonnet, the very bonnet he had slid my bikini bottoms off me on last night.

  I blanched at the memory as my eyes wandered over the curve of pronounced muscle that flexed whenever Chris shifted, the same muscles I had explored only hours before with my hands and mouth. I shook my head, blinking away last night before I choked on my toothpaste. Now that would not be a good look.

  I rinsed my mouth out, quickly spraying a zigzag line of Impulse body spray over me and dabbing on some strawberry Lip Smacker. I casually made my way around the front of the van, with a casual, no-big-deal attitude.

  So we nearly had sex last night. That’s what happens: people hook up and get on with it, people dream, people declare their love and then they wake up and start their day like normal. No big deal at all. Nope, nothing to write home about here; just a normal summer fling.

  I stood by the side of the bonnet and leaned my elbows casually on its surface, hoping I didn’t look too try-hard.

  Chris’s serious eyes flicked up to me with brief acknowledgement and then back to the map.

  Hmm.

  “I’m trying to see if there’s a shorter route to Point Shank.”

  My heart pounded, worry licking at the edges of my overactive imagination.

  “That keen to get rid of me, huh?” I teased, regretting the words as soon as they had fallen from my mouth, even more so when Chris’s less-than-amused eyes flicked up to meet mine for a second before going straight back to the map.

  He ignored me. “If we go this way it’s about three hours.” He traced his finger along a red line. “But if we go this way, we should be able to shave off about half an hour.”

  I nodded, looking at the map. It could have been a map of Berlin for all I knew. If I never reached Point Shank it really wouldn’t have worried me; I would have forgone the seaside city famed for its New Year’s Eve festival of bands and fireworks. I would sooner have stayed here, if we’d had the proper supplies like food, hair conditioner and condoms. This place would be paradise. But I knew we wouldn’t stay.

  I shrugged. “Which way is closest to food?”

  That caused Chris’s lips to tug into a crooked line. “This way.” He pointed at the map.

  I frowned. “The long way?”

  Chris nodded.

  Ha. What do you know, I was paying attention, I thought to myself proudly.

  Chris folded up the map. “The long way it is.”

  “Oh, um, is that okay? I mean, we can go any way, it doesn’t really matter. I can wait, I’m not that hungry. Seriously, go the shortcut if you want.” I was babbling, I knew I was; it was a clear sign of my anxiety. It was like an out-of-body experience in that I could see myself and hear myself but I couldn’t make myself stop.

  Chris stared at me, amusement lining his face. He stepped forward and the subtle motion made me shut up instantly. Or it could have been the finger he placed on my lips.

  My eyes narrowed but not because he had silenced me. I quite liked him touching my lips – it caused a familiar heat to flourish – but my eyes darted from his face up to his hair. I grabbed his wrist, drawing his hand away.

  “Your hair’s wet.”

  Chris ran his hand through his messy, damp hair. “Went for a morning dip. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Something inside me panged, annoyed at him for not waking me to freshen up with him before the las
t leg of the journey. The result had him looking like sex and sunshine, and I looked like sludge and death. So he had slept like a baby and had a morning dip. No wonder he was in such a jolly mood.

  I crossed my arms, hoping I didn’t appear as resentful as I felt; I didn’t want to do an Amy and sulk for the rest of the trip.

  “You talk in your sleep, you know.” The words fell out of my big mouth.

  Seriously, Tammy. Shut. Up.

  Chris’s brows rose in surprise. “Yeah? What did I say?”

  I love you – I love you – I love …

  I shrugged. “Just mumbling, mostly.”

  “Must have had something on my mind.” He half laughed, moving around the car to put the map back into the glovebox. “You know what they say about dreams?”

  I moved to the passenger door and opened it, listening with interest.

  “No, what?” I asked.

  “They say if you dream it, it won’t come true.”

  I forced a smile on my face, trying to be pacified by Chris’s words. I mean, great – so my teeth wouldn’t fall out, but his words also hit a nerve in me.

  Was this his way of covering himself? Maybe he remembered his dream last night and was just whacking a disclaimer on it, unsure of which part I had witnessed.

  Either way, it wasn’t the way I had wanted to leave our little paradise. There had really only been awkwardness on my end of things. Chris was so relaxed, with not even any acknowledgement over last night’s heat between us; it was like it had never happened.

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. I had been dreading so much any potential ‘talk’ I might be faced with in the light of day, but now there was no recognition whatsoever, as though I had imagined the whole thing.

  It made me feel a bit shitty. I know that’s what happens with some boys – they hook up with a girl and then go about life again. I wasn’t going to be a Fatal Attraction, bunny-boiling ‘do you want to be my boyfriend?’ psycho, but I had at least thought that the exchange between us last night had been real. Intense. I knew how he had made me feel and I knew he’d felt something too.

  Or at least I thought I’d known.

  Suddenly I was really relieved that we didn’t have a condom, because if this was how I felt about him after just fooling around then I would have been a thousand times worse if we had slept together. It was a painful realisation. Things were different in the light of day, all right.

  All I had to do was put on a brave face for the next three hours.

  Crap!

  “Why don’t we take the short way?” I said.

  Chris paused before sliding into the car. “Didn’t you want something to eat?”

  I looked out of the passenger window, trying to keep my emotions in check.

  “It’s okay; I’m not that hungry anymore.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The short way was both a blessing and a curse.

  Although I had claimed to have lost my appetite, try telling my ravenous stomach that. I felt nauseated and was quiet throughout the trip. I didn’t entirely know if it was because I was just hungry or because my insides were churning with anxiety and bitter disappointment. Considering I had dreaded our arrival at Point Shank only yesterday, now we couldn’t get there soon enough even if it did mean having to face Toby and Ellie. I cared little now. I was over game players and the deception. Arriving at Point Shank meant that I would at least get a distraction and alternative company. As soon as possible I planned to give Chris some space and move into the ‘singles’ tent; I didn’t want to be a needy nympho following him around.

  Chris never asked why I was so quiet, which was more natural than anything. If there was one thing we had fallen into over the last three days it was the ability to have comfortable silences; it was one of the things I had liked most about us. Except now the silence hung in the air so thick you could carve it – for me, anyway. I was sure Chris was none the wiser over my whirring thoughts of inadequacy that only served to make me more miserable.

  Over an hour into the journey we had managed to grab some takeaway food and kept going toward Point Shank. Chris seemed anxious to keep up a quick pace and when we were a mere twenty minutes from Point Shank, Chris suddenly became fidgety and unsettled. He shifted in his seat, drummed the steering wheel and adjusted his side mirror several times. I had almost been tempted to tell him to settle down, but then the scenery changed and once again we were on the outskirts of civilisation, whirring past a mixture of shops, cafes and people. Finally we approached a sign that cemented where we were: ‘Point Shank NYE Beach Bash’ was scrawled across a giant banner, high above the main street. There was an air of excitement, a mass of people converging on a densely populated city to see in the New Year. We’d made it.

  Having arrived early on New Year’s Eve itself, it was a relief knowing that at least we would have time to unwind and settle in before the madness of tonight’s festivities began.

  Now for the first time I actually wished the others were here too. We had arrived early, so what would we do? Locate our campsite and sit in the van all day until the others caught up? My mind wickedly flashed to a way we could kill time, but I quickly stomped that out.

  Yeah, that was not going to happen.

  Considering we had spent a few nights in the solitude of quiet, bushy surrounds or coastal beach culs-de-sac, now we had hit Point Shank everything seemed … loud. And visually over-stimulating. There were shouts, ‘woot’s and screams from merry crowds of people lining the streets, enjoying their official last day of the twentieth century. We drove past a packed caravan park where tents were dotted side by side with barely a spare patch of grass in between. There were caravans, trailers, utes, boats and four-wheel drives cluttering every inch of the road; it took us every second of our free time to manoeuvre our way through the town.

  My fantasies of Chris pulling off the main road and winding through side streets to take me to some undiscovered, secret location overlooking the ocean seemed less and less likely. My heart sank.

  Maybe coming here was a bad idea?

  I thought Chris would say as much, seeing as he was the one actually navigating through the chaos, but he didn’t seem in the least bit fazed. If anything, he was excited. I then had visions of the boys wandering off tonight, partying into the New Year. What if Chris met some girl? What if he brought her back to the campsite – what then? Sleep toe to toe with Ellie?

  I really had to shut my mind down.

  “So, is the camping ground nearby?” I asked, hoping that the hill we were driving up was closing in on our destination. If nothing else, there would be facilities for a hot shower and a toilet that wasn’t a bush. I was desperate for a real shower.

  “Not exactly,” Chris grimaced.

  I straightened in my seat. “Oh?” I pressed, preparing myself for the bad news.

  Only four more hours past Point Shank and we’re there.

  “We’re not exactly ‘in’ a camping ground,” said Chris.

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “Oh, it is.” Chris flashed me a bright, pearly smile that caused my traitorous heart to jump.

  My hands became clammy – the possibility of no showers, no toilets, no privacy ran through my mind in a long line of hideous scenarios. This was originally an all-boys trip and roughing it to them was no big deal. And then my mind flashed back to the last conversation Chris had had with Sean before leaving the petrol station.

  “All right, then, you know where we plan to meet up?” Sean had said.

  “I know the place,” Chris had replied.

  “Remember?” Sean had then held a finger up to his lips and mimed ‘not a word’.

  Oh God. What kind of hellhole had they planned to take us to? Was this some form of punishment because we gatecrashed their road trip? Was it some kind of prank Sean wanted to play on Amy that we all had to suffer through? If I had dreaded arriving at Point Shank before, now I wanted to turn around and go back home without stopping.
>
  “Okay, I’m scared,” I admitted.

  Chris laughed. “Oh relax, it’s not that bad. It’s just going to take some … adjusting to.”

  Oh God, it must be bad.

  ***

  I gazed out toward a grassy embankment, divided by pavement then the sandy beach. By now I was all beached out; I was no longer bewitched by the beauty of it. If anything, I was filled with so much dread and anxiety, the blue water and golden sand just whizzed by in a blur. To think I could have painted my laundry by now and be helping Mum sell her clay vaginas at the market instead.

  I had never thought that would be a more appealing option than road tripping with my friends.

  My thoughts were jolted back to the present as Chris pulled off the road onto the side.

  I sat patiently. He probably wanted to get something out of the back. I kept looking out of the window.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice snapped me away from the view.

  “What?”

  “You’re disappointed?” he asked.

  My eyes met his; was he asking about last night, or Point Shank? The last thing I wanted to do was be the whingy tag-along.

  I swallowed, shaking my head. “No,” I lied.

  “Well, we’re not far, so we can settle in and wait for the others,” Chris sighed, tilting his head from side to side.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I tried to sound upbeat but I knew I was not pulling it off.

  “God, my neck is killing me. I might get a massage,” he said.

  Was he asking me for a massage? Is that what he was hinting at?

  “Where do you suppose I could pay for one?”

  No, he wasn’t asking me for one.

  “I don’t like your chances of finding anywhere on New Year’s Eve,” I said.

  “Maybe, but I think any place with complimentary fluffy white robes and room service should be able to offer something. I don’t know, someplace … well … like that.” Chris pointed over the road. There was a massive, sprawling, sandstone-coloured resort, lined with palm trees and a giant waterfall feature illuminated with coloured lighting that read ‘Point Shank Beach Resort’.