LAUREN

 

 

Peta wasn’t keen when I first called, but I managed to plead, beg and pester her until she agreed. Morgan shuffled through my wardrobe, not having actually thought about bringing clothes for going out, and let out sighs of disappointment as most of my outfits were discarded to the side. She finally settled on a silver dress with a split up the side that I had forgotten I even owned. She selected a black pantsuit with a plunging neckline for me. She scowled when we stood side by side in the mirror.

“Maybe I should go for boobs rather than legs.” The reflection of her body twisted in the mirror as Morgan attempted to study herself from all angles. “My legs do look very good in this dress though, and we both know if it comes down to a cleavage competition, you’re going to win.”

“It’s not a competition, Morgan. We are simply heading out for a few quiet drinks.”

Morgan shook her head and turned around to catch her reflection over her shoulder. “That is not what tonight is about.”

“Yes, it is,” I replied firmly.

“Well, it might be for you, but I intend on drinking myself into a state where I no longer care about anything and then dancing the night away with whatever handsome man I can wrap my arms around.”

“All the while remembering you have a husband at home.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and slipped on a pair of black heels. “As if I could forget.”

We picked Peta up on the way and were soon seated on stools at a busy bar, Morgan eagerly surveying the crowd for potential dance partners. She sipped on her drink frequently, the straw bobbing in her glass as she jiggled on the seat.

Peta stifled a yawn. “So what are we doing here?”

“Looking for virile sex gods for me to have an affair with just like my little sister.” Morgan patted my knee, her eyes dancing across the writhing crowd of people in the centre of the dance floor. She put her glass onto the bar and spun off her seat. “Wish me luck.” She moved towards the dance floor, hips swaying, and arms in the air. “I’m going in!” she called over her shoulder.

“What’s up with her?” Peta asked as we watched Morgan get swallowed into the pulsating crowd.

I shook my head. “Don’t ask.”

Peta toyed with her glass, running her finger around the rim until the faint humming sound floated over the beat of the music. “How was the rest of your time with Tyler?” She looked at me innocently, but I knew the question was anything but.

“Good,” I replied. “We didn’t get up to much. Just stayed at home.”

“He seemed rather pissed when you guys left our place.”

“He was,” I said, without offering any more information.

Morgan had inserted herself in the middle of a group of young men, hands lifted in the air, knees bent, hips bopping as though she was doing some stilted raise-the-roof dance craze. A familiar smile flashed behind her.

“Shit,” I said, trying not to make eye contact.

“You swear a lot more than you used to,” Peta informed me, taking another sip of wine.

“It’s Stefan.”

She scanned the crowd looking for Gabe’s flatmate. Catching his eye, she waved.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, pulling her arm back down.

“Being friendly.”

“Lauren!” Stefan yelled out my name and broke away from the group to stumble our way. As he wrapped me in a sweaty embrace the crowd parted a little and Gabe came into my sight, standing next to the pool table, head resting on his hands wrapped around the tip of a cue. Morgan spotted him at the same time as I did and lurched towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.

I spun around, turning my back to them. Peta elbowed me as Stefan grabbed my arm, pulling me off the seat.

“I know someone who will want to see you,” he tried to whisper but ended up yelling in my ear, spit flying from his mouth. He leaned in closer as he dragged me across the floor. “He’s missed you something wicked. It was pretty low fucking his brother like that.”

Stefan deposited me in front of a surprised Gabe who still had Morgan’s arms draped over him.

“Look, Lauren. It’s Gabe,” she said gleefully.

I offered a hesitant smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled back and pushed his hair away from his eyes. It was fully blond again and the length almost brushed over his shoulders like it used to. A shudder of familiarity washed over me as the memory of running my hands through that hair flickered across my mind.

“How are you?” I asked, somewhat awkwardly over Morgan's shoulder as I leaned to embrace him.

“Good,” he said, nodding his head. His eyes fell to the floor and then back up to me. They held sadness and regret. He took a swig of beer and turned back to the pool table. “Want to play?” he asked.

I shook my head as Morgan bobbed up and down on her toes. “I will, I will!”

Gabe tilted the cue towards her and she took it, reaching around him to slap his backside, causing him to look up with alarm and amusement. He nodded to some stools against the wall and we sat down next to each other. “Morgan appears to be having a good night.”

“She’s sure making the most of it.”

Over at the pool table, Morgan lined up her ball, swaying as she did so, but still managed to pocket the red. She let out a whoop of excitement.

Gabe folded and unfolded his arms. He looped his hands together and hung them between his legs, only to detangle them again and shove them into the pockets of his jeans. “How are things at the café?” he asked.

“Pretty good.”

“Mark still moaning about everyone and everything?”

“I think it’s bred into him. He couldn’t stop if he tried.”

Gabe chuckled. “Whinging bastard.”

He got off the stool and shifted it closer to mine as Morgan took a shot at one of the pool balls. She sunk it easily and quickly and turned her attention to the next.

He leaned close so I could hear him over the music but still spoke low enough so no one else could hear. “I’m really sorry about the way I behaved.”

“I don’t think any apology is necessary.”

“But it is. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I know I need to grow up, take responsibility for myself instead of drinking my way through life.”

“You still taking that course?”

Gabe shook his head. “Nope. I got kicked out when I stopped turning up for a few weeks. It’s a bit hazy really. There was a lot of drinking involved. I’m thinking of moving to the city, actually.”

“You?” I asked. Gabe hated big city life.

He nodded and took another swig of his beer. “Thinking of approaching Dad on bended knee and asking for a job.”

“But you would hate that.”

He shrugged, his eyes sliding over to meet mine. “I might not. All I know is that I couldn’t give you what you needed. But I’m going to change that.”

“Gabe.” I said his name as a sigh and he reached over to take my hand, but I pulled away.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes fixed on the floor.

Morgan let out another excited whoop, claiming ownership for the win. “Back to the dance floor!” She caught Gabe’s hands in her own and tugged him off the seat.

“You’re not with her anymore,” she said loudly. “Don’t look at her like that.”

Gabe threw his head back and laughed before looking at her incredulously. “Like what?”

“You know what like,” Morgan said, dragging him away.

“Come dance?” Gabe asked with hopeful eyes.

I shook my head, but he wrenched his hands from Morgan long enough to grab one of mine and pull me after him. After a little protesting, I relented and followed them both through the crowd until the group of us formed a circle, Peta reluctantly joining us. Gabe danced beside me, but kept his distance, preferring to use only his eyes in an attempt to sway me. He looked at me darkly, moving his body in a fashion that I was too well acquainted with, his gaze slipping from my eyes, to my lips, to the exposed swell of my breasts. By the time the third song came on and with another glass of wine consumed, I had relaxed enough to start enjoying the music. Morgan was in a world of her own, dancing in the middle of the circle. Alcohol warmed my insides. Music flooded my senses and, before I realised what had happened, I found myself alone on the floor with Gabe dancing dangerously close. His hand snaked around my waist and pulled me to him, but not so close that he actually touched me anywhere other than where his hand rested on the small of my back. Tilting his head forward he spoke loudly into my ear. “You look gorgeous.” His hand increased pressure on the small of my back and he pressed against me, his head hovering over my shoulder, his mouth brushing against my ear. “I miss you,” he said, his voice smooth. I stepped back but he just held me tighter. “Please don’t,” he said. “Don’t move away. Just give me one night. One night to make you remember how good we were together. How I made you feel.” In one smooth movement, he crushed his lips against mine.

I pushed against him violently. “Gabe!”

He held his hands up. “I’m sorry.” He took a step forward, hands still raised in an innocent plea. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” He caught the material of my outfit as I turned. “Don’t leave.”

I jerked away from him.

“Stay,” he begged. “Please stay. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise I’ll behave. Anything. Please, just stay.”

I let his words fall behind me as I pushed my way through the crowd and out the door into the cold night. My breath came out as white puffs under the streetlight.

“You okay?” Peta pushed her way through the door.

“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t be around him like that. I want Tyler. I love Tyler.”

Peta leaned on the brick wall of the building, resting her backside on her hands. “You love him?”

I turned to look at her. “I do. My heart actually aches when I think of him.”

“Are you sure that’s love?” she asked.

“If it’s not, I don’t know what is.”

“I’ll go get Morgan.” Pushing off the wall, she disappeared into the nightclub and returned, dragging a complaining Morgan behind her.

When I called Tyler in the early hours of the morning, he was still up, and I heard the noise of his fingers tapping on the laptop in the background. I told him about our night out. About Morgan and the massive hangover she would have the next day. But when it came to telling him about Gabe the words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t tell him over the phone without any way to read his expression. I wasn’t there to assure him with my touch, or make promises with my mouth. So I didn’t tell him.

* * *

Over the next month, I travelled to the city each week, sometimes staying the night with Tyler, sometimes having to make quick day-trips because of my work at the café. Due to Hamish’s increasing demands on Tyler’s time, he couldn’t make it back to visit me either. The distance ate at us, both wanting to spend more time together, both longing to be wrapped in each other’s embrace.

It was Sadie who came up with a solution with a contract she applied for on my behalf. A time-limited contract for six weeks photographing the setup and development of a weekend winery concert from concept to completion. The organisers were taken with the images Sadie supplied, and after a meeting, they hired me. I packed the few things I would need to take with me, provided the neighbour with enough jellymeat to feed a whole litter of cats, and soon I was wrapped in Tyler’s arms as he greeted me off the plane. It was to be a trial. A test for living together. Peta couldn’t help but be a little annoyed when I handed in my resignation, but she still sighed and hugged me, tears in her eyes when she told me how much she would miss me. I reminded her that it was only for six weeks, but we both knew it was more than that.