Danielle hadn’t changed. She was still trying to bullshit me just like she had when we were younger, except this time, I didn’t know what her reasoning was. When we were kids, she’d never wanted to be my girlfriend because she’d wanted to be my friend more. I’d even tried convincing her otherwise, promising that she would always be my friend, no matter what. But she’d never listened. Forever stubborn. Once that girl got an idea in her head, there was no way of getting it out. Not even with a chisel. And trust me, I tried … sans the chisel.
She’d always insisted that I was her only ‘true friend’ one that didn’t backstab or lie to her because, according to her, “that’s what girls do — they trick you and tear you down.” She’d explained that having girls as friends was a vicious cycle she just didn’t want to be a part of, which was why she preferred hanging out with boys instead, except she didn’t really hang out with anyone but me.
The part about her not trusting or wanting to be friends with girls wasn’t what I’d always thought to be bullshit, because I’d beared witness to how often she would be ridiculed at their expense: “Shortcake. Tomboy. Caterpillar face.” So yeah, I’d believed her when she’d said I was her only true friend. I just hadn’t believed her when she’d said she didn’t want to date me. Just like I don’t believe her now when she says I’m not her type.
And that’s not because I was a cocky bastard who rated himself, even though I was a cocky bastard at times. It was because you couldn’t fake a connection like ours, just like we couldn’t fake it when we were younger. It was impossible. Our laughter, our shared secrets … our sleepless nights — because we’d had so much more to talk about and couldn’t due to the impatient setting sun stealing our time together — none of that could be dismissed as just childhood friends. We’d been so much more. So much more.
And I knew she knew that too.
Stepping away from my floor to ceiling window, overlooking the city lights and buildings surrounding Docklands, I climbed into bed. But what are her reasons for bullshitting me now? Why is she lying about Chris? Not knowing was pissing me off. Clearly, they weren’t dating, because if they were, he certainly didn’t know about it. And, clearly, I was her type, because she’d blushed at least three times during the day.
A smile stretched my face, and I folded my arms above my head to rest upon. She was even more beautiful than when we were kids, albeit fundamentally more muddled, flustered, and so damn cute. But why she was already building a barrier between us and fighting getting to know me again was beyond me. We’d only just reconnected.
Okay, so granted, I’d inadvertently fucked up and landed us in hot engagement water, but surely that wasn’t the reason as to why she was knocking us down before we’d even had the chance to walk … to the altar.
Kidding.
Fuck! I had to figure it out, and the only way I knew how to figure things out was to use facts and to use them to my advantage. Most people didn’t know how to argue facts, but I did. Quite well. It was what I did for a living.
Turning my head to the side, to once again take in the glow of the city lights outside my window, I decided I was also going to start my process of discovery by deploying a defence tactic I called ‘you want what I have’ by withholding information from her, or at least appearing to do so. I was going to give her the cold shoulder, to an extent, until she confessed her reasons for sabotage.
Yes, Danielle Cunningham was a case I was going to crack.
When I woke the following morning, I’d initially had grave fears that day two of Operation Let’s Fix Hillier Community Garden/Crack the Case of Danielle Cunningham was going to be cancelled due to wet weather. Thankfully, the clouds were on my side and had decided not to piss on my tactical parade. And, now, I couldn’t wait to further test my theories where Danielle was concerned, starting with me being her type and not the other way around.
I had to get under her skin more than I already had. It was how you broke a person, how you cracked their shell and peeked inside. And fuck did I want to peek inside Danielle. I wanted to explore that woman like a Where’s Wally book. Discover every one of her fine details and commit them to my memory bank.
Knowing most women liked a well-dressed man who took pride in his appearance without overdoing it and looking prettier than she did, I figured I’d start my exploration assault on her eyes. I wore tailored suits day in and day out. Power clothes. Designed to lower the defence of your counterpart. Unfortunately, I couldn’t wear a suit while gardening so instead chose black loosely fitted jeans, a black woollen turtleneck, coat, and steel capped boots, hoping it would add to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ effect she’d confessed to liking. Thanks to that little text message she sent me the previous night, I was now armed with the knowledge that my appearance did appeal to her. She couldn’t take that back. I had hard copy evidence.
Thank you, digital age.
Pulling up to the garden at the crack of dawn, my plan was to get there before she did and busy myself with the task at hand, ignoring her and seemingly emphasising I was there for one purpose and one purpose only, to fix the garden.
No one else had arrived, so I got to work right away, tearing down the rotted wood shed with a sledgehammer, which, thankfully, wasn’t all that crippling considering I hadn’t been to the gym in weeks. I’d been too busy. Plus, I much preferred running along my local dockland paths as a means of stress relief and exercise.
As a youngster, I’d never been the sporty type. Team sports had just never interested me. I’d preferred exercising my brain and exploring nature by climbing trees and walking nearby tracks, instead. As an adult, though, I’d learned to appreciate the benefits of a gym, I just didn’t benefit from it as much as I should.
“Wow! Have you been here all night?” Mum asked as she stopped just short of where I was bent over, picking up planks of wood.
I straightened and leaned over to kiss her cheek, its bitter cold touch icy against my lips. “Good morning. You’re cold. You should put a warmer jacket on.”
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Crisp, morning air is good for you.”
“Not if you have an existing respiratory condition, it’s not.”
She rubbed my shoulder and laughed. “Well, luckily, I don’t.”
“Yes. Still, I think you should put another layer on.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Who’s the parent here?”
“That doesn’t work anymore, Mum.” I chuckled at her cuteness and continued to pick up wood.
“Sure it does, and it always will. You’ll see.” She nudged my shoulder. “Because when you and Danielle have kids, you’ll feel the same way.”
I nearly dropped the wood on my foot. “Mum! Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little?” Shit! I really need to tell her the truth.
“Not at all. First comes marriage, then come babies … or so the nursery rhyme says,” she mumbled. “So it’s only a matter of time, really.”
The smile that beamed from her face was akin to a brightly lit lighthouse. It sank my stomach like an anchor. I really need to tell her. I REALLY need to tell her.
She squealed and threw her arms around me in a vise-like grip. “I’m so thrilled for you, Elliot. You’ve waited so long for this. I’ve always known you and Danielle were meant to be. Call it mother’s intuition, whatever. I’ve just always felt it within my bones that you’d both find a way back to one another.”
Prying her arms loose, I pulled her in for a quick hug, unable to look her in the eyes nor let her go. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Of course.”
“I think what you’re feeling within your bones is frostbite. I also think you read too many romance novels.”
“Nonsense. You can never read too many romance novels.”
My laughter bobbed her head against my chest. “If you say so.”
“I do.” She stiffened and pulled back, her lighthouse beam near blinding me. “Oh my God! ‘I do!’ You’ll be saying that soon. When? Have you both set a date? When can I start making plans? Have you picked a location yet? What about—”
“MUM! Settle down. Danielle and I haven’t spoken about any of that—”
“What? Why?”
Before I could summon my balls into my hands and confess, Danielle and Jeanette arrived. Mum waved at them like a kid at Disneyland.
“What’s gotten you so excited this fine, cold morning?” Jeanette asked as she and Danielle walked toward us, arms linked, bodies slightly huddled.
I offered them a small smile. “Morning.”
“What are you just standing there for?” Mum scolded, shoving me forward. “Go and warm your fiancée up. Look at her, she’s freezing.”
She shoved me again, and I had no choice but to wrap my arms around Danielle at the very moment she began to protest. “It’s o … k …k …kay, I’m ffff fi—”
“Shit. You’re an iceblock.” I rubbed my arms up and down hers, desperately trying to warm her up.
Jeanette blew into her hands, steam from her breath rising in front of her face. “That’s because her stupid car doesn’t have a working heater.”
“My c… c… car isn’t stuuuuupid, Mum,” Danielle replied, her teeth chattering. “It’s a c … c …. classic.”
“It’s old. You need a new one. Elliot, dear, please convince her to get a new one. I worry all the time when she’s driving that thing.”
“I have to agree,” Mum chimed in. “It’s definitely not suitable for when the baby arrives.”
Oh, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!
Danielle’s legs nearly gave way, her body slipping down mine just slightly. I caught her and held on for dear life, but mainly because if I held tight enough, she wouldn’t be able to kill me.
“WHAT?” Jeanette shrieked, turning to face her daughter front on. “YOU’RE PREGNANT?”
Both Mum and I raised a hand to stop Jeanette continuing. “Wait! N—”
She covered her mouth but kept talking. “Of course. This is making even more sense now—”
“I’m NOT pregnant, Mum.” Danielle shrugged free of my grip like a ninja and glared so heatedly that she almost lifted the frost from the ground. “Elliot and I haven’t even had sex yet.”
“Oh!” Jeanette’s hand dropped from her mouth. “But … OH!”
I’d never known true silence until that moment. Not a sound. Not a breath. Not a blink of an eye. Hang on a second … did Danielle just say ‘yet’, as in sex is pending?
Mum’s weary voice broke the silence. “Um … Jeanette, would you like to accompany me to the café down the road? I think we need some hot drinks before we get started.”
“But I have a flask of tea in my ba—”
“Oh never mind that. You can drink it later. Come on. Let’s leave these two to have a chat, yeah?”
Mum laced her arm with Jeanette’s and led her up the path to her car, and when they were out of sight, I copped a punch-slap-shove sequence to my arm.
“What the fuck, Lots? Yesterday we were getting married and today we are expecting a child?” She shoved me again. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
“Hey! Wait a minute!” I tried to secure her hands, mainly because they looked like icy poles, but also to stop any further abuse. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT,” she growled.
“Okay. Well, technically, it—”
“Don’t say that.”
I paused. “Say what?”
“Technically.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Just don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any of this.” Danielle slapped her hands to her cheeks and pushed them together, and my heart all but spasmed. Every fibre in my being wanted to pull her to me and kiss those pouted lips again, to feel her in my arms again, to—
“What did you say to Helen? This is getting way out of hand,” she snapped.
I diverted my sight from her lips and cheeks. “Nothing. I promise. In fact, I was about to tell her the truth when she started talking about babies, and that’s when you and Jeanette turned up.”
“This has all gone way too far.”
“I agree.”
“Pfft.”
My eyebrow rose at her sarcastic reply. “What was that for?”
“Because I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me?”
She nodded. “That’s what I said.”
“How about I don’t believe you.”
“In what way? I haven’t done anything?”
“Chris ring any bells?”
Danielle shifted on the spot. “What about him?”
“He’s not your boyfriend.”
“Ha! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Remembering my new tactic for discovery, I, too, lied and deliberately held back information. “Whether he’s your boyfriend or not doesn’t matter to me. What matters is you lying. We’ve never lied to each other, so why now?”
She took a step back as if I’d slapped her across the face. “I’m … I’m not lying.”
That lie stung. I’d just given her the perfect opportunity to come clean and she hadn’t, and I didn’t understand why. Yeah, I was a hypocrite for telling her I didn’t care if Chris was her boyfriend or not, because I fucking well did care. I cared a lot. She just wasn’t giving me any choice but to lie in return. Ironically, it was the best way to get to the truth.
Turning my back on her, I continued to collect the smashed up pieces of shed from the ground. “Yeah, you’re lying, and I’m not sure why. You’ve already told me I’m not your type. Fair enough. You’re not my type either. I guess I’m just wondering why you’re continuing to lie to me, you know?”
She stared at me, her mouth dropping open, tears welling in her eyes before she quickly turned away. Fuck!
“Danielle, I—”
“Let it go, Elliot. Let’s just do what we’re here to do, okay?”
I didn’t argue and let it go. For now.
Mum and Jeanette gave Danielle and I wide berth for the remainder of the day. My guess was that they could tell things were tense between us. The funny thing was it was the perfect opportunity to set the record straight yet neither of us did, which only strengthened my determination but also confused me further. I needed answers, a resolution. It was what I aspired to day in and day out.
Leaning on my shovel, I surveyed the site, taking in the mess we’d made during the demolition phase. There was shit everywhere: piles of wood, dug up garden beds, weeds … mounds of dirt. We needed a mini excavator.
Just as I was about to pull my phone out to look into hiring one for the following weekend, I heard Danielle curse.
“Damn it! Stupid splinters!”
Scouting the site, I found her flapping her hand as if she was performing the chicken dance.
“Owwwww,” she whined, and placed her finger in her mouth then pulled it out and flapped it again.
I removed the distance between us and walked over to where she was dancing about. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a splinter.”
I held out my hand. “Show me. Just a splinter or not, it needs to come out.”
“It’s nothing. I’ll get it out later.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Danielle, you hate the sight of blood, let alone digging through your own skin and flesh.”
Her skin paled and she wobbled a little, so I steadied her by taking a seat on a nearby log and pulling her onto my lap.
“What are you do—”
“What does it look like? I’m getting this splinter out.”
She tried to wrench her hand from mine. “Oh no you’re not!”
“Yeah, I am. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
My eyes shot to hers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she murmured, glancing down at where my fingers were gently stroking hers.
I, too, took in our caressing hands, such a simple action yet one that had the ability to say and mean so much, because … well … because touch. You didn’t need words when you communicated that way. And we sure as hell were communicating.
“Lots, please stop, ” she whispered.
“Why?”
She didn’t answer. So while she was distracted, I pushed into her finger behind the splinter and popped it out enough for me to easily remove.
“Fffffaaaaaark you,” she hissed, and went to retract her hand.
Holding it even tighter than before, I heard her sharp inhalation as I raised it to my lips and sucked her finger into my mouth.
She shuddered.
Our eyes met, and she swallowed, her lips parting, my arm tightening around her hips, my tongue swirling against her skin.
She didn’t move at first, so I leisurely slid her finger out of my mouth and gently kissed the tip, keeping my lips pressed to her. “Tell me why I should stop again?”
“Because … because … ”
Danielle stared at my mouth and rocked ever so slightly on my lap, and fuck me if it didn’t make my dick hard.
I had to get up.
There and then.
My plan to outwit her into submission and give me the upper hand had worked, but if we stayed in the position we were in, my unplanned submission would soon push against her thigh and give my entire offense away.
Fuck! I didn’t want to lose my advantage, but I sure as hell didn’t want to stop her pussy rubbing against my lap as well.
Fuuuuuuuck!
Tightening my grip around her waist, I stood up swiftly, lifting her with me and placing her on her feet.
“Well?” I asked. “Tell me again why I should stop, and I will.”
“Um … well … Er … Because…”
“Just as I thought. You don’t know why, do you?”