Chapter 13
ME:
What’s your worst habit?
TRICKSTER:
Brave of you to assume I’m anything less than perfect.
ME:
I’ll guess not being the best at opening up?
TRICKSTER:
Is yours having no filter?
ME:
I think I always hope for the best, even when I can see things going wrong, I try to fix them. I can easily call it out in others, but not in myself.
TRICKSTER:
I can see that about you… sunshine in a flannel shirt.
TRICKSTER:
And you’re right. I don’t open up. With anyone. I’m trying to work on it though.
***
“Fake. Dating,” Phil says, staring at me while I finish wiping down the mats from class. We’re standing in the empty studio of the Life Vine Community Centre after finishing another self-defence class.
“Yeah.” I move to the front of the class and start rolling each one up while my best friend trails behind me, a look of stunned silence still on his face.
“Why not just take her as an actual date for the wedding?”
“You can’t ask someone you barely know as a date for a wedding. Not without risking them thinking it’s more serious than it is.”
“But you are taking someone you barely know as a date to the wedding.”
“Ahhh, but we know it’s not more serious. There’s no risk of confusing feelings for us whilst making Phoebe believe we’re serious enough to not question the past.”
Phil runs a hand down his face, then back over his shaved head. “I’m confused. Couldn’t that problem still have been solved by bringing Liv? I was promised a pistachio cannoli.”
I push past him with a chuckle, moving on to the next row of mats. “So what you’re really concerned about is pastry?”
“Yes! Vera’s gonna serve that vegan rubbish.”
“It’s not rubbish.” I sigh. I mean, it’s not my favourite, but my sister’s vegan, and she’s made me some pretty good stuff. “I’ll bring you a cannoli.”
“I still don’t get the faking business.” Phil shakes his head as he crosses his big arms over his chest. The words never tap out are inked on the outside of his forearm.
“If it weren’t for Phoebe seeing us outside Parlour Tricks it would have been fine. I fucking panicked, I don’t know what made me act like that. But, it doesn’t matter, Maevyn needed some help of her own that required a fake boyfriend, so it works well for everyone.”
“I have a hunch what made you act like that,” he mutters. “She pretty?”
“Would you make yourself useful and put away the rest of the gear?”
Phil rolls his eyes but crosses the room to where the pads are left. “That’s a yes.”
“All women are pretty.”
“Deflection doesn’t suit you. Come on, give me something.”
My sigh comes out sounding as weary as I am over this whole conversation.
“Fine. She’s got dark hair, she’s around five-foot-seven or eight, she’s got a tattoo on her shoulder, pretty little nose piercing, pouty lips that are always coated in this pale mulberry kinda colour, and she smells like chocolate. ”
She also wears the fuck out of denim jeans, and when those shapely thighs are bare on the nights she sits out to watch the stars, I can’t help but wonder how smooth her skin would feel under my palms. How badly I want to run my tongue over every inch and mark up that flesh with my beard.
“Did you notice how your descriptions got a lot more starry-eyed at the end there? Cos I sure as fuck did.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Whatever you say, buddy.” Phil grins. “I’ll reserve my full judgement for when I see you two at the wedding.”
We grab our bags and start heading out, with Phil locking up the studio behind him. “That’s not fair. We’ll be putting on a show.”
He stares at me, eyebrows raised in scepticism. “Mate. We’ve been friends for thirty years. I know when you’re bullshitting.”
“I don’t bullshit.”
“That’s why it’ll be so easy for me to see if this thing is fake or if you actually like the girl.”
I push his shoulder as we make it to the car park, where our cars are parked side by side.
The truth is, I do like Maevyn. There’s something about her that feels different to any other woman I’ve met.
I like the way she carries herself so unapologetically.
She’s brave and feisty. She says what she’s thinking, but I can tell there are things she holds back about herself.
There’s something she’s hiding, and it scares the shit out of me with how badly I want to know more.
I can’t remember the last time someone had this kind of pull over me, even Phoebe. And look how that turned out.
“Wow. Sure sounds to me like you don’t want any of Liv’s cannoli,” I mutter.
Phil chuckles as he throws his bag on the passenger seat. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up.”
I unlock my door and lift myself into my ute. “Good. I’ll see you for Saturday’s class.”
“Yep. Catcha, mate.”
The whole drive home, I still can’t get my neighbour out of my head.
My eyes often stray to her house when I’m in the backyard with Patch, and I can look up into her balcony, or from my upstairs study that looks straight at her front door.
Sometimes she leaves the solid door open, letting the strawberry scent of the candle she’s always burning drift through the flyscreen until it reaches my windows, and traces of her permeate my own home.
I blow out a breath, frustrated that I can’t seem to get these feelings under control. She’s always in my fucking head.
I pull into the shared driveway, my headlights rolling over my front door, and there she is, with a panicked look on her face.
I stop my ute in the middle of the driveway and jump out.
Within seconds, I’m in front of her, a gentle hand on her bicep, thumbs tracing the lines of her tattoo. “Is something wrong?”
Her face is flushed as she swallows down her obvious distress.
“Aurora’s running a fever. Do you have any pain relief?
” she breathes out. “I thought I had some, but I’m all out.
I haven’t found a doctor in the area yet.
I don’t know where the closest emergency room is.
Do you guys have an after-hours clinic for non-emergencies?
I don’t even know if this is an emergency.
She didn’t have an appetite for dinner, then she wanted to lie down, and when I went to check on her, she was burning up.
She almost never gets sick.” The more the words tumble out of her, the more distraught her voice grows.
My hand moves to her back, rubbing up and down. “Hey, it’s alright. I’ve got some medicine she can have,” I say, keeping my voice calm and even. “You go back to Aurora, and I’ll be right over, okay?”
A pleasing feeling fills my chest as I watch Maevyn take a few deep breaths, convinced it was me who brought that comfort. My words that settled her.
I lead her back to her door, giving her a gentle nudge. “I’ll be right there,” I call as she stumbles back inside.
I move my ute into the garage, then race inside.
Heading straight to the medicine box under the kitchen sink, I pull out a strip of paracetamol and some electrolyte tablets.
Patch comes trotting down the stairs, pausing on the last one to stretch out his back legs.
He comes over to me, whimpering as he picks up on the frantic way I rush through the kitchen.
“Come on then, you sook.” I whistle as I rush out the door, waiting for Patch to follow, then I’m running over to Maevyn’s.
“Maevyn?”
“Up here.” Her voice comes from the top of the stairs.
I take two steps at a time until I find the first door off the landing, moving into what’s clearly Aurora’s bedroom. “I grabbed some electrolytes too,” I say, handing her the box.
There’s a desk set up under the window and a corkboard mounted to the side, covered in photos and little quotes. Movie and musical posters cover the wall, and a shelf runs the full length of one wall, full of books and a random assortment of crocheted animals.
My eyes fall to Aurora curled up in the middle of her bed, an orange blanket covering her, and way too many pillows for one person.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, crouching beside her bed and running my hand over her head to test her temperature. She’s definitely burning up. “I’ve got some medicine for you.”
A thin smile stretches her lips, but her eyes stay closed. “Hey, West.”
I look up at Maevyn, who’s chewing her thumb as she watches us. I’ve never seen her like this. “Is she okay to swallow tablets?”
Maevyn nods, so I pop two pills into my palm. There’s already a glass of water on the bedside table, next to a framed photo of what looks like a young Maevyn and baby Aurora. They’re the spitting image of each other, especially in the way they smile.
“Have you got a facecloth you can wet for her head?” I ask, recalling the way my mum would look after me whenever I was sick.
“Yeah, there’s a cloth on her back.” Maevyn steps beside me, reaching under the blankets to fish out the damp cloth.
“It’s already so warm,” she whispers, and the defeat in her voice almost breaks me.
“That’s okay. Go wet it with cold water again, and I’ll help her with these.”
Maevyn hurries out of the room while I turn back to Aurora. I sit on the side of the bed, and Patch comes over to rest a head on my leg.
“Can you sit up for me, Aurora?”
She groans, but slowly props herself up on her forearms, accepting the pills one by one. She opens her eyes when she feels Patch jump up, his front paws coming to the edge of her bed.
“Hey, Patch.” She reaches out a hand to give him a scratch under his chin, and that’s all the invitation he needs to start lifting a back leg onto the mattress. His legs aren’t long enough to reach the top, but he remains determined.
“Patch. No,” I command, and the look he gives me is the kind he knows normally has me caving.
“He can come up,” Aurora says softly.
“He’s a complete bed-hog. And he snores,” I say playfully, earning me a tired chuckle.
“I don’t mind.”