15
T HE clifftop path cuts through the bush that follows the meandering coastline, the trees twisting overhead in sections.
A northerly wind bounces off the cliffs, howling through tunnels and rock pockets like a submerged whistle.
It’s warmer in the tree’s shelter and I’m borderline sweaty in my puffer.
Paul walks to my right, allowing me the full width of the narrow path, keeping space between us.
His work boots struggle to gain a grip in the path’s soft, sandy banks.
Earlier, when we were walking along the street, he suddenly took my arm and shuffled me to his other side, mumbling something about it being rude to walk on my left.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I’d said.
‘A gentleman always walks on a lady’s right.’
‘You’re a gentleman? Who knew? But what’s the point of being on my right?’
‘In the olden days of horse and carts, it would stop you being splashed by a muddy puddle. Now, if a car comes sideways around the corner, they’ll hit me first.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, we’ll both probably be dead, but I’ll die first. I’ll make the bigger mess of their car.’
‘That’s gratifying, and don’t think I’m not appreciative, but I’m a feminist,’ I said.
‘I can’t let you get cleaned up for me. I’m also competitive, so I think I’d like to trash the car more than you.
’ I’d tried to move back to his left, but he was having none of that and promptly pulled me back.
The muscled tone of his bicep bulged from beneath his shirt.
‘Hey, Paulie, it’s beer o’clock!’
We’d walked past the pub, Paul’s friends at an outside table strewn with beer glasses, empty and full.
One of the Neanderthals was on his feet, waving his glass with the carelessness of the drunk as he spoke, sloshing beer everywhere.
Music was thumping and as the songs turned over a girl leapt to her feet and started dancing.
‘Go in if you want,’ I’d said, ‘not that you need my permission, of course, but if you want to, go for it. It’s up to you.’ My voice strains a little in my attempt at casual.
‘I couldn’t think of anything worse,’ he’d said. We paused to let a car pass, puttering along at the speed limit. Paul’s friends were calling his name. He pointed to his ears.
‘I can’t hear you,’ he mouthed and followed me into the walking track, the coastal scrub swallowing the pub’s noise.
At the Gap lookout, the ocean stretches to the horizon.
A sign warns of the unstable cliff face.
We’re out from the tree’s protection, hammered by the wind; I brace myself against its onslaught.
Far below is the Gap’s narrow beach, the black remains of a bonfire smearing the white sand.
Paul leans his elbows on the timber barrier, looking out beyond the surf.
‘You don’t think the strong, silent type is a little overrated?’
‘If I’m silent, I can’t stuff up, can I?’
‘Why? What would you stuff up?’
‘Stuff up anything. Everything. You’re very intimidating.’
‘I’m intimidating? What about you?’ I cross my arms.
‘I’m not the one with the house, the family, the full-on school, the rich friends.’
Here we go. I’m a Stuck-Up Bitch because of where I go to school, and there’s a perception that we’re rich because of our house. Obviously, we don’t live in poverty but it’s not like we spend our evenings rolling around in cash, and we don’t wipe our bums with $100 notes instead of toilet paper.
‘That’s not me at all,’ I say. He raises one eyebrow. ‘Anyway, you’re the intimidating one. You’re Paul Lightwood.’
‘Well, yes, that’s my name, Caterina Kelty, if we’re going with full names. I’m happy you know it.’
‘Oh, don’t give me that false modesty. You know exactly who you are, the impact you have on people. Girls. That makes you intimidating.’
‘Okay, so we’re both intimidating,’ he says. ‘You’re also patronising, you know that?’
‘I’m patronising? You called me a kid. Can’t get more patronising than that, can you?’
‘You’re right.’ He runs a hand over his head. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I remember how much it used to piss me off when people called me a kid.’
‘You’re patronising me right now,’ I say. ‘Are you going to ruffle my hair and pinch my cheek?’
‘That’s hilarious.’
‘Yes, funny was exactly where I was going with that one. You’re making me very confused, Paul Lightwood.’
‘I’m making you confused, Cat Kelty?’
‘Yes, you are. Suddenly you’re working with my dad at my house, and then from out of nowhere you ask me out, then you ignore me at the party, then you have lunch with my family.
You were a massive hit. Even my Nonna likes you, and when it comes to me, she doesn’t like any single one of your species. ’
‘My species?’
‘The male species. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. You can see why this is confusing, yeah?’
‘When you put it like that,’ says Paul, ‘I’m completely confused. You know what? You have it all arse around. Here’s where we are from my point of view. You ready?’
‘This should be good,’ I mutter but I step forward and rest my elbows against the railing.
‘First, Mick asked my boss if he knew anyone willing to get on the tools for the summer, and he asked me. I didn’t even know it was your house. And it was just a party. Anyway, I’ve wanted to ask you out for a long time.’
‘What?’
‘Forget it.’ He pulls his hood up over his head.
‘You wanted to ask me out? Since when?’
‘Last summer I wanted to but let’s face it, you are younger than me.’ He turns to me, a half-smile. ‘Anyway, last year I was in a pretty messed up place, but that’s a story for another day. And your old man scared the crap out of me last year.’
‘Really?’
‘Your dad still scares the crap out of me. He scares the crap out of all of us. We all know that Mick Kelty’s daughter is out of bounds. You have no idea what it was like just to see if you wanted to go to a crap Gap party. I should be up for some sort of medal for that, just saying.’
‘And your second point of confusion? That’s right, the party, where I ignored you.
Not sure how you came up with that conclusion, given it was you that left me there.
That was a bit shit, really, taking off like that.
And the look on your face when you thought I was trying to cop a quick feel of your bum, Cat, which I wasn’t. Your Dad just offered me a job.’
‘I think I like it better when you’re the strong and silent type.’
‘Can you let me finish? Please?’
I open my palms. ‘Go for it.’
‘Thank you. As I was saying, you have a pretty messed up idea about me. I’m not saying that I’d have a crack at a stop sign, but I’ve done things that I’m not very proud of, I admit that. And I’ve probably been with more girls than I’d want to count.’
‘Now you’re just bragging.’ I roll my eyes. ‘As if I didn’t know that. Every summer you have a different girl in your car. You have a different girl every week, every day. Anyway, it’s fascinating to hear about your love life, but do you have a point?’
‘Yes, I do. My point is I want to be with you, but not like I want to.’
‘What?’
‘This is all coming out wrong,’ he says. ‘You’re so different to anyone I know and not just because you treat me like shit. You’re tossing up between being a freakin’ doctor or a lawyer.’
‘What are you actually saying?’
‘I’m saying you’re funny and you’re smart.
Of course, you’re beautiful but it’s more than that with you.
I saw you at the Pav at New Year’s and thought about talking to you then but kept away.
I had a few drinks in me. I knew I’d be seeing you at your house and needed to look your old man in the eye.
Anyway, you’re no New Year’s hookup. You are more, so, so much more than that. You’re not like other girls.’
‘Umm, you know that’s not the compliment you think it is?’
‘I’m not finished. Then the next day, I’m hungover like a dog, and there you are at Sadie’s , giving me nothing. It was obvious you had no idea that your dad had hooked me up with the job and it was also obvious that you weren’t happy about it.’
‘I was just surprised, that’s all,’ I say. ‘And you were flirting with me. You know you were. “ Can I buy you a drink?”’ I lower my voice in imitation of his.
‘Oh God,’ he puts his face in his hands. ‘I was not. But yeah, okay, I was, I admit it. But I need to be smart here, not be me, but be me . I work for your dad. And all I want to do right now is kiss you.’
My mouth dries and I swallow hard.
‘You want to kiss me?’
‘I don’t want to stuff up with Mick.’
‘Yeah, I get it.’ I shake my head.
‘No, not just Mick. I don’t want to stuff up with you, Cat.
I don’t want to do anything that will mess things up.
I want to hang with you and your family at your house, I want to know you better.
’ He nudges me with his shoulder. ‘You need to know that all that shit you think you know about me? That isn’t me. ’
‘Wait, what?’
‘What you said about me on the way to the party? None of that is true. Okay, some of it is, but what other people say about me? That’s not the way I see myself. Does that make sense?’
I think about Isabel calling me a Stuck-Up Bitch, Mum’s blathering about losing myself in stress, Nonna’s hysteria about me ruining my future by way of unwed teenage motherhood, the endless school diatribes about maximising my potential when I don’t even know what my potential is.
A lump rises in my throat. Maybe I’ve been really unfair in how I’ve perceived him.
The realisation hits me hard and I’m glad the railing is here for me to lean against.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It makes perfect sense. Actually, I’m still confused. What do you want from me? Wait—let’s be clear about something before you answer that. Don’t go assuming anything just because I want to kiss you too.’
‘You do?’ His entire stance lifts and there is a smile behind his eyes.
‘I do.’
‘No, wait, let’s try something new for me,’ says Paul. ‘Friends zone. No more talk about kissing. No more punching me in the arm because it freakin’ hurts. Friends. I work with your dad. You and I are mates. That’s it. What do you think?’
‘Mates.’ I shrug. It makes sense, but man, I want to kiss him! I wish he’d never said anything about kissing me, because all I can think about is exactly that. But he’s right; he’ll be around the house all summer. Kissing will make things so much more awkward.
‘Start over?’ Paul holds out his right hand. ‘Hi. I’m Paul.’
‘Cat.’ I take his hand and shake it. His palms are a mass of callouses.
His hand slides down mine until he grips my fingertips with his, staring down into my palm as if he’s reading it.
‘Fuck it,’ he says, and kisses me.
I kiss him right back.
His lips are soft but fevered. He tastes faintly of cola as his tongue pushes against mine.
My heart goes on a rampage and my mind evaporates but not before my instincts kick in, sending a hand to cup that jaw, his stubble raspy.
My other hand grips his hoody and it’s the only thing that’s keeping me upright, as I’m on my toes, teetering, clinging to this adrenaline-inducing balance of soft and hard.
He kisses me in a way that I’ve never been kissed in my life, and it is the closest thing to magic I have ever experienced.
I would bet anything and everything that nobody’s ever been kissed like this in the history of kissing.
‘Cat!’ he pulls away and he’s panting as if it took all his will to sever the kiss. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I’m not.’ I move towards him, my hands outstretched.
‘I mean it.’ He turns away, shaking his head. ‘I want to be friends.’
The word is a slap, and it isn’t the wind that makes me bitterly cold. I jam my hands in my pockets and turn my back on the ocean to walk down the path. ‘Sorry I’m such a shit kisser.’
‘That’s not it,’ he starts, but I wave him off.
I force each step further away. ‘Friends it is. I’ll be seeing you. Mate.’
I don’t care if he couldn’t hear me.