Come Back To Me (25 page)

never seen him so happy,’ she says, and indeed he does

look happy, laughing with his cousins as he flips burgers.

‘Whatever you’re doing,’ she says, patting me on the

shoulder, ‘keep doing it.’

My cheeks instantly flare red, because the very first

thought that leaps into my head is of Kit and me having

sex, and I want to reassure her she doesn’t need to worry

about us ever stopping that.

Tessa turns then to pick up her toddler daughter who’s

making a beeline for the back door waving a plastic cook-

ing utensil in her ketchup-stained hand. When I turn back

to the window, I notice Kit is looking my way. He shoots

me a grin and I pull a face at him.

‘There you are! So glad you made it!’

I spin around to find Kit’s dad standing with arms

spread wide and a grin on his face to match Kit’s. I step

into his arms and hug him, feeling a momentary pang of

sadness that I find it easier to hug Kit’s dad than I do my

own.

‘Happy Birthday!’ I say, pulling out a card from my bag.

He takes it and kisses my cheek. ‘You are a sweet girl,

Jessa Kingsley. My son hit the jackpot with you.’

I can’t help but smile because I feel exactly the same

way about Kit.

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‘Who hit the jackpot?’ Riley asks, appearing with per-

fect timing at my side.

‘No one,’ I say quickly.

‘Did you get something to eat?’ Mr Ryan adds, help-

fully distracting Riley with the one thing that’s always

guaranteed to distract him: food. He starts ushering us

out into the garden, giving me a pointed look as he does.

I know he wants Kit and me to come clean with Riley, and

I start to wonder if inviting us all here wasn’t just a big

ruse. Now I think about it, in fact, it seems like the most

likely scenario. And it’s only confirmed when he steers us

straight towards Kit and then stands there beaming at all

four of us as though he’s brokering peace talks between

warring countries.

Kit chooses to ignore him and starts serving us food,

deliberately avoiding eye contact with me as he does. I

hang back until the others have moved on with their

plates and are looking for somewhere to sit.

‘Hot dog?’ Kit asks me, holding one up with his tongs

and trying his hardest to keep an innocent expression on

his face.

‘Maybe later,’ I answer with a smile, unable to stop

myself from staring at his lips. ‘I’ll take a burger, though.’

He drops one on my plate and I move on quickly

before he can offer to cover it in ketchup and before Riley

or Jo pick up on the sparks that are flying not just from

the grill.

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Kit

I watch Jessa walk across the garden towards Riley and

Jo. She glances over her shoulder as she sits and throws

me a sly smile, and I get a tightening in my gut in re-

sponse. A big part of me is totally turned on by the fact

that she’s right in front of me and I can’t touch her, can’t

run my hands over her body, can’t kiss her. And I know

that Jessa’s getting off on it too. Even now she’s turning

side on to me and deliberately flicking her hair over her

shoulder so I can see the spot on her neck where I like to

kiss her.

She’s giving me an unparalleled view of her legs as

well, and I wonder if she chose to wear that particular

sundress for a reason. It’s the same one she wore the

night we first slept together, and all I can picture when I

see her in it is how I slid it off her that night and how she

wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. She’s trying to torment

me. Damn. It’s probably punishment for my not warning

her about today. Though that wasn’t my fault. I had no

idea Sunday lunch was going to be co-opted into a birth-

day party and that my dad would then insist on inviting

both Jessa and Riley along to it.

Despite how much fun it is to be forced to admire the

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goods from afar and not touch them, I’m also dying to

walk right over to her, pull her to her feet and kiss her

into next century. Maybe, I reflect, the time to come clean

is now. It’s why my dad set this whole thing up in the

first place, after all.

I hand the grill tong to my cousin Matt and head over

to join Jessa.

I’m not sure what I plan to do, but I don’t get to find

out, because before I’m even three stops from them Jo’s

on me. ‘So who’s this girl, then?’ she asks.

‘What girl?’ I ask, aware of Jessa turning to look at me.

‘Riley says you’re seeing someone,’ Jo says, smiling at

me.‘Boning someone,’ Riley snickers, taking a bite out of

his burger.

‘Dude. I’m not – ’ I break off because I don’t want to

say the word
boning
in front of Jessa and also because I’d

be lying anyway.

Riley’s eyebrows leap up his forehead. ‘Oh, come on

. . . it’s us. You’re not usually so shy about sharing all the

details.’

Out the corner of my eye I see Jessa tip her head so her

hair falls in front of her face, hiding her expression. Oh

man.

‘I’m dating her,’ I say, glaring at Riley. ‘It’s not like that.

It’s . . . different.’

‘So you’re not boning her?’ Riley asks, burger juices

trickling down his chin he’s laughing so hard.

‘Oh my God! He’s blushing!’

I glower at Jo who only laughs more, which makes my

face get even hotter.

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Mila Gray

‘So when do we get to meet her?’ Jo asks teasingly.

‘I’m not sure,’ I stutter, having to fight the urge to look

at Jessa.

‘Is she pretty?’

‘Can’t be,’ interjects Riley, ‘otherwise he’d be showing

her off.’

‘She’s beautiful,’ I say. ‘Totally stunning.’

‘So why can’t we meet her then?’ Jo asks, eyes nar-

rowed. ‘What’s the deal?’

‘She’s busy. Couldn’t make it today.’

‘Dude,’ smirks Riley, ‘you’re being as coy as a Disney

princess. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing. I told you, she’s busy that’s all.’

‘Oh, let’s leave him alone,’ Jo laughs. ‘Maybe he

doesn’t want to introduce you, Riley, because he’s scared

she’ll run for the hills when she realizes what kind of com-

pany he keeps.’ She turns to Jessa. ‘What about you,

Jessa? Were there any cute boys at prom?’

Jessa pushes her hair behind her ear. ‘Nope,’ she

answers, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Not a one.’ I make a

note to self that Jessa is a really good liar, though there’s a

telltale flush to her cheeks that gives her away if you’re

looking for it.

‘What about that guy Todd?’ Riley asks, and I find

myself turning to stare at Jessa, waiting for her response.

She throws back her head and laughs. ‘No way,’ she

says. ‘Not my type.’

‘Well, you just make sure your type knows your

brother is a marine with a big gun.’

Jessa rolls her eyes. But she’s still smiling. I don’t think

she minds Riley’s overprotectiveness despite her protes-

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tations. If anything, she enjoys it. Jo, though, is looking

curiously between Jessa and me and I’m wondering if

she’s starting to put it together. Surely everyone can see

the crazy chemistry between us.

I stand up before I do or say something that gives us

away.

‘The burgers are calling,’ I say walking back towards

the grill. ‘Don’t forget your hot dog later,’ I add, shooting

a glance in Jessa’s direction.

Satisfyingly, her cheeks flush even redder.

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Jessa

As arranged, Kit picks me up after lunch from the hos-

pital where I’m volunteering and I take the wheel. I’m

getting good thanks to our daily lessons. Today Kit makes

me drive all the way to San Diego. It’s only when he

starts giving me directions that I realize we’re not ran-

domly driving around, we’re heading somewhere.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

‘Surprise,’ he answers.

‘I know your kind of surprises,’ I say.

‘You won’t guess this one,’ he replies, indicating at me

to pull over.

I look out the window. We’re parked on Congress right

beside the park. Kit jumps out the truck and I follow suit,

immediately intrigued.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask again as he leads me into

the park.

‘Promise you’re not going to kill me and I’ll tell you.’

My heels dig into the ground. ‘What?’ I ask. I have

visions of Riley and Jo waiting for us.

‘We’re going to the theatre.’

‘We are?’ I say. ‘Cool. Why would I kill you?’

‘For an audition.’

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I yank my hand from his and come to a halt. ‘What?’

‘They’re holding open auditions for an Oscar Wilde

play.’ Kit looks at me, his expression a mixture of nervous

and excited.

‘Kit,’ I say, shaking my head, ‘I can’t do it. I haven’t

prepared anything.’

‘You told me you remembered all the lines from the

play you were in.’

I stare at him. Is he insane? My heart is beating as fast

as a humming bird’s wings. ‘But I haven’t had a chance to

practise,’ I argue.

Kit takes my hands. ‘Nothing like being thrown into

the lion’s den. Look, what have you got to lose?’

‘My dignity?’

He laughs. ‘Come on, just do it. Even if you don’t get a

part, at least you’ll know you tried.’ I pull my hand from

his and cross my arms over my chest. ‘And if you do it,’

he says, giving me a look I know full well. ‘I will take you

home and give you a multiple orgasm.’

I draw in a breath, my body reacting to his words even

though my mind is still adamant that I’m definitely not

going to do this. ‘That’s so unfair,’ I hiss.

He steps nearer and takes my hands again. ‘I’ll kiss you

all over,’ he murmurs, kissing my neck, ‘just the way you

like, paying extra special attention to . . .’

‘OK! OK! I’ll do it.’

He pulls away, grinning at me. ‘Sexual bribery,’ he

says. ‘What else can I get you to do?’

Backstage is so crowded with people doing vocal exer-

cises and reciting monologues that I immediately freak

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Mila Gray

out and try to walk away, but Kit is standing right behind

me and he catches me by the shoulders, spins me around

and marches me over to the sign-in desk.

He gives them my name and then leads me to an

out-of-the-way corner where I sit down and start hyper-

ventilating. ‘I’m going to kill you later,’ I say.

He puts his arm around me. ‘Before or after I give you

that multiple orgasm?’

‘You’re so . . . ’ I glare at him, but I can’t stop the smile.

Even though I’m as nervous as hell, I’ve also got butter-

flies raging inside me, the good kind of butterflies, the

kind that let you know you’re alive. It’s the same buzz I

always get before I step on stage, a feeling that’s addic-

tive, but which I’d tried to pretend I could live without.

And only now do I realize I don’t want to. Kit’s right.

I start running through the only monologue I can

remember, from
The Merchant of Venice
, praying it’s

enough. When they call me, Kit squeezes my hand and

kisses me on the cheek. ‘Knock ’em dead,’ he says.

I figure that the worst that can happen is that I make a

fool of myself. When I walk out onto the stage and stare

out over the auditorium, my heart leapfrogs into my

mouth. How am I here? Doing this?

Four shadowy figures in the middle of the front row

point me to a cross marked out on the stage and order me

in bored voices to begin. It feels like I’m on
The X Factor
. I

swallow drily and take a deep breath, trying to sink into

the role of Portia. Then I start.

When I finish, a silence saturates the room. No one

says anything and immediately a sinking feeling weighs

me down. Oh crap. Blood rushes to my face, my heart

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beats hollowly in my throat, and I spin on my heel and

stumble towards the wings, but I’m not even halfway

there before a voice calls me back.

‘Could you read from this?’ the person asks in a

clipped voice. I see whoever it is holding something out

and I walk over and take it. It’s the script for
The

Importance of Being Earnest
. I glance down at the high-

lighted pages, feeling a flicker of excitement that I try to

tamp down, and walk back to the X.

After fifteen minutes they dismiss me, telling me that