Forever summer (Summer # 4) (7 page)

It’s rather amazing how deeply reflective you can get on a two-hour bus ride. Two hours that seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, the bus came circling around rather conveniently out the front of the Onslow. I half expected Adam to be waiting to throw a tarp over me and sneak me into the Onslow undetected. I exited the bus, shielding my eyes with my sunglasses. I paused on the steps to take in the sight of the Onslow Hotel before me; the lawn seemed a tinge greener but aside from that nothing seemed to have changed since the last time I was here. I was a little disappointed by it, that regardless of the two whole months I had been away, nothing had changed at all. Maybe some huge development had happened inside that would make it seem less familiar. But I knew what awaited me, as I dragged my small overnight bag up the drive, my wheels carving two lines in the stones as I made my way up to the steps of the Onslow. I’m not going to lie. I was kind of miffed that no one had been around to welcome me home. Two months, people: I had never been away from Onslow longer than a fortnight in my whole life, so this
was
kind of a big deal.

I stopped short of the front entrance, drawing in a deep breath, not so much to calm me but to actually catch my breath; that driveway was a real bitch to navigate in wedges, while trying to dislodge a stone that had weaved its way into my sole. I gathered myself, trying not to look like a sweaty hobo who had just stepped off the bus and more like city chic woman, as I pushed my way through the front door. The unoiled hinge announced my arrival as I turned into the main bar, peeling off my sunglasses and pulling my roller bag up to my side in a ‘TA-DA’ moment that would surely have heads turning around from the bar like I had imagined. Instead, a couple of dusty workmen momentarily paused their conversation, glancing over their beers then returning to their business. In my head I envisioned Adam leaning against the bar giving Max cheek before he turned my way. His face would light up as our eyes met, pausing for a long moment before he closed the distance between us, striding toward me and embracing me in one of his famous, bone-crushing bear hugs that would have my feet leaving the ground and all air squeezed out of my lungs. But Adam was nowhere to be seen and my heart sank a little; he had known what time I would be arriving. By the sound of it, his “See you then” kind of meant just that.

The only semblance of a familiar, if not stony face was Chris breezing in behind the bar, going about his business, until doing a double take my way with a confused frown.

“Well, if it isn’t the ghost of Onslow’s sordid past,” Chris said, trying to maintain his serious façade.

“Sordid?” I questioned, rolling my suitcase toward the bar and dumping my handbag on an empty stool.

Chris ignored the question. “Drink?”

“Squash on the rocks.”

“Wow, squash on the rocks, you need to calm down.”

I laughed as Chris loaded up a pot of ice, shoving in a wedge of lemon before grabbing the pre-mix gun and filling it up with bubbly goodness. I watched Chris’s profile; there was no mistaking he was Adam’s brother. Same dark colouring, deep brown eyes and on the rare occasion Chris smiled, it was the same bright, brilliant smile that sent many a heart fluttering. It was that ol’ Henderson charm.

“So where is everyone?”

“They’re up at Sean’s place, setting up the final details for tomorrow night,” Chris said rather unenthusiastically.

Knowing Chris he probably thought there were better things to do, like work and earn money. Whereas business-partner-in-crime Sean Murphy worked hard and played hard as well; sometimes the two things clashed. I took a moment to bond with Chris on a shared issue.

“Tell me again why we’re having a surprise engagement party?”

Chris sighed as he dumped the drink in front of me, scooping up my change from the bar top.

“Blame Amy; she’s redecorated the top deck balcony leading out of the sunroom and apparently she wants to ‘break it in’,” Chris said sarcastically.

“Oh, for God’s sake, couldn’t she just throw a BBQ?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

Come summer, there was no better place to be, but as time drew on and Amy unveiled each stunning room used for her interior design course, the house became more amazing. She had taken that one thing she loved and made it her life. It had me realising how I seriously didn’t have my life together. Adam’s cousin was younger than me and she knew exactly what she wanted in life, and even though the house was essentially Sean’s, it never felt like that. They were a team, a dynamic duo. I had only recognised that quality in one other couple. Adam and me.

“So where is his Lordship?” I asked, sipping on my squash with an air of nonchalance even though my heart was pounding a deafening beat. God, this weekend hadn’t even begun and I felt on edge.

“Adam’s at home.”

I smiled into my drink, thinking it rather comical that when I said Lordship, he knew I was talking about Adam, but then something really hit me in the pit of my stomach.

Why wasn’t he here?

Chris must have read as much on my face.

“He’ll be here later,” Chris said, as if my concern was a bit pathetic. I could feel my cheeks burn; I really hated feeling like this, needing someone. I’d never needed anyone before now.

“You crashing here tonight?”

“Yep, I’m under house arrest until tomorrow night,” I said, shrugging my bag over my shoulder and extending the handle of my suitcase. “Remember, you haven’t seen me.”

Chris took my empty glass from the bar. “I’ve seen nothing.”

Chapter Seven

Heading up the staircase to the second floor of residence was one of the most familiar paths of my life. I almost wondered if there was a track worn into the carpet from all the times I had come up here, quickstepping a path to the very end room down the hall on the right. Adam’s room.

I stopped at the top of the landing, momentarily confused by my direction, even though there was only really one way to go. The door to my left was the apartment where Chris and Tammy called home these days, then there was resident barman Max crashing in Chris’s old room next to Adam, and across the way was Amy’s old room which I am guessing was still kind of hers as it was still set up like a childhood shrine of all her things from memory. I guess it was assumed I would crash in Adam’s room like I had done a million times before without any drama or fanfare. Adam and I had slept in the same bed, double swags, tents, toe-to-toe on couches, back of ute trays under the stars: it had never really been a big deal, but now as I stood in Adam’s doorway looking at the double bed that seemed so small, I felt the flutter of butterflies in my tummy. How could I even function being next to him? I breathed out a laugh; get a grip, Ellie, that’s probably why he was home, knowing I would be staying here. He would no doubt be staying at his parents’ tonight.

My shoulders sagged in relief; Adam’s room was uncharacteristically tidy, like he had made an effort knowing I was coming. I dumped my belongings next to the door, resisting the urge to text Adam,
Where the bloody hell are you?
It’s what the Ellie of old would do, the Ellie BC (Before Crush). I had to remind myself all the time.
What would old Ellie do? How would she behave?
Old Ellie would have swanned up the staircase, dumped her stuff, and not given a second thought of where Adam was; Adam would get here when he got here and that was it. No dramas.
That is the Ellie he expects. That is his friend, Ellie
. Once I eased myself into that way of thinking I began to relax.

I sat on the edge of his bed, inhaling deeply, thankful that I didn’t have access to my diaries. Out of boredom I would be flicking through the entries, reliving all the angsty, confused writings. But then I realised, I didn’t need to read about it; I had lived it. My memories were very much cemented in my head and there was no shaking them. I groaned, flinging myself backwards on top of the mattress, tears of frustration welling in my eyes. I had to talk to someone, I had to unleash these pent-up feelings, and that meant talking to the only person walking this planet who knew the truth: Tammy. I started to feel the weight lift off my shoulders merely thinking about that. The tension in my frame began to melt a little into the soft mattress top and I could feel my eyelids becoming heavy. It
had
been an early start. Maybe just a power nap and then I would seek Tammy out, get my head in check before seeing Adam for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. Like most times, even if I tried to fight against it, slowly drifting off, I still managed to dream of Adam.

***

I felt the dip of the bed, the doona lifting, feeling the coolness at my back from where my T-shirt had twisted higher, exposing my skin, then I felt a wall of warmth pressed up against my back and an arm slide across me, cocooning me in. Half asleep, I pressed back into the warmth; it felt nice, safe, familiar. If this was a dream it was a bloody good dream, one I didn’t want to wake up from. I squirmed and buried myself deeper into the doona, nestled further into the embrace, willing myself back into a deeper sleep. Something that was proving difficult due to a ticklish feeling of air hitting my earlobe. I scrunched up my nose and rubbed at my ear as if to swat a fly until the sensation stopped. That wasn’t for long, and then it was back, waking me up from a peaceful slumber to an irritated reality, never more than when a finger dug into my ear.

“Piss off!” I squirmed away, throwing my elbow into a chest that earned a satisfied
oomph
sound from the perpetrator.

“Jesus, someone shouldn’t take naps during the day.”

Hearing Adam’s voice, my eyes whipped open. I wasn’t sleepy anymore, no longer was I between the dream world and reality. I was fully cemented in the now. I rolled away from his arm onto my stomach, twisting my head to the side, blinking the sleep from my eyes, and tucking a curtain of hair behind my ear. There Adam lay, his head resting on his hand, grinning at my dishevelled, sleepy state.

“What are you looking so smug about?” I croaked, rubbing my eyes and wondering how long I had been asleep for.

“Who doesn’t love finding a girl in their bed?”

I rolled onto my side, mirroring Adam by resting my head on my hand, even matching his cocky little smile.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I teased, watching his expression morph into something darker, his eyes ablaze with incredulous wonder.

“Is that so?” he declared, shifting upwards; those words were all I needed to know that I was in trouble, serious trouble.

“Adam. Don’t,” I warned, holding up my hands in surrender as I tried to roll away from him and make an escape from the bed. But he was too fast, snaring my wrists in his hands and pinning me to the mattress, as he straddled me, imprisoning me with his jean-clad thighs at my hips. I was babbling between laughter, pleas, and outrage as he held my wrists and used them to slap my hands against my cheek in a series of annoying taps that made me blink.

“Stop hitting yourself, Ellie.” Slap-slap-slap ...

“Doooooon’t,” I pleaded, twisting my head aside. “Get off me, you idiot.” And to my surprise, he let go. I wasn’t free. He was just bored from that form of torture and instead moved to the next round.

“Has living in the city made you less ticklish?” Adam asked, his expression serious as if what he was asking was an interesting question.

Oh God, I knew where this was going; I had suffered the same fate at the hands of this boy a million times before.

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t,” I bit out, glancing up to see the twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes; he loved every minute of this.

“Don’t what?” he asked, looking authentically perplexed by my words, apart from the little smirk that tilted the side of his mouth.

I never tore my burning eyes from his; it was a silent warning, one I was trying to channel all my rage into, but he didn’t seem worried, not in the slightest.

“Don’t do this?” he asked, before digging his fingers into my ribcage. I instantly recoiled and screamed.

“No, Adam, stop, please, stop,” I begged, but all that did was earn me another assault onto the opposite side, twisting me into a ball of agonised sensation that had me laughing, crying, and gasping in a fit of agony.

“Ah, so you are still ticklish.” He laughed, enjoying my despair.

“Yes, YES! Now, please, stop.” I wrestled with his hands, pushing them away and eventually linking my fingers with his holding me prisoner. I fought to gather the air into my lungs. Adam was breathless too; I could feel his frame vibrating from laughter and I so wanted to lash out and wipe that cocky smile from his face.

“Enough,” I breathed out.

“Or what? You’ll get big bad boy Rory to beat me up?” Adam laughed, but it didn’t elicit the same response from me. If anything, it jarred me. With all the lead-up and angst of coming back home I had completely forgotten about my little white lie about Rory and how amazing our date had been. I had even forgotten to come up with a worthy excuse for not bringing him: he was killed in a freak goal-post-snapping accident, his head got taken clean off by the centre bounce. Believe me, I had fantasised about all the possibilities, but as I looked into Adam’s questioning brown eyes above me I could feel my defences coming down. Besides, I had been keeping enough secrets as it were.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, gently letting my fingers unlace from his but still unmoving until I answered the question.

I breathed in, summoning the courage of admission, and then blurted it out.

“Rory is a dick, okay? A big fat dick!” I exclaimed. There, I had said it. I should have felt like a weight had lifted off me, but considering there was a literal weight on top of me in the shape of Adam Henderson, the words uttered didn’t have the same kind of freeing effect. Neither did the humour spread across Adam’s face.

“Thanks, Ellie, but I really don’t need to know about your personal life,” he joked.

My brows lowered, until the penny dropped. “Oh, you’re gross; no, I meant he’s a dick, not … Oh, shut up and get off me.” I slapped at his legs and to my surprise he actually moved, allowing me to scoot up into a sitting position, pressing my back against the bedhead.