Seven Days: The Complete Story (27 page)

So why do I
have these feelings of guilt and sadness when I should be happy? Of
course, I know why. I’ve hurt the person who’s my one true friend.
I’ve lost her possibly forever over the very thing we swore would
never come between us — a man. Well, men.

I roll to my
side and pick up my phone where Joel put it on the bedside table
last night. I stare at the screen deciding I may as well have one
last go at explaining. I don’t want to fight with Emily. I want us
to be friends again. I love her.

I press the
dial button and wait.

As expected,
it goes to message bank. Her cheery Emily voice is telling me to
leave a message which can mean one of two things — either she’s
still asleep or she’s ignoring me and after last night my money is
firmly on the latter. Emily likes to get up with the sparrows.
She’s an early morning gym junkie. I try again, this time leaving a
message that I’m sorry if I’ve hurt her and I’ll call again later.
I barely hang up before my phone vibrates in reply.

bother. And please don’t call again. I don’t want to speak to
you>

least let me explain? Let’s get a coffee>

don’t text at this hour. It’s effing rude. I was asleep>

She sounds
pretty pissed off with me. I guess I’ll have to wear it but I can
talk her round. I know I can. Emily always comes round. Her anger
is swift but never deep.

The phone is
silent for a minute after that. Then, as I’m still lying there
staring at it, wondering how I can make this right, it vibrates
again, scaring the crap out of me.

have anything left at the flat, I’d appreciate it gone by the
weekend. I’ll stay here at Alex’s until then. Leave your key on the
table. I’ll put your share of the bond money in your bank account
once I see the room is tidy>

Right. So
she’s a little more than pissed off. This is not something I can
get around with a hug; she’s cutting me off altogether. I have no
idea how to cope with this new Emily. Give her time, I guess. I
certainly can’t cry any more. I’ve cried so much my tear ducts have
begun to protest.

I get up and
sit on the side of the bed to pull my hair up into a messy bun.
It’s early, and I have no idea where the boys are but I’m guessing
by the silence they’ve already gone to work. I figure I have about
an hour if I’m to get the bus on time, so I collect my toiletry bag
and a fresh towel I’ve found hanging over a chair and go in search
of the bathroom.

The shower is
hot. I switch the knobs to massage and stand under it, letting the
fierceness of the water pummel my shoulders, relieving the tension.
It feels good. Relaxing. I put my face into the stream, allowing
the water to soak my hair, feeling it flow in rivulets over my
breasts and down my belly. I squirt some body wash into my palm and
lather it over my body, moving in circles lower and lower, stopping
when my hand is between my legs. I touch myself and think of
Nicholas. I think of Joel and I can’t help but wish they were in
here with me, using their hands and lips to make me clean. I bite
my lip as I come and try not to cry out.

After I
finish, I realise I’ve left my shampoo at home — my old home — so I
scour the shower caddy for something that looks like it won’t make
my hair fall out. The boys have an awful lot of shampoo for men,
well, for anyone really. Mason had a bottle of
Pantene
and
no conditioner. I wouldn’t use that on my head if I were dead.
Nicholas and Joel, however, seem to be collectors of every
expensive shampoo known to man. I settle on a label I recognise and
am about to squirt a blob into my palm when a hand removes the
bottle from my hand.

“Allow
me.”

I jump so high
I almost hit my head on the showerhead before I slip and bang my
knee into the wall tiles.

“Ouch. Bum.
Fuck!”

Somehow I
manage to avoid landing on the floor of the shower by clutching at
the edge of the screen in what must look like a crazy sort of
mating dance. I end up with one foot in opposite corners of the
stall, bracing myself to regain my balance. My skin is burning with
embarrassment and I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my neck from the
jerking motion. My knee stings. Boy, it hurts.

“Geez, Joel.
You scared the crap out of me.” I glower at him, standing there in
his board shorts and bare chest, the shampoo bottle in his hand.
He’s smirking. It’s a dirty sort of smirk. So Joel.

“Sorry. I
didn’t realise you were in here.”

As if. Even if
he hadn’t heard the shower running he would have seen the steam
when he opened the door, right?

He pulls a
blob of silicone from each ear and puts them on the vanity. “That’s
better. I hate those things. Can’t hear a thing unless I’m up in
your face.”

Damn him. How
is he always the winner?

“I’ve had an
ear thing,” he continues. “The doctor suggested I wear the plugs
for a few weeks to keep the water out while I surf.”

“What’s the
deal with sneaking up on me like that?” It doesn’t appear to cross
my mind that I’m having a conversation with him while I’m naked and
he’s not. But then it’s not the first time. This scenario seems to
be repeating itself more than Groundhog Day.

“I thought you
were still in bed. I was going to jump in the shower before I came
in to wake you up. You don’t want to be late for those tyrant
bosses of yours.”

“How long have
you been standing there?”

He glances
down at the major tenting that’s happening in his shorts. “Long
enough.”

Great.

“You saw—”

“Sure
did.”

Oh god, the
mortification.

“You made my
morning. Now how about you let me finish you off properly before we
get dressed for work?” He slips out of his thongs and steps into
the shower stall, the shampoo bottle in his hand. The water
splashes over us, soaking into his shorts. They cling to his body
in a way that’s possibly considered indecent in a number of states
and I find I can’t peel my eyes away.

“How about
not. Nicholas as already left, I take it.”

“What he
doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Maybe not
now, but it will one day down the track and you know it.” I shiver
and wrap my arms about myself. It’s cold standing half in, half out
of the water.

Joel reaches
his arms around me, circling my body. “You’re cold. Get back under
the water. Let me wash your hair.”

“You won’t try
anything?”

He turns me
around and I hear him squeeze a handful of shampoo which he
commences rubbing into my scalp. His fingers work the lather and I
close my eyes letting him do his job, enjoying the sensation of his
fingers. I like being cared for. I never thought I’d be one to say
that but I do.

“What is it
with you lately?” he asks while he massages. “Once you would have
leapt at the offer for any kind of sex.”

“That was
before. I want this to work, Joel. I can’t cheat on Nicholas with
you, just like I can’t cheat on you with him.”

“I’m glad to
hear it,” he says at last.

“Why? Was this
some kind of test? Were you hoping I’d cave so you could gloat to
Nicholas?”

“Never. He’s
my mate, Sadie, and I’d never do anything to hurt him. Especially
with you. I came in and saw you there playing with yourself and I
have no idea why but it got me to thinking what it would be like if
it was just you and me. You wouldn’t have stood a chance if that
were the case. I would have been in this shower with you faster
than you could say “please”. I’m actually being rather gentlemanly
at the moment.”

My lips bend
in a smile. “In your slutty, manwhore, Joel way.”

One hand
leaves my scalp to nip at my bottom. “Exactly.”

Joel adjusts
my head under the shower, running his fingers through the strands
of wet hair, rinsing them. Then, his lips dip into the curve of my
neck and I bend my head so he can have better access. His mouth is
cool on my skin, yet I’m hot from his touch. His hands move to cup
my breasts, sliding over them, tugging gently at my nipples as I
lay my head back into his shoulder. He has to stop. He has to. I
can’t say no. He knows that.

Joel drops his
hands to my hips. “I’ve never met a girl like you. Not one I want
to make myself exclusive for. I can’t explain it. I want to be near
you all the time. I hated the last six months without you. It felt
weird, like something was missing.”

“Really?” I
turn into his embrace and wrap my arms around his neck sculpting
myself to him. The water is running between us and even though he’s
still wearing his shorts and I’m naked, I feel closer to him than
ever. I put my lips to his. The water runs down our faces. It makes
his lips feel even softer. “I’m flattered.”

He moves his
hands to cup my face. “You should be. It’s not every day I give up
great waves to come home to the girl I love, so I could kiss her
good morning.”

I look up into
his eyes. I swallow because if I don’t I think I’m going to cry. At
least I’m still in the shower so any tears will be covered by
water. “You love me?”

“I do. I’ve
never been in love and I’ve never felt this way, so I’m guessing
that’s what it is. I think I loved you from the first minute I met
you. I’ve had a hard time admitting it to myself.”

“I love you,
too, Joel. You mean the world to me.”

Joel’s smile
is wide and he drops a peck on my nose. “Great. Now can you get out
of my shower before the water goes cold? I’m gonna be late for
work.”

*****

After I’m
dressed, I go to the kitchen. It’s not a place I’d hang for more
than five minutes under normal circumstances but Joel’s been so
gorgeous to me, so loving; I want to do something nice for him. I
rattle around and find the ingredients to make him eggs for
breakfast. After noodles, eggs are one thing I can cook to
perfection. I find juice in the fridge and some yummy chutney, the
bottle of which looks as if it’s worth more than my rent for a
week. I’ve got the coffee on, too, because — lucky for me — the
machine is a replica of the one at the flat. The old flat. Where I
used to live.

Joel comes
into the kitchen dressed for work. He’s wearing khaki work pants,
boots and a well-worn denim shirt with Mother of Pearl pressed stud
buttons. It’s faded at the elbows and slightly frayed along the
cuffs. His hair is mussed where he’s pulled the shirt on over his
head rather than using the buttons. It makes him look rugged. God,
I want to unbutton him. I want to slide that fabric off his
shoulders and let him bend me over the breakfast bar.

“Sadie.”

“Huh?” I say,
a piece of un-buttered toast frozen in my grasp.

“You’re
perving.”

“I am not!” My
cheeks feel like every vessel of blood in my body has surfaced on
it. I try to sound indignant but we both know I’m doing exactly
what he says I am.

“Yes you
are.”

“Well, it’s
your fault. How am I meant to concentrate on breakfast if you come
in looking like that? You make me want to eat you, not the
eggs.”

“Be my
guest.”

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

Oh, he’s a
dirty one, my Joel.

He sits at the
breakfast bar and I serve the eggs and toast onto his plate. I pour
him coffee and hand him a glass of juice. Then I sit next to him
like are an old married couple. But we’re not.

“I could get
used to this,” he says, as the eggs and toast disappear from the
plate.

“I wouldn’t if
I were you. My only culinary conquests are eggs and two-minute
noodles. Most people don’t like those for breakfast so I break out
the Pop Tarts on occasion. Just for variety.”

“You’re
kidding, right?”

“Nup.”

“I’d have
never picked you for domestically inept.”

“Thanks. I
must hide it better than I thought.”

“I have to say
I’m disappointed.”

“Thought you
were getting the domestic goddess for your housemate, not just the
love goddess, did you?” I joke and shoulder him in the bicep.

“I’m not upset
because you can’t cook.”

I tilt my
head.

“I had this
fantasy of you wearing nothing but one of those frilly-edged aprons
and me doing you over the bench while you cooked me a three course
meal.”

Oh for Pete’s
sake.

“You are
officially beyond help.”

“So I’ve been
told.”

I pick up our
plates and take them to the sink where I scrape the teeny bits of
leftovers into the bin and stack them into the dishwasher. I’m
hunting around under the sink looking for dishwashing tablets when
I feel a hand on my bum. Seriously, the man has no morals. At.
All.

“I’m heading
off now. Do you want a lift?”

I pull my head
out of the cupboard. “I thought we were doing the separate ride
thing?”

“You’ll be
late if you catch the bus. I can drop you a couple of blocks away
from the building, so you can look as if you walked. I’m heading
straight to Iris but I’ll be in after lunch for the team
meeting.”

I glance at
the chrome clock hanging on the kitchen wall. My trying to be
domestic
has
put me behind. “Okay. I’ll get my things. Won’t
be a sec.”

I run to the
bedroom and grab my shoes and bag. I stop for a second to check my
reflection in the mirror. The faint frown of worry that seemed to
live on my forehead for the last few months has gone. My eyes are
bright, sparkling, in fact. I look happy, happier than I’ve looked
for the longest time, possibly since before Mum died. If this new
life can have such an effect on me after a day I wonder how I’ll
look in a week or even a month? One thing’s for sure; this is where
I’m meant to be. I know it and the boys know it too.