13
There was a part of me who enjoyed pointing out how rare an occurrence it was for me to wake up next to a man, and how that rarity was becoming very much a habit. There was another part of me who totally didn’t care.
By the time Patrick and I seemed ready to call it quits of a night, it was late and one or both of us were exhausted. It seemed sensible to just sleepover. Besides, I kept telling myself that it totally bought into the whole fake engaged thing. Not that anyone who mattered – Mother – knew anything about our night-time shenanigans or was going to know anything about the various comings and goings – or lack thereof – between Patrick’s and my houses.
Most mornings, one of us had our arm over the other. That morning, he had his arm on mine and I felt him nuzzle his nose under my ear and press a kiss to my neck.
A girlish giggle stuttered out of me, courtesy of it being my first noise of the morning, and I instinctively retracted.
“Morning,” he said and, not for the first time, I just took a moment to bask in his morning voice. “I didn’t wake you?”
I shook my head and snuggled back into him. “No. I was already waking up.”
“How did you sleep?”
“It’s so weird, I seem to sleep so well on the nights we sleepover,” I said in faux-wonderment.
He chuckled. “Funny that. So do I.”
“Weird.”
“Weird. You think it’s the security of having another person in the house?”
I pretended to think about it. “Yes. I’m sure that’s it. Couldn’t at all be the physical exertion before.”
He laughed and pressed another kiss to my neck. Before he could say anything, his phone buzzed and he turned over to look at it.
“Anything interesting?” I asked, stretching.
“Just Chaos.”
I just realised that, had he been anyone else, that would have been the weirdest statement. “Cool.”
I heard his phone buzz again and he shifted in the bed a little. “You have plans today?” he asked.
I turned my head to look at him, even though he was facing the other way. “Not really. You?”
“I didn’t. Chaos’s just said the boys have decided to go over, if I wanted to join. I said I was still at yours…” The way he left it hanging, I wasn’t exactly sure which direction he was going to take it.
“And…?” I prompted.
“And he said you were welcome to come, too. Full disclosure, my sister will be there.” The implied ‘my sister’s always there’ was left unsaid.
“Is that a warning or a deterrent?” I teased.
He rolled back and bundled me into his arms. “I was aiming for warning.”
“So, you wouldn’t mind if I went and hung out with your friends?”
He shrugged as he brushed his fingers down my cheek. “Not really. I like hanging out with you, and they know what’s happening. It’d just be Bert we’d need to…”
“Navigate,” I suggested.
He nodded. “Yeah. That.”
The idea of hanging out with his friends sounded almost as nice as waking up next to him in the morning. “Well, if you’re up for it, I am.”
He nodded as he searched my eyes. “All right. Let’s do it.”
“How much time do we have?” I asked cheekily.
He paused for a moment like he was pleasantly surprised by that comment. “Few hours probably.”
I wrapped my leg around his hip. “Then we’d best make good use of it.”
And, boy, did we make good use of it.
I felt a flutter of uncertainty as we rode the lift up to Kit’s penthouse and I stoically ignored the somewhat dour presence of the staff member.
“You have a good afternoon, Mr Grace,” he said as the lift slowed to a stop.
“Cheers, Donald. You too, man,” Patrick said as he took my hand.
As soon as the doors opened, I was assaulted by noise. But I didn’t have time to wonder what the hell I was about to walk into, because Patrick had a firm hold of my hand and was pulling me down a hallway.
“You did not!” I heard someone shout humorously. “I am so getting you back for that.”
“Eat my dust, Rollie!” came a female voice and I heard the smile in it.
It was like walking into an arcade, and I saw why when we got to the end of the hallway.
“Hawk, mate!” one of the guys called from the couch.
I was feeling a touch stunned. There were four grown men and a woman sitting around playing video games with more enthusiasm than I’d seen in Sara and her friends.
One of them got up and I definitely recognised the face of Christopher Grayson.
It wasn’t the Christopher Grayson I recognised though. This one wore tracksuit pants and a hoody with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was messier than usual, though the word that sprang to my mind was ‘natural’. And he had a slight smattering of stubble.
“Leah, hi,” he said, extending his hand. “Kit.”
I nodded. “I recognise you. Hey. Thanks for having me.”
“No. No. No. No!” the guy who’d called out to Patrick said, his butt rising off the couch in what looked like panic. He had auburn hair and looked to be the smallest of the group.
“That’d be Rollie,” Patrick explained. “Ryder.”
“You piece of shit!” Rollie snapped as he dropped his controlled onto the table. “Well played, little Grace.” He shook his head. “Well. Fucking. Played.”
The woman, who had to be Amber, laughed. “Why, thank you.”
“You’ve caught us at a…” Kit paused and looked around. “Welcome to our home.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“That’s Tank. Gavin,” Kit said pointing to the biggest one with the warmest smile.
“Hey,” he said with a nod.
“Nico’s the one with the glasses.”
Nico nodded to me.
“And I’m Amber,” she said as she hopped over to us.
I saw the family resemblance between them in the facial structure and the sandy blond hair but, whereas Patrick’s eyes were brown, Amber’s were a shade of blue that could only be described as violet. They were stunning.
She poked her brother. “You’re in for me. Kit’s in for Rollie,” she said.
Patrick gave me an apologetic look. “Man’s duty.”
I smiled at him and nodded. “By all means, do what you’ve gotta do.”
Kit and Patrick took their seats on the couch and I followed Amber over to the kitchen as I looked around the room.
It was huge, with floor to ceiling glass windows along one wall. The table looked like it could seat a full banquet with room to spare. The style seemed somehow at odds though. After what Patrick said about Amber moving in, I felt like I could see the differences in personality.
The furniture and décor was mostly simple and monochromatic, but here and there were splashes of colour where I presumed Amber had made her mark. A few photo frames sat on walls and surfaces that looked semi-out of place. There were colourful cushions on the dining table seats. On top of the table, there were books and papers piled haphazardly to one end. Small figurines and lamps were nestled around the place. Somehow it all seemed to work.
“Drink?”
I nodded. “Please.”
“Hot, cold?”
“Uh, hot, please.”
“Coffee, tea, bonox?”
“Bonox?” I laughed.
Amber turned a wide smile on me. “Something our mum says.”
“Coffee, please.”
Amber’s smile grew more wry. “A girl after my own heart. Good choice, Pat.”
I suddenly felt a little bit guilty that she was the only one in the room who didn’t know.
“Uh… Patrick and I–”
“Oh, I know.”
“You do?”
“It’s not like Pat told me,” she said with a glare at her brother’s back. “But Kit’s kind of a blabber mouth these days.” She shrugged. “So, yeah. I know.”
“And you don’t mind?” I wasn’t sure why I felt the sudden need for approval, let alone from Patrick’s little sister.
“Eh. I think it’s bananas, but you do you. You know? As long as my mum and dad don’t find out, you’re golden.”
“Need another drink?” Kit asked, coming up behind her and kissing the side of her head.
Amber’s nose got this wrinkle in it and she smiled and snuggled against him. “I’m on it. Coffee time.”
“Of course. Leah?” He looked at me.
I shook my head. “Same. All good, thanks.”
“No worries. Too easy. Be good.” He gave Amber another kiss before disappearing into the fridge and taking some beers over to the couch.
Amber turned to watch him go for a moment. When she turned back to me, she looked the definition of a woman in love. They seemed like such a mismatched but perfect pair, I couldn’t help asking for her version of events.
“How did you two get together?”
Amber smiled as she snuck a look to Kit again and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Uh, I guess it was sort of an accident. I needed a place to stay so Patrick kind of made Kit take me in. It made us actually talk to each other, you know? And it happened. I still can’t quite believe it really.”
“Why not?”
“That a guy like Kit could be attracted to me? Pfft. It was so not possible.”
I looked between them, wondering how the hell she’d come to that conclusion. “What? You thought you weren’t good enough for a guy like him?”
She shook her head noncommittally. “More I thought we were too different. I’m this geeky girl obsessed with books and studying. He’s the guy with a different tall, thin gorgeous woman on his arm every weekend.” She shrugged.
“But you are gorgeous.”
And she was. Baggy jumpers and a messy bun or not, you could see she shone with the kind of beauty that could only come from inside.
She grinned at me. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t go that far. I never thought I was plain or anything. But there are different kinds of beautiful, aren’t there? There are those classically stunning, put-together women like you. And there’s people like me who feel more at home with a messy bun and a baggy jumper.” She shrugged once more. If only she knew I was, more often than not, the second kind. “Plus, I was all like ‘how could someone so perfect like me with all my many flaws’. My crush kinda made me forget he’s just as human as me, you know? Forget his flaws and my strengths. I’m just glad I was wrong and he sees more than one kind of beauty.”
I got it. All of it.
I was told regularly that I was beautiful – so regularly it often felt like that was all I had to offer anyone, particularly as far as my mother was concerned – but that didn’t mean I always felt it and it certainly didn’t mean that I didn’t want someone to see what made me special. I wasn’t exactly sure what that something was, but a girl could live in hope that one day someone would see it, that something that had nothing to do with my looks, that something that made me the most beautiful woman in the world to them and only them.
“I know what you mean.” I nodded.
Amber’s smile was infectious and I could see the family resemblance to Patrick. “Oh, good. Petra tells me I’m too self-deprecating, even for an Aussie. She keeps wanting to shake some sense into me no matter how much she knows I don’t really mean it.”
I laughed out loud. “I so get it. My sister’s the same.”
“Oh, idea!” she said excitedly. “You, me and Petra can go out and you and me can annoy her with our self-deprecating misery.”
I grinned. “I think I’d like that.”
Amber grinned, too. “I think I would, too.”
“What are you scheming over there, babe?” Kit called.
“Nunya business,” she called back cheekily, throwing me an equally cheeky grin.
In that moment, I felt like Amber and I could be really good friends. In fact, a part of me hoped we could be. She seemed like this live out loud, super comfortable person, just like I saw in Patrick. It was the kind of person I’d never felt like I could be, no matter what opportunities I’d been given in life. It felt good to surround myself with such easy-going and relaxed people again.
Even if they did spend most of the afternoon playing video games and throwing chips at each other like a bunch of children. It was weird, if you’d asked me what I thought about a group of 30-something guys playing games and making crude jokes, I’d have asked if they still lived in their mum’s basements and had ever managed a single date.
But these guys were something else.
It was nothing but laughter and teasing and good-natured banter free-flowing around the room. It was impossible not to get caught up in it…after a period of me feeling like I was the awkward weirdo sticking out like a sore thumb. All it took was one attempt at Mario Kart and I’d devolved to laughing and swearing with the rest of them.
I felt like perhaps Nico noticed the change in me more than the others, with his casually thrown away comment of, “What’s the use of being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes?”
“Eleventh doctor!” Amber cried triumphantly, her tongue sticking out in concentration.
“Bastardised off the fourth,” Nico told her.
“Show off.” She shot him a grin and there was a very real possibility he’d given her a small smile in return.
But I was focussed on what he’d said to me.
That had given me reason to pause and think about it.
I’d been brought up with this very specific ideal of adulthood and how I should behave and what I should like, and anyone who didn’t conform to the same standards must be immature and failing at adulting. But looking around that room, I couldn’t see a single person I thought was failing. Five of them co-founded a wildly successful security company, and the sixth was doing the most rigorous of post-graduate study. And yet they were downing beer and soft drink and chips while taking Mario Kart unnecessarily seriously and having the absolute time of their lives.
It made the success by which I judged my life seem boringly run of the mill.
Maybe I’d been too quick to judge immaturity. Maybe there were things that adults still got to enjoy that we’d taken for granted as kids’ play. Maybe Nico was right and the whole benefit of growing up was that we got to do the things that brought us joy, no matter what they were.