Henry laughed and Mac smirked as I tried to smooth the birds nest that was my hair and hurriedly wiped under my eyes to make sure no smudged mascara residue lingered there.
Why hadn’t I jumped in the shower like Mac told me to? I was now desperately lamenting my laziness. The first time I’d met Jared I’d fared no better.
It was the first time Jared had visited Melbourne and became friends with my brother. Henry and I hadn’t known Mac before uni; she answered our online ad to share a three-bedroomed apartment with the two of us. Jared had stopped in for a weekend visit from Sydney to see with his own eyes that Mac was happily settled and not getting into any trouble. He didn’t actually say that last part, but it was definitely implied. The fact that we were uni students in a band meant that troubles did abound on a regular basis, however, we weren’t housing any plans on announcing said troubles to an overprotective older brother. We had a party apartment. It was within walking distance to the uni bar and featured lots of timber flooring that forgave rivers of vodka spillage and unfortunate barfing with reckless regularity.
His arrival was unannounced, so when the knock came at the door, I was prone on the couch, Mac was on the floor, and Henry was somewhere in between both. The three of us were hungover, motionless, and watching a music video marathon with all the enthusiasm of a goldfish on Christmas day.
A quick and silent rock, paper, scissors ensued, and the loser, which was always me, staggered off with a numb backside to open the door.
My pickled brain and my unfortunate choice of hangover wear (comfy cotton shorts with a hole in the ass, ratty faded to grey Rolling Stones singlet top, hair half dried and frizzed in a ball on top of my head) left me speechless and feeling the immediate burn of embarrassment when I’d flung the door open.
Jared stood there in all his delicious glory, and that, for me, was when time had stopped. The man was absolutely exceptional and not just because of how he looked because I’d already seen photos, and it was evident he shared the same genes as Mac. His eyes were the same shade of emerald, and his skin just as golden, but where Mac was all blonde, his hair was light brown, the ends only slightly blond from the sun. It was obvious he needed a haircut. Most of the photos I saw featured him with shorter hair. I liked the length, how it hung in his eyes and made me want to brush it across his forehead, my fingers itching to feel the silky strands that caressed the back of his neck.
His clothes were nothing special, an old vintage t-shirt and soft worn jeans, but he wore them well. The shirt stretched across a broad chest and revealed the tanned muscles of his biceps. The jeans rode low upon lean hips, leading down the long length of leg to a pair of motorcycle boots that had seen better days.
He didn’t appear heavily tattooed, but when he lifted his right arm to scratch at the back of his neck, the underside of his bicep revealed an inky swirl of words you just knew meant something important. I was dying to know what it said, what it meant to him.
It all made up a tantalising package of man, but it was his eyes and his demeanour that spoke to me of something special. His posture exuded a strong, capable determinedness, serious and unwavering, but his eyes radiated laughter and passion, and when they locked on mine, my mouth went dry and my heart quickened to a beat of epic proportions.
Then those eyes did a full body scan of the wonderment that was me in hangover mode, and I watched the corners of his lips curl up in a lazy grin so hot it was a wonder I wasn’t already a pile of ash on the floor.
I sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh when he opened his mouth to talk and his deep voice rumbled across my skin like rich honey.
“You must be Evie.”
I shivered, nodding mutely because upon hearing that voice, I decided I’d be whoever he wanted me to be as long he kept talking.
“Can I come in?” he asked, green eyes watching me intently.
When his voice set off more shivers, I once again nodded dumbly, deciding he could move in if that was what he wanted.
“I’m Mac’s brother Jared,” he offered, even though I'd already known, and he moved through the doorway. For the third and final time, I nodded because I decided he could be whoever he wanted to be as long as he was standing in my apartment.
“Jared,” Mac squealed and leaped into his arms when I’d guided him into the lounge room like a dumb mute.
Mac’s squeal was a like a sucker punch. It pulled me out of a time warp that had me sucked in so hard I’d forgotten who I was, leaving me filled me with horror. No man had ever left me at such a loss the way he had done in just a matter of moments. I promptly vacated the room, got dressed, and did what any self-respecting girl would do when faced with such a predicament.
I went shopping.
One pair of shoes, two sets of silk and lace underwear, a dress, and two new kitchen implements later, I descended on Hairy Parry’s apartment for the weekend. A good dose of dork was exactly what I needed to break Jared's spell.
The next morning I’d woken up all tangled in Hairy Parry’s hair to a text message from Mac.
M: Did you have to disappear yesterday?
E: Yes. Yes, I did :P
I rolled over to my stomach in the darkened room so I wouldn't disturb Parry with my messaging.
M: Why?
I sighed as I thought about my response and decided to just come out with it. God knew she’d get it out of me eventually anyway.
E: Your brother is hot.
M: Your point is?
E: Hello? Did you not see me yesterday?
M: You like him???!!!
This time my sigh accompanied a cringe of embarrassment.
E: Like is a strong word, Mactard.
M: We’re going out for lunch. If you don’t come with us, I’ll tell Jared you like him and give him your number.
I couldn’t help but feel I was somehow revisiting my high school years and resisted the urge to message Mac and tell her to suck it. Instead, I got up, showered, and left Parry a note telling him not to leave town because I had plans that involved him and bed for later that evening. I ignored the loud voice telling me to call Mac’s bluff. So what if she gave him my number? Were the tickets on myself that big that I thought he would use it anyway? I saw him for all of ten minutes!
I messaged Coby, inviting him to lunch too. If Mac was going to have her brother there, then by God, so was I. With Coby there I was sure I’d be less likely to make an idiot of myself around Jared. Besides, it was entirely possible my initial reaction to him was simply my brain cells not firing at full speed due to the hangover I’d been suffering.
The four of us met at a café and sat in the sun at a pretty, outdoor table. After finishing lunch, I realised my mistake in not trusting my initial instincts. Jared hadn’t looked any less hot, and I hadn’t acted any less stupid. Thankfully, most of the conversation was carried by Jared and Coby, making my lack of speech less noticeable. Whenever I looked anywhere other than my plate, it was in Jared’s direction, and every time, his eyes would meet mine with an expression I wasn’t able to decipher.
Eventually, I was able to relax a little and join in the conversation. At one point, I even had Jared laughing with a story about Cooper’s latest stage diving attempt when we played at a small, local festival three weeks ago. It had left Cooper with a twisted ankle and a bunch of female groupies dragging him to safety as he gave us the thumbs up.
As the afternoon wore on, I let my guard down. I decided I could happily sit there for hours and listen to Jared talk. When I was able to forget myself, I could respond freely or talk and laugh loudly with Mac in our usual banter. Then I would find his eyes on me again and clam up until he directed his focus away, speaking to Coby and laughing.
It got to the point where I was gazing freely at Jared, and he must have felt it because he offered me a wink while he kept talking with Coby. By then I knew it was time to go. I stood on shaky legs and informed the table I was going out and that I’d see them tomor
row.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jared frown. Coby shook his head at Mac, mouthing “Hairy Parry?”
Feeling annoyed, which I attributed mostly to the fact that I wanted Jared and wasn’t allowing myself the chance, I snapped out, “Yes, Coby. I have a hot date with Hairy Parry.”
Mac snorted as though the idea of hot and Hairy Parry together in one sentence was outrageous.
I glared at Mac, and Coby stood up, kissing me on the cheek and telling me to be safe. I offered a smile and a quick hand wave to Jared, not quite meeting his eyes, and left.
I’d only gotten a few steps when I heard, “Wait up, Evie.”
I turned, seeing Jared jogging to catch up to me, and my heart skipped a beat. Okay, it skipped a couple. I raised my eyebrows in question.
“I was wondering if I could get your number?”
My first reaction was that I was going to murder Mac, weigh her body down, and throw her over a bridge. Well maybe that might be a bit much, but at the least there would be pain. Did she put him up to this?
I folded my arms. “Did Mac put you up to this?”
He gave a slight head shake, appearing confused. “Ah, no? Actually, I was going to say I have a friend who lives here in Melbourne. His little sister is getting into singing, and I thought maybe if I passed on your info, you could be like a mentor or something. It’s just a thought,” he added.
Deflated and embarrassed, I made a show of digging around in my bag for a pen to cover the flush. Of course Mac had been all talk, and of course Jared wasn’t interested. I wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him, even if I wasn’t willing to act on it. How stupid was that?
“You can just tell me you know. I can type it in,” he said.
I peered up from the depths of my bag, flush returning as he stood there holding his phone with amusement crinkling his eyes.
“Right.” I wiped my sweaty hands down my shirt in the pretence of smoothing wrinkles as I gave him my number.
He typed it in, then casually tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Thanks. So uh, Hairy Parry, huh? He’s your boyfriend?”
I nodded, avoiding his gaze because it was giving me shivers.
He stepped closer, tipping his finger under my chin until I met his eyes. The light touch and the heat from his body left me feeling breathless, but it was nothing compared to the burning heat in his eyes. “Hope he knows he’s a lucky guy. Well, enjoy your hot date, Evie.”
“Um, thanks,” I replied, wondering if he’d now ruined Hairy Parry for me, and quite possibly any other man.
Jared turned and headed back to the table, and unwilling to return my gaze to Mac and Coby for their reaction to that little whatever it was, I left for Hairy Parry’s.
That evening found me wearing my slinkiest, shortest black dress and highest heels and dragging Parry out to Verve with some casual friends. The plan was to drink and dance the night away in my best effort to remove Jared’s image from my head. The barely there underwear I’d worn worked well in capturing Parry’s attention, but later that night, naked in bed after sex, I’d felt like an absolute shit girlfriend for wishing it was Jared’s tongue that was tasting my skin and his mouth that was doing wicked things to my body.
I woke again the next day, closer to lunch time than morning, to another message as Parry lay snoring at my side. This time though, it wasn’t from Mac.
Leaving for Sydney this morning, Evie. Just wanted to say bye and thanks for letting me stay at your apartment. Jared.
I swallowed the lump in my throat at the thought of Jared leaving and typed a casual response.
E: Have a safe flight home!
A safe flight home? Like he had any control over the aircraft? What an idiot.
J: Thanks. How did your hot date go?
What was I supposed to say to that? Shitty, because I wished it was you I was on the hot date with?
E: Great! We went drinking and dancing at Verve with some friends.
J: So can I assume that Hairy Parry’s name is because he’s hairy?
E: You can. Hair almost as long as mine.
J: So you like guys with long hair? Should I grow mine?
What did that mean? He wants me to like him? He likes me? My pulse raced, making me feel worse because I was lying in bed naked with one man while I was burning up inside for another.
I ignored the question, not sure how to respond, and instead changed the subject.
E: Hey, I didn’t ask you what your friend’s sister's name was?
Jared replied to my question, and we messaged each other on and off for the rest of the day. I enjoyed the banter. He was witty and smart, and considering he lived such a long distance away, surely chatting to him this way was safe enough.
Then the next day he asked me about a band he was seeing that afternoon with friends and if I’d heard of them. I hadn’t but I looked them up, and their songs were fantastic. I commended him on his taste in music, and the rest of that day found us messaging each other on and off, and then the next day, and the next, until it seemed we struck up some kind of texting friendship where the two of us couldn’t seem to go a day without texting the other.
Like when I found a particularly expensive, but necessary pair of shoes. I’d snap a photo and message it.
E: Should I buy these?
J: Only if you promise to send a pic of you wearing them.
I would get a message late at night.
J: Drowning in paperwork. Do you know first aid?
E: Mouth to mouth is my speciality, but alas, you will be blue by the time I arrive. Call the medics.
When I’d broken up with Hairy Parry six months later, I found myself forlorn but naturally not heartbroken.
J: Do you need me to break his face?
E: I would, but you would be hard pressed to find it under all that hair.
J: lol
E: Don’t you have any girls I can break a face for?
If that wasn’t fishing then I wasn’t Rex Hunt.
J: I don’t do relationships.
E: Why not?
J: That is a story for another day.
Six months later, I met Robert the insect fiend who we’d promptly nicknamed Beetle Bob. Mac and Henry had chortled with glee when they found out our first date was to the Melbourne Museum to view the Bugs Alive! exhibition.
Later that night, Jared's message arrived.
J: How was your first date at the museum?
E: Beetle Bob was very attentive & I got to see a feeding demonstration. Very cool.
J: Cool, huh? What was your favourite bug?
E: Praying mantis, I think. Those things were pretty cute.
J: Don’t they bite the head off the male after sex?
E: Oh gross. They do?
J: lol. Didn’t you learn anything at the exhibition?
E: I guess not!
Four weeks later, I actually received an invitation inside the inner sanctum that was Beetle Bob’s house and promptly met Draco. Draco liked a good piece of mango and hung out on my arm while I made him watch So You Think You Can Dance. He really seemed to like it. I snapped a photo of Draco head-bobbing and texted it to Jared.
E: Isn’t he cute?
J: Is that Beetle Bob? If so, he’s much better looking than Hairy Parry.
I laughed like a loon while Beetle Bob gave me the freaky eye, and Draco just kept on head-bobbing on my arm.
Then six months later, Jared got knifed in the side by a drugged up lunatic who thought waving it about inside a store and locking up customers seemed like a good way to earn money.
Panicked and scared, it almost got me on a plane to Sydney.
E: Are you okay?
J: Just a scratch. I had worse at ten years old when I jumped off the roof of our house.
E: What trying to be Superman?
J: Wolverine. His thing is an accelerated healing process. Sadly mine took a metal pin and eight weeks in plaster.
Four months later, our Melbourne festi
val appearance hit YouTube and received a really decent viewing. That night found us at the local university watering hole dancing and singing and liberating the bar of all alcohol. Unfortunately, Beetle Bob, as usual, decided to leave early to tend the insects in his care, and while the thought was admirable, for a brief moment, I was tired of coming second best to a bunch of creepy-crawlies. Thus began a knock down drag out shouting match that levelled the entire building to silence.
I left in a drunken snit and promptly messaged Jared when I got home.
E: Beetle Bob has been effectively crushed. I will miss Draco.
J: Plenty more dorks in the sea.
Two weeks later, Beetle Bob came by, Draco in tow because he knew I’d do anything for the little lizard dude, apologised, and told me he would be a better boyfriend.
I immediately felt bad because it wasn’t like we were in love, and I was being a bit of a selfish mole, but Beetle Bob was otherwise a good person, so I took him back. I snapped a photo of me holding Draco and messaged it to Jared.
E: Beetle Bob is back on.
J: You just want him for his big lizard.
E: Guilty :-D
It was six weeks later when I saw Coby on the news as he rushed some random dilapidated brown weatherboard house.
E: What the hell are you up to?
J: You know I can’t discuss details. We are all good.
Two weeks later he messaged a photo of what was left of Casey’s car after his high speed chase.
J: Walked away, the lucky bastard.
E: He must be the real Wolverine. Lucky you weren’t in the car. You would have been in traction for months.
J: Har har.
A few inane messages.
J: What are you doing?
E: Face mask. Can’t talk.
J: In that case, a string walks into a bar several times and asks for a drink. Each time, he is turned down by the bartender. Finally, the string asks a stranger to tie him in a knot and frazzle the ends a little. The string walks back into the bar and the bartender asks him, “Hey aren’t you the same string I just turned down?” The string replies, “I’m a frayed knot.”