Seven Days: The Complete Story (5 page)

The man
paddles along beside me. His mouth is bent in thinly disguised
amusement. I see it every time I swing my face in his direction.
He’s so annoying.

“Watch out for
that coral there,” he says. “You’ll cut yourself to ribbons.”

I look into
the depths I was ignoring to find I am, indeed, only millimetres
from a huge mound of the stuff. Dammit. I swim back the way I came
but a wave comes and I go forward instead. I feel the coral rip
into my leg and it hurts like crazy but I’m not going to cry. I’m
not. I’m just going to keep on swimming.

In the other
direction.

The man
follows at a safe distance. I think he senses I’m not in the mood
for conversation, possibly because I am mortally embarrassed and
naked.

“Did you know
you have a mole on your back?” he asks. “Just near the dimple of
your bum?”

The absolute
cheek of him. He’s perving on my arse.

“Yes. I did.”
My voice is clipped but then I am trying to talk while swimming. I
wish he’d leave me to get to the shore in peace.

“You should
get it checked out. It could be cancerous.”

Is he for
real?

“I was born
with it. It’s always been there.” Honestly, I don’t know why I’m
even bothering to respond, I’m only encouraging him. I pick up my
pace a little which is difficult when swimming with one’s face out
of water.

“No need to
get narky. It was just an observation. Are you sure you don’t want
to hop on my board? Your leg is pissing blood.”

I look behind
me to see a red streak trailing in my wake. Great. If it’s not bad
enough I’m being trailed by a man who looks like Patrick Swayze in
Point Break —
which I’ve seen at least thirteen times
because it was Mum’s favourite movie — now I’ll have sharks coming
to eat me for dinner.

“I’m fine,” I
reiterate and keep swimming.

There’s
silence for a while. I can see the shore, but it isn’t as close as
I thought so I decide to slow down to catch my breath. It’s then
that I hear singing. God-awful, tuneless singing. I think it’s a
song from
The Little Mermaid
movie. Surfboard guy is making
fun of me because I’m bare-bummed in the water and he’s on a board
having the time of his life looking at my bottom. Geez, I wish I
could splash him or tip him into the water but I have a feeling
that’s what he wants me to do.

“Can you be
quiet please,” I say. “Your wailing is cutting into the
peacefulness of my swim.”

“It’s a long
way. I was bored. Sure you don’t want to hop on? I don’t mind
sharing my ride.”

“I bet you
don’t.”

Dirty
perv.

I glance to
the shore. It’s not getting any closer. In fact, I think the waves
might be pushing me farther out, instead of in. And I’m feeling
quite tired and more than a little scared. This doing new things is
a load of cods. I’m going to stay where I can touch the bottom from
now on. Assuming I make it to shore.

“I’m not
sitting on the board,” I clarify, just in case he thought he was
going to get a proper eyeful. “I’ll hold on and you can tow
me.”

“Yes, Your
Majesty.”

“There’s no
need to be rude.”

“There’s no
need to behave like a diva. You’re the one drowning, not me. And I
have seen a naked girl before, in case you’re wondering. It’s not
like I’m doing this to cop an eyeful.”

Is he saying
I’m nothing special? That’s even more insulting. Deciding there’s
no reason for me to converse with him on our journey, I grab hold
of his board, my eyes trained firmly on the shore. I tilt my chin
in the air to reinforce the fact that I will not be conversing.
Damn cheek.

The man begins
to paddle, pulling me along. I kick my legs lazily to help him. The
trail of blood grows longer. I feel faint thinking about it.

“Out of
curiosity, what exactly were you doing out here without clothing?”
he asks.

I can feel
myself redden, even though I’m in the cold water. “Why? Do I need a
permit?”

He holds up
his hands in submission. “I was only asking.”

I relent. “I
don’t know. I was jogging along and I saw the beach was empty and I
had an overwhelming desire to throw myself naked into the
waves.”

“Are you
always so spontaneous?”

“Never. In
fact, this is the first time I’ve been skinny-dipping in my life.
And the last.”

He chuckles.
“First time for everything. But, next time, you might want to check
the water before you hurtle yourself into it unclothed. I’m pretty
sure that bunch of blokes snorkelling out the back of the reef saw
the lot.”

He’s joking.
He has to be joking. I’m not sure — because I’m not, not,
not
looking at him — but I think he winked. And those
snorkels sticking up on the reef are imaginary too. Not.

We reach the
beach and the man hops from his board. He pauses and turns back,
his face a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he sees me trying
to hide myself behind his board. I look like a seal with one fin
flapping about in the shallows.

“What
are
you doing?” he asks.

“Waiting for
you to turn away. Face that way.” I point up the beach. He does so
and I leap from the water, making a mad dash across the sand toward
my clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed so fast. My tank
top is clinging to the wet of my skin which in hindsight makes
dressing so quickly a rather bad idea. My nipples are clearly
visible through my top and the crotch of my shorts is clinging
where it shouldn’t. Blood is running down my shin. The cut is
stinging like mad.

“You can turn
now,” I say, knowing I might as well still be naked for all the
soggy clothing is covering.

He faces
me.

And that’s
when I’m hit with the full force of him. I’ve never seen anything
like this man before. He’s not handsome in the traditional sense
but there’s something about him that’s charismatic. And it has
nothing to do with his smart mouth. The man has deep brown eyes and
tanned skin. His strong, square jaw is manly and his smile is
crooked but adorable, the kind that tells you he knows exactly how
adorable he is. His hair is dark with flecks of amber and gold,
probably from time spent in the sun. He’s not the type of man who
stands out in the crowd yet there’s something about him nobody
could ignore. He’s like, literally, hotter than a furnace full of
molten glass. So hot, in fact, my anger at him seems to be
diffusing. Which is incredibly confusing, given he’s the most
annoying person I’ve ever met.

“I’m Joel,” he
says.

I put my hand
in his and something odd happens to my tongue. It appears to have
lost the memo telling it to speak. It’s as if lightning has struck
and rendered me mute.

“And you are?”
he enquires. His voice is deep, yet quiet. I can tell he’s feeling
it too.

Silence. I’m
in stunned silence. All I’m capable of is profuse blinking and
goggle-eyed staring.

“Lorelei?
Nixie? No wait, Ariel?” He smirks again.

The cheek of
him. I straighten, slightly angered at the comparison. I am not the
Little Mermaid
. Though I am impressed that he can rattle off
that many mythical women in one breath.

“Sadie. I’m
Sadie.” I stumble over the words like I’ve developed a severe case
of dementia.

“Not a
cleaning lady, I’m guessing?”

There’s always
one who wants to poke fun of my name and that old song from the
sixties. I give him a look. “Not a single one in my family.”

“Can I give
you a lift back to the bay, Sadie-the-not-cleaning-lady? I gather
that’s where you came from. Seeing you’re not a mermaid. You’re not
are you?”

“Nope. Just a
girl.” I point my toe in his direction as if to prove the point.
Silly really, considering he can see my feet for himself. And
mermaids don’t exist.

“Glad to hear
it. I was beginning to wonder.” He flashes a cocky, very
white-toothed smile at me and I feel that tingle of chemistry. I
know I shouldn’t feel that way. I mean, he’s so irritating.

“You should do
something about that reef cut,” he adds. “They get infected
easily.”

We both stare
at the blood running down my shin but it’s like we’re incapable of
doing anything to fix it, like we’re stuck to the sand or
something.

“I…I…”
Suddenly, I feel woozy. Blood and I are not friends. We have an
understanding where blood knows if I am to stay upright, it must
stay inside my body. I flop onto the sand lying prone; knowing that
what might be about to happen can’t happen if I’m lying down. After
a minute, the dizziness passes.

Joel peers
down at me, curious. “Is everything okay?”

“Just tired,”
I say, attempting to look weary. “Phew. That swim was longer than I
thought.”

I don’t think
he believes me and I have no intention of telling him I have a
legit, genetic, medical condition that causes me to faint when I
get cut. People have been known to burst into fits of laughter when
I try to explain.

“I’ve got a
first aid kit in my car… if you want me to cover that cut.” He
hoists his board under his arm and sets off up the beach.

I lift my leg,
examining it. The bleeding appears to have slowed and I’m not so
dizzy. Well, not while I’m lying here. That could change if I sit
in a car next to Joel.

“Coming?” Joel
calls.

“I’m fine. I
think I’ll walk. The exercise will do me good.”

“You sure?
That cut looks nasty.”

I look again,
biting my lip with indecision, wishing I could just damn well say
‘yes’ for once in my life. “It’s stopped. Positive.”

Well, I’m
trying to be.

He shrugs and
turns back toward the dunes.

I feel my
mouth open to call him back as he walks away. My hand lifts to get
his attention and then hangs aimlessly in the air like a hat
without a head to perch on. Why can’t I say yes? Why does this
happen to me every time there’s an opportunity to do something new?
Of course, I know the reason why. Mum’s voice is quite clear in my
head. She’s reiterating the dangers of getting in cars with
strangers. She’s telling me over and over that you should never go
with anyone you don’t know, that strange people hang out on beaches
waiting for girls like me.

“Thanks,
anyway,” I call.

“Sure. It was
nice meeting you, Sadie. See you round.”

“Yeah.
Maybe.”

As I watch him
jog off over the sand, his board under his arm, an odd feeling
comes over me. And I don’t think it’s from the blood.

I stomp back
along the beach kicking myself. Well, not literally, as that would
make me look even more insane, but in my head I’m definitely giving
myself what for. I should have said yes to Joel’s offer of a lift.
I mean, if he’d been going to attack me he had plenty of chance
while we were alone on the beach. There was something in the way
his eyes held mine, that look, something that makes me think I may
have made a very big mistake by turning him down. Not only that,
but my shorts are rubbing the insides of my thighs something
shocking, my leg is hurting and I know I’m going to be sunburnt by
the time I get back to the cottage.

I’m such an
idiot.

I don’t know
what’s come over me. In the space of hours, I’ve transformed into
the sort of girl who imagines every guy she meets is in love with
her. Or worse, that she is in love with them. How can it be that I
am suddenly so flighty and fickle, so strongly attracted to the
type of guys I normally avoid like the plague? It’s not me. The sun
must be affecting my judgement or my sadness over Mum is making me
more sensitive to a few kind words. I feel so conflicted. All it
took was one look and I was putty.

Silly
putty.

At last, I
reach the house and I stop for a second, my hands resting on the
beach gate. It could be that I’m more susceptible than I’ve been in
the past but I felt that chemistry. It was there with
both
of them and it was like nothing I’ve ever felt in any relationship
I’ve had. I know they felt it, too.

The question
is… assuming I ever meet them again, what on earth am I meant to
do?

After dressing
the cut on my leg, the rest of my day is spent lazing in the
hammock drinking home made margaritas and skimming my highlighter
pen across pages until it’s almost run out. Feeling accomplished at
the huge amount I’ve done — despite the fact I spend a great deal
of time in a daydream that involves both Joel and Nicholas — I
decide to shower and head to The Beach Hut for a meal. This is a
first for me. I would never eat alone back in the city. I’d never
go anywhere that’s meant for couples and groups without actually
being a part of one. I’m not that confident.

It’s a warm
summer night and as I head along the beach, my sandals hooked over
my fingers, I’m feeling relaxed. Mum is gone but I know she’d want
me to be happy so that’s what I intend to do. I’ll never forget
her, of course. I’ll think of her every day. But I know now I can
do that with fond memories, not regret. These days at the beach
have shown me that. Life is for living, not swimming in sadness.
It’s meant for adventures not for being stuck in the same house and
the same job decade after decade, eating the same toast for
breakfast.

A string of
colourful lights are glowing around the perimetre of the restaurant
and I make my way up the sandy path and stop at the reception desk.
The server from the other night when I was here with Nicholas looks
up from the reservation book. She has a different uniform on
tonight. It’s a pale lemon colour with a white collar and pink
piping but it’s no less tight. I can see her red polka dot bra
quite clearly where the buttons are gaping at her cleavage. Her
boobs look as if they’d be happy to escape it. I’ve never seen the
allure of getting your boobs out like that… but then I’d have to
have a push-up bra with extra push to achieve anywhere near close
to her level of boobage.