Authors: Mila Gray
never seen him so happy,’ she says, and indeed he does
look happy, laughing with his cousins as he flips burgers.
‘Whatever you’re doing,’ she says, patting me on the
shoulder, ‘keep doing it.’
My cheeks instantly flare red, because the very first
thought that leaps into my head is of Kit and me having
sex, and I want to reassure her she doesn’t need to worry
about us ever stopping that.
Tessa turns then to pick up her toddler daughter who’s
making a beeline for the back door waving a plastic cook-
ing utensil in her ketchup-stained hand. When I turn back
to the window, I notice Kit is looking my way. He shoots
me a grin and I pull a face at him.
‘There you are! So glad you made it!’
I spin around to find Kit’s dad standing with arms
spread wide and a grin on his face to match Kit’s. I step
into his arms and hug him, feeling a momentary pang of
sadness that I find it easier to hug Kit’s dad than I do my
own.
‘Happy Birthday!’ I say, pulling out a card from my bag.
He takes it and kisses my cheek. ‘You are a sweet girl,
Jessa Kingsley. My son hit the jackpot with you.’
I can’t help but smile because I feel exactly the same
way about Kit.
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‘Who hit the jackpot?’ Riley asks, appearing with per-
fect timing at my side.
‘No one,’ I say quickly.
‘Did you get something to eat?’ Mr Ryan adds, help-
fully distracting Riley with the one thing that’s always
guaranteed to distract him: food. He starts ushering us
out into the garden, giving me a pointed look as he does.
I know he wants Kit and me to come clean with Riley, and
I start to wonder if inviting us all here wasn’t just a big
ruse. Now I think about it, in fact, it seems like the most
likely scenario. And it’s only confirmed when he steers us
straight towards Kit and then stands there beaming at all
four of us as though he’s brokering peace talks between
warring countries.
Kit chooses to ignore him and starts serving us food,
deliberately avoiding eye contact with me as he does. I
hang back until the others have moved on with their
plates and are looking for somewhere to sit.
‘Hot dog?’ Kit asks me, holding one up with his tongs
and trying his hardest to keep an innocent expression on
his face.
‘Maybe later,’ I answer with a smile, unable to stop
myself from staring at his lips. ‘I’ll take a burger, though.’
He drops one on my plate and I move on quickly
before he can offer to cover it in ketchup and before Riley
or Jo pick up on the sparks that are flying not just from
the grill.
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Kit
I watch Jessa walk across the garden towards Riley and
Jo. She glances over her shoulder as she sits and throws
me a sly smile, and I get a tightening in my gut in re-
sponse. A big part of me is totally turned on by the fact
that she’s right in front of me and I can’t touch her, can’t
run my hands over her body, can’t kiss her. And I know
that Jessa’s getting off on it too. Even now she’s turning
side on to me and deliberately flicking her hair over her
shoulder so I can see the spot on her neck where I like to
kiss her.
She’s giving me an unparalleled view of her legs as
well, and I wonder if she chose to wear that particular
sundress for a reason. It’s the same one she wore the
night we first slept together, and all I can picture when I
see her in it is how I slid it off her that night and how she
wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. She’s trying to torment
me. Damn. It’s probably punishment for my not warning
her about today. Though that wasn’t my fault. I had no
idea Sunday lunch was going to be co-opted into a birth-
day party and that my dad would then insist on inviting
both Jessa and Riley along to it.
Despite how much fun it is to be forced to admire the
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goods from afar and not touch them, I’m also dying to
walk right over to her, pull her to her feet and kiss her
into next century. Maybe, I reflect, the time to come clean
is now. It’s why my dad set this whole thing up in the
first place, after all.
I hand the grill tong to my cousin Matt and head over
to join Jessa.
I’m not sure what I plan to do, but I don’t get to find
out, because before I’m even three stops from them Jo’s
on me. ‘So who’s this girl, then?’ she asks.
‘What girl?’ I ask, aware of Jessa turning to look at me.
‘Riley says you’re seeing someone,’ Jo says, smiling at
me.‘Boning someone,’ Riley snickers, taking a bite out of
his burger.
‘Dude. I’m not – ’ I break off because I don’t want to
say the word
boning
in front of Jessa and also because I’d
be lying anyway.
Riley’s eyebrows leap up his forehead. ‘Oh, come on
. . . it’s us. You’re not usually so shy about sharing all the
details.’
Out the corner of my eye I see Jessa tip her head so her
hair falls in front of her face, hiding her expression. Oh
man.
‘I’m dating her,’ I say, glaring at Riley. ‘It’s not like that.
It’s . . . different.’
‘So you’re not boning her?’ Riley asks, burger juices
trickling down his chin he’s laughing so hard.
‘Oh my God! He’s blushing!’
I glower at Jo who only laughs more, which makes my
face get even hotter.
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Mila Gray
‘So when do we get to meet her?’ Jo asks teasingly.
‘I’m not sure,’ I stutter, having to fight the urge to look
at Jessa.
‘Is she pretty?’
‘Can’t be,’ interjects Riley, ‘otherwise he’d be showing
her off.’
‘She’s beautiful,’ I say. ‘Totally stunning.’
‘So why can’t we meet her then?’ Jo asks, eyes nar-
rowed. ‘What’s the deal?’
‘She’s busy. Couldn’t make it today.’
‘Dude,’ smirks Riley, ‘you’re being as coy as a Disney
princess. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing. I told you, she’s busy that’s all.’
‘Oh, let’s leave him alone,’ Jo laughs. ‘Maybe he
doesn’t want to introduce you, Riley, because he’s scared
she’ll run for the hills when she realizes what kind of com-
pany he keeps.’ She turns to Jessa. ‘What about you,
Jessa? Were there any cute boys at prom?’
Jessa pushes her hair behind her ear. ‘Nope,’ she
answers, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Not a one.’ I make a
note to self that Jessa is a really good liar, though there’s a
telltale flush to her cheeks that gives her away if you’re
looking for it.
‘What about that guy Todd?’ Riley asks, and I find
myself turning to stare at Jessa, waiting for her response.
She throws back her head and laughs. ‘No way,’ she
says. ‘Not my type.’
‘Well, you just make sure your type knows your
brother is a marine with a big gun.’
Jessa rolls her eyes. But she’s still smiling. I don’t think
she minds Riley’s overprotectiveness despite her protes-
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tations. If anything, she enjoys it. Jo, though, is looking
curiously between Jessa and me and I’m wondering if
she’s starting to put it together. Surely everyone can see
the crazy chemistry between us.
I stand up before I do or say something that gives us
away.
‘The burgers are calling,’ I say walking back towards
the grill. ‘Don’t forget your hot dog later,’ I add, shooting
a glance in Jessa’s direction.
Satisfyingly, her cheeks flush even redder.
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Jessa
As arranged, Kit picks me up after lunch from the hos-
pital where I’m volunteering and I take the wheel. I’m
getting good thanks to our daily lessons. Today Kit makes
me drive all the way to San Diego. It’s only when he
starts giving me directions that I realize we’re not ran-
domly driving around, we’re heading somewhere.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
‘Surprise,’ he answers.
‘I know your kind of surprises,’ I say.
‘You won’t guess this one,’ he replies, indicating at me
to pull over.
I look out the window. We’re parked on Congress right
beside the park. Kit jumps out the truck and I follow suit,
immediately intrigued.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask again as he leads me into
the park.
‘Promise you’re not going to kill me and I’ll tell you.’
My heels dig into the ground. ‘What?’ I ask. I have
visions of Riley and Jo waiting for us.
‘We’re going to the theatre.’
‘We are?’ I say. ‘Cool. Why would I kill you?’
‘For an audition.’
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I yank my hand from his and come to a halt. ‘What?’
‘They’re holding open auditions for an Oscar Wilde
play.’ Kit looks at me, his expression a mixture of nervous
and excited.
‘Kit,’ I say, shaking my head, ‘I can’t do it. I haven’t
prepared anything.’
‘You told me you remembered all the lines from the
play you were in.’
I stare at him. Is he insane? My heart is beating as fast
as a humming bird’s wings. ‘But I haven’t had a chance to
practise,’ I argue.
Kit takes my hands. ‘Nothing like being thrown into
the lion’s den. Look, what have you got to lose?’
‘My dignity?’
He laughs. ‘Come on, just do it. Even if you don’t get a
part, at least you’ll know you tried.’ I pull my hand from
his and cross my arms over my chest. ‘And if you do it,’
he says, giving me a look I know full well. ‘I will take you
home and give you a multiple orgasm.’
I draw in a breath, my body reacting to his words even
though my mind is still adamant that I’m definitely not
going to do this. ‘That’s so unfair,’ I hiss.
He steps nearer and takes my hands again. ‘I’ll kiss you
all over,’ he murmurs, kissing my neck, ‘just the way you
like, paying extra special attention to . . .’
‘OK! OK! I’ll do it.’
He pulls away, grinning at me. ‘Sexual bribery,’ he
says. ‘What else can I get you to do?’
Backstage is so crowded with people doing vocal exer-
cises and reciting monologues that I immediately freak
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out and try to walk away, but Kit is standing right behind
me and he catches me by the shoulders, spins me around
and marches me over to the sign-in desk.
He gives them my name and then leads me to an
out-of-the-way corner where I sit down and start hyper-
ventilating. ‘I’m going to kill you later,’ I say.
He puts his arm around me. ‘Before or after I give you
that multiple orgasm?’
‘You’re so . . . ’ I glare at him, but I can’t stop the smile.
Even though I’m as nervous as hell, I’ve also got butter-
flies raging inside me, the good kind of butterflies, the
kind that let you know you’re alive. It’s the same buzz I
always get before I step on stage, a feeling that’s addic-
tive, but which I’d tried to pretend I could live without.
And only now do I realize I don’t want to. Kit’s right.
I start running through the only monologue I can
remember, from
The Merchant of Venice
, praying it’s
enough. When they call me, Kit squeezes my hand and
kisses me on the cheek. ‘Knock ’em dead,’ he says.
I figure that the worst that can happen is that I make a
fool of myself. When I walk out onto the stage and stare
out over the auditorium, my heart leapfrogs into my
mouth. How am I here? Doing this?
Four shadowy figures in the middle of the front row
point me to a cross marked out on the stage and order me
in bored voices to begin. It feels like I’m on
The X Factor
. I
swallow drily and take a deep breath, trying to sink into
the role of Portia. Then I start.
When I finish, a silence saturates the room. No one
says anything and immediately a sinking feeling weighs
me down. Oh crap. Blood rushes to my face, my heart
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beats hollowly in my throat, and I spin on my heel and
stumble towards the wings, but I’m not even halfway
there before a voice calls me back.
‘Could you read from this?’ the person asks in a
clipped voice. I see whoever it is holding something out
and I walk over and take it. It’s the script for
The
Importance of Being Earnest
. I glance down at the high-
lighted pages, feeling a flicker of excitement that I try to
tamp down, and walk back to the X.
After fifteen minutes they dismiss me, telling me that