Chapter 4 ARTHUR'S PARTY

Dad drops me at the foot of the driveway so we don't scare people away with his car. The driveway is long and on a slight hill; thank goodness I decided to wear flats instead of heels.

His house is large and grand, with its white marble steps leading to the elaborate wooden front door. At the foot of the steps is a cardboard sign pointing to the right. I follow a few more signs marked out before I end up in the backyard.

The court area has blossoming trees along with decorative rose bushes, and strands of twinkling lights connecting them.

Directly behind the house is a large rectangular pool, and to the left is an undercover area which has a built-in kitchen along with a plush seating area with people scattered across it.

There are people splashing in the pool, but most are undercover where the music is. Those are the smart ones because it looks cold.

I search for Yvonne and Arthur. Worst case, George will do or a bottle of spirits.

The area reeks of alcohol, and there are bottles and cups everywhere. Along the bench are a ton of jelly shots, which people are consuming like wildfire.

Yvonne tackles me into a hug, while Arthur, on the other hand, runs out of nowhere, and we end up on the floor. Thankfully, I land on his chest, which hurts him.

I hop up and reluctantly help Arthur off the ground. He stumbles to his feet, then races away to greet someone else.

Yvonne pats my shoulder, then hands me my welcome shot, which I take like a pro. I manage to snaffle another shot before grabbing a jelly one off the counter. It's probably risky, but they look delicious.

If it were my party, I'd pretend there was alcohol in the jelly just to see what people would do.

I grab drinks out of my bag and ease into the festive mood. One thing I can do is party. By the fourth drink, I'm swaying my hips to the beat of the music and laughing.

Some of the girls from the cheerleading team are dancing with me. I expect Savannah to be hanging off Arthur, but I can't see her.

After a few more songs and drinks, Arthur appears behind me. He places his hands on my hip and tries to grind into my leg, but he's so gone, he has no idea what he's doing.

I turn around and wrap one arm around his waist to steady his body.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Lots." He smiles.

Someone yells pool, so people stampede out there, including Arthur. He throws me over his shoulder and zooms out of the pergola.

"Arthur, no!" I scream.

I try to wiggle out of his grip, but his arms only tighten around my body. Grabbing my phone, I toss it onto a chair before I'm thrown into the pool.

It's cold, which doesn't surprise me; it's getting a lot colder around here.

Back home, I was preparing for the bloody summer, which would have been the perfect surfing weather. The water is too choppy and freaking cold during winter which meant I hadn't been able to spend much time in the water.

When I resurface, I'm soaking wet and pissed off. These were my only clothes, and now I'm going to be freezing for the rest of the night.

"Arthur!" I scream. "You're an idiot!"

I look around, then someone tugs my foot, and I'm pulled under the water. I struggle to get back up, but the mosh of bodies makes it hard to get there. Shoving my elbow into someone's ribs, they jump out of the way, and I'm able to surface.

I take a deep breath and re-compose myself.

Arthur is a few feet away, looking boyishly cute and dazed. I push through the crowd and get out of the pool.

Anger courses through me, but so does the memory of that day, how I was trapped under the water. Cold air nips at my skin, and I shake uncontrollably. I push those thoughts out of my mind and focus.

Gosh, darn it, Arthur, what is wrong with you?

My teeth chatter as I walk back to the pergola and collect my bag and phone. I have a jumper, but that's not going to be helpful considering there's a puddle of water by my feet.

If I find a bathroom, I could ring my clothes or find a towel. If Arthur were dumb enough to leave the house open, I could steal something of his.

What if his parents are in there? I can't trek water everywhere. Then again, it'll be Arthur's fault, considering he threw me into the water.

I follow a pebble pathway until a silhouette approaches in the distance. I drop my things and lumber up. It's in that moment, I hope my phone doesn't break.

"I know karate," I shout, "and I'm not afraid to kick your behind either."

I don't know if I sound intimidating, but I hope it works.

When the approaching figure steps into the light, I attempt to hide behind my bag.

"Christine, why are you soaking wet?"

"Arthur threw me in the pool. Can you show me to the bathroom? Better yet, where's his bedroom? I'll steal his clothes!" I smile.

"Sure, let me lead the way." He grins.

Blain leads us up a grand set of marble stairs similar to the front ones. I wait outside while Blain grabs a towel.

When I'm dry enough, Blain waves me into the house, which is warmer than outside. The door leads to an open kitchen and lounge room with a winding staircase to the left.

He leads me past the steps and into a guest bathroom. The shower is spacious, and the thought of a warm shower is heavenly. I shake my head to remove those thoughts.

"I'll grab you some clean clothes."

"Thanks."

Blain closes the door, and I peel off my pants and top, then wrap myself in the towel. I feel warmer already, but a chill runs down my spine as I look at the soggy clothing.

When there's a knock, I poke my head out. Blain hands me an oversized Stormtrooper's top, which is long enough to cover my body and checker blue shorts.

"Pass me your clothes and I'll put them in the dryer."

"Cheers." I slide the clothes across the floor with my foot while I hide behind the door.

He grabs the clothes, and I shut the door and quickly change. The top clings to my soggy bra, but it's better than wearing those jeans. I don't bother with the shorts because they feel weird.

I trail into the kitchen and find Blain leaning against the bench with a beer in his hand.

"How come you're here?"

"Lea, my sister, is in Europe, so I'm babysitting Arthur."

"That explains the party."

"Yes." He laughs.

"I should get out there." I point to the party.

"You might want to." Blain waves his hand over his face.

I wipe under my eyes and see the black.

"Oh shit, I didn't think to check my makeup." I laugh.

Blain hands me a paper towel, and I wipe it off. Once I'm almost sure, I look at Blain.

"How does it look?"

"Um." He walks around the bench and softly cups my cheek. Blain brushes the paper towel under my eye, then uses his thumb to do the rest. The close contact has my heart racing.

He peers close, close enough that his breath touches my lips. I roughly exhale and shudder under his warm grip.

"There, done." He smiles.

I cough. "Thanks."

"All good."

"Are you drinking tonight?"

"Just beer."

"Gross." I poke my tongue out.

Blain laughs. "Beer is the best, but an acquired taste."

"I'll leave you to your gross beer."

The cold air nips at my legs, and I face palm. I backed up and closed the door.

"Even though you're my teacher, there are more people out there, and I'm basically naked."

Blain cocks his head to the side.

"It all sounded much better in my head." I bite my lip. "I'm going to, ugh, I have no idea. But I feel very awkward."

"We can talk until your clothes dry?"

"That sounds good." I nod.

Blain leans across the bench and looks at me.

"So, Christine Beckley from Australia, are you enjoying your American experience?"

I shrug my shoulders, "Sure, but I expected more from the party, though."

"More, how so?"

"There are no red cups or beer kegs for starters."

Blain gasps, "That's barbaric! What are parties like in Australia then?"

"Hm, depends on the person." I shrug. "The music is different, my friends are hard-core Aussie rap fans. Though if you have red cups, you're the cool kid!"

"That sounds lame."

"Tell me about it." I sigh. "Nobody dances."

We look outside to see people grinding on each other.

"Do you miss it?"

"Yes." I nod. "The freedom was nice and I loved going the a club, drinking at a pub, or just going to the beach and swimming in the ocean. It is weird being so far away, and I miss my friends."

"Why did your parents move?" He frowns.

"My mother died." I focus on the bench and take a deep breath.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Blain reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "What happened?"

"People laugh until they realise I'm being serious, but she was bitten by a shark. We were surfing, and she sacrificed herself so I could get to shore. Everyone tried to save her, but she bled out."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"I know I should hate the ocean, but I love it and my mother would be upset if I stopped surfing because of it."

I don't realise I'm crying until I'm wrapped in Blain's strong arms.

"I miss her so much. Being in the ocean made me feel like she was right with me."

"Shhh." He coos.

"Dad stopped coming to the beach, stopped watching me surf, and I grew more attached when I realised we were moving away. He hates Australia and he's never going back."

"Wherever you are, your mother is with you, Christine."

I press my face into his chest and inhale. He smells like chamomile and peppermint, which is odd, but comforting.

The machine beeps, so we jump apart. He adjusts the cycle and wanders out of the laundry.

I want him to hold me, but he stands on the other side of the kitchen.

"Your clothes should be dry soon."

"Thank you." I sniffle.

He hands me a tissue, and I dry my eyes.

A door opens, and Arthur enters with Savannah wrapped around his body.

"Christine, what are you doing with Blain?"

"He's drying my clothes because a certain someone pushed me into the pool."

"Oh." He smiles. "Thanks, Savannah, but I think I can make it to bed myself."

"You're an asshole sometimes," she grumbles.

Savannah shoves Arthur away, and he collides with the ground. I wince as he smacks his head into the tiles. I offer my hand, but he's so heavy, he almost pulls me to the ground.

Blain yanks Arthur onto his feet and wraps his arm around his waist.

"I'll be back."

Arthur stumbles all over the place as Blain hauls him up the stairs. I take a seat by the kitchen bench and wait.

When Blain eventually returns, the dryer beeps and he collects my clothes. I take the warm bundle of clothes, and our fingers brush, and we gaze into each other's eyes.

He takes a step back, then reaches across and grabs my face. In a whirl of motions, our lips are pressed together. I melt into the kiss and drop my things in favour of wrapping my arms around his neck. I nibble on his lower lip, and Blain jumps back.

"That wasn't supposed to happen."

"I, um," I apologise.

"You're my fucking student, shit." He grips his hair. "I could lose my job."

I hold my hands up to show I come in peace.

"Don't worry about it, I won't say anything."

I enjoyed that kiss more than I should have.

Blain runs his fingers through his dark brown hair and huffs.

"I'm sorry, Christine."

It must be the alcohol, because "I'm not" slips out.

Blain is taken aback, but doesn't comment.

I scoop my clothes up and head into the bathroom. I glance at my phone and there's a message from Dad. I shoot him a text, then change into my clothes.

When I come out, Blain is nowhere to be seen. I venture into the cold night, and all I can think about is the warmth of Blain's lips.

I shouldn't think about his lips, but it's one feeling I can't shake from my mind.