Page 7

“Sorry,” he spoke gruffly as his face continued to redden. He quickly brushed past her, towards the bathroom.

Hazel stood still, her heart beating overtime. She pulled the towel tighter and scurried to her room. Sitting on her bed, she waited for her pulse to slow down. Twice now, she had bumped into him, the second time practically naked. Hazel groaned when she pictured how much worse it could have been if she’d dropped her towel. Her face flushed with shame. She fell backwards onto the bed, hoping that by the time she was dry, her humiliation would be gone.

No such luck.

Once dressed, she headed downstairs, making sure the coast was clear. Hazel walked into the kitchen and spied the sketchpad and pencils her mother had left for her on the bench.

She grabbed them and sat at the kitchen table. Bailey trotted into the room. He lay on his back under her chair and promptly fell asleep. It seemed he was tuckered out from his morning of chasing birds in the garden. Molly eventually walked into the room and noticed Hazel staring at blank paper.

“Why don’t you draw the view from the window? You could start with the shape of the hinterland,” Molly suggested. Hazel nodded and picked up a pencil. She began to draw the ridge of the tallest mountain. Her wrist flicked out and ruined the curve, turning her line into a sharp fish hook. She grumbled in frustration and tore the page off the pad. Hazel took a deep breath and began slowly drawing the ridge again. She focused on detailing the ridge face before attempting to draw the mountain top. The ceiling fan blew the crumpled piece of paper over the page, causing her to flinch and draw a harsh line through the ridge. Groaning, she dropped her pencil on the table and sighed heavily as she pulled the cover over the sketchpad. She would come back to it later. Molly approached the table with two tall glasses of fresh lemonade.

“Here, darling,” Molly said. She put one of the glasses in front of Hazel.

Hazel smiled at her as she took a big sip. Refreshed, she lamented, “I guess I’m just rusty. I haven’t really drawn anything for years.”

“You’ll get there. Why don’t you take this glass up to Sam? He must be so hot up there! The window doesn’t open properly in the bathroom, and the air conditioning upstairs can only reach so far.” She handed the other lemonade to her daughter.

Hazel froze, the icy glass stuck in her hand. How could she face him after what had happened earlier? To make matters worse, she couldn’t even string more than a few words together when he was around. Her eyes darted around the room, and she could tell Molly was sizing it all up.

Feeling the pressure, she figured if she could quickly hand him the glass, she would then be free to retreat back downstairs without another incident. Acting quickly before her bravado ran out, she turned on her heel.

As she reached the top of the staircase, she crept towards the bathroom. Her mother was right. It was hot up here. The temperature seemed to climb the closer she got to the bathroom.

The door was open and Sam, his back to Hazel, was shirtless. She stared at his back, captivated by the muscles rippling through his arms and shoulders as he worked, accentuated by the light sheen of sweat. He suddenly turned around, as if he sensed her, and noticed her staring at him. Her eyes widened, and the colour scarlet bloomed across her face as she realised she’d been caught ogling. Sam smirked a little as Hazel quickly crossed the room and thrust the glass of lemonade at him, the sweet liquid nearly spilling out of the cup.

“Lemonade,” she said quickly. Sam took his time putting down his tools and taking the glass from her. Hazel attempted to turn around, but Sam rested his hand on her wrist. They both felt the spark of his touch. Hazel stared up at him, their eyes meeting.

“Stay,” he said. He took a sip and leaned against the bathroom counter. Hazel stared at him, unsure of what to do.

“So, I hear you’re staying here for a while?” Sam placed the glass on the counter next to him.

“Yeah, I, uh, got fired. Not because I did anything wrong – I don’t think. Tough times, they said,” Hazel blurted out before she could stop herself.

Sam just smiled at her as she flushed some more. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything you did. Did you grow up in Bells Bay?” he asked, changing the subject.

Ordering herself to get it together, Hazel took a breath before she replied. “Yeah. It was a lovely place to grow up. Luckily, by the time I came along, Mum was doing well as an artist, so it was quite an idyllic childhood actually. Just me and her, oh and my best friend Serena.” Hazel felt a warm feeling wash through her. Whenever she thought of her childhood, she pictured her and her mother building sandcastles on the beach, painting on large canvases in the back garden, walking to school and having afternoon picnics in the forest behind the house. She felt the dust licking her heels as she rode her pink bike down Beach Road, felt the thin white paper bag filled with Ghost Drops from the grocer that she would share with Serena. She heard the crash of the waves and the taste of salt on her lips as she tucked into fish and chips by the ocean with her mother. The crispness of the salty water splashing on her body as she and Serena ran into the waves on late summer afternoons and hunted for pipis in the sand as the sun went down. Hazel couldn’t help the smile.

Sam grinned back at her. “How long do you think you’ll be here for?”

“Mum wants me to take some time off before I start job hunting again. And I’ll be helping her with her exhibition. So, I guess at least a few months.” Hazel shrugged.

“She’s really happy you’re here, you know. I think she’s been finding work for me to do just to have some company. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the work really needs to be done, but I think she also likes having people around.” Sam drained the remaining lemonade from the glass.

“I’ve missed her. It’s nice to be back.”

Sam grinned at her.

“I’d better leave you to it,” she said, holding her hand out to take his glass. Their fingers touched, an instant spark of electricity jolted between them. Sam chuckled and gave Hazel an easy smile. “Thanks for the refreshment.”

Hazel blushed again. She carried the glass back downstairs, feeling a little better about Sam now that they had had a somewhat normal interaction. But what was with the constant zapping? It was getting a bit ridiculous.

As she descended down the staircase, she realised her heart was still beating overtime. She wasn’t sure what that meant. But it probably wasn’t good.

Hazel woke slowly, not wanting to let go of the dream. She revelled in the afterglow as her eyes gradually fluttered open. A small smile formed across her face. Closing her eyes, she felt the embrace of him, the taste of him still on her lips. Stretching her arms lightly, she tried to go back to sleep. She kept her eyes tightly shut, desperately hoping to be sucked back into the dream that she felt had ended far too early. Her mind imagined what happened next, trying to coax the dream to pull her back under. He touched her arm and drew her closer. She looked up at him, his eyes an emerald green that sent shockwaves through her body.

Hazel’s eyes flew open. She sat up in bed, her heart beginning to race. The man in her dream was Sam. The warm, fuzzy feeling swelled in her chest as she realised she liked him. The racing heart, the weird looks, the fact she couldn’t string a sentence together. It all made sense. How did she not notice this before? This was a complication she did not need. And having a crush on her mother’s handyman? How original. Hazel turned on her side and stared at her reflection in the mirror that was attached to the wardrobe. Her long brown hair curled into ringlets at the ends, but was mostly wavy otherwise. Her eyes were a strange blue colour. Her skin was mostly clear, but her eyes, she felt, were far too big for her face. She pinched her impish nose and stared at herself. She sighed as she lay back down.

Crushing on Sam was a disaster waiting to happen. Her entire life was in pieces. This just added another piece to try and smoosh in. Frustrated with herself, she groaned and pulled the blankets over her head. Today, it seemed, would be best spent sulking in bed.