Page 2

Guests

JUSTIN

Colored pencils are scattered across the top of the table - greens, oranges and reds mainly. The rest, except for the blue pencil in my hand, are still in their box. I’m shading the side of the lorikeet’s head and struggling a little to give a realistic impression of tiny wispy feathers around its head and the curve of its neck.

I pause, pencil in mid-air, and survey the drawing critically.

“Mmm, okay, let’s try this,” and I put down the pencil and instead select a navy blue one - almost black - from the box. I check the tip is satisfactorily sharp, and then add a few strokes of color to the edges of several of the miniscule feathers. Then I pause and assess the effect. Much better! I continue adding little dashes of contrast around the neck and head of the bird and it steadily comes to life. Cheerful twitters and chirps in the trees outside approve of my work.

Now for the chest, where I’ve already shaded in a mix of yellows and oranges, but the effect is not dramatic enough. Probably some red needed, then. As I pick up the shade of red pencil I think will do, a shrill buzz slices through the relaxing morning.

With a scowl I put the pencil down again. The pencils clatter in protest as I hurriedly scoop them up and dump them on a shelf along with the half-finished picture. Yes, I know, we were having fun. Me too, guys, me too. A quick scan of the room to check I haven’t left it in a mess, and then I mentally prepare myself for a sociability I don’t feel.

I linger in the adjoining living room while I listen to the babble of voices as my grandparents greet their visitors at the front door. I gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows at a fantastic view of the ocean. The sea air wafts in the french doors that open onto an extensive balcony where there’s nothing in front of you but sky and sea, and the green of the trees that line the rocky slope as it falls away to the ocean.

The guests are ushered into the living room. The parents come in first and are introduced to me. I shake hands and smile and murmur bland greetings.

I have a brief hope that they’ve come alone after all, and their son has found something else to do for the day, but then I see a third person, hanging back and clearly as enthusiastic about meeting me as I am about him. Not.

The guy is standing so far back that everyone else has piled into the room ahead of him, and it’s only the mass of dark hair visible above everyone else that lets me know there’s someone there. I half expect him to disappear out the front door while everyone else is distracted. I would if I could.

He doesn’t though, and as everyone moves further into the room, I see him properly for the first time.

I blink to cover my surprise, and I hope I manage to keep a neutral face, because man, he is gorgeous. I have an almost visceral reaction to the sight of that delicious hunk and I barely pay attention as we’re introduced.

“And this is our grandson, Justin,” my grandmother is saying, gesturing towards me. “Justin, this is Axel.”

Axel steps forward and extends his hand. Mesmerized by his beautiful face, I almost forget my manners, leaving him hanging there a second too long. When I finally do grasp his hand, I hope he doesn’t notice the fine tremor in mine. His hand is warm and his grip is firm and confident.Part of me stirs.

He’s twenty-two apparently, four years older than me, and beautiful. Way out of my league. Chances are he doesn’t play for my team anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Still, one can look, right? There has to be some compensation for having my peaceful day disrupted.

He draws the handshake out a little longer than is normal as he looks me over and I’m afraid he’s already figured me out. I paste a neutral smile on my face, and I wait for the reaction. The instinctive shudder, the hastily withdrawn hand, the unconscious sneer. But there’s none of that this time.

“Um. Hi.” I stammer, breaking the awkward silence.

Axel cocks his head slightly, his eyes appraising, but the expression on his face gives nothing away.

“Hi.”

My grandparents start offering drinks and I turn away, glad to have an excuse to move out of the spotlight of that thoughtful stare. I can feel the heat flaming my cheeks, a hot prickling sensation up my neck. The situation in my pants is a little disconcerting too, and I need a moment to get that under control.