Page 20 of What Did I Miss?

At the end of parent–teacher interviews, Makayla stands alone, cursing every staff member for racing out the door instead of helping pack up. Considering the gym is her domain, she takes it upon herself to get to work.

‘Need a hand?’ Beau’s buttery voice echoes behind her, and she feels bad for lumping him in the same category as the rest of the deserters.

‘Sure. Thanks.’ The quicker it’s done, the sooner she’ll be at a KFC drive-thru ordering the gravy and mashed potato everyone gives her crap about. Just because she’s athletic doesn’t mean she’s immune to the lure of processed foods.

Working as a team, Makayla lifts a stack of tables at the front and Beau takes the back.

They cart them into a dingy storeroom and repeat the process until their arms ache.

This would be ten times faster if Jeffrey approved the trolley she’d been begging for.

As with all reasonable requests, he’s deemed it a non-essential item.

They tackle the chairs next, and soon go from carrying to dragging them, caring less about scuff marks and more about preventing a back injury.

‘The survival pack you gave me was a lifesaver,’ Beau says, breaking their comfortable silence. ‘It was a sweet gesture.’

‘Sweet? I’d say practical is a better way to describe it.’

‘You would.’ Beau grins. ‘All the parents were pretty nice. Rhiannon was a lot different from what I’d imagined.’

Makayla halts at the mention of Ebony’s mum, fixated on the image of Rhiannon whispering something in his ear before she left. It could have been innocent, or it could have been an indecent proposal.

Being his mentor, it’d be irresponsible not to address it, and that’s why Makayla – the ultimate professional – says, ‘How do you think Ebony’s going to react when she finds out you’ll be her new stepdad?

She’ll really hate you then.’ It’s a cheap shot, but that doesn’t keep the smirk off Makayla’s face.

‘What are you talking about?’ Beau laughs.

‘Hi, I’m Beau Shepherd,’ Makayla deepens her voice. ‘Ex-Army guy. Single.’ She tucks her hands into her pockets, eyes smouldering like his usually do.

‘Well, I never thought I’d see the day.’ He leans against the bleachers rail. ‘You’re jealous.’

Makayla scoffs. ‘Someone’s got tickets on himself.’

‘It’s fine, Makayla. It’s actually kind of cute on you.’ He flashes an annoying smile.

Cute? How dare he call her that? ‘Whatever, Sergeant Shepherd.’

‘It’s Major, actually. I was a major.’

‘Yeah, a major pain in my arse.’

Beau steps forward, eyes dancing with mischief. ‘I love it when you flirt with me.’

His words act as an emollient between her legs.

‘Are you going to see her again?’ Gah! Why did she ask that?

‘Who? Rhiannon?’

Makayla flinches once more at the sound of another woman’s name on his lips.

A mental picture of the taut school mum straddling him comes out of nowhere.

Unbridled. Bronzed legs. Mussed dark tresses.

Will he go to bed tonight imagining a similar scenario?

Fevered energy takes hold of Makayla’s body.

All logic skips away; she acts on pure impulse.

‘Come with me.’ She takes his arm.

‘Where are we going?’ He stumbles alongside her as she leads them towards the staff toilets.

‘I’m going to teach you a lesson, Mr Shepherd. No one calls me cute.’

‘Oh.’ He stops resisting, like he understands his punishment.

They can have harmless fun, and this time she won’t act weird afterwards. It’ll just be two adults letting off steam after a long day at work. Nothing more.

Once the door bangs shut and Makayla triple checks the lock, her lips frantically find his. The kiss is breathy. Bruising. It’s like he’s just returned from war and she thought of him and only him the entire time.

The harsh fluorescent lights and suffocating bleach odour almost spoil the mood. Okay, it’s not as hot as she’d imagined a bathroom quickie would be, but she’ll make it work.

Beau flips her around to face the mirror and presses up behind her.

He runs the back of his hand along the outline of her silhouette and her knees buckle under his touch.

His firm grip saves her from falling. She huffs at the agony of being fully clothed as he traces her bellybutton with his finger. Slow circles, teasing out the moment.

Swishing her hair to one side, he nibbles at her neck. She cranes her head, letting him taste every inch.

Makayla flutters her eyelashes as he tugs at the zip on her jeans. She desperately wants his fingers to slide down further. He hovers his thumb just above where she needs it, like he’s keeping her suspended in midair and wants the drop to be a surprise.

‘Tell me,’ he says, making eye contact in the mirror, ‘tell me you were jealous before, and that’s why you pulled me in here.’

‘No,’ she pants, swaying her hips against his growing erection. ‘I wasn’t. I’m not.’

Makayla reaches behind to keep things going, but he steps away. The warmth of his body lingers.

‘Why are you stopping?’ she asks.

‘I need to hear you say it.’ Beau adjusts the crotch of his pants, proving that some part of him wants to finish what they started.

Makayla’s not admitting a goddamn thing. He’s reading way too much into this.

Confident she can get Beau to drop this ridiculous accusation, she removes her jacket and top. As she’s about to slide out of her bra, Beau picks up her clothes and hands them to her.

‘If you won’t say it to me, at least be honest with yourself.’ He leans in and leaves a kiss on her cheek that might as well be a slap. ‘Good night.’

Makayla barrels through her front door, kicks off her Doc Martens, wiggles out of her jacket and then dives over the couch instead of walking around it.

She drapes her legs across the headrest to hang upside down.

Being upright is too much at the moment.

It’s easier to think with blood rushing to her head – or rather, to not think.

Get out of my thoughts, Shepherd!

A scream fights its way out, attracting the attention of her furry friend. Piper waddles towards Makayla and plants sloppy kisses all over her face.

‘No, Pipe. We’ve talked about this.’

Piper is persistent and gets her slimy tongue in the crook of Makayla’s neck.

Admitting defeat, she slides onto the floor to give the French bulldog the pats she’s forever demanding.

A scratch behind her bat ears seems to suffice, and when that stops, Piper stretches, showing off her muscular frame.

They say that people who don’t comment, ‘Naaaw! Big stretch’ when pets do that are psychopaths.

If that’s true, Makayla must be one because she doesn’t do cutesy baby voices.

Piper would undoubtedly find that patronising.

Sitting on the carpet, Makayla takes a moment to enjoy the quiet she’s grown accustomed to since living on her own.

The novelty hasn’t worn off. Her two-bedroom abode pales in comparison to the double-storey house she used to live in, but at least here, everything is the way she likes it.

Good riddance to Warren’s humongous TV that took up an entire living room.

From now on, it’s a modest screen to watch whatever tickles her fancy at a volume that doesn’t shake the walls.

And don’t even get her started on the faux-leather couches they had to have because her ex-husband is a man-child who’d constantly spill his beer.

She runs a hand along her expensive fabric couch.

Four more repayments and this baby is officially hers.

Best of all, she doesn’t have to put up with Warren’s snippy comments about the state of the house. Makayla’s not the tidiest person. If a cushion falls on the floor, it can stay there. If she wants to dump washing on the dining table and leave it there for three weeks, that’s her prerogative.

‘This is why I’m single and plan to keep it that way,’ she says valiantly to Piper.

‘Men are the worst. The worst! Especially Beau …’ She gurgles his name.

‘Shep … ep …’ Why can’t she say it, and why does it feel like if she does, she’ll become a blubbering mess?

‘Shepherd,’ she blurts before pressing her lips together to stop them trembling.

Oh no, she’s become one of those pathetic women in romcoms who falls apart after a guy does them dirty.

Those films are garbage. The only satisfying part is when they gorge themselves on comfort food.

Makayla springs to her feet and races to the kitchen, suddenly struck by an overwhelming need to eat everything in sight.

She forgot to stop by KFC on the way home because she was too busy belting out Alanis Morissette’s tracks.

‘You Oughta Know’ hit differently when she imagined Beau with … Never mind .

Piper positions herself by Makayla’s side like a shadow.

Sitting on her hind legs, she looks up, her forehead even more wrinkled than usual.

Also known as the ‘feed me now or pay later’ look.

Then she cocks her head as if to say, ‘Just try me, lady.’ Makayla scampers towards a cupboard solely dedicated to dog food.

Not the supermarket kind – Piper won’t eat that crap.

It’s organic or nothing, which Makayla obediently blows her budget on because they both know who the real boss is.

In a daze, Makayla empties a labrador-sized portion of kibble into a bowl.

When the overflow registers, she empties the rest too, because who can be bothered scooping it back in?

With a flick of her wrist, she shoots the empty packet into the sink.

Score! But she doesn’t experience the usual buzz.

And why does she have a sudden urge to devour a tub of cookies and cream ice cream? Why is her nose dripping? Eyes misting?

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warns herself in the oven’s reflection.

If that doesn’t tip her over the edge, raiding the freezer might.

There are frozen cardboard meals, less appetising than Piper’s dinner, and a Chiko Roll that makes her question all her life choices.

The fridge options aren’t any better, with a sad bunch of mouldy carrots.

Last year she was at peak health; now she considers hot chips a vegetable source. How did this happen? She knows better.

How else can she get rid of the weird tightening in her chest?

Invite Cece around? No. In chick flicks, the main character always calls upon their perky best friend to cheer them up, and it usually leads to an unnecessary makeover.

Makayla doesn’t have the energy to fight off Cece’s sparkly eyeshadow assault.

‘Looks like it’s just you and me, girl.’ Makayla cringes. Since when is she the type of person who calls someone – let alone an animal – girl?

She rescues a pear cider hidden behind a spoiled cauliflower, then returns to the living room with Piper in tow. Within seconds, she breaks her ‘no dogs on the couch’ rule. Piper drops her chin on Makayla’s thigh, testing their friendship and the capacity of Makayla’s jeans to soak up drool.

‘Jealous? Huh!’ She cracks open the can.

Startled by the ‘pssst’, Piper’s eyebrows go up-up-up. When they finally drop, those big droopy eyes bore into Makayla like they’re giving her permission to offload.

‘I don’t care if he flirts with leopard-print-bra Barbie.

Why would I? We’re not together. Just having some harmless fun.

At least we were until he pulled that stunt in the bathroom.

’ Being ditched when you’ve got no top on is about as humiliating as it gets.

‘Why am I telling you this? You’re a dog.

I’m clearly nuts. Because that’s what men do to us.

They drive us bonkers. That’s why we’re better off without them.

Let’s make a pact. You stop letting that staffy at the park mount you and I won’t go anywhere near Beau again. Deal?’

Makayla holds out an open palm. Going by Piper’s absent stare, she’s not as good a listener as she’s pretending to be.

After draining the cider in three sips, Makayla’s phone dings. ‘I wonder who that’ll be? Probably Mr Mind Games wanting to push the knife in further.’

Sorry about what I did earlier. It was really shitty of me. Can we talk? I’d like to come over and apologise in person. Is that okay?

‘Oh.’ That’s not what she was expecting. ‘I swear he’s not a nice guy.’ She doesn’t want it to look like she exaggerated the whole thing. The divorce really messed with Piper’s ability to trust, and Makayla’s had to earn it back one daily walk at a time.

Honouring the agreement she made just minutes ago, Makayla replies with a single word.

No.

Just because someone apologises doesn’t mean they’re off the hook. Ask Warren.

‘We’re not going to let him ruin our ladies’ night, are we?’ A deep snore vibrates through her pants. ‘Thanks for the moral support, boofhead.’

Makayla groans, hoisting Piper up and gently placing sleeping beauty on her dog bed.

It’s a bit they do every night, acting like Piper won’t barge into the bedroom in two minutes and take over the entire bed.

Warren would call her a sucker for giving in.

Little did he know she placed the dog between them, so he wouldn’t roll over and touch her.

Thoughts of her ex open the door for more. His comment from last weekend pushes its way to the front – that she’s stubborn, bitter and lets nothing go. At the car show, she was adamant he was wrong, but isn’t her behaviour tonight proving him right?

Makayla bangs out a text to Beau.

There’s no need to come over. We’re cool. Honestly. Enjoy your weekend and don’t work the entire time. That’s an order from your mentor.

Send.

Her fingers itch to type more.

PS – You were right. I was jealous.

Send?

Thumb on the backspace button, the letters disappear one at a time.