Page 14 of Blindsided By You

That part isn’t a lie. I was averylate starter. Perhaps it was some self-protective mechanism. The lack of confidence, the low self-esteem spinning off from my dyslexia—not that anyone had put a diagnosis against it back then—meant I was probably closer to fourteen when I dared to return any interest girls showed in me. Of course, I was no stranger to wet dreams and early morning hand jobs. I joined in my mates’ dirty conversations; trading stories—mostly fictional—and eyeing up the possibilities. But I’d never touched a girl, let alone kiss one until some mutually clumsy slurping of lips with Kristie Carter out back of the gym after the school social at the end of my S2 year.

“Surely you were old enough to notice your sister had hot friends?” he says.

“Nope, not old enough for Jenna,” I reply. “Six years between us. She was never on my radar. As I said, she and Rachel went off to uni when I was twelve. And from then I’ve barely seen her.”

The odd glimpse of her in the street if she was home around Christmas or New Year. A couple of times she breezed in and out of her parents’ house while I was at piano lessons. Apart from those few times, Jenna’s been a stranger to me. Which is why this sudden attraction, spurred on by an unexpected feeling of connection between us in two short conversations at the party, has blindsided me, catching me unprepared. And Nathan, the canny bastard, has shone an unwelcome bright spotlight on it.

“You’re old enough now.”

I close my eyes. Right this moment I’m regretting my bromance with Nathan Wilder. Already he knows me too well. Might as well concede defeat.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I groan.

“Yes, I knew it,” he says with a fist pump of triumph.

I glare at him, while warily scanning the changing room, and relief floods me as I realise there’s no one in earshot. We’re early and everyone else is late.

“Shut the fuck up, Wilder,” I caution. “Unless you want the next party you go to, to be my wake.” I’m too young to die.

He drops his voice.

“Honestly, mate, don’t let that put you off. I say go for it. Come on, even old Razor can be won over. And anyway, isn’t it about time she bucked her father’s orders? I mean, how old is she?”

“Thirty-four,” I say miserably.

Part of me wants to defend Jenna. He’s right, she shouldn’t be letting her old man rule her love life. She’s smart, strong, independent. Hell, if she wants to start something with a player six years younger than her, then she should. But would she? And even so, could she ever put aside memories of a geeky, awkward kid to seethisguy as a serious contender?

“Really? I’d never have guessed she was older than me.”

No one would. Her skin glows, her hair a shiny dark curtain framing it, and those deep soulful brown eyes. Then there’s that body, the glorious tits barely hidden by a skimpy bit of green fabric, and denim painted over the sort of rounded arse that would fill my hands so perfectly. She’s like a walking Sports Illustrated cover girl, before she’s taken her clothes off.

“But shit.” Sympathy is written all over his face. “You have to feel sorry for the girl, in her thirties, with an overprotective father still hanging around. That pep talk he gave us—sounds like he considers her out of our league.”

Well, he might be right on one count. She is so far out ofthisman’s league. I’ve got nothing to offer a girl like Jenna. It’s as if Nathan has read my mind, and like a good friend, he leaps in to boost me up.

“You’re a good bloke, Geordie. After all the years she’s spent hanging around with the pro guys and their big egos, someone like you would be a breath of fresh air,” he says, all joking swept aside. His confidence in me triggers a surge of hope where up till now there’s mostly been despair. I’ve turned it over in my mind, measuring myself and what I have to offer against what Jenna deserves and falling well short. Nathan’s encouragement suggests this might not be a futile quest. “Mate, if you want to go there, I say do it. Don’t let Razor scare you.”

“Bad advice there, Wilder,” Connor says, sliding in through the door. I freeze, thinking he’s heard too much. “We should all be very bloody afraid of him. But especially you flankers. He’s been chewing my ear about better clearance from the ruck. Reckons it’s the first thing we need to work on. And when he says we, he means you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Connor has no idea what we’re talking about. I can cope with Razor being on my case when it comes to rugby. The thought of what we might be capable of under his leadership is one thing that’s keeping me from turning tail on this decision to return to Cluanie. I’ll meet any challenge he throws at me head on.

But I’m far from sure I’d go head to head with him over Jenna. Not unless I’m absolutely sure there’s hope for me in pursuing her,and I’m a long way off even daring to assume she’d entertain interest from me.

“So, Connor, as captain, you must know him better than most of us. Does the man own a gun? Like a shotgun, perhaps?”

I could throttle Nathan Wilder and his goofy fucking grin. I know, despite my obvious discomfort, he’s about to bring Connor into the loop.

“Fuck no,” Connor says with a frown, still oblivious to where this is headed. “He might have rubbed shoulders with the nobs, but do you really picture him running around in tweeds at shooting weekends?”

“There you go, Mac.” He pats my shoulder. “As long as you can outrun him, you’re safe.” He turns to Connor with a delighted grin. “Our boy Geordie here’s got the hots for Jenna.”

“No surprises there,” Connor says with a huff. “It might have been dark outside by the pool, but I’m not an idiot. Could tell I interrupted something.”

“You interrupted nothing,” I protest.

“Oh, I saw her face, mate. That was definitelynotnothing.”

The thought that Jenna might have even the slightest interest in me is like the grateful thunder of hot water on skin after a game. I allow it to wash over me, let its warmth seep into my bones while attempting to keep my poker face. Not that it’s likely to pass the scrutiny of these two. Nathan, the man from down under who possesses the heart of a sensitive new age guy under his typically blokey Kiwi demeanour. And Connor, who has always made captain of every team he’s ever been in, is known for his ability to read his teammates as well as he reads the game. Plus, he’s known Jenna foras long as Rachel. If he says she was giving me the look, then I believe him.

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