"Boom! That's five-three, North! Drop and give me 20!"
"Oh, man! Sammy, you're a machine!"
From outside my window, the shouts of North and our young neighbour echoed. I'd been half-heartedly trying to read, but found my gaze returning again and again to the boys.
North met Sammy on his second day at the guest house and they hit it off, despite the years between them. Every day since, they'd been playing soccer on the back lawn.
At first, North had only managed to stay on his feet for about half an hour, but as his strength returned, they'd started incorporating push ups and sit ups into their morning games. With North's lean figure, the freshly developed muscles were already becoming visible.
Especially when he played shirtless. Under the Saturday morning sun, North glowed as he lowered himself to the grass and began to push up and down. I studied his sinewy back and flat, firm backside, knowing I should look away, but unable to.
"He looks wonderful, don't you think?" My landlady bustled in, bearing my clean washing in a wicker basket.
"I wasn't looking." A burning flush crept over my face as I turned away from the window and back to my book.
Mrs Waters gave me a mischievous stare. "Of course you were, dear. You'd be mad not to. North is a delightful man to talk to, and just as much fun to look at."
"Mrs Waters!"
"Oh, don't give me that, you know it's true."
"Whatever." I stood and tried to move past her.
"Why won't you speak to him?" She blocked my path, in full boss-lady mode. "He's been here a week and you avoid him like a blocked toilet!"
"No, I don't!"
"It won't hurt you to get to know the man, Emily."
"I know that. I'm not ignoring him, I'm just very busy. This place doesn't run itself, you know."
She snorted. "Don't give me that, missy. You're terrified."
Ignoring her, I turned to my washing heap and began dividing my clothes into piles.
"You can't stay isolated forever, Emily." She waved a wrinkled hand at my clothes. "Look at you, your entire wardrobe consists of two pairs of jeans and half a dozen old tee-shirts!"
"I'll have you know, these are all vintage—"
"It simply won't do. I wanted to speak to you about this anyway. You know we have the big Mason wedding at the end of the month?"
"How could I forget?" I muttered, dropping my plain cotton panties in the drawer and slamming it shut.
Jacob Mason, eldest son of the oldest and most historical clan on the mountain, was marrying an heiress from the city. Jamie Patton's family came from media money, and the combination of his historical roots and her extravagant wealth had the Aussie public in a tizz.
Jacob had wanted to keep his wedding local. They were set to tie the knot at the Steavenson falls and had asked Mrs Waters if they could use her expansive grounds as their reception venue. Although there was an outside catering company contracted for the event of 500, I'd been told in no uncertain terms that I was expected to be there to help. Mrs W worried that paparazzi would trample her beloved roses or that random hired wait staff would stomp through the house and defile the bathrooms. I was would be required to run interference.
"Don't use that tone, young lady." Mrs Waters drew herself up, her bright purple blouse swelling in indignation. "You know what this wedding means for this town. Marysville needs this event to rise from the ashes! This could be the real comeback for everybody here, and it rests on the entire country seeing our wonderful community pulling off the nuptials of the year!"
I bowed my head, apologetic. "I know, I know. You know I'm here for whatever you need to make the day work."
"Good! I hoped you'd say that. I need you to drive North down to Healesville so the two of you can buy some appropriate clothes."
Well, I walked into that one. "But—"
"But nothing. Neither of you have anything even vaguely appropriate to wear to a wedding and I won't have any member of this household letting me down." She walked to my window and slid it open. "North! Get ready, please! You and Emily are driving into town for wedding attire at ten."
The shirtless wonder on the back lawn raised a hand, a soccer ball under his other arm. "No worries, Mrs W!"
"Thanks!" She shut the window and gave me a look that dared me to challenge her after North's easy acquiescence. "There's money on the bench. Don't buy anything cheap and nasty, and for goodness sake, please try to find something feminine."
She left, and I huffed as I changed out of my track pants. Feminine? The Duchess had been the personification of femininity, and look how well that worked out. My faded tees and boot-cut jeans may not have inspired anyone to look twice at me, but that was the whole point.
Half an hour later, I honked the horn of the ute, waiting for North, gasbagging with guests on the front veranda.
"Sorry," he said, jumping in the car. His freshly showered skin filled the interior with a divine male smell, and I breathed him in, trying not to show how his nearness affected me. "They were just asking about the best way to get back to the city and we got talking about St Ronan's well—did you know it's supposed to have the freshest water in Victoria?"
"Dude, I've been here a lot longer than you." Shoving the ute in gear, I drove us out of the car park, studiously attending to the road so I wouldn't be distracted by North's shining eyes and bright smile.
"Yeah, how long have you been here for?" He wiggled down in his seat, getting comfy for the long drive.
"We don't have to do this."
"Do what?"
"You know what. The whole 'who are you, where are you from' routine." I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to dissuade him without being a total bitch. "It's fine."
"Emily, I'm not asking because I have to; I'm asking because I want to. I want to know all about you."
His honesty and earnest tone slipped past the portcullis of my heart, tapping into a place I'd sworn to keep locked. "I'm from nowhere."
"Everyone is from somewhere."
"You don't know where you're from," I countered.
He wasn't fazed. "True, but I know I'm from somewhere. I can't remember where yet, but I have people and a place. Tell me about yours?"
"Seriously, I'm from nowhere. I was a foster kid." As I drove, my dismal childhood reared up before me, and in horror, I felt tears swell.
North saw. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" I swiped at my face. "It wasn't your fault. I'm here now. Nothing else matters."
"I'm still sorry." He placed a gentle hand on my arm, but I shrugged him away.
"Don't be. Besides, your childhood might be even worse than mine."
"True," he said, taking the hint and pulling his fingers away. Even though I'd clearly given him the signal that I didn't want to be touched, I still felt disappointed. I could feel the imprint of his skin on mine long after he dropped his hand back to his lap. "But I don't think so, somehow. I'm pretty sure I love my parents. And I think I have a brother, too."
"Got any names to go with that little story?" I hated how bitchy I sounded, but I needed to create more space between us. The cab of the ute was flooded with his maleness, his broad hands and slender legs and untamed hair. I felt the weight of him pressing against my senses.
"Not yet, but I know I have one." North grinned, unperturbed. "Now, I know how to occupy this drive properly. Sing-along!"
He shoved a CD into my player and 90's tunes began blaring out. "What is this?" I yelled over the racket.
North ignored me, singing in his bass voice. "I get knocked down! But I get up again! No, you're never gonna keep me down!" He raised the roof with his hands and gestured to me. "Come one, Ems, you know you know this one!"
I did know the song; I'd recorded an acoustic version of it while off my face at a party at Molly Meldrum's house. Flume had remixed it and it was released as a single, going double platinum in 12 countries. "I don't sing!" I said, reaching for the volume knob.
He blocked my hand. "No way! I don't remember much, but I remember this, and I love it! I sing the songs that remind me of the good times! I sing the songs that remind me of the better times!" North sang all the way down the mountain, in a pretty good natural tone. He wouldn't get signed in a hurry, but if he had to pick up a mic at a karaoke night, he wouldn't embarrass himself.
When Wendy Matthews started singing, a rock lodged in my throat; a battle between my hardwired desire to let music pour from within me, and the knowledge that I could never sing again.
North harmonised with the simple melody. "Hey, there not a cloud in the sky... And I thought that it would rain, on the day you went away..."
I recalled the first time I'd heard the poignant tune of rejection. For me, it was always about my absent parents, the people who'd thrown me away. For the second time on that trip, tears sprang into my eyes.
"Jesus! Enough!" I snapped off the player as I braked sharply. "We're here."
The suburban shopping centre loomed before us. North eyed me carefully. "You okay?"
I wasn't. I hated going out in public; the constant terror of being discovered made me twitchy and over-cautious, and my defences were already low thanks to North's 90's flashbacks. "Totally fine. Who doesn't love shopping?"
"You, it seems."
I pulled the car into the first open park and reached for my hoodie. "Let's just do this thing."
North's furry eyebrows shot up, mingling with his overgrown fringe. "It's a bit hot for a jumper, don't you think?"
"North! You're not my fashion guru! Last time I checked, your wardrobe was as lame as mine."
"Yeah, but I started from scratch a week ago; what's your excuse?"
"Lack of interest." I reached for my wallet and handed him a wad of notes. "Go buy yourself something pretty. Do you still remember how money works? The yellow ones are fifties, the green ones—"
He grabbed the cash and laughed. "Alright, Ems. I'll leave you alone. Meet you back here at two?"
I knew I'd driven him away, deliberately sent him off shopping on his own, but a small voice inside me still cried out 'stop him!' as he slammed the door and walked away.
An hour later, I sank despondent into a bench outside Myer, pulling my hood low over my face. Son of a Miley! My arms were empty, my clothes safari a bust.
I'd never been good with clothes. As a kid, I'd worn whatever came my way, mostly hand-me-downs or Salvo's donations. As Duchess, I'd never had to make a single choice; stylists dictated my every fashion movement, from the tint of my sunglasses to the length of my skin-tight Calvin Klein capris.
As Emily, I'd had neither the funds nor the desire to coordinate my underwear or keep up with the most basic of trends. And now, there I was, attempting to shop for the celebrity wedding of the year, hundreds of dollars in my pocket and not a clue how to spend it.
Despair flooded me as I let my head drop back and strike the wall while happy shoppers poured around me, oblivious.
"Emily? How'd it go?"
North stood before me, half a dozen paper bags crackling in his hands. "You did well," I commented dryly.
"I had fun," he shrugged, happily setting down his bags and plopping beside me. He drew a few glances from people; a huge, gorgeous man with a massive beard and a mighty haul of merchandise. "You look like someone tore out your toenails."
"Worse. I can't find anything to buy." Turning away from his bemused expression, I concentrated on the giant ad for half price organic facial soap in the shop window across from us. "I know, I know, first world problem."
His voice was serious. "It's not a first world problem. All problems are relative. For anyone complaining about their lack of shoes, there's always somebody without feet, but that doesn't mean the guy with blistered soles doesn't have a real issue."
I rolled my eyes. "I have feet. What I need are shoes. And a dress."
"Come on."
He stood, towering over me, and I looked up at him. "Where?"
"I saw a dress and I thought of you. Let's go."
Confused by the swirling feeling of delight in knowing he'd been thinking of me, I still resisted. "Where? It probably won't fit me anyway. And what if I can't afford it?"
Reaching for my hand, he pulled me to my feet, face set. "Ems, I get that you don't like me, but let me help you with this, please?"
Staring into his clear eyes, everything inside me wanted to scream, 'But I do like you!' Instead, I said, "Okay, fine," like a sulky toddler, and allowed him to draw me along the rows of shops, relishing the feel of his warm hand around my icy one.
At a small boutique, North stopped. "That one."
The dress in the window was a pale green, the colour of the first shoots after a fire, a hopeful, determined hue of growth. The fitted bodice flared at the waist, and underneath the skirt, layers of soft pink peeped shyly.
I shook my head, glancing at the price tag. "I can't afford that."
"Just try it on." North strode into the shop while I bobbed along behind him, helpless as a balloon on a string.
The woman behind the counter immediately dropped her glossy mag and sprang into action as North approached. "Good afternoon, sir! What can I help you with?"
"The dress in the window, do you have it in her size?" He indicated me as I tried to slump inconspicuously against the wall.
"We do," she simpered. "And what size is your... sister?"
You wish, lady. Suddenly, I felt a fierce snap of defensiveness inside me, a longing to hear North defend our non-existent relationship.
"My friend is probably about your size," said North, raising a saucy eyebrow. "I bet you'd look great in that dress too."
"I do have it, actually." She touched his arm conspiratorially. "But mine's in red."
"Red is your colour. It would definitely bring out the gold in your hair." He brushed her hair with his fingertips and she giggled.
"You're too sweet!"
"Sweet enough to warrant a discount?"
She skipped to the rack by the window, selecting a dress on a hanger and thrusting it at me before turning back to him. "Well, for friends and family, I can do 50% off, Mr..."
"Call me North."
"I'm Sandy. You know, you look awfully familiar..."
Snorting, I left the two of them to their shameless flirting and stomped off to the enormous change rooms. I swished the curtain closed and yanked my jeans and tee off.
"This is never going to fit," I muttered, ripping the pretty dress from its hanger. I pulled it over my head, expecting resistance that never came. The expensive material slid effortlessly over my head, and the zip fastened without a hitch.
When I looked in the mirror, I could barely recognise my reflection. I wasn't the scruffy kitchen girl I was living as, or the dark angular sex kitten Duchess had been styled as; I was a woman. A soft, curvy woman, with breasts swelling from the sweetheart neckline and hips extenuated by the full skirts. My calves were slender stalks poking from the pink and green layers, while my skin blushed against the perfect palette.
"Ems? Got it on?" North's voice sounded from the other side of the curtain, shockingly close.
"Yes! No! I mean, I do, but—"
"Great! Let me see." He swept the curtain aside.
"North! Dammit!" I tried pathetically to cover my highlighted curves with my arms. "You can't just barge into a changing room, I don't care how much amnesia you've got."
His face filled with a silly grin. "You look amazing! I knew it!"
Stupidly, a tingle of happiness flooded me. I stomped it down. "Great. Now, you've got a preview of how the dress will look for your date with Sandy. Although, hers is in red."
A corner of his mouth pulled up, teased by my obvious jealousy. "Sandy is giving us her family discount, which means you've got enough cash to buy this dress, and some left over for shoes. There's nothing wrong with being nice to people, Ems."
"Trust me, North, most people don't deserve nice." I tried turning away from him, but the mirrored walls meant that wherever I looked, he was still there. "Most people are a-holes."
"Inside every a-hole is a nice person, just waiting for the right opportunity to get out."
"Wrong. Most people are a-holes who are a-holey on the inside too."
He laughed and started to leave. "Fine. You win."
As he let the curtain drop, I reached for the zip, annoyed by his easy surrender. "Oh no." Anything but this.
"Oh no, what?"
"Um... I think I'm stuck."
"Ems, I know you don't wear dresses much, but seriously."
"No! It's not me, it the stupid zip!" I danced in a small circle, tugging at the metal clasp, but it refused to budge. Sighing, I said, "Can you help, please?"
A wide grin on his face, he appeared through the curtain again. "Sure, I'll help. First, admit that you like the dress."
"North! I swear to God! Help me out of this thing right now!"
He knew he had me. "I guess I'm acting a bit a-holey right now. Lucky for you, there's a nice guy inside me somewhere. All he needs is the right encouragement..."
"Fine!" I hissed. "I like the dress."
"What do you like about it?"
"North!"
"Be specific, please."
Flashes of colour streaked across my vision as I struggled to contain my own inner a-hole. "I... I like how it makes me feel."
North moved close to my back, the heat of his body radiating against my skin. "How do you feel?"
Prickles burst all over my flesh, goose bumps crawling along my shoulders and up my neck. "I feel like I'm worthy of being seen." The honest answer sprang out of me, tugged from unspoken depths by his closeness.
"You are worthy of being seen," he said, his fingers reaching for the nape of my neck and sliding down. "I see you."
Without another word, he dragged the zipper down, exposing my skin to the air and to him. Shaking, I turned around and faced him. "North..."
His gaze seared me, serious and searching. I tilted my chin up, inviting him to see me, to touch me, to invade the stronghold I'd built around myself.
His bearded face was creased in turmoil, those enormous eyebrows pushed down low. I wanted to smooth that look away, to find the eternal smile that always graced his expression. I lifted a hand and brought it towards his cheek, needing to touch him.
He shied away from my fingers. "Well... I'll leave you to it, then." He averted his eyes from my unzippered reflection and spinning on his sneakers he left.
Alone, I sagged breathless against the mirror, unseen once again.
For anyone who's ever worn a hoody to hide from the world. Please remember to vote.