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“Gah!” I stomp into the kitchen where my flatmate, Jo, is eating breakfast. She took over a vacant room in the house we share with two other girls at the start of the university year in February. She’s great fun, and we’ve already become firm friends.
She glances at me and obviously spots my pout. “What’s going on?”
“Alex can’t pick me up,” I say sulkily. “He’s sending his best mate to drive me down.”
“Who is it?”
“His name’s Damon Chevalier. He’s a software engineer. Oh God, it’s four hours on the ferry and four by car.”
“So what’s the problem? Don’t you get on?”
“Oh yeah. We get on fine.” I wrinkle my nose. “I have a huge crush on him, though.”
“Ooh.” She picks up her dish in one hand and her coffee in the other. “You totally need to tell me more about this. Come on.”
Grumbling under my breath, I collect a bottle of water from the fridge and follow her into the living room.
“So how long have you known him?” she asks.
I unscrew the bottle and have a swig. “Oh, years. Before Mum and Dad divorced, we lived in Wellington. Alex met Damon on the first day of high school. I was six when he first came to our house. Alex said, ‘This is my youngest sister, Michelle,’ and Damon sang the Beatles’ song, you know the one.” I sing the first line, and she nods. “I said, ‘What does ma belle mean?’ and he said, ‘It’s French for beautiful,’ and he winked at me. Winked! He was only twelve, for Christ’s sake. He called me ‘ma belle’ all weekend, and for some reason it stuck.”
“Seriously, that’s why everyone calls you Belle?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my God, that’s so romantic.”
“It’s really not. I wish it was. He treats me like his kid sister. He’d still pull my braids, if I had any.”
She grins. “Does Alex know you like him?”
I sigh. “I’m hoping he’s forgotten. When I was about fourteen, my family had a big beach party. I got there late, and Damon was coming out of the sea in his swim shorts. I hadn’t even been kissed—and he was twenty, and he worked out.”
My eyes glaze over at the memory. “He was like Tangaroa, the god of the sea, all tanned and muscled, and his wet shorts clung to his…” My lips twist.
“Was he…?”
“Oh yes. Very. I stared at him with my mouth open. And Alex caught me.”
“What did he say?”
I adopt my brother’s deep voice. “‘Michelle Winters! Avert your eyes!’”
She chuckles. “He didn’t like you looking at his friends?”
“Not one bit. He locked me in the car for half an hour as a punishment. When he let me out, he said, ‘I don’t want to see you looking at any of my mates like that again.’”
“And have you?”
“Of course I have. I just make sure Alex isn’t watching.” We both chuckle.
“I can’t wait to meet Damon,” she says. She flicks her eyebrows up. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re single now…”
I push away the twist I feel inside at the thought of my recent breakup. “Nah. Even if he was interested—and he’s not—Alex would have warned him off. He’s always told his mates not to go near his sisters and vice versa.”
“Didn’t work with Gaby and Tyson,” she says. In five days, my sister will be marrying another of Alex’s friends.
“That’s true, but she’s braver than I am. Damon would never be interested in me, anyway. He’s had loads of girlfriends, and they’re always really tall, sexy, skinny blondes. And I’m…” I gesture at myself. I’m five-two, and my hair’s chestnut brown and prone to static, so I always wear it in a ponytail. I’m nowhere near as sophisticated as his usual girls.
