Huntress

“I’m going to kill him,” I stated flatly.

Four faces looked up at me curiously. Then they all broke into loud peals of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” I cried, trying to hold back my own laughter. “I’m serious!”

No one answered, instead preferring to drape themselves over the pool table with helpless giggling.

I kicked off first one and then both of my sodden shoes and peeled off the shirt I had on over a now-soaking singlet. By the time I’d pushed my saturated hair back and shaken it out, Jamie had recovered enough to go and get me a towel.

“We wondered what the screaming was about,” he told me. “I didn’t realise Tris pushed you into the pool.”

I pulled my socks off and wrung them out. “Well, he didn’t push me… I got him first, so he pulled me in.”

“Then you deserved it,” Chloe guessed.

“No!”

“You did so,” I male voice chimed in from the doorway. “Can I get another towel, dude?”

Tris, not having had any shoes or a shirt in the first place – what is it with drummers? – wasn’t peeling clothes off. Instead he just shook his hair, like a dog, and stepped onto the tiled floor where Chloe, Jamie, Mitch and Jack, Susie’s boyfriend, had been playing pool.

“I did not,” I retorted. “Besides, who stands fully clothed on the edge of a pool if they don’t want to be pushed in, anyway?”

Tris pointed to himself. “This guy.”

“Whatever.”

Mitch looked from one of us to the other a couple of times. “You guys have only been going out a few days and you’re already the weirdest couple I know.”

I couldn’t help a little smile. “Shut up.”

Tris went around the side of the pool table with the couch on it and sat down, ignoring how wet he was. I went around to sit next to him but as I let myself fall downward he redirected my butt onto his lap.

“Much better,” he murmured into my ear. The warmth of his shirtless body felt really nice but it wasn’t quite enough to stop me shivering. “Are you ok?”

“Just cold,” I said through teeth not quite chattering.

“Want me to take you home to get changed?”

“Depends,” I replied. “How long are you guys staying here?” I asked the rest of the group.

Universal shrugs came first. “Until we want to leave, I guess,” Mitch said, lining up a shot. “Why?”

“Tristan here,” I told them, “is going to take me home so I can get some dry clothes. Should we come back for dinner?”

“If you want sausages and tomato sauce on bread, yes,” Jamie said. “Otherwise no.”

Tris picked up his keys from a nearby cupboard and found his shirt and shoes. I did the same. “Well, in that case we’ll think about it. Catch you guys later.”

They all waved at me and Tris as we left, making jokes about what we were going to do between peeling our wet clothes off and putting dry ones on. I ignored them and thankfully so did my boyfriend.

Damn, I love that word.

When we got to my house, my dad wasn’t home again. This wasn’t exactly a surprise – he’s a vaguely attentive doctor who often has better places to be at home. He leaves me money for food and sometimes that’s the extent of my parenting.

Luckily I’ve had Chloe’s Mum to replace my own absent one.

“You can have first shower if you want,” I generously offered to Tris. “That way when you wait for me you can be dry.”

He nodded and I went to find him another towel. Somehow he had another set of clothes still kept in his car, and so he brought them in with him.

“Do you always carry spare clothes around with you?” I asked him curiously.

He nodded. “Most of the time. I tend to do things which mess up my gear so it’s easy just to have spare ones lying around the backseat.”

“Huh. Fair enough.”

He shut the door to the bathroom so I went to find my own clothes from my wardrobe. My towel was hanging over the end of the bedpost, so I peeled off my damp, cold clothes and wrapped it around myself while I waited. I took the time to examine the spot just above my elbow where I’d been grabbed by that weird guy the other day. It still felt like there was pressure there, under my skin. No marks, just that weird sensation.

I could hear the shower from my room, so by the time Tris pushed the bathroom door open I was ready with my clothes to go in.

He came out and despite having his clothes there hadn’t put them on yet, instead preferring a towel. Grinning as he saw me carrying my clothes rather than wearing them too, he stepped aside and I closed the bathroom door behind me.

I turned the water on and, sure enough, the door opened just a peek as the chain lock held it in place. “Did I say you could come in?” I asked him teasingly.

“No… but can I?”

“Depends… do you know the password?”

“Um… peanut butter?”

“Nope.”

“Diana is the sexiest woman alive and wants me and needs me oh baby, oh baby?”

I laughed. “How did you get from peanut butter to that?”

Glad he was on the other side of the door and unable to see my slightly red face, I stepped under the hot water, relishing how it warmed me up straight away. As I was rinsing my hair I saw Tris had left me a message, carved in the soap. A little wonky love heart.

Aww.

Washing myself didn’t take long, particularly since I’d washed my hair that morning. I wrapped myself in one of Dad’s old flannelette shirts and some tracksuit pants, towel dried my hair and then traipsed back into the lounge room. Tris was sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Cute touch with the soap,” I said. “Hopefully Dad doesn’t see it.”

Tris just shrugged and patted the couch next to him. “C’mere.”

Obediently I went to sit on the couch while the light faded outside. I slung my legs over his and curled up under his arm, just enjoying the contact. A game show shone from the television, all glitter, gold and glamorous hosts.

“Hungry?” I asked, aware that I was.

“Only for you,” Tris grinned, leaning his head down to kiss me. I let him for a few seconds... then a few seconds more… then just a couple more before pulling back.

“No, seriously, are you? I’m starving.”

He nodded. “Not really for a barbeque though…”

I got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. “I think we have some food. Let me check.”

A brief look through the freezer, fridge and pantry yielded a few things, the most notable of which was some raw chicken.

“How do you feel about chicken?” I called, still looking in the fridge.

“I like it cooked,” he said from directly behind me. I whirled around in shock and hit him playfully.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

He didn’t look sorry at all, but apologised anyway. “Chicken sounds great.”

Eventually we ended up with a fairly generous plate of chicken, some cooked potatoes and salad each. Turns out Tris is the fastest potato peeler this side of the equator.

“Definitely better than charcoal sausages,” he told me through a mouthful. I nodded in agreement.

“Let’s go back and sit on the couch again.”

We did just that. By now the game show had changed to the news, and the sky was a lot darker outside.

“Police are investigating the brutal murder of an unnamed man today in the city’s west,” the newsreader said. My car-crash instinct took over and I looked up, only to almost choke on a piece of chicken.

“The man, who has not yet been identified, was seen running as though pursued by two people on Tuesday night. He is absent from any police, military or medical databases and wasn’t carrying identification.”

There on the screen, in a blurry shot next to the newsreader, was the man who had stopped me. On Tuesday.

He was dead?

“Anyone with information regarding this man should alert the relevant authorities immediately and discreetly. The murder is believed to be the result of gang violence.”

“Holy shit,” I said, forgetting my food. “It’s -”

“It’s that guy that was talking to you,” Tris exclaimed, finishing my sentence.

I was dumbfounded. “He’s dead?”

We looked at each other, incredulous. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. The guy had said it was important… and I just brushed him off.

Obviously it was important. Life-and-death important.

I sat up and, putting my half-empty plate on the coffee table in front of us, got up from the couch. The news story ended and was replaced by something about the economy, but I wasn’t listening. Instead I traced a path to the back door and opened it.

The back light turned on automatically, casting a yellowish glow over our overgrown garden. Neither my dad nor I have a particularly green-tinged thumb, so it was looking a little neglected. I felt someone behind me and turned my head to find Tris had followed me.

“Is that it?” he asked, pointing to the left corner of the yard. Although hidden by other various forms of foliage the bright turquoise glazed pot was visible through the darkness.

I nodded. “Yeah. Only blue pot here.”

The light flicked off again, not sensing any movement outside, so we retreated back indoors. I looked at the clock and then grabbed the phone.

“Hey, Chlo, it’s Di. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Not really… why?”

“Great. I need you to come over. Bring the guys.”

“Uh, alright… anything else? What’s this about?”

I walked to the back door again and looked out at the shadowy garden corner, now a combination of curious and apprehensive.

“Nothing much. But you might want to bring a shovel.”