Page 18 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

“Barbie threw me into the pool. I just need…”

Why the hell was I explaining? They told me to go out by the pool, and what would I be doing out there, transcendental meditation? I walked over to my suitcase, flipping it over on its side and opening it up to pull out some fresh clothes. Barbie could just drip dry, the bitch, and anyway, anything I had would just fall off her. But as I straightened up, I realised I wasn’t hearing the sound of tools, construction, anything. I turned around and saw the two of them still staring before I smiled.

“Can’t work out how to put the bed together?” I said.

“What?” Connor shook his head. “No, I can—”

“I’ll just pull on some clothes and give you a hand,” I said, heading to the en suite. “I know you’re big tough tradies, but IKEA is a whole other ball of wax.”

They protested, said something which no doubt translated as me man, me make bed or some shit, but I closed the door on them and peeled the towel away from me.

Someone had spent a whole lot of time and money making the perfect en suite. The bathroom was beautifully done and well appointed, the tiling all in subtle greys that were soft enough to be feminine, but impersonal enough to be masculine with the right styling. I ruined all of that restrained calm, hanging up the brightly-coloured beach towel on a hook behind the door before stopping when I saw my reflection.

I had bright red spots on my cheeks, making me look like a damn clown, and the slicked back look did not suit my hair at all. The red was darkened to an almost brown, no soft waves to hide my face at all, so I couldn’t do anything other than stare into my own eyes.

I looked scared.

That’s what explained my wide-eyed stare, right? Why my heart was pounding way too fast, though tequila sometimes did that to me. Why I was gripping the bench edge way too tightly, as if trying to leave dents in the laminate. Part of me wished so hard that I’d known what I was walking into earlier today, because then I’d have prepared. Shaved my legs, curled my hair, did all of the things Barbie was always on me about to make the most out of my looks. Then I could’ve sauntered into their house and looked down my nose coolly at the place, like I was doing them a favour by letting me stay.

Rather than them being forced to help me.

I frowned at the woman in the mirror, seeing that scruffy kid I was and knowing they must be seeing the same damn thing. Otherwise, why would they be rushing to help me out? They were building my damn bed out there… A muffled curse made it through the doorway, making clear how well that was going, so I rubbed a towel through my hair, drying off the worst of the water before stripping off and putting on fresh clothes.

Only to find Van standing just outside the door when I opened it. A muscle jumped in Connor’s jaw as he crouched beside my half-made bed frame.

“Need help?” I asked brightly, because this was me, this was my shitty bed and there was no point longing for anything else. I needed somewhere to sleep tonight and putting this together was the thing that needed to happen so I could do that.

“You need a new bed frame is what you need,” Connor growled, dropping his drill onto the carpet. “This piece of shit—”

“Is a bit tricky,” I admitted, grabbing my phone out of my bag and starting to search for the manual. “Did you look up the instructions?”

“I don’t need instructions,” he said. “I need to go and buy some new timber and make you a new bed frame. Something solid and sturdy that will last.”

“But can you do that in an hour or so?” I yawned hard, stifling it with my hand. “We were out pretty late last night, and this girl needs a nanna nap.”

“Well, no…”

Making that admission killed Connor, I could see that in the clench of his jaw.

“OK, so not to tread on your toes, Mr. Awesome Tradie Guy, but while the way this bed is constructed is truly diabolical, I’ve got some experience breaking it down and setting it up again.”

“You’ve had to move a lot?” Van asked, crouching down on my other side, and I just shrugged.

“Not all of us make the big bucks required to buy a place like this. You met Marcia and Todd and saw more of them than you’d ever want to, but they were actually some of my saner house mates. There was the guy that used to take a dump in the compost bin.”

“What?” The wood under Connor’s grip creaked as he peered into my eyes.

“The guy that used to steal the girls’ panties. The clean ones, thankfully.”

“The fuck…”

Van’s hushed tones made clear he’d never had to deal with the vagaries of share house living. He and his mates were like brothers, and I guess each other’s underwear had no appeal.

“Then there was—”

“Just show us how to put the bed together, Kendall.” Connor’s voice was as taut as a guitar string, ready to be struck. “Please.”

That was the thing that did it for me. Connor Woods did not say please, ever, except when with Mum and Dad, so I just nodded and talked through the weird and wonderful ways IKEA bed frames got put together.

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