Page 9 of Grin and Bear It

“Whenever you have time,” June replied, now all sweetness and light. “I look forward to hearing what they have to say.”

“Your union fees at work,”Michelle muttered with a wink as we walked out of the office building just as the bell went and kids bolted out the doors to try and get to the canteen first.

And that’s the first time they’ve really done anything for me, I thought but I still smiled back at her.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through that without you there.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She nudged me with her elbow. “And don’t go meeting with June again, without your rep. That woman is a bloody snake…”

Michelle was starting to warm up to the subject, ready to fill me in on gossip and innuendo, as a lot of older staff were. But I couldn’t afford to get involved in that sort of conversation, not while I was still on contract.

“I won’t,” I assured her, giving her arm a squeeze, “but I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to be out on the oval—”

“And June didn’t even offer to cover your duty.” Michelle crossed her arms. “Maybe I should go back in there—”

“I’m fine,” I said, moving away.It’s fine. Everything’s fine.I said that to myself, over and over, hoping that if I could convince myself first, I’d be able to convince others. Sadly, I couldn’t even achieve that.

Chapter5

I fucking can’t wait to see you, the text read.

Later that day, as the staff meeting dragged on and on, I stared at my phone. I should’ve been scrolling through listings for plumbers and looking for someone to fix the shower. I should’ve been prepping myself for the call I needed to make to the Walker twins’ guardians. There were so many things I should’ve been doing, but one text from Derek derailed all my good sense.

We had a… thing. It resisted definition. I knew that because Coll kept asking me what the situation was, and I kept mumbling something in response. Something vague, formless, because that’s what we were. Except for when he sent me texts like this.

Tell me you’re free tonight, the next text read.I need to taste you.

And that’s why I put up with Derek. I’d had guys who gave oral sex a red hot go, some who wrinkled their noses at the thought of going down on you (all while waving their dicks around like they were about to dickmatise you with it), and some who insisted it wasn’t even a thing. But none had ever told me they were dying to taste me. I looked around guiltily, sure someone would see the conversation I was having during the meeting, but of course they hadn’t. Most people were on their phones as well, because teachers were worse than students when it came down to it. And there wasn’t anything scintillating happening in the current presentation. So as June droned on about the new department directive, I tapped out one word in reply.

Yes.

Fuck yeah, came his reply.I’m taking you out, baby.

My eyelids fluttered at that. Our… whatevership was confined mostly to Netflix and chill, much to Coll’s annoyance. She did not get on with Derek at all, and no accounts from me of multiple orgasms would change that. Derek rarely wanted to go anywhere further than the local takeaway, which always made my flatmate mutter things about ‘red flags’ and ‘cheap bastard’. Then, before I could ask him for more details, he sent another message.

Wear something hot. We’ll go to Diablo. I’m gonna hand feed you delicious things until you’re full, then I’m gonna take you home and fill you up with me.

Damn. I felt a hot blush stain my cheeks, right as the meeting finally came to an end. I got up when everyone else did, but my legs felt a little wobbly. Like they would be later, after he’d finished with me, I told myself. I floated home on cloud nine, right up until I got back to my place.

I was lucky having a house.I kept telling myself that over and over because, unlike a lot of twenty somethings, I owned my own house. The issue was that the house I owned was not great. My gran had died and left me a chunk of money to be used as a deposit for a house, which was freaking awesome. The shitty thing was that the prices of houses had skyrocketed all over Australia, so all I could afford was a fixer-upper.

As always, the lock stuck when I inserted the key and I had to wiggle it a bit to get it to turn. What would have originally been stunning dark blue paint had faded some time ago and now had that faded, chalky look to it. The door stuck part of the way as I opened it. The damn thing was always as temperamental as hell, either swelling or shrinking in response to the weather. I forced it open with my shoulder, stumbling into the house when it finally gave way.

These days my heart sank each time I came home and was reminded of all that still needed to be done. Mum had tried to warn me when I bought it, telling me just how much work I’d need to do to update the place. I’d brushed her off, full of youthful enthusiasm, just wanting a place to call my own, and partly wanting to prove her wrong. But now that I had it? My eyes flicked past the cracked brown tiles that apparently had been so bloody popular in the 1970s, then wandered past the old, tired wallpaper in the hallway. I was really good at ignoring things I didn’t like, I’d been told often enough. So I hurried down the hallway, zeroing in on my room.

This was the one part of the house I was happy with. I’d painted the walls a deep purplish grey, and had created a crisp counterpoint with the whitewashed wardrobe and glossy white frames on the windows and around the door. Long blackout curtains hung either side of the windows, and when I closed them, it closed the space down, but I didn’t care. It was as if by doing that I shut the whole world out, and sometimes that’s just what I wanted. I dumped my bag and my box of work to mark on the bed. Coll called it my emotional support marking, because sometimes it felt like I just carried it around, like a child’s blanket for the comfort of it. I was always trying to get to the bottom of the pile, but never managing it. I let out a sigh that felt like it came from the depths of my soul, and then I remembered to do the box breathing my psych had recommended. I took a gentle breath in, held it, then let it out and waited before doing the process another few times. Slowly my muscles loosened and my spine softened. And then I heard another buzz from my phone.

Can’t wait to see you,baby, Derek had written.

I felt hot, as if I was a candle wick being dipped in molten wax, ready to be lit up. My breath came faster, my eyelashes brushing my cheeks as I blinked rapidly. But as I did I felt constrained by the stiff folds of the bloody dress I’d had on all day, the bodice tight and constricting around my chest. I wrenched the damn thing off then, pitching it into the corner of the room, banishing it from my sight. I resolved that I wasn’t going to go anywhere else in any of Mum’s ridiculous and appalling confections. And there was absolutely no way in hell I’d be wearing anything like that on a hot date. But that left me with a whole other issue.

I’d tossed a bunch of clothes on the bed this morning, but as I pawed through them I couldn’t decide what the hell I was supposed to wear. Something hot, Derek had directed, but were we talking a little black dress and heels or the vinyl coated skinny leg jeans and a long black sweater made from a buttery-soft cashmere-like knit that would sway around my form? My eyes darted to the phone and back again, a strange kind of anxiety making my stomach twist in knots.

What Coll didn’t realise was that, despite the fact that, yes, I did want to go out on fancy dates, I accepted Netflix and chill all too easily. Because I knew exactly what to wear for a date on the couch. And my super plush flannel PJs were calling to me as the minutes ticked by. They were no deterrent to the ‘chill’ part of the evening, anyway, as Derek loved to slide his hands under the hem and past the elastic waistband.

Even when Colleen was in the room watching TV with us.

Hoping for ideas, I grabbed my phone and looked up ‘diablo restaurant’. And then blinked. The lush-looking black and red website clued me in that this was going to be a whole lot fancier than a takeaway. Gorgeous images of demon women writhed across the banner and below that was a collage of Insta shots of the pretty people.

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