Slow Grind (Men of Mornington)

“That’s not yours to read,” I cry, snatching my diary off her. Maybe she didn’t get far enough. But as her eyes gleam, my heart sinks. She knows. My heart races as I hug the diary to my chest protectively.

“Cat’s out of the bag, Aubriella,” she sings, using the nickname she’d given me when we were ten. I hate that name. I cringe every time she uses it, especially when we are out in public. “Is this why you’re always insisting sleepovers be at my house?”

“Please don’t say anything,” I beg her, my lip trembling. Please don’t cry.

“I don’t know…” Emma giggles. “I don’t keep secrets from my brother.”

“You do, too,” I retort angrily. “You’re always doing things behind his back.”

“You’re right,” she laughs. “Okay, how about this. So long as you address me as Emmerson—as I’ve requested before—I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“You’re being stupid. This is serious, Emma. Just promise me you won’t tell him,” I plead again.

“Emmerson,” she reiterates. I stamp my foot, annoyed that I have a best friend who is so weird. Whatever. If it keeps her quiet, I’ll call her whatever she wants.

“Fine,” I huff. “Emmerson. Can we go get ice cream now? I have dance at five. If I’m late, Madame Manohar is going to whack me.”

“Sure. Maybe we can plan your wedding and your big ballet debut while we eat.” She giggles and my eyes roll as I blush. It’s bad enough having to deal with a one-sided love affair, but to have someone else know about it…

This is going to be torture.

Present

“Where the hell have you been all week?” I demand. I throw myself down on the sofa, shocked that he actually answered his stupid phone for once. “God forbid your sister wants to talk to you about shit.”

A pang of homesickness stabs at me. The worst thing about living over here in the States is not being able to catch up with my brother. All the phone calls and emails in the world don’t make up for not being able to see him face to face. Especially when he goes AWOL, like he has this past week.

“Sorry, I did mean to call you back, but I’ve been so busy,” Max says. “Got a big account lined up with Coles. Can you believe they wa

nt me to do their new branding?”

“Yes, Max, I can,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re the best, and everyone knows it.”

Max, or Maxwell as he’s known on the professional circuit, is the best damn graphic designer Melbourne has ever seen. His eye for detail is impeccable and second to none. I’m not surprised in the least that one of the largest retail chains wants him.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my sister, and you’re genetically programmed to love me.”

“No, remember, I’m dead inside,” I quip. “I have no emotions and love nobody. You just happen to be excellent at what you do; that’s all.”

“You’re still dead inside?” Max chuckles. My ability to give no fucks is a running joke between the two of us. “You haven’t fallen head over heels with that boyfriend of yours yet?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I retort. “And I’m not in love with anyone. You and dad are the only men in my life, and I’m okay with it. Nate, on the other hand, isn’t okay with it. He’s always talking about feelings and emotions, and I’m just over here like ‘can’t we just hang out, eat pizza and watch movies?’”

“You’re a heartbreaker, Aubs,” he laughs fondly. “I knew it from the second I saw you.”

“When you were six?” I scoff. “Bullshit. You were too busy thinking up ways to annoy your new little sister. Anyway, back to the fact that you’ve been avoiding me. Work doesn’t consume every hour of your day, so why haven’t you called me back?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you; I just have some stuff going on. Don’t worry about it; everything is fine,” he reassures me. Immediately, my guard is up. Whenever Max says not to worry, it’s usually a good time to start.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?” I ask. “Because I’m your favourite person in the entire world?”

“You are my absolute favourite person, but if I don’t get back to this design, they might fire me before I get a chance to cash in on this.” He’s avoiding my question, but I let it go. “You know how I hate working for free,” he adds with a snicker.

“Fine. Call me later this week? I’ve got back to back classes but should be free on Saturday. Unless Jacey drags me to the beach. Did I mention I love summer? You’re just coming up to winter, aren’t you?” I tease, knowing he hates the cold as much as I do.

“Shut up, or I won’t call you,” he replies. “Love you, Aubs.”

I smile into the phone. “Love you, too, Max.”