The Boys of Summer by C.J. Duggan Page A

kitchen duties beckoned.”
    “Oh?” He seemed surprised.
    “Yeah, whenever a crisis breaks out they
shine a giant K in the sky, and I hightail it.”
    “So you head to the phone booth and change
into your apron and rubber gloves?” Toby’s mouth turned up at the
corners. Just a little.
    “Isn’t that Superman?”
    “Oh right, sorry. My bad, giant K in the sky:
you’re rocking it Batman style.”
    “Exactly. Except if I was Batman, I wouldn’t
be needed in the kitchen full stop. Bruce Wayne doesn’t do
kitchens.”
    “You could serve customers like the speed of
a bullet.”
    I laughed, shaking my head. “Again, Superman.
Why don’t you know this stuff? What did you do as a kid, spend it
outdoors or something?”
    “Misspent youth, clearly. I obviously don’t
know my superheroes at all.” He frowned as if deeply distressed. “I
must look into that.”
    “I would if I were you, that’s kind of
embarrassing.”
    He flashed a smile my way, before turning his
gaze back to the road. There was more silence, but this time it
wasn’t uncomfortable. I turned to peer at my bike rattling away in
the back.
    “So, the old girl,” I tilted my head
backwards, “will she ride again?”
    Toby glanced at me then back to the road;
that elusive upward tilt of his lips reappeared as if he was
fighting not to smile.
    “Let me put it this way. I thought I’d have
to surround it with some sheets and bring out the 22 to put it out
of its misery.”
    My eyebrows rose. “You carry a 22?”
    “You think carrying sheets isn’t weird?”
    “Yeah, but sheets aren’t deadly.”
    “You haven’t been to an all-boys boarding
school.”
    “Ew! Okay, give me a gun.”
    There it was, that smile. He made no effort
to hide it now. It shone brightly, lighting up his entire face.
    “Are we talking about guns and dirty boys’
sheets?” Toby frowned.
    “You started it,” I said. “Sheets aside,
which I really don’t want to know about, did you really go to
boarding school?”
    “Yep, my parents shipped me off in Year 7.
The longest year of my life. I ended up just mucking up until they
had no choice but to bring me home.”
    I stared at him for the longest time. Trying
to imagine Toby ever being bad, I just couldn’t picture it.
    “So the sheets were that bad, huh?”
    He burst out laughing; it was a wonderful
sound, rich and warm. It made my skin tingle.
    He shook his head as he refocused on the
road.
    “You have no idea!”
    It was a bizarre conversation, our first
formed sentences alone together. Well, there was the party but that
doesn’t count. How would I tell Ellie about my bonding session in
Toby’s ute?
    She would squeal and insist that I tell her
everything, and she’d ask the most obvious question. “So what did
you talk about?”
    Umm, guns and dirty sheets?
    It would probably be better to go all cryptic
and tell her: ‘stuff’.
    We pulled into my driveway; Toby killed the
engine and jumped out, rounding the back of the ute to untie my
bike. While I climbed slowly from the cab, I watched as he lifted
my bike like it weighed nothing, his flexed, bronzed biceps the
only proof of any strain.
    “Where do you want it?”
    In my bedroom.
    I mentally slapped myself and fought not to
blush.
    He waited for me to answer.
    “Umm, I just keep it in the garage.”
    He nodded and walked it over, leaning it
against the far wall.
    “Just there’s fine,” I said, “thanks, Toby.”
His name sounded so strange, so intimate on my tongue. I wanted to
say it again.
    He looked at the bike, in deep thought.
    “You’ll be out of action until you get a new
chain.”
    “Yeah, I’ll go and buy one tomorrow.”
    Because I was now a responsible working woman
who could buy things like that. I would forgo the cute little skirt
from Carters and buy a bike chain.
    So depressing.
    “Well, if you need someone to fit it …”
    “Oh, that’s okay, my dad will do it.”
    And as soon as the words came out, I wanted
to kick myself,