Page 6 of The King Contract
I nod to it, plugged in on the bench. “Out of juice.”
“Shocker.” Callum reads from his phone, “Playboy Noah King spends time with local business owner, Millie Schofield, as he tries to re-connect with his roots.”
“At least they didn’t useCalifornia’s Adopted Fuckboythis time,” Mack muses.
I cross the kitchen and snatch Callum’s phone from his hands. A series of images fill the screen, evidently taken with a long-range lens from somewhere above the sand dunes. Millie and I have our backs to the photographer, our heads turned towards each other. Whilst these snaps make it look like an intimate moment between lovers, I can almost pinpoint the second she started to rile me.
“You swam on a closed beach with some new bird?” Mack asks, rubbing his hands together. “You devil.”
“I helped her out of the water,” I dismiss.
Callum gives me an exaggerated wink, taking his phone back. “Sure.”
“It ended with us sniping at each other. Did they print that part?”
Mack slaps me on the back. “Your wily, hypnotic powers won’t work on Australian women, King.”
“She probably read about you in the tabloids,” Callum chimes in.
“And had the common sense to stay away,” Dan adds dryly.
“Fuck. You. All.” I give each of them a direct view of my middle finger and move into the open lounge, slumping onto the couch.
It makes sense.Maybe Millie was referring to the cliché, typical jock behaviour she’d seen online. I was loud and popular at school, focused solely on sports, getting into the junior leagues of surfing, and flirting like it was a competition. Lately, I’ve focused on having a good time, lots of sex, and barely holding onto my surfing career.
I had to dig out my old yearbook to jog my memory of Millie. I don’t remember a lot about her, other than she was super smart. What I’ve gathered from my flip-through is that Millie was involved ineverything.
She ran school events and volunteered in the community. She was a prefect and captain of the science club. She even forfeited celebrating a week of debauchery after year twelve graduation for a volunteer program in Kenya. I remember her speaking at assemblies a few times and not once did she strike me as shy or that she cared about what anyone thought of her. I might not have had many interactions with her, but it seems like everybody respected her. From our meeting on the beach, I’d sayshe’s as self-assured as ever. As well as quick to judge and shut people down.
Physically, she’s mostly the same as her photo, with dark, curly hair and a big smile. Except the smile in the book is innocent. Her smile today was cheeky as fuck, and she has a body Idefinitelychecked out a few times when she sat soaked next to me.
Under her graduation photo, it reads:
In 10 years, I will:Be smashing it as a health scientist!
Likes:Sour lollies
Dislikes:Tomato ketchup
Favourite quote:Women. Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t kill ‘em.
The yearbook reminds me I know nothing about the woman I pulled from the water, apart from the insults I threw her way from my quick assessment of her. I’ve gotten good at reading people and when I spat those words at her in the rain, I know I hit a nerve.
“Found her!” Callum sings out, taking a seat on the U-shaped couch across from me. “Millie Schofield, twenty-seven, co-owner of Beans Coffee and Creations on the Gold Coast. Camera emoji, lollipop emoji, sun emoji. Her profile is private, but if we head to Beans . . . yep, she’s on here a few times and she iscute.”
Like I hadn’t noticed.My go-to moves of lip-wetting, hair toss and a wink did not register on Millie Schofield’s radar. If anything, it had the complete opposite effect.
“She’s also a saint.” Callum stretches his long tan legs out to rest his feet on the coffee table. “Every few months she hosts a night of free meals and haircuts for the homeless, and donations go to a variety of local services, including shelters, domesticviolence safe houses and cancer support services.” Callum lowers his phone with a raised eyebrow. “Sainthood shit.”
I scoff. “Still a do-gooder by the sounds of things.”
Callum arches an eyebrow. “Still? Do you know her?”
I shake my head. “Not really. We went to high school together.”
“And you reunited on the beach,” Mack chimes in, plopping down beside me. “It’s a romcom in the making.”
“Trust me. It’s not.”
