47 Things Duet Series

Our story first follows Sarah and Tyler, who grew up together in the small town of Moama. Sarah had a crush on Tyler in high school but he never noticed her. Years later, they end up at the same university in Sydney. One day, Tyler accidentally spits out gum on the sidewalk which causes Sarah to trip and break her ankle. Tyler feels guilty and helps take care of Sarah, getting to know her in the process. They fall in love but Tyler is hiding a secret that no one knows. A secret that causes him to disappear without warning, hurting Sarah when she feels like it’s her fault. When she finally finds out why, her life will never be the same…

One More Thing follows Sarah in the aftermath. we  get deeper insight into who Tyler is and Sarah learns that second chances really do exist.

HOW WOULD you spell the sound that spitting makes? Pttoohey? Tchoo? I could never work it out. But, it was a sound that caused my throat to constrict and my stomach to sour each time I heard it. So much so, that I’d close my eyes and turn my head as a revolted shudder ran through my body. It was a reaction I was unable to control, and on this particular day in my life, it was both the worst, and the best reaction I could have had…

Walking up the university’s pathway, there was a bounce to my step as I clutched my books and folder to my chest, inhaling the warmth of the aromatic October air. Spring had arrived, and I was ready to complete my degree in physiotherapy at Sydney University and embark on the next phase of my life—a phase that would see me helping people heal their bodies, instead of dealing with the sports-focused jocks who were walking ahead of me. They only cared about athletes and football stats. They drove me insane with their noise and competitive muscle flexing. But I wasn’t going to let them bother me, not when I was so close to donning that cap and gown and skipping off into the sunset to live my awesome life jock free. 

Tchoo! 

I knew it was probably one of the jocks responsible for that horridly disgusting and unnecessary abomination of a bodily function. Again, I reminded myself that I wouldn’t let them bother me. But, that dreaded sound turned my smile into a downward curve as bile rose up my throat. I closed my eyes, trying to control my visceral reaction by focusing on placing one foot in front of the other and pretending I wasn't disgusted to my very core.

As my foot hit the concrete, a soft squishiness beneath the sole of my favourite pair of ballet flats tilted me off balance, causing me to let out a yelp as I tipped forward. To save myself, my arms shot out, flinging my notes and books in a fluttering snowstorm of papers around me as I stumbled forward, my foot twisting, my shoe remaining stuck to the pavement. I went down like a sack of potatoes and landed on the hard concrete with a thump.

“Fucking arse!” I growled, as my nerve endings caught on fire where my knees had dragged along the rough ground. 

Trying to right myself, things just got worse as pain radiated up my leg from my ankle. “Fuck my life.” I sat in the middle of the pathway with grazed knees and hands, a missing shoe, and a mess of paper around me. I was a very undignified Cinderella. 

I held back a sob and ignored the sting pushing at the backs of my eyes as I tried to rectify my situation by reaching out to at least put my shoe back on. Then things just got worse.

“You can't be serious,” I moaned, as I lifted my shoe and dragged a long string of green gum along with it. Muttering to myself, I found a piece of blank paper in the mess and did my best to remove the offending goop, balling up the paper and adding it to the mess beside me. “Who the fuck spits gum on the pavement anyway?” 

“Ah, that would be me,” a male voice said from beside me. “I'm so sorry. It’ll never happen again. I…I didn’t think.” I had a pretty good idea who it was and did my best to keep my head down and turned away from him. I’d avoided talking to him for this long. I didn’t want to ruin a perfect four years.

“Just leave me alone,” I said, hurrying to collect the papers around me so I could get away from him.

Leaning down to help, he tried to catch my eye. “Are you OK?”

Fighting back tears of anger, frustration and humiliation, I shook my head. “Of course I’m not OK. Just leave. You’ve done enough,” I responded, trying to pull the pages from his obscenely lovely hands. I always hated that about Tyler Lohan. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he always looked perfect, right down to his lovely fingernails.

Those long lovely fingers of his pressed into the pages and refused to let go. For a moment, we engaged in a tug of war, and when he wouldn’t concede, I glanced up to meet his eyes. “Let go.” 

He grinned, recognition in his ice-blue eyes. Although at this point, I didn’t know if it was because I was in the majority of his classes for the last four years, or if he actually remembered me from high school where we shared classes for six years, or primary school...Tyler Lohan had been part of my life for as long as I could remember. Oddly, I’d never been part of his. In fact, it’s possible this was the first time we’d ever made eye contact or even spoken to each other. You see, guys like Tyler were the golden boys of this world. They didn’t mix with the awkward girls like me who woke up looking like shit and actually had to work hard to get what they had in life—their looks included. We couldn’t all be born looking like GQ models. The tamed curls I sported to my shoulders came at a price that involved a lot of time and a lot of product. Not that Tyler would ever notice…

“I know you, don’t I?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. His eyes crinkled in his adorable way while his mouth turned up a little. I hated how good-looking he was, with his natural golden tan and fashionably messy, golden hair. He could have been the next Chris Hemsworth if he gave up sports science for acting. 

“I doubt it.” I spoke with little feeling, seizing the opportunity to retrieve my papers from his hand.

His grip tightened. “No. I do know you. What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“It’s none of your business, because I’m not your sweetheart.” I tugged on the papers again.

“Let me help you,” he insisted, his voice soft with a hint of amusement as I rolled my eyes and released the pages into his care. By this point, I just wanted to get off the ground and get on with my day. 

He collected the rest of my papers and handed them to me with a smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, extending a long finger to tap a loose spiral curl that hung about my face. 

I flinched out of his reach and slapped the papers on top of my books before I tucked them under my arm. “You have no idea,” I replied with a roll of my eyes as I planted my feet and forced myself to stand. 

Huge mistake.

"Holy cra—" Sharp pain sliced through my ankle and sent spots floating through my vision. I stumbled, almost releasing my papers and books again, but managing to maintain my balance thanks to a strong set of hands reaching out to grip my waist.

"Whoa, steady. Where does it hurt?" he asked, peering down from his great height, concern in his eyes. 

"I’m fine," I lied, putting my weight on my injured foot. I winced again, but managed to grit my teeth and take a few tentative steps away from him. 

“See? I’m just awesome,” I forced out, my voice shaking from the pain.

"No. You're not fine. You're limping. You're also walking away without your shoe."

Realising he was right, I stopped hobbling and turned towards him, reaching out to snatch my shoe from his hand.

"Thank you," I quipped, dropping it onto the pavement and trying to slide my foot into it. 

"It won't fit," he pointed out, moving to crouch in front of me to inspect the elephant’s foot that had decided to attach itself where my foot should be. "It’s blown up like a balloon. It could be broken."

"It's fine,” I insisted. 

“No. It’s not. Let me take you to the hospital to get an X-ray.”

“I have to get to class.” 

He grinned but shook his head. “What you have to do is quit being so stubborn. I’m taking you to the hospital.”  Without asking for permission, he leaned down and scooped me into his arms. 

“Put me down, you oaf!” I hit at his chest and complained until my ears hurt from listening to my shrieking. Not one person on that university campus came to my rescue either. Not even my best friend, Janesa, who just stood by while Tyler carried me away like a Neanderthal.

“Watch your head,” the Neanderthal said as he inserted me into the passenger side of his black Navara, a petrol guzzler that was almost the size of a truck and could probably fit my Ford Ka in its tray.

“You’re an arsehole, by the way.” I scowled and folded my arms across my chest as he carefully guided my injured leg into his fancy-looking Ute. But he just smiled and went to close the door before he stopped and looked into my eyes. 

“You’re wrong, you know.”

“About what? You being an arsehole?” 

He shook his head; that bloody amused smile still quirking his lips. “No, although the arsehole part is debatable. You’re wrong, because I do know you. You’re Sarah Kennedy. I’ve known you all my life.”