Authors: Rosalind James
“What? We’re going surfing.”
“No, we’re not.” She saw the bus stop coming up in the next
block and realized she wanted to be out of this, right now. “Pull over.”
“What? You’re getting out of the car? Why? You’re mad as a
meat axe,” he spluttered. “You want to go back so badly, no worries, I’ll take
you. You’re not my favorite person just now either, you know.”
“Pull. Over,” she told him with absolute conviction, in a
fierce tone he’d never heard from her before. Startled, he obeyed, to find her
grabbing her bag and opening the door to get out of the car.
“You can take my gear back to the shop. Serve you right,”
she told him, slamming the door behind her with a resounding
thunk.
Koti sat, stunned. Heard the blast of the bus’s horn as the
driver saw him parked in the bus stop, and pulled reflexively out into the
street again, out of the way. What was he supposed to do now? This was rubbish.
She’d completely overreacted to his perfectly reasonable concern for her
safety. Right, then. He’d go surfing by himself. It’d be better anyway, without
having to worry about looking after her.
He only lasted an hour, though. Somehow, it wasn’t as
satisfying as he’d expected. He’d been looking forward to seeing how she went
on the board today after the previous week’s lesson. He was starting to feel
less comfortable with the way he had behaved as well. Now that he’d cooled off,
he could see that he’d been a bit out of line. He still didn’t like the idea of
her going out with Kevin. But he probably shouldn’t have told her so.
The next morning, he swallowed his pride and rang her. He’d
thought about taking the coward’s way out and texting, but he had the feeling that
wasn’t going to do the trick.
“Hello, Mr. Personality,” he heard on the other end when she
picked up. “You’d better be calling to apologize.”
“Reckon I should be glad you’re still taking my calls,” he
sighed. “How much do I have to grovel here? Can we admit I was a drongo and
move on?”
“Maybe. If I look that up and it sounds sufficiently bad.”
“I rang to ask if you’d forgive me, maybe wanted to try
surfing again. I missed you yesterday. Want to watch you fall off some more.”
“Oh, good try. You’re really making points. Didn’t you take
my stuff back, though?”
“Nah. And before you start laying into me, I’ll take it back
later today, pay for the extra day’s hire too. My fault. I know that. So you’ll
come out with me?”
“I will. But the only reason I’m willing to give you another
chance is that I figured out why you were in such a bad mood yesterday. I’ll
bet it didn’t improve last night, did it?”
“It was pretty dire, watching the game,” he admitted.
“You’re right, I need distraction from my troubles. Can I pop round in an hour,
give you a lift from your place?”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m telling you where I live
after that display,” she told him firmly. “I’ll meet you at the café, same as
always.”
After they had surfed themselves into chilled, happy fatigue
and were sitting in a café over yet another coffee, Kate broached the subject
she knew was uppermost in his mind.
“So I watched the game last night. I don’t have much
commentary though, since I’m the least-knowledgeable rugby spectator in New
Zealand. Other than too bad the All Blacks lost.”
Koti smiled a bit painfully. “Should have had you over to
watch with me. Maybe I’d have got some amusement value out of it, anyway.”
“Yeah, I could have provided that. But hey, at least they do
the best part at the beginning, get things off to a good start before I get
lost. The haka,” she explained at his questioning look. “I’d heard of it. But
actually seeing it gave me chills. That’s some fierce stuff.”
“I hate to be sexist, but I think that’s every woman’s
favorite bit of a test match. Something about all that rampant testosterone.
The challenge, intimidating your opponent. Reckon women are genetically
programmed to enjoy that.”
“Really? I thought it was because so many of the players are
good-looking, and those shorts you guys wear are so . . . short. All those
thighs.”
“What? I couldn’t help but notice,” she protested at his
grin. “But here’s what I was wondering. Doesn’t it bother you to have all those
non-Maori players performing that kind of traditional ritual?”
“Nah. The haka’s been done by the All Blacks since the
beginning. More than a hundred years now. And there’ve always been Maori boys
on the team.”
“No segregated teams in your past?”
He shook his head. “As well as the Maori and Pakeha, the
Europeans, you have all the Islander boys. Samoan, Tongan. Because they’re big
and strong, like me,” he said with a smile at her predictable eye-roll. “But
the haka’s one of the things that pulls us together, identifies us as New
Zealanders, whether we’re Maori or not, and no matter how long ago our families
came here,” he went on more seriously. “The All Blacks, that’s the same thing.
It’s more than just a rugby team.”
“I noticed. That’s hard to miss.”
“Our national religion. That’s what they say,” he
acknowledged. “Not to say everyone in the country loves rugby. But that’s what
the kids grow up playing. And the All Blacks . . . that’s the ultimate rugby,
isn’t it. Most successful national rugby team in the world, down the years.
About the only thing we’re world-famous in. We don’t get much time on the world
stage, so we appreciate it. If you’re a Kiwi and you don’t support the All
Blacks—well, I wouldn’t bring it up in the pub. And ask almost any boy in En
Zed what he’d like to be when he grows up. He’ll tell you, an All Black.”
He shifted in his seat, and Kate felt a rush of compassion
for him. “Hard to watch last night, I’ll bet.”
He nodded. “I could see where my opportunities would have
been. I could’ve made that try in the twentieth minute. I was wild, not being
there.”
“What exactly did they say? Why weren’t you selected?”
She listened to his reluctant account, then nodded. “So you
need to improve those skills. Tackling and ruckwork. I barely know what that
is, but it’s basically going after the ball, right? Sort of getting down and
dirty? Sounds like they’re saying you need to do the less glamorous parts, be
more of a team player. Like you’re coming across as a glory hog.”
He winced, but had to agree. “Yeh. That I need to pay
attention to other things besides carrying the ball and offloading. Passing,”
he clarified. “Fair enough. Those are my skills, though. And I’m pretty flash
at them. That’s what I don’t understand.”
“But it seems like they’re saying you need more than that to
be the complete package. What are you going to do about it?”
“Dunno,” he said glumly. “I could just go back to where I’m
appreciated. Not sure it makes sense to try to change now, especially if I
don’t know whether I’ll succeed. Could bust a gut for nothing. That doesn’t
make sense.”
“Is there anyone you can ask for advice? Anyone you trust?”
“I could talk to Hemi,” he admitted reluctantly. “Reckon
he’d be willing.”
“Which you don’t want to do,” she guessed, “because you’d
have to admit that you need help. That you’re not as perfect as your fan club thinks
you are.”
He scowled. “I don’t think as much of myself as all that. Don’t
believe everything I read about myself either. But it’s not easy to ask.
Because Hemi’s told me before that I need to work on my form. And I’d be saying
he was right.”
“He already knows that, though. He knows you haven’t been
selected, and why. Why would he think less of you if you asked him for advice
now? It seems to me he’d think more of you for showing that kind of humility. And
you could do it. You did it today, after all. That was a fairly good apology.
And I’m a hard judge.”
“I knew if I didn’t, you’d be well and truly gone. I could
see I only had one chance to get it right.”
“You teach people how to treat you. Somebody told me that
once, and it stuck,” she explained. “It’s been working pretty well for me, with
one glaring exception.”
“And you apologized so well, and refrained so beautifully
from questioning me today, that I’m going to give you a big present and tell
you something that will make you happy,” she added, deciding he needed a laugh.
“What’s that?” he asked, perking up noticeably.
“I did go out with Kevin last night, and it was pretty much
a disaster. Because he’s too nice for me. Isn’t that a terrible thing to have
to admit?” Kate started to laugh in spite of herself. “I thought he’d be the
perfect person for me to ease back into dating with. I mean, nobody could call
him dangerous, right? Clearly one of the world’s good guys. Too good for me, I
guess. Because I was censoring myself all evening, trying not to shock him.
Clearly he’d bought into the whole cute, little, sweet thing. I could tell it
was never going to work. I’d chew him up and spit him out.”
“Bet you told him so, too,” he said, starting to grin.
“I did,” she smiled back. “I told him thanks very much, he
was a great guy, but I thought I had too many sharp edges for him. I could tell
he was relieved, though he was much too nice to say so.”
“And here’s the truly terrible thing,” she confessed. “The whole
time we were together, I was thinking about what you’d say. How you’d laugh if
you could have seen us.”
“I’m laughing just thinking about it,” he agreed. “Never
mind. When you pack that much explosive power into a small package, it takes a
specialist to handle it. Kevvie’s a good bloke, but he was out of his depth
with you, I reckon.”
“Oh, because you’re so good at it,” she shot back.
“Still standing, aren’t I,” he challenged. “Despite your
many attempts to cut me down to size.”
“I’ll have to try harder, I guess.”
“Oh no,” he groaned. “Forget I said that. Not sure I can
handle you trying any harder.”
Kate wasn’t surprised to find Koti waiting for her when she
arrived at the beach on Wednesday morning. He knew her swim days now, and had taken
to joining her once or twice a week. She had to admit that it gave her a lift
when he appeared. She sensed that he needed the company too, the distraction
from his own thoughts. Swimming through the waves in the frequently cold, windy
conditions was a challenge that required focus. She always felt better when she
finished, even if she hadn’t particularly enjoyed the swim, and she thought he
did too.
Rinsing off afterwards was never very pleasant, though.
Struggling out of a clammy wetsuit in the early-morning chill wasn’t much fun
at the best of times. And today her suit seemed to be fighting back. She worked
to pull down the stubborn zipper, twisting her arm to increase her leverage. “Stupid
thing,” she muttered.
“Here.” She felt the tug as his hand closed on the tapes and
began to pull down, his other hand against her shoulder. She stiffened, then slapped
his arm away and twisted out of his grip.
“Not a good idea. I think we’ve established that I need to
set some boundaries here. This belongs to me. Hands off.”
“Sure about that? Seems to me, if it’s bothering you so much,
you’re beginning to wonder. I know I am.”
“Koti.” She turned around to face him. “Get this straight.
We are not dating. We’re friends, that’s all.”
“Oh, we’re dating,” he assured her. “Not having sex, maybe.
But what do you call all this time we’re spending together? And you’re thinking
about it as much as I am, I can tell. You jump every time I touch you. I’ve
seen you checking me out, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s practically my civic duty, isn’t it? Every
woman in New Zealand has checked you out. Doesn’t mean a thing. Anyway, you
can’t pretend you’re really all that interested in me, no matter how much you
like to tease me about it. I’m not your type, remember?”
She returned with a show of unconcern to working her way out
of her wetsuit. Took her time pulling her towel around herself, unwilling to
show him that she was affected by his scrutiny or the nearness of his
half-naked body, looking much too good with his own wetsuit peeled down to his
waist, acres of brown skin and sculpted muscle on display.
He groaned. “When are you going to forget I said that? And
yeh, I’m interested. I’m bloody interested. Think about it all the time, don’t
I. I’m losing sleep here, thinking about it.”
“Well, you can just stop thinking about it,” she snapped,
gathering up her wet things. “Because it’s not going to happen.”
Even as she said it, she realized that it was past time to
address this directly. All this flirting was getting out of hand. Every time he
made one of his suggestive comments, touched her hand, she felt her own pulse
jump, felt the urge to move closer. To stroke his arm, his shoulder, just to
see what his skin felt like under her hands. Started wondering what it would
feel like to have that arm go around her waist, to be held against him. To kiss
him, and have him kiss her back. She needed to set things straight right now,
for both their sakes.
She took a deep breath and began. “Here’s the way it is.
Believe me, nobody’s more surprised by this than I am, but I enjoy spending
time with you. You’re actually good company. And yes, you’re a treat to look at
too. I like you, and I’m attracted to you. But I’m not interested in being one
in a long line of women you’ve slept with, or in having our friendship get
awkward. And you know it would. When I do get into a relationship again, I want
it to mean more than that.”
“Why would it be awkward? Why wouldn’t it be better?” he
protested. “I know it’d be fun, anyway.”
“See? That’s it. That’s why,” she tried to explain. “I’m not
interested in recreational sex, or some kind of friends-with-benefits thing,
and that’s all you do. Well, maybe I’m interested in it, technically, but I’m
not doing it. I know myself, and I know it wouldn’t work. So I’m not going
there with you. And if that means you don’t want to spend time with me anymore
once sex is off the table, well, that’s what the bet was about, wasn’t it? I
guess you lose.”