Page 43 of Ride the Wave

We stand next to each other in silence, looking out at the other guests. The party has been a lot of fun so far thanks to Marina and Anna both seeming determined to make sure I’m not left out. I guess I am a bit of an oddity; most of their guests seem to know each other, whereas it’s obvious I am here on my own. The language barrier hasn’t been a problem; it’s almost embarrassing how good everyone here is at English whereas I can barely speak two words of Portuguese and yet we’reinPortugal.

As I do whenever I travel somewhere new and inevitably feel the same way, I make a promise to myself to make the effort to learn another language.

All of their friends have been so warm and welcoming to me, even after I explain what I’m doing here. Any time someone asks, I prepare myself for them to suddenly come to Leo’s defence or make snide comments about prying journalists, but apparently Leo’s attitude has made me over-worry. If anything, his friends are impressed and excited by the prospect.

Thanks to Anna’s overzealous matchmaking skills, I’ve had a couple of mildly awkward conversations – that deep-sea-fishing guy, Diogo, cornered me again and asked if I would like to go out in his boat some time. I said I wasn’t sure I’d have the time while I was here, but thanked him for the offer. It was also very obvious that Anna and Marina were encouraging their musical friend Luís to make his move, but as soon as he threatened to play a song for me if he could find a guitar, it became clear that he and I weren’t a good match.

I did consider asking them if they might know José, my handsome landlord, in case I should prepare myself for his imminent arrival. It wasn’t so much of a stretch that they might know him; he’s obviously local to the area and maybe stops by the bar for a drink some time. But the party is well under way now, the music getting louder, people getting rowdier, and he hasn’t made an appearance, so I doubt he’s going to arrive now.

I hope he asks me on that date soon. I’ve only got one week left.

‘Are you enjoying the party?’ I ask Leo, purely to make conversation.

He nods, watching the guests spilling out onto the decking at the front to dance.

‘People seem to like the wine,’ I note, my eyes flickering to the glass of sparkling water in his hand. ‘Did you not approve of my choice?’

‘It was an excellent choice,’ he says without looking at me. ‘But I’m not drinking.’ He nods to my near-empty wine glass. ‘Would you like a top-up?’

‘No thanks,’ I say, as he reaches for the bottle in the cooler nearby.

His hand drops to his side. ‘So have you got heaps of quotes?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘For the article,’ he explains. ‘You’ve been speaking to my friends today.’

‘I’m not here in a work capacity,’ I remind him a little snappily. ‘I may have mentioned what I do and why I’m here, but I didn’t go behind your back trying to collect quotes for the article. I wouldn’t do that to Anna. It’s her birthday party.’

It’s funny, but with other athletes I’ve worked with, I’ve been able to keep them at a distance in my head – even if they annoy me, I don’t let them in on that. I try to see them as a colleague, just one I admire. If they are ever difficult or grumpy, which can happen since they’re under a lot of pressure mentally and physically as they gear up for a life-changing event or competition, I don’t take it personally and I don’t let it bug me. I treat them respectfully and calmly at all times, and let any of their gripes go.

But with Leo, I’ve let myself slip a couple of times.

I’m not sure it’s fair of me to be snarky. It’s not too unreasonable for him to question whether a journo writing about him might seize on the opportunity to talk to so many of his friends all in the same place at the same time. But here I am, pissed off at the insinuation. I’m annoyed he thinks that’s what I’ve been doing.

Almost as if… his opinion of me matters.

‘That maybe was a bit unfair,’ he says to my surprise. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ I mumble, placing my glass on the counter. ‘I should have realised that me being here might make you uncomfortable. I didn’t think. I’ll go.’

‘That’s not… I wasn’t saying…’ He stops me as I go to walk round him, his fingers lightly resting on my arm. His touch sends a shiver down my spine. I stare up at him as he drops his hand to his side. ‘You don’t have to leave. I’m not uncomfortable with you being here.’

‘If you’re sure—’

‘I’m sure.’

Nodding, I slide back into my space next to him.

‘Maybe this is a good thing,’ I blurt out. ‘I get to see you in a setting where you’re not worried about anything you do or don’t say. Unlike our interviews, you can relax here.’

‘Likewise,’ he responds with a shrug.

‘I’m relaxed when we’re interviewing.’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Excuse me?’

---