Page 94 of Just One Look
“How’m I going?” she asked. “A whole lot worse than I was going two minutes ago. Great day in the morning, Luka, what are youdoing?Are you insane? You have to be. You’re not stupid, so that leaves insane.”
“What?” he said. “Because I’m having surgery tomorrow? Assume I know that. Assume I’m taking care.” His face had that volcanic look again. “Not to mention providing traction on the neck. Traction’s good.”
Oh. She got it. She said, “You’re nervous, so you’re distracting yourself. But you’re still risking serious injury. Stop right now. You can …” She looked around. “Ride the recumbent bike, at a lower resistance with your head firmly against the backrest. That will allow you to get some aerobic exercise and still protect your neck. You can probably do that after surgery, too, but that’s it, other than walking, and whatever your surgeon and physiotherapist say is OK to do. No weights. No running. No … whatever other crazy thing you’ve been doing. I don’t care how nervous you are, that’s a hard no.”
“I’m not nervous at all,” he said. “I’m perfectly calm. Assume this isn’t my first dance.” He was frowning now. He had his arms crossed, too, and he had a few days’ worth of scruff going again. His hair was still dark and thick and wavy, he still had a scar across his cheekbone, he still had too much nose, and he was still about two hundred fifty pounds and six-foot-many of solid muscle. He looked like a recruiting poster for New Zealand immigration, if they were trying to attract thirsty young women. Or thirsty older women. Or Jordan.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you,” she said. “I’ve had a busy few days.” She stopped herself from apologizing. She wasn’t apologizing anymore for her focus, right? That was the whole point of this year. It was a) do social activities, and b) stop apologizing for what she was. And here she was, doing both. Or trying.
He said, “What, to reassure me? I don’t need reassuring.” More frown. He was even more offended now. She’d been thoughtful, though! She was considering his feelings!
A voice behind her said, “Elizabeth?”
Oh. She’d totally forgotten. She said, “Hey, Gerald. Sorry. I got distracted. This is Luka Darkovic. Uh …” Jordan, her Guide to the Way Other People Are Raised, had told her that you were supposed to introduce people with thoughtful details. “Luka is a rugby player. For the, uh …” She blanked. Because she was nervous, obviously. Why was she nervous?
“Blues,” Luka said, as Gerald said, “All Blacks.”
“Right,” she said. “Those. Oh—this is probably good. Gerald is an orthopedic surgeon. Dr. Agnew. Consider this networking.”
“Hi,” Gerald said, shaking hands. Luka, though, looked at Elizabeth and said, “Bit tactless, surely.”
“What?” She tried to think. “Sorry, I’m …”
“As I’m having a surgery tomorrow that you think will have me out for the rest of the season. You’re meant to be jollying me along, not rubbing salt in my wounds by introducing me to orthopedic surgeons I’m not going to need for months and shouting at me for a bit of harmless training.”
“Your patient, then?” Gerald asked her.
“No,” Luka said. “She said she didn’t do surgery on …”
On people who’ve seen her naked,she could tell he wanted to say. He finished, “… on people she knows well.”
“Oh,” Gerald said. “Well, time for a drink, I think, after our workout. I introduced Elizabeth to squash today. She acquitted herself quite well. Oh—if you care to join us, Luka, of course. Please do.”
He looked between Luka and Elizabeth, and Luka looked back at him. Elizabeth couldn’t read either look. She said, “I believe Luka wants to do some low-intensity recumbent bike work. Which will not further damage his fragilespine.”
Luka said, “Actually, you’re right. I shouldn’t be doing this. A drink is a much better idea.”
* * *
He stood backto let Gerald go first. He could tell he wasn’t best pleased about that, because it would leave Luka behind him with Elizabeth. Good.
She hadn’t even bothered to text him, but she had time to go out with this arsehole? He was the weekend warrior type, in rugby shorts and a T-shirt with a logo on it to let you know it was performance fabric and had cost extra. The shirt was a bit too tight, too, as if he were casually showing off his carefully cultivated physique. Heaps of development to the shoulders and arms, but he’d skipped more than a few Leg Days. Typical. He was also blonde and looked like he was pretty and he knew it. Luka hated him already.
Fortunately, he was used to winning, and he knew how to do it. In the last few strides, he put a bit of power on, which meant he had his palm on the bar before Pencil Legs could get there. He raised a hand to the barman and asked Gerald, “What’ll you have, mate?”
“My shout,” Gerald said, and pulled out his wallet. Luka would bet that whatever credit card was the top one these days, this bloke had it, and he wanted to use it right now. Elizabeth might be wearing black trousers and a white shirt again, but it was a different, more form-fitting white shirt this time, and she was rocking all of that hard.
“Nah,” he said, turning his boy-from-Northland accent up a notch. “No worries. Want a wine, Elizabeth? She’ll only have the one,” he told Gerald. “A woman of discipline, eh.”
“Cheap date,” Elizabeth said, but she looked confused, like she had no clue what was going on here. “And, no. I’ll have a mineral water with lime. Otherwise, I’m going to get stupid.”
Gerald, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on. His manner got breezier, like Luka wasn’t worth bothering about, and he said, “Cheers. I’ll have a Tuatara Hazy IPA, then. And I’m on for the next one.”
“I’m sure he’s not having a next one,” Elizabeth said. “Hopefully, he’s not having afirstone. I’m carefully not telling you what to do,” she told Luka. “I’mremindingyou of what to do.”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s heaps better, then.”
She sighed. “That’s sarcasm. I want it to go well tomorrow. If that’s wrong, too bad.”
Gerald said, “Shall we sit down, Elizabeth?” And shot Luka a look he had no trouble interpreting.
Good.
Let the games begin.
