To his credit, Dante didn’t complain. He just made a note and said we’d work on it, and not to worry. I felt myself relax immediately at that, knowing that he wasn’t going to push or make me embarrassed about problems. We’d work on them and fix them.
Together.
After that, he had me show him my gym, where I tried to keep thoughts of my earlier daydream about being slammed against the wall out of my head, and he said we’d try to build up some weights along with the cardio. The way Dante explained it, swimming required the same sort of training as any other physical sport, and while we couldn’t avoid the water altogether, there was a lot we could do to get me back into shape without it.
When he left, he told me to take the afternoon off and do something to relax. I was surprised by that, but took his advice and sat in front of my games console for hours, shooting the hell out of some alien scumbags. By the time I was done, it was time for food, and I almost called my usual takeaway service out of habit before I remembered Dante’s words. Which was why I called my mother instead, and asked her for a cookery lesson.
“Right, what’s next?” I glanced around at the mess I’d made of the kitchen. There were several pans already stacked in the sink from failed attempts, and there was a smell of charred, overcooked vegetables that I was now fully expecting to eat. “The milk goes in the pan, right?”
My mum sighed on the other end of the phone, clearly exasperated. “Only a little bit, though. You need to mix it in with the flour and butter. Anyone would think I never taught you anything about cooking. Why don’t you just do jacket potatoes instead? It’s easy, you can’t—”
“I’m doing this now. You said it was easy. So, this is it. A little milk.” I poured in a splash, then decided that wasn’t nearly enough and put in a little more. “Now mix it?”
“Yes. Why the sudden interest in cooking for yourself?”
I’d avoided saying Nick Dante’s name until now, but it was clear that she was getting suspicious that I was hiding something, and nothing good could come from her deciding there was more to this story. “I’ve been living on takeaways for too long,” I said. “My new coach says even if I’m not noticing any physical change, it’s making me less healthy and more likely to lose races.”
“What happened to Eric?”
“Things just weren’t working out,” I said. She knew about the injury, but not about anything else. “Dante gets me. He knows what to do to work things through and get me back on the circuit.”
“I liked Eric. He’d been working with you for a long time and—”
“Nick Dante is better. Trust me, this is the right move.”
She made a hmmm noise. “All right, you know what you’re doing. And this Nick wants you to know how to cook for yourself? Seems like a bit of an intrusion.”
“Well, he thinks I already do know how. He thinks I’m just lazy.” I laughed at the thought of his facial expression when I’d admitted to the takeaways. It was a picture. My mind started to wander, thinking up ideas of how to get my own back. I knew he wasn’t a total saint. Well, at least there were rumours about an indiscretion on his part. Otherwise, there was the stuff I’d read about his ex wife. “He’s a nice guy. I like him a lot.”
“Well, I’m glad about that anyway, it’s nice that you’ve made a friend. How’s the sauce looking now?”
For a second, I tore my imagination away from Nick Dante and looked down at the milk I was stirring. There were clumps floating in it, while the rest looked thin. “Um. I’m not sure it’s supposed to look like this.”
She huffed. “Juke, do yourself jacket potatoes. It’s nine o’clock and we’ve been at this for an hour.”
Even I had to admit that she was right. This just wasn’t working. “How do you make jacket potatoes?”
“Seriously?”
“What?” I laughed.
“You don’t know how to make jacket potatoes? What kind of a son did I raise? Honestly, Violet knows how to make jacket potatoes and she’s eleven.”
“She’s nearly twelve!”
My mum laughed and I had to as well. I normally put my lack of cooking skills down to leaving home so early to pursue my career, but the truth was she tried to teach me for years before that, I just didn’t listen. Dante was right after all – it was laziness that led to me ordering takeaway every day. Maybe not laziness right now, but laziness when I was a kid who just wanted to play video games instead of learning how to look after myself.
“OK, you’re going to need a big potato or two, and you’ll need to wash them.” She sighed. “I wish I was there with you to show you how to do these things. They’re not difficult.”
“I can wash a potato.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hey!” I laughed. “I’m getting a potato right now.”
“OK, once it’s washed, I suggest you put it in the microwave for half an hour to start it off, otherwise it’s going to take you an hour or so.”
“Ah. I don’t actually have a microwave...”
“Juke.”
“What? I don’t.”
“I’ve been in your kitchen, there’s a microwave.”
“It broke and I never got around to replacing it. I didn’t really think I needed one, I never reheat anything. Can’t I just put the potato in the oven?”
She groaned. “Yes but it will take forever. Get a takeaway.” I tried to object, imagining Dante’s face when he found out, but she cut me off. “Just for today. I’m sure this new coach will understand that you had to eat something. Tomorrow, get yourself a microwave and some ready meals. They’re not brilliant nutritionally but they’re better than fast food. Then learn how to cook some basics. Just do it, I don’t want my son to starve.”
I looked around at the kitchen. Nobody could possibly claim that I hadn’t tried. OK, so in the end this one had turned out to be a failure, but tomorrow I’d get it right. “OK,” I said with a sigh. “Love you.”
“Love you too. Get yourself something to eat.”
We signed off and I immediately put in a call to my favourite Chinese takeaway, feeling slightly defeated but realising just how hungry I was getting. They told me the delivery would be with me in half an hour, which I knew from experience would be forty to forty-five minutes. And that gave me just enough time to tackle the kitchen and get it back into some sort of order.
I thought about leaving it as it was, so that Dante would see that I’d tried. But the idea of having a kitchen as messy as that just didn’t sit right with me. I might not have been much good at cooking for myself, but cleaning up was something I was a little bit obsessive about.
At least that was something my mother had managed to instil in me.
I WAS AWAKE IN AN INSTANT, my heart pounding in time with the knocking at the door. My vision was blurry as I glanced over at the clock, the banging on the door starting up again. Nine AM. Who could that be at this time? Another four knocks as I blinked away sleep and stretched, reluctantly throwing back the duvet.
I bet it’s Ronald, I thought to myself, and considered for a moment pretending I wasn’t in. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to put up with any of his bullshit. What would it be this time? My lawn had grown a centimetre too long? The sun was glinting off my windows and ruining his view?
Still groggy with sleep, I slipped my feet into my slippers and headed downstairs, wiping at my face. “All right, all right, I’m here. What do you—” I opened the door to find Dante standing there, grinning, holding out some sort of green goo in a sports bottle. “Dante? What are you doing here?”
“Silk pyjamas? Really?”
“They help me to sleep,” I replied, defensively. I felt slightly vulnerable, standing there in nothing but my nightclothes while he was dressed in another tracksuit – red this time - and deliciously tight black vest combo. “Come on in, I’m just about to have breakfast...” I trailed off, remembering that the only thing worth eating in the house was the leftover Chinese food from yesterday. “Er, have
a seat in the living room and I’ll be right with you. Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“It’s nine AM. What time do you normally start training?”
“Ten?” I suggested, hoping it would sound reasonable. Something about the tone of his voice told me that admitting to eleven-thirty would get me an ear bashing.
“Uh huh. What time did you get to bed last night?” One eyebrow was raised suspiciously, and I felt my cheeks go red. After the food was delivered, and I’d eaten, I’d then stayed up until midnight blasting aliens, then when I went to bed I worked on my latest poem for an hour. I felt a shiver traverse my spine as I bit into my bottom lip. “Ten?” I suggested again.
“Liar.” He grinned, shaking his head, eyes stuck on mine, making my knees weak. “And when I give you an instruction, I expect you to follow it. Don’t think I don’t know about the takeaway you had delivered.”
“I did not!”
“So what’s that smell?”
I narrowed my eyes, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Perfume.”
Dante laughed. It was a deep, throaty, genuine chuckle as he shook his head. “Perfume? What is it, Eau de Chow Mein? OK, let’s call this the first day again. We’ll say that yesterday was just an assessment. I’m adding another rule: don’t lie to me. From now on, tell the truth, even if it’s going to get you in trouble. So, did you have a Chinese takeaway last night?”
I huffed, but nodded.
“And bedtime was...?”
“Around midnight. But I didn’t go straight to sleep.”
“Right, OK. Starting today, no more takeaways. And try to pull back those late nights. Aim for a little earlier most nights and just make it earlier as you go. You’ll be amazed at the difference it makes to your energy levels. Kitchen through here?” He started heading through before I could stop him, so I followed behind.
“I need to get dressed,” I said, looking down at the pyjamas he’d been so amused by. “Are you going to be OK for half an hour?”
AS THE WATER STEAMED over my shoulders and back, I thought about Nick Dante. Truth was, I couldn’t get the man off my mind. I didn’t know much about him, but I did know that he had been married, and therefore I knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be interested in me. Did that change a thing inside my head? No, it did not. The marriage part was very much public knowledge, since it had ended rather spectacularly; his wife had been caught embezzling funds from her father’s investment firm where she worked. Nick had stood by her, officially, but they’d divorced while she was serving time in prison for the crime. The whole thing was amicable, by all accounts, but not the kind of publicity anyone would have wanted. It was about a year after that that Nick disappeared, after there were rumours about him having an affair with the mother of one of his trainees.
Other than that, Nick Dante was something of a mystery. He’d worked with some of the big names in the industry before he’d disappeared completely off grid, but certainly the fact that he’d run off made it look likely that the affair was true. Not that I would ever throw it in his face or even mention it to him. For starters, I wasn’t the sort of person that took enjoyment from other people’s pain, and for another thing they had been just rumours anyway. But besides all that, I didn’t really want to remind myself that he was definitely not going to be interested in me.
Because I was honestly enjoying the fantasy of the two of us together. He would be rough, I decided. Not violent, but needy, taking what he wanted from me. I thought about him joining me in the shower, the water steaming over both of us as he pressed my soaked, slick flesh up against the shower wall, his own firm body crushing me as I kissed him, his hand slipping down between us...
I sighed as I forced myself to stop, rinsing off the shampoo and soap before stepping out into the bathroom. Once I was dry and dressed – with a pair of shorts and a T-shirt over the top of my trunks, expecting our training routine to involve some pool work at least – I headed downstairs. I would be lying if I said the idea of getting in the water still didn’t scare me, but I knew it had to be done and I really did trust Dante to keep me safe. His firmness might have been exactly what I needed to feel confident that he knew what he was doing. When I went into the kitchen, the bottle of green gloop stood on the counter, and I pulled a face.
“What are you drinking?” I asked, crossing to the coffee machine and pressing the start button. “It looks disgusting.”
“It’s not for me. Turn that thing off.” He held the bottle out to me and I narrowed my eyes in response. “You want to get back to fighting fitness? This is going to help move you in that direction.”
“No thanks. What the hell is even in it?”
I didn’t even take the bottle from him, and I certainly didn’t turn the coffee maker off. A choice between what looked like some sort of radioactive gunk or a smooth blend of Guatamalan beans was really no choice at all.
He frowned. “If you’re not serious about getting fit, maybe you’d be better off with a coach that isn’t going to push you so hard.”
My heart leaped into my throat. The idea of having anyone else coaching me right now was worse than the idea of swallowing whatever was in that sports bottle. “Come on, don’t be like that. I just don’t want to drink that right now. If I don’t get my coffee in the morning, I’m not going to be any use to you at all, trust me. I’m really not a morning person.”
Dante reached past me and flicked the machine off at the wall. “That’s a caffeine addiction talking. You’re better than that. You need to detox. Drink it.”
“I’ll drink it if you’ll drink it,” I said impulsively, and saw him hesitate. I almost laughed in triumph as I reached for the wall switch, but he blocked my way.
“Fine.” He brought the sports bottle to his lips, eyes on me the whole time, and there was a moment of connection when I wanted desperately to look away but couldn’t. I saw the same thought pass over his face as a smile spread across his lips. Then he tipped the bottle back and took a long gulp. “Fucking delicious,” he said, his voice hoarse as he licked a little of the liquid from the corner of his mouth. “Your turn, Jukie.”
I took the bottle from him, trying to suppress the urge to grin back. “Nobody calls me Jukie except my mum and my sister.” I took a sniff of the contents, expecting it to smell as bad as it looked, but to my surprise it didn’t. There was a fruitiness to it, I was guessing bananas were a big ingredient. “Bottoms up, I guess.”
Gulping back a mouthful of the green goo, I kept my eyes trained on Dante watching me. Truth was, whatever was in that smoothie didn’t taste awful at all. I still missed my morning coffee, but if this was going to help me the way that he said it was going to, then so be it. I drained the glass, then slammed it down on the counter with a growl, making a show of how much I disliked what he’d done.
“Now tell me what’s in it,” I said.
“Maybe later. Right now, I need to see you out of those shorts.” He paused for just a moment longer than was necessary, making my heart skip a beat, before finishing: “Let’s get to the pool.”
“I CAN’T.” I SHOOK MY head, staring at the water, still dressed in my shorts and T-shirt, as if taking them off would bring me a step closer to going in. I should have been enjoying the sight of Dante in nothing but a pair of tight swimming shorts. I should have been savouring the view of light-coloured, curly chest hair that turned sparse as it led down over his rippling stomach. Instead, I was whining like a child and I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” I turned away, embarrassed, ashamed, and most of all scared.
Scared of the water, sure, but also scared of the fact that I might not ever get into a pool again.
“Juke.”
I flinched as Dante’s fingers touched my shoulder gently. I wanted to lean into them, but I knew that wouldn’t be appropriate. So instead, I pulled away. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay you for your time, but I can’t do it.”
“It’s OK. Juke, look at me.” His voice was gentle, caring. It
helped to slow my heartbeat and relieve the panic, but the thought of getting back in the water was terrifying. “Please, turn around. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Juke, look at me.”
I turned, and I could feel the tears starting at the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want to be that person, I’d never been that person. Juke Henderson was the smart-mouthed kid at school, he was the joker in the locker room that everyone loved, he was confident, he was at home in the water. This wasn’t Juke Henderson. “Sorry,” I said, trying to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Don’t be. Honestly, it’s fine. What if I get in first, and you just sit on the side with your legs in the water? We’ll call that enough for today. What do you say?”
I glanced at the pool. The surface was still right now, so still it almost looked like a sheet of glass, reflecting the sun as it came up over the house. It used to be the only place I felt at home. Now, my throat almost closed up just looking at it, the memory of not being able to breathe, of thinking my next breath would fill my lungs with liquid.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed the thought away and forced myself to nod as I met Dante’s eyes. “I can do it,” I said, as much trying to convince myself as anything.
He gave me a thin smile, nodding. “Good man. No pressure. I’m getting in right now, you just stay here.”
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