Winning the Game

by Leesa Bow

  “Really?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Or I could take it I’m so unattractive not even you want to bang me.”

  “You know that’s not true. Hell, if this were me twelve months ago we would have done it on every piece of furniture.”

  “And I’m only asking for it on one piece.” She tilts her head. “I want a little of the old you. For one night.”

  “So after tonight? What then?”

  Lucy shrugs. “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t love me.”

  I nod. “Do you believe you’re in love with me? I’m talking about the real me, not the guy Contest portrayed.”

  “I fell for you the day I met you,” she whispers.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I think about my words carefully. “Love at first sight … don’t they call it lust? I want it to be more than lust. I want to build a foundation with someone.” Lucy nods as though she wants that too. “If I were to find love with someone, she would need to understand my commitment to football, and not be upset about being alone night after night.” I check Lucy’s eyes to gauge if she’s following. It’s like she’s opened the damn portals to her heart. “Then, when I’m done with football, I want to go home. Build the farm up to its potential. Make the land an entire organic farm.”

  “Farm?” she whispers. She looks bewildered. “I thought it burnt down?”

  “Most of the orchard is lost. I only managed a day after the show and it was too soon to tell if any trees survived. I’ll get back there to work a few days in between training commitments.”

  “So you still want to go back there and work?”

  “My family lives there, Luce. What did you expect? It’s where I grew up. I need to help Mum as much as I can until I retire from football.”

  Her eyes grow round. “After football … you intend to go home and work there?”

  “Yeah. I owe Mum that.”

  Lucy lowers her gaze. “I didn’t realise.”

  “You didn’t realise … is that a problem for you?”

  She laughs with a mocking tone. “I’m not a farm girl. Maybe its best things didn’t work out between us.”

  What the hell do I say to that?

  A sharp pain stabs at my chest. The same one I block out when girls want to fuck the famous footballer, the guy who wears the guernsey. “I don’t blame you. There aren’t many farm girls out there.”

  Lucy checks the time. “Since it’s our last night, how about we head to a night club and have some real fun.”

  “In your gown?”

  “No. I’ll get changed. We can get smashed to celebrate our last night as a couple.”

  I’m momentarily dumbfounded at how Lucy has done a complete circle. “It’s not our last night. We have another week of interviews when we get home. People expect us to be together.”

  “You’ve pretended to like me for this long. It’ll be a breeze,” she says. Lucy stands. “Coming?”

  “I don’t think so. We’re supposed to have breakfast with Ingrid. And tomorrow we need to be out of here by ten. And, for the record, I don’t pretend to like you; I do like you. Love is something new to me. I don’t want to rush it.”

  Lucy digs her hands into her hips. “Did your mother ever tell you about a girl’s intuition?” I shake my head. “Well, it’s plain to me there’s someone holding you back. Honestly, Rhett, if this is you not rushing things, if you get another chance with her tell her you love her. Because no one waits forever.”

  Lucy waits for me to respond, but I continue to sip my wine. As soon as she disappears through the doorway I whisper, “I already did.”

  TORI

  The waves barely make a noise, breaking along the shoreline. I’m squinting, looking into the sun sitting low on the horizon, falling into blue water. Wading deeper, I follow the sparkles on the gently rippling ocean surface toward the pink and orange glow at sunset.

  Couples cuddle, and kids splash around me. Half of the city’s population has migrated to the beach to cool off tonight. Despite the packed beach, I find some calm watching the sun set on another day. Turning away from the sun, I look at my long shadow. It’s like a sign to look toward tomorrow, the direction of my shadow, because the sun setting behind me signifies the past, the end of the day. Now home, my thoughts are geared toward being more philosophical, and with the extra time on my hands I’m questioning more and more where my life is headed. Floating in the water, I allow the ocean to carry me toward the shore. Glenelg, what the locals fondly call the Bay, is my favourite place to chill. With great cafés and restaurants, and a popular beach, it’s like I’m on a holiday with the other tourists, and not a mere twenty minutes from my apartment.

  I’m thinking about the chats I had with my dad before he left, and today I’m taking a piece of his advice: to take more time out for myself. Everything we talked about resonated with me, and after some long D and Ms with my father, I don’t believe I’m cut out for a role on reality television. Dad had suggested a career change, one where I would feel good about helping others. He spoke about a friend who has a private mentoring program for professional athletes, and is looking for mentors and life coaches. I sent the email before heading out. I can’t deny being nervous about changing my life. It’s a risk I wouldn’t have considered a few months back.

  On the down side, many football players are listed on his books. Since Rhett has only spoken with his club’s psychologist, the likelihood of running into him will be slight. Not that Rhett will factor into my decision. He’s just there, creeping into my thoughts, always at the back of my mind no matter how hard I try not to think about him.

  I’ve refused to watch the finale of Contest since I know how it ends, and I’ve avoided reading newspapers if there are headlines or images of Rhett on the front page. I’ve lived in a bubble, free of social media for three weeks, and I’m happier for it.

  After arriving home, I shower and am about to head to bed. I check emails on my phone and see the reply in my inbox, waiting to be opened. Scrolling down the email body, I find the words I was hoping for and my shoulders relax.

  Please ring Anna to make an appointment and set up a time for an interview. I’m keen to meet you,

  Regards,

  Andrew Sartori.

  Whether I get the job or not, I’m confident about taking the risk and making a career change. For the first time in a long while, I’ll be able to fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  After my first gym session in weeks, I’m walking a little lighter, my shoulders back, and I’m not sure if it’s relief from making a decision about my future, or because I’m fully recovered from surgery. The oophorectomy was a laparoscopic surgical procedure, and for days I struggled to stand tall without hunching a little to protect my small wounds. Today’s gym session consisted only of walking on the treadmill and some light hand weights, but still I feel amazing. So much so, I walked to and from the gym. A good twenty-minute walk. So I reward myself with a raspberry-and-white-choc muffin and a coffee from my favourite bakery near my apartment.

  Carrying my muffin in a brown bag in one hand, I take a sip from the coffee in the other. Then I stop.

  Rhett is leaning against the wall of my apartment complex, looking down at his phone. He’s wearing a 49er’s cap and Aviator sunglasses, but there’s no mistaking him.

  Shit.

  Double shit.

  My heartbeat speeds up and it’s merciless. The thumping in my ears is hard and fast. I want to turn and walk around the corner before he looks up from his phone, but my body betrays me. I take another step toward him, and another. The steps might be slow, but I can’t help but go to him, drawn by an alien force while making mental notes. His sunglasses have slipped, and I notice the little dent between his eyebrows. A muscle twitches in his cheek. He clenches his jaw, like when he’s agitated.

  He looks hot in jeans hanging low on his narrow hips, and the black t-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. His hair seems even blonder, sun-kissed, I as
sume. I’m too close to turn back. As though he senses me he glances up. I stop about five metres away.

  Rhett straightens, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I repeat. “Happen to be in the neighbourhood?”

  With one finger he adjusts his Aviators. “Figures are up three hundred percent for donations to Apple Tree. And the fund I set up for the bushfire appeal just hit one hundred and three thousand dollars. But you would know that, right.”

  Wow. My whole body tingles. When I negotiated with Grant to present Rhett’s charities during Contest’s final-four airtime, I had no idea the response would be this big. “That’s great news, but no, I was unaware of the results.”

  “But you had something to do with it?”

  “It might have been my idea, but how it was managed was all Grant. So you need to thank him.”

  His lips press into a hard line. “At first I was so damn angry, but after a couple of days I stopped believing what you did was a business decision.” My breath stills. His Aviators fail to hide the intensity in his eyes. When I don’t respond, he says, “Can we talk?”

  Saying nothing, I swipe my card and the automatic doors open to my apartment building. Rhett is one step behind me. I press the elevator and, without turning, say, “How long have you been standing out there?”

  “Not quite twenty minutes.”

  “What if I was out for the day?”

  “I would’ve waited.”

  I shoot him a look. “A few days ago you would’ve been waiting a while.”

  Rhett scratches at the blond stubble on his jaw. “I know. Besides, I only got home yesterday.”

  I nod. I’m aware of when Rhett arrived back in Australia. “Wait. What?”

  “Hunter sent me a text. Said he was sitting next to you on the flight from Melbourne. At least, he thought it was you. And I’ve been here once already, before I went to Bali, and your neighbour mentioned you were in Melbourne.”

  “Good ol’ Mr Roxborn. My elderly neighbour is a stickler for knowing what’s happening on our level. I mentioned to him I’d be away for a few weeks. Also mentioned it was an unplanned trip. Oh yeah. Hunter. I wasn’t sure …”

  “He also mentioned you were a little ‘out of it.’ Is everything okay?”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “No. I needed to see you. I wanted to see you.” There’s desperation in his tone. “I’ve missed talking with you.”

  Truth is, I miss chatting with him too.

  I’ve missed him.

  I step into the lift. “Do you want to come up?”

  “More than anything,” he croaks. Rhett steps behind me and, as the elevator passes each level, I swear he’s watching my chest rise and fall with every breath. Every difficult breath. Because it seems like someone has a hose to my chest and is sucking the oxygen right out of me.

  Inside my apartment, I gesture for him to sit while I enter the kitchen, putting as much space between us as possible. “Do you want ice water? An ice coffee?”

  Rhett sits on the couch. “Water is fine.”

  I walk over to him but remain standing as I hand him the glass of water. “I’m sorry about—”

  “Don’t. Just sit down, Tori.” He moves to the side, indicating for me to sit beside him.

  I sit on the edge of the lounge. “You must hate me, but I want you to know I …” I stop mid-sentence when his hand rests on my knee.

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You know why?” I shake my head. “Because I love you.”

  My heart flutters. I’m losing control of my thoughts.

  “Do you love me?” he asks in a low, soft tone. “I don’t want to dance around this, Boss. A simple yes or no.”

  There’s nothing simple about this. Staring down at my coffee cup I manage to say, “Yes.” One word, yet it comes out as a whisper. I’m still not capable of looking at him. “But you’re wrong. There are other things to consider. Other people. And I can’t get into it with you right now.”

  Rhett stands. When I look up I’m surprised by the soft expression on his face. The dent between his brow is gone. “I have to go.” He gives me a gentle smile. “I told you we’d talk, and right now I want to do more. I have a radio interview in an hour. Then another later this evening. After, I’ll come back here to talk with you.” I go to interrupt but his eyes stop me. “Talk. It’s not hard. And you owe it to me after you trod all over me. Twice.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Don’t disappear this time.”

  After Rhett leaves I clean my entire apartment. I think about not being here when he returns, but I’m over dodging real-life obstacles, and I make the decision to jump off the damn emotional rollercoaster. In Melbourne, I promised myself to confront any issue after learning about my parents’ affair, because if I’d known earlier, I might have thought differently about myself.

  Instead, I keep myself busy and channel my energy into visualising myself being brave. Maybe I overdo the stay-strong attitude, because I fire off an email to Grant, resigning from AniMate. Then I send another to RCP and terminate my employment.

  At least it takes my mind off Rhett. I flick through the TV channels. Comedy is what I hope for because romance is out of the question tonight. I opt for horror, which I never do because I’m easily spooked. An hour later a gunshot sound comes from outside my window, and my rear leaves the cushion of the couch. When my heart calms, I realise a car backfired, something that happens regularly in the busy street below. It’s nine thirty, and I could head to bed, but Rhett said he was coming back. So the bedroom is a no-go zone. Maybe, for extra precaution, I should put up a sign on my bedroom door: Thou shalt not pass. I spin in my seat when there’s a knock. Hell, I have to calm down. My spy hole confirms it’s Rhett, so I open the door.

  “I expected to buzz you up.”

  “Your neighbour had groceries so I followed him up.”

  A few seconds is all I need to take in the sight of him. A white shirt accessorised by a black tie and trousers. His hair is styled to look like bed hair. My mouth goes dry. “You look this good for radio?”

  He shoots me an easy smile, and I realise what I’ve said. I open the door wider. He follows me in and locks the door behind him, before making his way to the couch. “What are you watching?”

  I groan. “Some ridiculous movie.”

  Rhett chuckles and sits, making himself comfortable. “This isn’t a bad movie. I didn’t think you liked horror?”

  “I don’t,” I grumble. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water is fine.”

  He pats the seat beside him after I hand him the glass. “Do you want me to tell you how it ends?”

  “Nope.” I sit near him, but our bodies are a safe distance apart. “I was about to switch it off when you knocked. My heart can’t take much more.”

  “And here I was thinking it was beating fast for me.” He grins. The back of his hand brushes my cheek. “You’re flushed.”

  “Definitely not you,” I say, and turn back to the television.

  “Everyone dies except for her,” he whispers. “Then she’s the main star in the sequel.”

  “Thanks for ruining it for me,” I say, as though I’m serious. “Wait, there’s another like this?”

  Rhett chuckles, lifts an arm and pulls me into his side. “Now you can relax. I did you a favour.”

  “What happened to us talking?” We’re both staring at the television screen, as though watching people get sliced open and seeing their blood and guts splatter everywhere is easier than admitting our feelings.

  After a few seconds of silence, Rhett quips, “I prefer to kick with my left foot but I can kick with both.”

  “Um?” I peer up at him.

  Rhett stares me down. Even in the dim light his eyes sparkle. “I’ve fast forwarded our conversation to save you some pain. We could talk about why we shouldn’t do this, you and me.” He gestures with a finger between us. Yet his tone says he’s u
nsure. “After some valid points back and forth you’ll tell me you don’t really know me, other than what I’ve told you in our meetings, and on Contest. Most girls know me from football. You’re the opposite. I’m filling in the blanks.” The arrogant tone is gone, replaced by something else. “I play in the forward lines,” he says in a soft voice. “Sometimes the ruck. And if I’m having a bad day, coach will slot me in the halfback flank. But you’ll learn more about footy when you come to my games.”

  His words have so much power over me I momentarily stop breathing. “You assume I want to come to your games?”

  “I don’t. I want you to want to come. I get we need to take it slow, and do this right.” He holds my gaze. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  The tension eases in my shoulders. As much as I try to not want to be with Rhett, I do. And I’ve dreamed about watching him play, see the game that has shaped his life. Then I’m thinking about the changes I promised myself, and how after sending my resignation to RCP I even considered relocating if I don’t get the job with Andrew. “I should tell you I’ve made some work-related changes.”

  Rhett’s expression sags. “Ingrid mentioned you were heading to Queensland for the next show. We can still make this work, Tor.”

  “Did she now?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and a queasy sensation snakes through my body, thinking about how she manipulated me. “Well Ingrid doesn’t know my life. Especially since I’ve resigned from the network.” Rhett’s golden eyebrows shoot up. “Only today,” I add. “I’ve applied for other work, but I’m not certain of anything at the moment.”

  He leans in and kisses me, and there’s nothing slow in his action. “Rhett,” I say against his lips, “what happened to slow?”

  “I’m jumping forward to the sequel. Expect the unexpected.” He leans back and shoots me his infectious smile.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, when he loosens his tie then throws it aside.