“You’re not in the directory. You have no social media presence whatsoever, and I couldn’t ask Mano, could I?”
“Why not?”
Blake laughed. “Think about it. I was still dating Lindsay up to a few months ago. Why would your overprotective cousin give me, a man whose dating life he’s seen firsthand, your phone number?”
Neela grinned. “Okay, you got me there.” She looked at Blake again. “Just because we crossed paths once doesn’t mean anything could have come out of it.”
“I didn’t see you at any of the events after Rio.”
“I did my bit. I think you’re overestimating how many of those things our team was invited to.”
Blake paused. “You scored the winning try in the semis of the Summer Games, Neela. You have a Games medal. How many athletes around the world can say that? You’d have been invited to everything.”
She shook her head. “Well, I wasn’t. Besides, even if we were at the same event, would you have seen me? You’re surrounded by a lot of the important, beautiful people. That’s just not my scene.”
The phone buzzing interrupted Blake’s next words. Lindsay. He read the message and returned his attention to Neela. “She said the papers started talking about a wedding after our fifth date.”
“Five dates? Right, that’s not bad. I can handle five dates with you. But I head out to Wellington for training next week.”
“Then you start the Sevens season?”
“We’ll need to get a few things on the calendar before that, or the summer will fly by without us having a real fake fling.”
They began the walk back to where he was parked. “One of our dates can be the party for your parents’ anniversary,” Blake said.
“You’re not invited.”
“Mano said I should go.”
Neela didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. “You’re not going.”
“Your cousin already told your stepmother I’m taking you.”
“What?”
“I was there when he made the phone call. I even said hi to her. She sounds nice.”
She stood still. “You spoke to Laura? You’re kidding me.”
“Mano gave me the phone. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her? Pretend I wasn’t there?”
Neela groaned. “Damnit.”
“When Mano wants something to happen, it usually does.”
“Why didn’t you say no?”
“I love parties, and Mano said your brother is going to lay a hāngi.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh my God.”
He grinned as he threw the rubbish into a nearby bin. “No worries. Since he also approves of us having a fake relationship, I can ask Mano for the date and address. Nothing is keeping me from traditionally cooked meat!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
When the first notes of her alarm sounded, Neela automatically reached over to silence it, her eyes trained on an imaginary spot on her ceiling. She had been awake for at least half an hour.
The nightmares had begun again. Maybe they had never left, but she remembered them now. Despite putting on a brave face in front of Mano, she had felt physically faint upon learning that Kyle was looking for her and that she probably wasn’t imagining seeing him at one of her games.
Mano sensed she was hiding something. He frowned when she argued against his interfering. He argued back, actually raising his voice, something she could hardly remember him doing to her.
At least he didn’t press for details, and in the end, continued to respect her wishes not to bring her siblings into the conversation. But when she reached home, all she wanted to do was lie under her covers and forget. Except Kyle’s face came back, as did the memory of the slap that had sent her reeling into the wall.
Why is he here?
The only way she was going to find out was to talk to him.
After she’d posted the lastest cheque, she had begun to imagine it could be like when he was gone entirely from her life. Will she eventually forget to look over her shoulder? Even though he had continued to hover in her subconscious, she could— and did— build a life knowing he was far away. But he wasn’t anymore.
He was on the South Island.
Somewhere near.
No body of water separated them.
She turned over in her bed and pulled the covers tightly around her. When was the nightmare of this relationship ever going to end?
Neela spied the card that lay next to the clock and picked it up. It was dog-eared and slightly worn. She had held it last night, wondering if it was time to dial the number on it. Dr. Chang, the team doctor, had given it to her at her annual physical. She had inadvertently confessed to not sleeping well. She thought she could see a degree of suspicion in the doctor’s eyes and prepared a litany of reasons for her difficulty sleeping. Instead, Dr. Chang had quietly handed her the card and suggested she phone the number when she was ready.
Would she ever be ready?
She sighed and tightened her pinch on the white card, uncertain what the answer was to that question.
A different sound commanded her attention, and she raised her eyebrows when she saw the name flashing on the screen of her phone.
“It’s six o’clock in the morning, Blake,” she said when she answered.
“I knew if I were up, you’d be up. Listen, I’m meeting the Club trainer this morning, so I won’t see you on our run. But what are you doing this afternoon?”
“Working with the girls on some ball-handling skills.”
“Where?”
“At the gym on Antigua Street.”
“Okay. Should I pick you up from there?”
“Why?”
“Neela, it’s Friday.”
She drew a blank.
“It’s our first date, remember?”
“No, wait. I thought we agreed that we’re going to the movies at the weekend.”
“I can’t over. I've got an event to attend in Auckland. Then you leave for Wellington for training. And tonight’s the only night we’re both free.”
She rubbed her eyes. Trying to organize a schedule that accommodated both their jobs had turned out to be a bigger headache than she had expected. They traded emails and texts for two days. She must have missed one.
“Well, I didn’t remember. Sorry. But, yeah, okay. Meet me at the gym. I’ll take a bus there instead of my bike. What are we doing?”
“Food trucks at the Esplanade.”
“Food trucks? How do you stay in shape when all you think about is food?”
Blake laughed. “And that’s why I stay in shape.”
Neela smiled when she ended their call.
Her morning run did what it always did. She heard only the rhythmic sound of feet hitting the ground, comforting in its consistency and independence. Even when she was with Kyle, she had this moment when she could quiet the nagging voices that criticized either her decision to stay or her plans to go. Her heart wanted to help fix his anger, to appease his distrust, but her mind said this wasn’t healthy, that she wasn’t in a good spot.
She had followed her heart, and it had almost ruined her.
Neela quickened her pace, eager to feel the burn in her legs.
Not anymore.
She wouldn’t ever let her heart rule her actions again.
* * *
Later that day, Neela pushed open the glass gym door and was immediately greeted by the squeak of shoes coupled with the permanent scent of sweat mixed with plastic. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the slightly dimmer interior.
The loud clash of weights echoed in the near-empty gym. Neela spotted the lone figure at the end of a row of stationary bikes. She pulled out her notebook before throwing her bag into one of the lockers that lined the wall. She then moved toward the figure that had started to stretch her arms as her feet pedaled at a steady pace.
Leila Harris smiled as Neela climbed onto the machine next to hers.
“Hiya,” greeted the brunette with the easy smile and
intelligent brown eyes. “Miss me?”
“Not really,” Neela replied as she began to pedal. “It was nice to come back home and not have a pile of papers to clear off the dining table. Actually had space for a plate, glass, and cutlery.”
“That’s what you get when you live with a teacher.”
“You came straight here from the airport, did you?”
“After a week of Mum’s cooking, I wanted some extra time on this.”
Rumor was that Leila was considering a return to the XVs team, a decision that wouldn’t surprise Neela. A world championship was up for grabs next year, and Leila would be a welcomed addition. But no decision was made, and she was still committed to the upcoming Sevens season. Neela was privately grateful for that.
Any extra time with a player she had a lot of chemistry with, both off and on the pitch, was not just going to be fun, but beneficial for her own development as a player.
“How was your nan’s 70th birthday?” Neela asked.
“Good. Nice to see everyone again. My parents send their regards. Though my sister showed me a very interesting picture last week.”
“Oh?”
“She follows Blake Stanton on Twitter.”
Neela hunched over the console and started to pedal a little faster. She took a deep breath before she recited the sentences she had been practicing in anticipation of this moment. “We were just catching up. You know he shares a place with my cousin.”
“Yeah. But I’ve never seen you in a picture with him before. I’ve never seen you anywhere close to him, nor have you ever mentioned knowing him. I met Blake a couple of times when I was playing with the XVs.”
Neela shrugged. “We went to primary school together.”
“And again, nothing new here. Like all rugby fans, I’ve seen the video. But that was ages ago. You’re dodging the question, Neela Smyth,” Leila insisted. “I’ve lived with you almost a year, and you’ve not been on a date once. I go away for a week, and there’s a picture of you with the National Team’s hottest guy.”
“We're just being...uh...friendly.”
Leila grinned. “He’s a good bloke to be friendly with.”
“Leila!”
“That picture was retweeted about a thousand times.”
Neela stopped pedaling and frowned. She’d refused to set up an account and stayed away from social media as much as possible. But a thousand retweets seemed like an extraordinarily large number. “Seriously?”
“Blake Stanton took a picture of you and him looking happy together.”
“He takes pictures with lots of people.”
“You looked joined at the hip in that picture.”
Heat rushed up her body. “We did not.”
Leila laughed, grabbed her towel from the handle and got off the bike. She stood askance in front of Neela. “Just saying. Anything he posts gets attention.”
Loud voices brought their attention to the gym doors. The rest of the group had arrived. Leila grinned, her ponytail bouncing. “Right. Time to work, but you know I’m not the only one who’s going to be asking about this.”
“Lovely,” Neela muttered as she followed Leila to the corner of the gym where the others had congregated.
“Leila, what the hell is this?” Francine asked. The tall lock who played XVs rugby dangled a printed sheet. “You trying to kill us before the weekend? We only have an hour and a half here, you know. I’ve got to get to the shops before they close. We’re out of milk.”
Leila, a PE and math teacher who designed their gym workouts, simply winked. “Then we better start, eh? Grab your bands. We’ll warm up the glutes together, then split into pairs. Mel and Jo, you two with the hand weights for Arnold presses. Mona, you and me with the exercise ball. Francine and Neela, supine pulls. We’ll rotate after three sets each. Any questions? Let’s go, ladies!”
There were six of them today. Sometimes there were as many as ten. Some played Sevens; others were on XVs teams. A couple of the more versatile players, like Leila, switched codes depending on the year. All of them were determined to pursue rugby while juggling families, paying jobs, school, and relationships. They did what they had to do to get the extra edge. Often it meant traveling for an hour to work as a group even though they were each other’s competition for spots at the club and national levels.
It didn’t matter in the end. Working together only made the sport they loved better.
“So, what’s this I hear about you and Blake Stanton?” Francine asked as she began her second set of pull-ups.
“What did you hear?” Neela said, bracing herself mentally.
“Are you two seeing each other?”
“Four...five... We just had lunch. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We knew each other as kids. Two more. Done.” Neela moved under the bar after Francine got up.
“You looked pretty happy in that picture,” Francine said, now standing over Neela. “Glowing, almost.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know. Glowing like...uh...you know...the moon.”
Neela groaned. “The moon? Can we concentrate on this, please? Am I at five or six?”
“They say you start losing your senses when you fall in love.”
“I don’t think anyone says that, and you’re supposed to be keeping track of my pull-ups. Focus, Fran.”
“Hey!” Fran shouted over her shoulder. “Neela’s not giving me anything about her and Blake Stanton. Anyone else wants to give it a go?”
“Fran!”
“Me! Me!” Mel said. “I love Blake!”
Leila laughed so hard, she collapsed out of a technically perfect pike on the exercise ball.
An hour and a half later, despite the slight distraction of Neela’s new “love life,” they finished the workout as a group. Sweat dampening her forehead, Neela was preparing for the last round of ball-handling drills when Mel squeaked.
“Is that Blake Stanton by the door? What’s he doing here?” The young forward stared openly at the figure that had just entered the gym.
Neela wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and glanced over her shoulder. She met his eyes immediately, and a smile grew on his face, showcasing the perfect white teeth that no rugby player should have.
Mel sighed loudly. “He’s so hot, even with his shirt on.”
Neela looked down on the mat, biting back a smile. Then she raised her head again and gave him a nod before she faced the circle of women who were all now staring at Blake.
“Leila? We have ten more minutes,” Neela said.
Leila looked back at Neela with a cheeky smile that matched the amusement in her eyes. “She’s right. Girls? Ten more minutes. Never mind that Blake Stanton is in our gym a week after he posted a picture of Neela and him having lunch. She’s got the right attitude. Rugby before love, right, ladies?”
Neela stared at Leila, but before she could say anything, Mel whispered loudly, her already flushed face turning a shade deeper. “He’s coming over!”
He walked up to the group casually, careful to make eye contact with everyone.
“Hi! Leila, it’s been a while. And I don’t think we’ve met, but I know you,” said Blake, extending his hand to Mel. “I’m Blake. You had a good match last weekend. Congratulations.”
Mel’s face was now completely red, and her mouth fell open. Leila nudged Mel to take Blake’s waiting hand, but the latter remained vocally impaired. Blake smiled gently, as if used to such reactions, then turned his attention to the rest of the group.
“Looks like you’ve been working hard,” he said.
“Yeah. We’re nearly done. How’s your ankle?” Leila asked. She tossed the ball at Blake.
“Fair enough,” Blake said, passing the ball back to Leila. “Got the all-clear to start working with the boys soon, but if you could use another set of hands, I’ll jump in.”
“Now?” Neela asked.
“We use the same ball, don’t we? As long
as I’m not interrupting.”
If Blake saw the looks exchanged by the other five women, he didn’t say it. Neela shook her head. He was coming in cold and didn’t sound like he had really practiced in several weeks.
“Suit yourself, even though you’re not dressed,” Neela observed.
Blake looked at his attire and shrugged. “We’re just tossing the ball around, aren’t we?”
Leila grinned. “Let’s go, then.”
It was a quick pass, catch and release drill, two balls going in a clockwise circle. They would typically start at a controlled pace, then someone—usually Leila—would quicken the pace with a call. But there was no casual introduction to the drill for Blake.
To his credit, it took a few cycles before he dropped the ball, much to the women’s amusement. The next drop came at an unexpected change in direction.
“You’re all doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” Blake yelled as he ran for the ball again. They laughed unashamedly.
Neela smiled. “Don’t be like that, Blake. Admit it, you’re terrible at this.”
“Not terrible. Just out of practice.”
Francine looked at Neela. “I didn’t realize you had a thing for sooks. Has he always been like that?”
“I’m right here. Why don’t you ask me that?”
“Well, have you?”
Blake took a step toward Francine, their bodies separated by the ball he held between them. He looked at Francine intently, his lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze briefly settling on her lips before meeting her eyes again
Neela blinked at the transformation. He wasn’t the cute boy next door, but a man keen on seduction. And judging from Francine’s face, the mother of two toddlers was enjoying the attention.
“Only when the occasion calls for it,” Blake said, his voice low and sensual. “Sometimes, when I’m desperate, I’m even not afraid to”— he inched his body closer— “beg.”
He winked. Mel gasped. Francine’s smile grew wider. Neela shook her head, raising her eyes to the ceiling.
“Okay, last round, girls...and boy,” Leila announced. “The first one who drops it buys a round after our next practice. Ready?”
This time, it was Blake who took control. He didn’t lose the casual air of his throws, but with a release that was a nanosecond quicker every time a ball left his hand, he started to quicken the pace. And suddenly the sense of competition among them heightened. No one wanted to be the player to drop the ball. The synchronous motions among the players were part instinct and part experience. Fast and precise: that was how each of them had grown up playing their rugby. It was how they played now. Always faster, always with precision.
Always You Page 10