‘…turning up here, on Valentine’s Day? That’s a little creepy, don’t you think? At the least it’s an unacceptable invasion of your privacy.’
VALENTINE’S DAY!Why the Jiminy Cricket hadn’t somebody told me?! I’d not been anywhere all week except for the interview, and running with the Larks. I’d been too busy not writing a bid to even watch Joey train…
It was a little creepy! I had unacceptably invaded Nathan’s privacy! I was now proceeding to get myself the heck out of there! As soon as some blood left my inflamed cheeks and made its way to my feet so they could work again!
‘You need to be very clear about professional boundaries… You’re going to dowhat?’
All of a sudden, months of running proved itself extremely useful. My feet finally remembered how to move, and before I could even consider what Nathan was going to do, I was halfway down the street.
Three minutes later, to my utter mortification, he caught up with me.
‘You’re going the wrong way.’
‘How… are you… not… even out… of breath?’
‘I train hard and take care of my body. Come on, we can cut through this twitchel.’
I stopped. ‘Nathan, what are you talking about? Why are you here? You have a date. It’s Valentine’s Day. This whole thing is embarrassing enough without you chasing after me.’
‘You seriously think I’m going to miss seeing Amelia Piper back in the water, for the first time? And even if it wasn’t you, I’m your coach. This is huge. I’m not going to leave you to do it alone.’ He smiled. ‘Believe it or not, I kind of want the Larks to win that triathlon. I’m banking on you helping us to grind the competition into the brand new, all-weather running track dust.’
‘But what about your date?’ As much as I wanted Nathan to have wanted to ditch that gorgeous woman for me, I didn’t want Nathan to be the kind of man who would dump his date – onanyday of the year. Let alone this one.
He twitched his shoulders as if shrugging off an unwelcome arm. ‘It wasn’t a date. Kim’s a colleague. It was supposed to be a business meeting.’
I squinted, dubiously, and Nathan straightened his shoulders, assuming the Robo-Coach pose in response to my cynicism.
‘I didn’t realise it was Valentine’s Day. Or that Valentine’s Day meant a business meeting would automatically be construed as a date.’
‘Right. But given that it was, shouldn’t you get back to it?’
‘I don’t date colleagues.’
‘Why on earth not?’
He started heading down the twitchel, leaving me no choice but to join him if I wanted to hear the answer to my question.
‘I don’t date colleagues who, after acting like they were really keen to help, turn up with a bottle of wine and can’t even be bothered to discuss business.’
Who do you date? Do you complete a spreadsheet for potential candidates in advance?I wanted to ask. But didn’t. Who Nathan dated was none of my business. But, oh, picturing that woman and her wine glass, sidling up to Nathan as if she belonged there, I was shocked by the onslaught of emotions. On the plus side, the jealousy, indignation and longing all swirling together in an ugly and unwelcome cocktail did help take my mind off where we were headed and what I was about to do.
* * *
By the time we reached the pool, I had forty minutes before the public swim ended. I threw a fiver at the receptionist, raced into the empty changing room and whipped my jeans and hoodie off to reveal the swimsuit underneath, head tipped down the whole time. Stuffing my belongings into a locker, I hurtled towards the doorway leading to the pool.Come on, Amy, you’ve got this.
I hadn’t got it. As though hitting an invisible wall, I bounced back into the changing room.
Ten minutes later, Nathan found me hunched on the changing room bench, too dazed and despairing to even cry.
He held out a hand. ‘Come on, let’s do this.’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t. All those people.’
‘There are six other people in the pool, Amy. Minding their own business, completing their laps.’
One of those people now entered the changing room, stopping in surprise when she saw Nathan crouching in front of me. The woman, probably in her mid-fifties, frowned. ‘Excuse me, but these are female changing rooms. I mean, I’m the last person to prejudge, or make an assumption, but you are a man, who identifies as male? Aren’t you?MrGallagher?’
‘Yes, sorry. I, well… we’ll just…’ Nathan, face burning crimson, pulled me up and tugged me into the mother and baby changing cubicle.
