Page 10

‘Ten minutes early,’ Leo announces on my arrival, sitting back in his chair. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall above the bar amongst all the framed photos of surfers. ‘I had a bet with Marina that it would be at least fifteen.’

Marina rolls her eyes and mouths, ‘He’s lying,’ from behind the bar while I make my way across the decking to our table, pulling out the chair opposite him.

‘I had a feeling you might be one of those being-on-time-is-late kind of people,’ he adds, squinting at me across the table.

I offer a polite smile but refuse to give him the satisfaction of confirming that he’s correct. Besides, this isn’t about him getting to know me; it’s the other way round.

‘You were here even earlier,’ I point out, placing my handbag on the chair next to mine. ‘I’m impressed. I was worried you might not show up at all.’

‘I’m a man of my word.’

‘You weren’t at 7.45 a.m. this morning,’ I say curtly.

Whoops . What am I doing? This is a meeting. I’m not meant to be scolding him; I’m meant to be wooing him. In a professional sense.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem insulted. He reaches forward for his bottle of chilled beer that’s sitting on the table. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I already got told off by Marina for that.’

‘It’s manners, Leo,’ Marina comments, having strolled over to our table to give him a stern look. She turns to me. ‘I told him it wasn’t fair to leave you waiting on your own like that, especially so early in the morning.’

‘Even though, technically, you left me waiting,’ he remarks to her, taking a sip of his beer. ‘You were supposed to be joining me out there this morning, remember?’

‘I was busy,’ she shoots back.

‘Hang on a minute,’ I interject, looking from one to the other. ‘Marina, were you supposed to be surfing this morning when you were making me coffee?’

‘It’s not a problem; I can surf any time I want,’ she says with a shrug. ‘And unlike some people,’ she glares at Leo, who pretends to ignore her, keeping his eyes fixed on the wave, ‘I like to make guests feel welcome here.’

‘Well, thank you so much,’ I say, smiling gratefully up at her. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘Like I say, it’s no problem. What can I get you to drink?’ she asks, distracted by some other customers wandering in and giving them a wave.

‘A sparkling water, please.’

‘Ice and lemon? Coming right up,’ she says, leaving us to it.

Leo watches me carefully as I get my notepad and pen out my bag.

Knowing his eyes are on me makes me strangely nervous.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at me, as though he’s scrutinising every move I make, waiting for me to mess up.

I’m suddenly aware of everything I do, the way I do it and how it might look.

That’s why I checked my appearance several times before leaving the apartment to make my way over here, why I refreshed my red lipstick, brushed my hair and spritzed perfume on.

It has nothing to do with his shoulders.

Or arms.

Or eyes.

And God, his lips are so full and striking. They look so soft.

Damn it, Iris, concentrate.

‘Hey,’ he says, jolting me from my thoughts. ‘You with us?’

‘Sorry?’ I say, shifting in my seat. I bring my focus back to the task at hand and sit upright, scribbling the time and date in my notepad. ‘We can begin if you’re ready.’

He arches a brow. ‘I thought this was a casual chat.’

‘It is.’

‘Do you always announce the start of casual chats and take minutes of them?’

‘I’m not recording this interview,’ I assure him, tapping the screen of my phone. ‘When I do that, I will let you know and, if it’s all right with you, I’ll record them so I don’t misquote you. This is a chat to talk through how the next two weeks are going to pan out.’

‘Right. So what’s with the notepad?’

‘It’s so I can note down anything useful you tell me today, like your general routine, where and how you like to train and exercise, who it might be a good idea to speak to – stuff like that,’ I explain, before lowering my pen as he shifts in his seat.

‘You know what, you’re right. I’m going to put this away. ’

I shove my pad and pen back in my bag, annoyed that I’ve already made an error.

I need to make him feel relaxed. Instead, I’ve automatically gone into full on journo mode, pen at the ready to note down anything he says.

He made it clear that he needs to be eased into this process.

I’m going to have to work to make up for my mistake in creating an unnecessarily formal atmosphere.

‘Sparkling water,’ Marina says as she approaches our table again, placing it down in front of me. ‘Anything else?’

‘Glass of white wine, please.’ I smile. ‘One from the Algarve if possible.’

‘No problem,’ she says. ‘Another round, Leo?’

I turn to see him watching me again, a small smile playing across his lips.

‘Sure. I’m having a cheat day.’

As Marina leaves, I sit back in my chair and gaze out across the beach.

‘Not a bad view. I can see why you’d want to live here.’

‘Mmm,’ he says non-committedly.

‘I really appreciate you talking to me, Leo,’ I emphasise, watching a seagull swoop down along the top of the water before rising again.

‘I understand your hesitation, but I’m on your side.

This isn’t about tearing anyone down. If you want, I can send you a selection of my previous features that have been a similar format so you can read—’

‘I’ve read them.’

I turn to him in surprise. ‘You have?’

He knocks the last bit of his beer back and Marina arrives with my wine and another bottle for him. I try not to drink when I’m working, but I’m making an exception to the rule. If he’s more comfortable in an informal atmosphere, that’s what I’ll create.

‘What did you think?’ I ask tentatively, taking a sip of wine.

Leo considers my question before answering: ‘I can see why my mum chose you.’

I wait for him to expand on that but he doesn’t.

I don’t probe him any further. From his neutral expression, I’m guessing that my writing didn’t overwhelm him with joy, and I’d rather not have a confidence knock.

Better to leave it there. I don’t need his good opinion.

What matters is that Michelle Martin and the Studio team think I’m the person for the job.

He’s stuck with me and there’s nothing he can do about it.

We fall into silence, watching the waves rolling in and out. I decide that he needs to be the one to make the first move and I can be very stubborn when I want to be.

Finally he sits up, leaning on the table.

‘So, how will this work then?’ he asks, tapping his fingers on the coaster. ‘A couple of interviews and we’re good to go?’

‘I don’t like to give an exact number of interviews at first, because we’ll sometimes naturally fall into conversation, but yes, roughly two or three formal sit-down talks would be about right, depending on how long they are,’ I say breezily as though I haven’t been waiting to talk about this since I landed in this country.

‘If you can also give me a rough schedule of your training, that would be helpful.’

‘My training is surfing,’ he mutters. ‘You won’t learn much from it.’

‘I’ll learn plenty,’ I counter, unfazed. ‘Just like I learnt about freestyle skiing from watching a professional skier ski. You don’t need to worry about that side of things; you focus on doing what you do and let me worry about capturing it all for the audience.’

‘Fine. A couple of interviews and you watch me surf a bit,’ he grumbles. ‘I’d say that can be wrapped up in the next two days or so.’

‘I’d rather not squeeze it all in in a short amount of time.

I’m here for a couple of weeks so there’s no rush.

It’s not just about the training and what you tell me; to really get inside your head, I have to experience your lifestyle a little.

Training for your comeback in a surf competition isn’t only about surfing, right? ’

‘That’s exactly what it is,’ he says defiantly, swigging his beer.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

I smile innocently at him. He can try to play me all he wants, but he won’t win.

‘How else do you keep up your fitness? Are you telling me you don’t go to the gym or do any other form of exercise? And what about diet? That must come into play. You just mentioned a “cheat day” so I take it you don’t normally drink.’

He tilts his head at me. ‘I allow myself the occasional beer or glass of wine.’

‘Sure, but I doubt you will as we get closer to the contest. How about looking after your mental health? A lot of athletes meditate or put a lot of focus into wellness. It’s not just about physical preparation.

It can’t only be about watching you surf a couple of times – I’m looking at the big picture here, Leo. ’

He leans back in his chair, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Who would agree to this kind of intrusion into their life? I don’t get it.’

‘It’s not an intrusion, it’s an… exploration,’ I say, ignoring his snort of disapproval. ‘And you agreed to it, remember? A fact you keep forgetting.’

‘I was tricked into it. One quick chat, they said. What a load of bull.’

I watch him grumpily swipe his bottle up from the table and drink from it.

‘But you’re here now. You didn’t have to be; you could have stood me up again, but you still showed. And you came early. Why? If you really don’t want to be here talking to me, then why did you come?’

He takes a deep breath, watching me in an unnerving way. It makes my stomach flutter. I have to drop my eyes for a moment to gather myself.

Eventually, he exhales, his brow furrowing. ‘Maybe a part of me wanted to prove to everyone that I haven’t given up yet. Prove to them I still have what it takes to win those points and ring the bell trophy at Bells Beach.’

I smile softly at him. ‘And maybe prove it to yourself, too, along the way.’

Something flits across his expression, a vulnerability or flicker of hope, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Soon enough, he’s back to narrowing his eyes suspiciously at me.