Page 18

The cold tea sits on the kitchen counter. Zach stares at it and sighs. He doesn’t want to pour it away. Mali made it for him when he said he was going to be home soon, then he didn’t turn up until the middle of the night. He feels guilty about it, and even guiltier about the texts Mali sent him when he was trying to deal with a drunk Devon, who was shouting at their mum. (In the end, he made him stay at a friend’s house.) Mali was worried he wasn’t home and going into the street to see if she could see his car even though it was like midnight. God. He texted her back as soon as he saw, but it had been hours. What’s worse is that she replied to him moments later, like she was waiting to see what was going on before sleeping.

Buffy butts against his forearm, purring like he knows Zach is going to think he’s cute and feed him before Mali wakes up.

“I know you’re going to pretend you haven’t been fed later, you little fatty,” Zach says, as he fills Buffy’s dish. Buffy meows at him as if he can understand a word he’s saying, and then Zach feels bad. “Sorry, Buff. You’re just big-boned.”

The ingredients for his smoothie are on the side, and he’s pushed it about as far as he can before he’s playing fast and loose with being late. He wishes he knew if Mali was awake or not. Nothing about her seems affected by the change in season, other than not wanting to be up in the morning midweek. Zach has to trust her, though. So, he shoves everything in the blender, leaving his protein and supplements out. He’s making it with everything red today because Mali likes strawberries.

While the blender whirs, he wonders if he should tell her one is here for her when she does get up. If he texted her right now, would she come down and see him? It’s worth the risk of overthinking it all day to see her in her fluffy robe and with her morning face. He takes a leaf out of her double-texting rulebook.

Zach: smoothie’s ready

Zach: come see me I know you’re awake

Zach: Mallllllllllli

Then, because he’s a masochist, he sends another.

Zach: xxxx

It turns out it was worth it. Seconds later, he hears her floorboards squeak. Last night, she didn’t tell him what was on her renovations list—she was kindly entertaining his mum—but he’d like to know. He wonders if he’d fix any of the floorboards if she asked. He likes to know where she is when he’s too scared to ask her.

“I can’t believe you triple-texted me!” Mali says, her voice way too awake for her to have been in bed moments ago. “You sent kisses! Oh my God, are you even Zach? Should I call the police?”

Zach laughs, wondering how she has the energy to be this happy at seven thirty a.m. Then, she strolls into the kitchen, and she’s ready for work. Her face isn’t bare, and he’ll tamper down his pout about it. (She’s still flawless with makeup on, and he likes to trace the small pointy thing she does at the corner of her eye, but seeing her freckles and the way her eyes somehow get wider— God , what he’d do to see that for the rest of his life.)

She’s not wearing her wig, though. Maybe she’s out of her wig era, as she calls it, and she’s going to work with her short hair. It wouldn’t be an issue, of course—she looks amazing either way. There’s just a primal part of him that might hit anyone who dares to look at her. Mali doesn’t wear her hair short for him, obviously, but he does revel in the fact he’s one of a few that get to see her like that.

“Don’t call the police. I’d be so bad in jail.”

“What do you mean? You love to be by yourself,” she says, taking her smoothie from the side with thanks. He does like to be by himself… or he did. Then he realised what life was like with someone by his side—someone who exists in the same room; not always talking, just there—and he realised he’s never as lonely as he is when Mali is asleep. He wonders if he likes her romantically, or if he’s just never had a friend before. He googled what the main difference between friendship and romance was. It appears the main difference is liking her face. Thinking about kissing her, holding her hand, having her close. He looks at the few feet between them and wonders how to make it smaller without being obvious.

“I’d miss you.” She smiles and takes a step closer to him, but then takes a step back. “No colourful hair today?”

She looks nervous. “Oh, yeah. I just haven’t done it yet.”

Zach panics. He tries not to comment on her appearance because the last time he did was a monumental fuck-up. He told her he thought she was pretty in the car, but she didn’t seem to like it at all. “I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Your hair. Like this. I think it’s my favourite. Though the pink is pretty too.”

Mali smiles. “I can’t believe you hate my purple hair so much.”

“I don’t!”

“Mm-hmm.”

There’s a moment when they just look at each other, and he feels like he’s standing on the precipice. He would kiss her, if she leaned in. He would tell her anything she wanted to know. Sometimes, a thought comes to him, and he wants to tell her for no reason other than he wants her to know a thought in his head.

“Sorry about last night,” he says.

“That’s alright,” she replies. “Devon?”

“Mmm.”

“Sorry,” she responds, her lip caught in her teeth. “Can you… I know it’s a stressful situation, and you don’t need something else to think about, but please just text me, or voice note, or anything. I don’t know. I can’t sleep when you’re not home and I don’t know where you are.”

“You can’t?”

She shakes her head. “What if someone is beating you up?”

Zach laughs. “Mal, I throw men around all day.”

“What if they attack you from behind?” she asks, her eyes wide.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, with a smile.

“And Buffy stomps all over me because he’s a traitor who wants you to come home so he can abandon me.” She says it with a light blush to her cheeks, as if she didn’t mean to tell him that at all. He’s entirely too fond of her. Zach knows his mum cares about him, and he knows on some level, Devon does too. Perhaps some people at the club would care if he died, but hearing it out loud settles something in his chest. Even if she never wanted to kiss him, he’d be content with being with her like this.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

“Thanks. You going to work now?” she asks.

“Yeah. Wanna walk together?” Zach wonders if she’ll want to walk along the riverside, and if he can slyly take a photo of her as she does.

“Yes,” she replies, taking another sip of her smoothie, then placing it on the side. “I just gotta feed Buff.”

“I already fed him,” Zach says with a laugh, and he swears Buffy glares at him.

“Oh! Thanks. Okay, gimme like three minutes to put my gross hair on, and I’ll meet you in the hallway.”

“You’re the worst person I know,” he calls after her, but he smiles as she laughs going up the stairs.

Way too fond.

Zach’s shoulders ache with the force of Kai trying to barrel past him. Scrums are one of the most important parts of rugby, and while he loves the team-building aspect of it, he hates the practice. Every part of his body aches with the motion of trying to move massive men out of the way. He needs to work on his squats, but all he’ll be focused on tonight is icing his ears and hoping he doesn’t have to drain them.

Frankie blows her whistle for the millionth time in the past few minutes. It’s fair. The scrum was about to collapse, and Zach knows they haven’t been practicing for long enough today, but his thighs don’t want to cooperate.

“Ez, what the fuck?” Frankie shouts, and Ezra grunts, but when does he not. He sits on the ground, blinking aggressively—more so than usual. Zach wonders if something is wrong, but he doesn’t have time to ask before Frankie has rounded on him.

“Zach? Do I need to get Mali out here so you’ll play decently?” And, oh . So he’s not as subtle as he was hoping to be. Interesting and mortifying.

“No,” he replies, though he follows Ezra to the floor. His chest heaves with the exertion of simply trying to breathe. He takes the time Frankie is telling everyone what they did wrong to kick Ezra in the thigh.

“Bro, what’s going on?”

Ezra looks at him like he has no idea why he’s talking to him. Mali told him to try chatting with his teammates. She was so sure they didn’t hate him, but this is his first trial, and he thinks Mali is a pretty little liar. Zach looks up at the sky, attempting to force his mouthguard out with his tongue. He blinks the sweat from his eyes, once again wondering who created sweatbands and why they’re so popular yet utterly useless.

“It’s stupid,” Ezra replies, and Zach almost chokes, but he gets his shield out.

“So?”

“Man, my parents dishwasher malfunctioned and flooded the kitchen, and it fucked up their new underfloor heating because they didn’t seal the flooring around the edges like I told them to. Now they’re looking at me to fix it all because they don’t care that I’m a plumber, like shit is interchangeable or something.”

Zach laughs, and Ezra frowns at him. So, yes, he’s in a bad mood for a silly reason, but Zach knows one or two things about parents who need a lot of help.

“I can fix it,” Zach replies, sitting up. “That’s the trade Mum forced me into when she wasn’t sure my teenage knees would be able to handle rugby.”

Ezra looks at his legs. “Fair.”

“Shut up, man,” Zach says with a laugh.

Ezra runs his fingers along the band of his socks.

“You got the certificates and shit?”

“Yeah. The only smart thing I’ve ever done is keep up to date with that.”

Ezra hums. “When are you free?”

Zach shrugs. “Whenever. If they need it done by the weekend, we can get out of whatever Frankie is going to force us to do tomorrow.”

Speak of the devil. “You lads alright, or you wanna join the team?” Frankie asks, her hands on her hips.

Ezra rolls his eyes. He’s annoyingly fit. Zach thinks about telling Mali that, but then he gets annoyed because she might agree. “We’ll do the rest of practice, but we’re out for laps tomorrow,” Ezra says.

“Like fuck you are.”

“Sis, calm your tits. Zach’s a leccy.”

Frankie raises her eyebrows. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Zach replies.

“Neat. Thanks. You doin’ it tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

This is the most Frankie has ever spoken to him without throwing a random insult in. He’s not sure he likes it.

“Morning or evening?”

“After training. Well, after part one of training.”

“Sweet. It’ll be a laugh.”

Zach blinks. “Excuse me?” He’s not sure he agreed to a watch party. With his luck, he’ll electrocute himself and blow every fuse in the house.

“I invited Mali over for tea tomorrow. Dad wants to meet her so he can start spending Ezzy’s sponsorship money.”

Ezra groans. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, bro. Mali is running around like a headless chicken trying to get you to sit down, and you are running away, like a pussy.”

“I don’t wanna get stuck like before,” Ezra says, and Zach wishes they were good enough friends that he could ask what he meant.

“If it helps, Mali’s been great with contracts for me. I got stung with one ages ago and didn’t even wanna do Blyke. She’ll sort it for you.”

Ezra looks at him. “You got the hots for her. You can’t be impartial.”

Zach blushes so hard Frankie laughs. “Real.”

“Shut up,” Zach responds, but then the object of all his desires strolls onto the rugby pitch, and he sighs audibly.

She walks straight over to them. “Hey,” she says, with a bright smile.

He’s not supposed to be falling in love with her, but he will. He can see it as clearly as he sees the birds in the sky. He’ll fall in love with her.

“Hi,” he replies. Frankie snorts, and Ezra looks at her, which Zach thinks is his greeting. Mali ignores them both, her hands high like she’s about to touch him, but then she doesn’t. He tries not to pout.

“I’m going to Frank’s—wait, are your ears bad?”

“Oh,” he replies, feeling self-conscious for the first time in ages, but she looks concerned. She talks again before he can formulate a proper answer.

“I did a first-aid course last week and practiced so I wouldn’t pass out if you need help,” she says, like that’s a casual thing to do. “I can tape them later.”

“Thanks,” he says, with a smile. He notices her hands are still floating like she was going to touch him, but she didn’t. He stares at them as she tries to flick her hair out of her face, and what the hell. He flips his hands so they’re palm up and presses his fingertips to hers. She spins to look at him, her eyes wide as she drops her gaze, then flexes her fingers against his. They’re not holding hands, but it’s somewhere close.

“What were you going to say?”

“Oh. Frank, do you live with your parents, or are we going to their place?”

“I live with them. I’m moving out in the summer.”

“Finally,” Ezra replies.

“Don’t hate me ’cause you ain’t me. Jealous little b because I pay no rent and you’re sobbing in that townhouse.”

“Maybe.”

“And you’re at home so often you may as well live there.”

“I like being fed,” Ezra says, lying flat on the grass and closing his eyes.

“Okay,” Mali says with a laugh. She flexes her fingers again. “Uhm, I’m going to Frankie’s parents’ house for dinner tomorrow. So, you can eat the lasagna.” Zach smiles. She could have told him this later, or through text. He’s going to pretend she missed him.

“Actually, I’m also going,” Zach replies. “Wait, am I being fed?”

“Depends if you blow their house up,” Frankie replies, as Ezra says, “Obviously.”

“Wait, what?” Mali asks, her eyes hopeful. “You’re going too?”

“Yeah. I’m fixing some stuff for them.”

“Oh, yay,” she replies, with a genuine smile, like him following her around all day isn’t something that makes her wanna rip her hair out. He slides his fingers against hers until they reach her wrists, then pulls her closer.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?”

“We should have something from the fridge,” she groans, and Zach never thought he’d care for something so domestic. He thought he’d spend most of this life surviving on microwave meals and leftovers from his mum’s kitchen. The thought of being excited to make dinner for someone and then spend the evening with them doing absolutely nothing is not something that ever crossed his mind before. Now, he can’t wait.

“Spag bol?”

“ Yes. ”

Zach laughs at the definitiveness of her answer. “’Ight. What you doin’ now?”

“Ignoring my emails because Tradios won’t leave me alone and someone…” She looks over at Ezra, who does at least have enough good sense to look sheepish. “…is ruining my life.”

“Want me to kill him?” Zach asks, and Mali laughs hard as Ezra grumps.

Her fingers rub against his wrists, and he shivers lightly. “What are you doing? Why isn’t practice on?”

“Good question. Mal!” Frankie replies, and Zach wonders if she’s going to oust him and his ridiculous crush. “Wanna help me run drills? I dunno where the champs are from last season, but they’re not on the pitch today.”

“Oh my God,” she squeals. “Yes!” Frankie gives her a whistle, and it means she drops his hands, but he can’t complain, not when she jumps around blowing the whistle way too many times.

“Squat time, Azan! Arse to the grass.”

He smiles, doing what she asked, and he wonders if it’s too insane to think about doing whatever she wants for the rest of time.