Page 15 of Spring Awakening

He frowns at the floor, but she’s not looking at him, so she wouldn’t know. Zach isn’t used to talking to attractive girls that he wants to keep talking to. He’s used to saying hi, and theirtongue usually finds its way into his mouth by the time he’s asked what their favourite colour is. He’s not sure he’d be able to function if Mali wanted to put her tongue in his mouth. Would he die on the spot? Perhaps. He clears his throat as he tries not to think about it.

Mali swings her hands in front of her. Awkward. As she was yesterday, when he showed up to her house like a poor, desperate loser. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Mali hums. Did she ask him how he was and he didn’t ask her back? How long has it been? If he follows up now, will it seem weird? He swallows, counting to three, and then he’ll ask her how she is back.

“Did you find a place yet?” she asks, as they get to her desk. She offers him a chair, and he sits without thinking, watching her hips sway as she walks around to her side of the desk. Her trousers are high-waisted and almost tight, like the material is skimming over her hips and thighs. He wonders if he’d be able to move his hands freely, or if he’d get trapped in them. He wonders if she’d like it if he touched her. The end of her white top hits the waistband of her trousers, and he wants to know which way she needs to bend for him to see a sliver of skin.

Zach sighs and sinks further into his chair. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” If he tells her about his housing issue, then he has to tell her about his mum and his brother.

“Okay,” she replies, chewing on her bottom lip. “Do you have any thoughts on sponsorships?”

“I don’t want any.” That’s an easy question. He’s still signed to a contract where his agent dictates his moves and takes a thirty-percent cut. When he realised how bad the contract was, he started saving to buy himself out. Then his mum got sick, and it makes more sense to be trapped than not have the funds to support her when she needs it.

“Right,” she says, her voice clipped. “Okay. Well, these are some of the companies who are super interested. Like, replied to my email overnight interested.” She spins a piece of paper and pushes it towards him. Her hand slides close to his side of the table, and he wonders how he can make his fingers touch hers and make it look like an accident. In the end, he chickens out and all but snatches the paper from her.

Zach’s eyes widen at the names on the list. He never thought he’d be profitable to a team. Sure, he scores the most points, but he never thought companies would be after him to wear their stuff. There are companies here that don’t have anything to do with rugby at all. What’s he doing with a toothpaste brand? As much as Zach could do with the extra income, he’s been stung by a contract before. Mali seems nice, but she’s too attractive to actually be kind. He’s not signing nothin’.

“Anything that takes your fancy?” she asks, and he’s about to answer her. Truly and honestly, he’s about to tell her he thinks she’s nice and all but they’ll never be friends and he’s not signing onto anything just because she waved at him earlier. Then he looks at her, and she’s putting glasses on—large, circular gold frames that sit perfectly on her face. When she’s placed them, she squeezes her eyes closed a few times, like it’s a relief to have them on. Fuck. He wonders what she can see now. If the sweat on his forehead is brighter now. If she can see past his frown and knows she only needs to tilt her head and he’ll say yes.

She looks right at him, smiling like she wasn’t expecting him to be looking at her. Her shoulders rise to her ears, and her bouncy hair settles near her cheekbones. She’s ethereal. And it’s her. Everything he fancies is her, but she’s not on the list. He taps his knee, looking down, and the spell breaks for a moment.

“Not for me,” he replies, pushing the paper back to her. That’s not untrue. He doesn’t want to go with Meti’s, specifically, because they wrote a gross article about him a few monthsago. He could tell her about it, but then he’d have to tell her everything, and there’s a permanent panic at the back of his throat whenever he thinks about it. Mali would care, he thinks. Or she won’t, and he’s not sure which is worse.

“No sponsorships at all? What about ones that centre around the team and not you individually?”

Zach wonders if he’d even want to keep the money if he could. If he’d want to help set up a junior team, or perhaps he’d sponsor something local. He’s always liked the thought, but he’s never in one place long enough to make concrete plans.

“No, thanks.”

She hums, frowning at the table. He wonders if that will make her job harder. He wonders how long it will be until she says he has no choice.

“Okay,” she replies, rolling her lips together. “Alright, no worries. Can you let me know if you change your mind, or if there’s anything you’d be up for teamwise?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” she says, dragging her keyboard closer to her. “Is there anything you want to tell me to get ahead of?”

“Like what?”

Mali shrugs. “You have eight kids you want to keep out the public eye; you have a secret girlfriend and the girls you take home don’t know about her.”

“I don’t take that many girls home,” he replies. It’s a handful at best. He doesn’t want her to think he’s a slut, but he supposes she probably thinks worse of him already.

“That’s not what the papers say.”

Zach frowns at a stack of post-it notes on her desk. “Just because it’s in the papers doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Of course not,” she replies, leaning forwards on her forearms. “But if there’s a photo, it doesn’t matter what’s true. People will believe what they see. Not that it makes it your fault, obviously.It’s an annoying part of being known. But, if you let me know of anything you don’t want out in advance, I can help it stay that way.”

He wonders if she’s telling the truth. If she wants him to tell her something scandalous so she can sell it to the highest bidder.

“Beyond work, I would like to know you. So if you want to tell me something the papers don’t care about,” she says, with a shrug, “you can. It doesn’t have to be anything related to work—you can tell me your favourite colour or something.”

Zach swallows. “There’s nothing.” Apart from his brother, his mum, his dad, the fact he’s three seconds from living in the carpark, and the way he sometimes likes to kiss guys. “Is that everything?”

Mali taps her fingers against her desk. “Yep.”

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