She put her face in her hands for a moment and let out a tiny groan, then looked up at him again, still smiling.
“I wouldn’t usually say yes to being a tour guide, but you clearly need one,” he teased, encouraged by her expression. “Left to your own devices, who knows how many half-naked men you’ll walk in on?”
She groaned again, but this time it was tinged with laughter. The sound was delicious. “I will be right back, and then we can start pretending that never happened.”
“Pretending what never happened?” he called after her as she disappeared towards the locker room.
Minutes later, Marcus was in the hallway with his boot back on and his backpack on his shoulders. Heather approached, now wearing a baggy wool jumper tucked into the front of her pale, snug jeans. She had taken out her bun and put her long dark hair in a low, loose ponytail. She was still a little flushed, and Marcus averted his eyes as she came towards him, swatting away the kind of thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having about her.
He lifted one of his crutches in greeting. “I’ll be moving a little slowly. I hope that’s all right.”
“Fine with me. I am, too. Peter doesnotmess around.”
“Yeah, his barres are brutal. But not as brutal as the rest of his class,” he added cheerfully. “Would a coffee help?”
“Maybe? I don’t even know what time it is in my body. I think it’s dinner time. But coffee sounds good.”
They made their way into the lobby, where there was a small and bustling café. One wall of the café was almost entirely windows, giving everyone who sat at the round white tables a stunning view of the Harbour Bridge and, if you craned your neck, the Opera House. Marcus didn’t crane his neck, and instead watched as Heather gazed around, apparently awestruck.
“Pretty remarkable building, hey?”
“I’ll say. But I guess I assumed the company rehearsed at the Opera House.”
“Only during tech week. This place used to be an active wharf, but they converted the warehouses in the ’70s and turned a bunch of them into arts spaces. We share this wharf with a big Aboriginal dance company, and there’s a theatre company a few wharves down.” Though, lately, some of the arts spaces had been converted again, this time into luxury apartments, all glass and steel hovering over the water.
Heather nodded as he talked, then yawned widely.
“I suppose my first act as your tour guide should be to introduce you to Australian coffee,” Marcus said as they joined the café’s queue.
“Oh, I’ve had an Australian coffee,” Heather said, her accent curving tightly around the vowels inAustralian. “You mean a flat white? Starbucks makes those.”
Marcus feigned an expression of horror. “Starbucks?! On behalf of the Australian people, I beg you not to drink that crap. I don’t know what Starbucks thinks it’s making for you over there, but I guarantee you it’s not a proper flat white.”
She shrugged and looked at him, nonplussed. Maybe he’d oversold the coffee a little.
“Order me whatever you think is best,” she said, pulling out her wallet and fishing out some cash.
“My shout,” he said, waving her money away and turning to the barista. “G’day, Gina! May I please have a flat white, and one for our American visitor, please? It’s about time she knew what a decent coffee tastes like.” He gestured at Heather with his thumb and flashed Gina his best attempt at a charming smile. He knew he was showing off a little, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that he wanted to impress Heather, he just wanted to do a good job at the task Peter had assigned him. After all, it was the first useful thing he’d be able to do for the company in almost a year.
And, okay, he wanted to impress Heather.
Heather sipped her coffee, which, she had to admit, was nothing like the giant foamy drinks from Starbucks. This one had a thin layer of dense, rich foam at the top, and strongly flavored milk underneath. It was delicious, and she could already feel the caffeine perking her up.
Rather than sit inside, she and Marcus decided to sit out on the low wooden railing at the edge of the long finger wharf. The air was chilly, but the sun was strong, and she turned her face toward it, wrapping her hands around her warm green cardboard cup. Marcus eased himself down to sit and dangled both feet over the end of the wharf. Heather watched the water slosh gently around the pylons and wondered if she’d ever want to take a ballet class on dry land again.
A few minutes later, she’d drained her cup. “That was perfect.”
“I’m telling you, Starbucks has been lying to you.” Marcus sipped his coffee and barely concealed a triumphant little smile that revealed a charming dimple in his right cheek. His eyes sparkled, green and gold, like the water below. Butt Guy had an undeniably nice face to go with his undeniably nice butt.
“Now that I know the truth, I’ll never go back,” she promised, taking his empty cup and tossing both in the trash. “Thank you for that. What’s next?”
“If you’re up for a bit of a walk, we could go over the bridge,” Marcus said, looking down at her with hope on his freckle-strewn face. He had a few days’ worth of scruff, but it wasn’t enough to conceal his square, solid chin. The light breeze caught strands of his hair and played with it, and she smothered the sudden urge to reach up and do the same.
That is absurd, she told herself.You did not come halfway around the world just to start crushing on the first cute boy you meet.
“Are you up for it?” she asked, glancing at his crutches.
“Oh, yeah, it’s basically the only exercise I get these days, once Shaz is done with me.”
