“A bit. Mostly at home. I do sit-ups and push-ups. I started in high school because I got tired of being pushed around and never got out of the habit.”
“You have a beautiful body.”
Fucking hell, he’s going to turn me on at this rate, and then I’m going to want him to take me to his place rather than a club.
“Did it help?”
I stare at him, completely clueless as to what he’s talking about, probably because my mind is on sex.
“Did working out deter the bullies?”
“Not really. The school uniform hid any muscle definition I was getting. Plus, getting fitter didn’t mean I was up for hitting back. Mostly I took it.”
“Haru.”
“It’s fine. It’s in the past.”
He reaches over the table and grips my hand. “It’s not fine. I hate that you were bullied. You should have come to find me.”
“You didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You were in year thirteen, and I was in year seven. There was no way you were going to run to my rescue every time some idiot decided to call me a nasty name or trip me up in the corridor. Besides, even if you had wanted to, it would only have been for one year. Who would have been my hero for the rest of high school?”
“Did the boys I chased away that day bother you again?”
I look away.
Kyle curls his hand into a loose fist. “I would have protected you.”
“I know that now. I’m sorry I didn’t believe it at the time.”
“Don’t apologise, beautiful. I hate that you were bullied at all. Kids are arseholes.” His voice has a growly quality that makes my stomach quiver.
“Yeah, they can be.”
“Did calling yourself Harry help?”
“A bit. Not as much as I’d hoped. But five-year-old me was convinced it was going to fix everything.”
“And when it didn’t?”
I shrug. “Having a Western name was still easier when I was at school. I didn’t reclaim my real name until I was in sixth form. I didn’t stay at John Smeaton. I chose to go to an independent sixth-form college instead. It was a fresh start. I didn’t know anyone, and I figured everyone was there because they’d chosen to be. I hoped that would mean everyone would be more mature and therefore beyond bullying someone for looking different or having a non-western name.”
“Were you right?”
“Mostly. Yeah. Sadly, I think there are going to be bigots wherever I go. But they’re fewer and further between now. I’m not going to throw my name away again.”
“I’m glad. Haru is a pretty name.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Thanks. It meansdayin Korean.” I wave my hands under my eyes, which have got a little teary. “Can we stop talking about shitty bullies and go back to how you broke your nose? Twice.”
“Bad tackles.”
“Both times?”
“Yup. Rugby is a contact sport.”
