But as she pasted a smile onto her face, brushed past me and headed for the sliding doors, there was something about the set of her shoulders that I didn’t like. I wished I’d pulled her into my lap – screw the consequences.
Her departure was followed by a chorus of groans. ‘For fuck’s sake, C!’
‘Have you really gone and pissed off the woman in charge of your sponsorship stuff? That takes balls – or stupidity.’
‘I put together the highlights of her career,’ I said defensively. ‘What’s so bad about that?’ I already knew the answer. I’d aimed and fired my shot. I just hadn’t meant to shoot to kill.
I made it to her door that afternoon with my hair still dripping from the shower. Back here again, on the other side of her door to apologise for my shit.
Leaning one hand heavily on the wooden doorframe, I pressed the heel of my other hand to my forehead. Staring at the laminated picture of a furry alpine mammal stuck to the door, I tried to summon the courage to knock. She had the marmot room, a single tucked under the staircase – the wooden staircase. Everything in this place was made of wood. No pun intended.
Amir and I had the chamois room and, if it hadn’t been my third time in this hotel, I might have still thought that meant the crotch padding of a pair of cycling shorts and not a horned sort of goat thing.
I eyeballed that cute little creature on her door for long enough that the familiar sense of frustration rose up my throat. Nothing I did was right. Leesa wouldn’t want to see me anyway. All she wanted was for me to keep a professional distance and standing in front of her door agonising wasn’t exactly professional.
But I wanted to see her – not only to make her listen to an apology she probably didn’t want. I wanted to know what nerve I’d touched.
Straightening quickly, I rapped on the door to cut off my overthinking.
‘Go away, Colin!’
Despite everything, her words made me chuckle. ‘What if it had been Dad – or Wil?’ I called back.
‘You’re not your dad or Wil, so go away!’
Pressing my palm to the door, I brought my forehead close, as though I could feel her through the wood. ‘Can we talk?’
‘I thought you didn’t want to talk.’
At least she had her fight back. ‘Yeah. I was an arsewipe this morning. I’m sorry.’
To my surprise, that seemed to work. The door flew open. ‘Do you think apologising and calling yourself an asswipe will erase what you did?’
‘Nah, but hoped it might make you smile again.’
Not the reaction I expected, she slumped against the doorframe, resting her temple and letting her eyes fall shut.
‘You’re supposed to be mad at me. Go on.’ I lifted my chin and pointed at it.
When she finally spoke again, it wasn’t anything like what I’d expected. ‘If I punched you, would it get rid of the moustache?’
‘I don’t think you hate this moustache as much as you say you do. You talk about it all the time.’ I ducked my head. ‘Just think, without it I might be devastatingly handsome.’
She cracked an eyelid open. ‘“Might be”? What happened to your self-confidence?’
I laughed, hoping she didn’t notice it was choked. ‘I didn’t think you liked my confidence. Except in—’
‘If you say “bed”, this door gets slammed in your face.’
‘There’s my girl.’
She shot me a peeved look.
‘I’m sorry. There’s mywoman,’ I corrected with a less-than-convincing straight face.
When she rolled her eyes, I knew I was making progress. ‘You’ve made your apology and we’ve had some obligatory banter. You can go now,’ she said.
That response wasn’t the one I wanted. ‘Do you wanna go for a walk?’ I tried out.
