‘I overheard you speaking to Wil yesterday,’ I admitted, ‘about me being your challenge. I… decided to be difficult. This sponsor shit isn’t my favourite either.’
‘I suppose that’s fair.’
‘I’m not a… nice pin-up boy. Even without the moustache.’
‘You don’t have to pretend to be someone else for this gig, Colin.’ Her straightforward tone warmed me.
‘I thought that’s exactly what I had to do. I’m supposed to convince serious people to buy serious gels, right? I need gravitas.’
Her wince was delicate and made me want to smile. ‘That might be aiming too high.’
‘Great, thanks,’ I mumbled with a chuckle.
‘Fun content gets the best engagement anyway.’
‘I can do fun,’ I said emphatically. ‘You’re the one who might need a nudge in that direction, since you don’t like cycling any more.’
‘It’s not that I don’t like—’
I didn’t give her a chance to sink back into uncertainty. ‘I know what you need!’
‘I don’t need a moustache – or a tattoo, or something equally ridiculous.’
‘Tattoos are not silly, and I thought you already had one? Didn’t all the girls get a matching one a few years ago?’
The colour in her cheeks was perfect. ‘I didn’t.’ She didn’t say she regretted it, but I heard it anyway.
I jogged ahead a few steps and cut her off on the path, holding up my hand. ‘Two things you need, apart from a tattoo, which goes without saying. One: to get back on the bike.’
Before she could argue, I wagged my hand in front of her face and kept going.
‘You are music on a bike – art. You’re cutting off your arm to spite your face and I want to go on a ride with you.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Uh-uh,’ I cut her off again. ‘The second thing you need is—’ Fifteen years of pranking my sister and everyone else in range had given me a great feel for a dramatic pause. ‘You need to get me back for this morning.’
God, she was cute when she was indignant. After spluttering inarticulately for a moment, she finally said, ‘We’ve just established how your prank backfired – badly – and your solution is for me to just prank you back?’
‘Yep.’
‘I’m not going to lower myself to your level.’
‘Then think up some classy prank that goes with your fancy words.’
Her only response was a wary look that tried to get under my skin, but I was willing to take that as assent.
‘Working with you is the only upside of all this sponsor shit,’ I continued. ‘I want to make it fun – for you too. A little bit of you for a little bit of me. That’s fair, right?’
She stared at me as though surprised I wanted to spend time with her. I would have thought, after September, that part was clear.
‘Are we good?’
She was too kind to drag out her response. ‘We’re good,’ she said quietly. ‘But I have ground rules.’
I gestured magnanimously. ‘Please.’ Holding my breath, I waited to see how far she trusted me.
‘Firstly, no gratuitous flirting on camera. I’m doing a job here.’
