Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Liam
“It’ll be fine she said, you need someone to talk to she said, I already invited him before talking to you she said,” I mutter to myself as I park in the airport car park to wait for Hemi Carter, the right-wing for our national rugby team who also happens to be openly gay and my rugby crush.
“Fucking Daisy and her plans. So what if I barely leave the house when I’m drafting?
Who needs sunlight?” I get out of the car and enter the airport, heading to the entrance where new arrivals appear.
I only arrived home from Auckland last night after my meeting on Wednesday, but not before Daisy informed me of her master plan.
It was a strange experience texting Hemi, especially when we were both in Auckland so we should have flown down together. Then I wouldn’t be back here so soon.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I see the caller, I mutter, “Speak of the devil,” and answer. “Not on a plane to South Africa yet?”
“Nah, not for a few days. How are you? Spiralling and hating me yet?”
“Only slightly,” I respond, keeping an eye on the gate to watch for Hemi.
Daisy and I have been friends for ten years after we flatted together at university in a questionable six-person flat.
My one claim to fame is being the person who got Daisy into rugby.
And now she’s the assistant physiotherapist for the national team, all because I forced her to watch rugby games with me when I was sick of writing English essays.
I mean, Joseph Conrad is great, a classic writer, but Lord Jim is way too heavy for a Saturday night.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll finally meet Hemi. He’ll stay out of your way because he’s freaking out, and no one will get in the way of your drafting.”
Yeah, but focusing on writing the new fantasy series I sold to my publisher a few days ago when I have an honest-to-god rugby player staying in my home will be difficult.
If not nonexistent. Goodbye word count, hello obsessing over the houseguest Daisy forced on me.
I mean, who offers someone else’s house for a holiday without checking first?
Granted, she knew I’d say yes because it’s Hemi, but still. Put me in a corner.
“He needs a place to get away and stop thinking. He’ll read and relax and next Sunday, you’ll be free again and can close the curtains so the glare from the sun doesn’t affect your computer,” she says, and I hear the smile in her voice.
“Stop making fun. The glare’s annoying.”
“Yes, but Vitamin D is important, Liam,” she teases.
I make my voice low and dramatic. “Not if you’re a vampire.”
“Is that what the new series is about? Vampires?”
I roll my eyes fondly. “Not this time.”
“Then don’t pretend to be one. Maybe Hemi will drag you into some sun.”
“Thought he wasn’t going to bother me.” I scan the people stumbling into the arrival area, but I can’t see him.
I’m not sure I’ll recognise him despite seeing his face plastered across billboards and my TV screen for the past five years.
People in real life can look quite different from photos.
And then I realise she said next Sunday. “I thought he was staying a week?”
“He won’t bother you, but sometimes I think you need bothering. And since I can’t do it in Auckland, I’m sending you someone else. And it’s ten days. Not that long.”
I heave a sigh. Of course it’s more than a week.
Closer to two really. Oh well. I’m planning on locking myself in my office and barely seeing him.
“I know. I’m sure it will be fine.” I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise, but that doesn’t help the anxiety about the unknown.
No one ever stays with me, and now a stranger is staying in my home?
A famous one at that. I don’t know how to deal with that.
“Thanks, Liam. He’ll stay out of your way. He’s got some stuff to work through and needs a safe space away from rugby to do it.” Daisy’s voice is soft.
“I know. It’s a weird thought, is all. A weird situation.”
“It is. I’ll fly down and visit when I can.”
I don’t hear what she says because I’m too busy watching the new crowd of people coming through the doors.
Specifically, the tall man with light brown skin with a cap pulled low on his brow, covering his chestnut hair cut into a short mullet I know from TV.
The edges by his ears are shaved close enough to see scalp but longer on top and in the back.
I tilt my head and scan him. He’s in shorts, which he’ll regret as soon as he steps outside.
The South Island is a lot colder than the North Island, which he should remember from all the travelling he does for rugby, but maybe he’s nervous, too.
Hemi’s hand clenches tightly around the suitcase handle, and he rolls his shoulders uncomfortably under his backpack straps.
I squint to make out the logo on his cap and snort when I recognise the Vancouver Canucks symbol.
I don’t think wearing an ice hockey cap instead of a rugby one will throw people off. People are already staring at him.
“Liam? Can you hear me?” Daisy’s voice comes from the phone call I forgot I was on.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve spotted Hemi.”
“Good luck. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I respond distractedly and hang up the phone.
Hemi glances around the airport, his shoulders tight, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip.
I’m assuming Daisy told him what I look like but that’s even harder to identify than photos—not that ghostly skin and red hair is hard to identify—and I don’t want to call out his name and have him recognised when it looks like he doesn’t want that.
Do I approach him? Hi, you don’t know me, but my friend Daisy offers my house out to strangers. I’m parked outside if you’re ready to go.
Hemi turns his head, and when I see more people stopping and staring at him, I decide I need to approach him.
I breathe deeply, step away from the wall, and stride towards him.
This week is about making his life easier and by connection, Daisy’s life, so I appear in his eyeline and smile at him.
He catches my eye, and relief flows through him.
His shoulders relax, and his eyes stop squinting.
Hemi walks towards me, and we meet in the middle.
“Hi, Hemi, I’m Liam, Daisy’s friend.” I hold my hand out to him, and Hemi slips his hand in mine.
His large, rough hand squeezes gently before releasing me.
My hand drops to my side, and I fist it tightly before releasing it to distract myself from the warmth running up my arm.
He’s taller than me, and I can’t help but notice my eyes are level with his lips.
“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me stay at your place. I’m really sorry if it’s ruined any of your plans.” Hemi smiles at me, but it looks more like an embarrassed grimace.
“No worries at all. I’m sure we’ll figure things out.” When Hemi doesn’t reply, I glance around the people looking at us furtively. “You got everything? It’s about an hour to Wānaka.”
Hemi’s eyes dart from the people edging closer before he nods.
“I’m parked outside.” I point at the sliding doors and head towards them. Hemi’s suitcase rolls behind us, and when we exit the airport, I aim for the car park.
I turn when I can’t hear suitcase wheels behind me and find Hemi staring at the mountains.
I tilt my head and fight a smile at the awe on his face, the rapture that takes his concern about the people away as he stands just outside the door, staring at the snow-tipped mountains rising up behind the car park.
I step beside him and stare at them, too. I forget how different it is in Auckland with the hills and volcanoes. Down here it’s mountains and lakes, and when you land in Queenstown, the airport gives you a front-row seat.
“You haven’t been to Queenstown before?” I ask, surprised that in all the travel he’s done for rugby, Queenstown hasn’t been one of the places.
He shakes his head slowly. “I thought the flight was amazing, seeing the Southern Alps from the window, but this is…” He shakes his head again and rips his eyes from the mountains. “Sorry. Where are you parked?”
“Over here. You aren’t cold?” I ask, eyeing his shorts skeptically. It’s sunny with clear skies, which means the chill has a bite to it.
“I’m fine. I have warmer stuff in my suitcase.”
I unlock the car and open the boot for him to put his stuff in. “If you’re sure. We can stop at Queenstown if you want before we head to Wānaka?”
“Nah. I want some quiet, and I doubt the tourist town will have that.”
I chuckle. “You’re right about that. We can always head in later this week if you get bored,” I suggest and frown fleetingly when I realise I just offered to spend time with him when I was hoping to work this week.
If I want to work, why did I offer to drive him to Queenstown later?
His presence is distracting me already, and we haven’t even left the car park yet.
Hemi nods but doesn’t say anything as we get in the car and pull out of the car park.
I guess he really doesn’t want to be seen.
I hope he won’t camp in my lounge the whole time without going outside.
Daisy teases me about my reclusive nature and hatred of the sun, but as a redhead, I have a love-hate relationship with the sun, and I prefer to be on the couch with a book.
But Hemi’s an athlete. If he doesn’t move from the couch, I’ll worry.
All I promised Daisy was a place for him to stay, but he’s having issues with his game and is supposed to be sorting his head out in my house.
I’ll feel bad if he shows no interest in exploring a new place and continues to spiral.
Or is that what he needs? A break from exercise and sport for the week? I’m so far out of my depth here. I barely completed the compulsory cross country assessment in PE at school. How am I going to help a fucking national athlete get out of his head? And why do I suddenly want to help him?