Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Liam
I fumble for my phone and hear it bounce on the carpet.
I moan into my pillow and reach blindly to the floor to grab it and shut off the irritating sound it’s making.
Squinting at the bright light, I yawn when I see the time.
Why did I agree to go on a hike? Why was the only other hike I could think of a hard one?
For me at least. If Daisy could see me now, she’d fall over laughing.
She dragged me on a hike once, and we’ve never hiked again.
I couldn’t stop myself from agreeing to hike with him last night.
He’d looked so disappointed when he thought I wasn’t going.
His eyebrows had drawn together, and his bottom lip had stuck out ever so slightly in the most adorably petulant way.
In my haste to cover the fact I wanted to suck his bottom lip, I agreed to go with him.
If I can’t kiss his worries away, at least I can hike with him.
I greatly regret that decision when my second alarm goes off to remind me to get out of bed.
Six A.M. is entirely too early to be awake.
If I can’t think creatively this early in the morning, it’s going to be interesting driving through rivers to get to the hike, and then having to walk ten kilometres return, with an athlete.
At six in the morning. Because I decided we’d go early so he wouldn’t run into as many people.
Is he allowed to hike? Does he have a contract saying he isn’t allowed to do extracurricular activities like skiing, or is that only American sports teams?
I rub my eyes until black spots dance in my vision.
I hope he’s not breaking his contract, and that I won’t be blamed if he actually injures himself.
At the moment he’s having mental health issues—not that anyone in the sports world calls it that—but if he returns from his so-called getaway to fix himself with broken bones, he’d be in deep trouble.
And probably more stressed than he is now, so I won’t let him get hurt.
How I’m going to do that, I haven’t figured out yet. Can’t exactly magically float rocks and roots out of his way.
I flick the lights on in the bathroom and shy away from the offensive lighting, wait for my eyes to adjust, and shower quickly.
I finish in the bathroom and drag on exercise clothes reluctantly. I don’t remember the last time I wore track pants with sneakers. Probably when Daisy dragged me up Roy’s Peak, and I nearly collapsed at the top.
The sun isn’t even awake yet, and I sigh. There’s no way I’m getting any work done this week. I’ve accepted it and can’t believe I thought I’d get work done with Hemi in my home. Of course I’m distracted with him here. It’s Hemi.
The fact I researched hikes, the best way to get there, and what to eat for it caught me off-guard, and I’m not sure I’m ready to analyse those feelings yet.
So I stayed up late researching the track to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself and we’d have the proper food for it.
So what? That doesn’t mean anything. All it means is I don’t want him to get hurt, and I’m worried about hiking because I hate hiking.
Nothing more. Definitely not because I have a vested interest in his happiness, which has taken me by surprise, and don’t want to see him upset.
No. I don’t think so. And if it is, it doesn’t matter. He’s a famous rugby player, and I’m a reclusive writer who only leaves the house for food and meetings I’d prefer were phone calls.
I pad to the kitchen, the sky behind the windows black and reflecting the kitchen lights, and stop when I see Hemi standing at the stove with a spatula in his hand.
His hair is styled and he’s clean-shaven, which I forewent in favour of more sleep, wearing tighter shorts than when I picked him up, reminiscent of his rugby uniform.
I tilt my head to see better and jump, eyes flying to his, when he says, “Good morning.” Hemi’s voice is rough and low, and when he smiles at me, I shove my hands in my hoodie pockets to hide the nervous shaking.
I swallow thickly and say, “Morning,” before sitting at the round table.
“I’m nearly done making breakfast.”
“Oh. You didn’t need to make breakfast for me.”
Hemi glances at me and then at the bags sitting beside the kitchen bench. “And you didn’t need to pack the bags and water and organise everything after I went to bed.”
I shrug, not knowing what to say. He is technically a guest. Isn’t a host supposed to organise everything?
“Thank you for organising it.” Hemi scoops eggs onto toast and places the overflowing plate in front of me. “Now eat.”
I raise my eyebrows at the command but don’t say anything.
I shovel food into my mouth and attempt to stop staring at his ass.
But it’s distracting. And his shorts don’t help, not only highlighting his ass but his thick thighs, too.
I’d managed to stop myself staring when I picked him up, and yesterday I was in my office all day, but at six A.M. I don’t have the willpower.
Hemi finishes making his breakfast, sits opposite me, and asks, “What’s the plan?”
I swallow a bite of food. “Leave by seven, hopefully arrive at the site at eight to start the hike and avoid lots of people, but it’s Sunday so we might not be lucky. It’s supposed to be clear today as well, thankfully. I don’t fancy walking in the rain.”
Hemi shrugs. “We can take raincoats in case.”
“Doing it in the rain doesn’t bother you? What if you get sick?” I sip from the glass of water that appeared in front of me.
He snorts. “I play rugby for a living. If I was afraid of the rain, I’d be screwed.”
“Right.” How had I forgotten that? Of course he’s used to rain.
Everything’s been so domestic and normal the last few minutes, I forgot why he was here.
“Still, it’ll be more pleasant without the rain making everything colder.
And we’ll see everything better.” Going on a hike is enough of a nightmare for me.
Add in rain as I’m scrambling over rocks and you can count me out.
I have no intention of looking so undignified in front of Hemi.
“That’s true. I was in Toronto a few years ago for a game, and the team went to Niagara Falls.
Fog everywhere.” Hemi sweeps his hands through the air.
“Literally couldn’t see a thing. We could hear it, though.
There’s a photo of me somewhere pointing at a wall of white I sent to my sister.
It’s probably a good thing it isn’t raining. ”
A smile spread across my face as he was talking. I can imagine the photo exactly. He’d probably be pouting with his hair all messy from the fog. I’d like to see it one day. “You’ve been to Niagara Falls but not Queenstown or Wānaka?”
He shrugs. “Shameful, I know. Every time I’m in the South Island it’s a quick turnaround to another game, or an event, or I have family commitments. I’ve never hung around before and played tourist.”
“Well, let’s hope fog doesn’t ruin the view today.” I finish eating and drain the glass of water Hemi got me.
“How long is the hike?”
I take my dishes to the bench and stack the dishwasher as I talk so there’s less to do when we return.
By that point, I’ll probably be near collapse with withdrawals from being away from home so long.
“The hike will take about four hours total, then it’s back here to recover,” I say.
“We could grab an early dinner on the way back maybe.” There’s no way in hell I’m cooking after a four-hour hike.
“Sweet, sounds good.” Hemi rinses his plate and places it in the dishwasher neatly. He moves to the stove and reaches for the dirty pans he used, but I rest my hand on his outstretched arm.
Ignoring the warmth of his skin, I say, “Let me get this sorted. Go finish getting ready, and we’ll leave as soon as I’m done.”
“You don’t have to clean my dirty dishes.”
“I know. And you didn’t have to make me breakfast.” I squeeze his arm gently and nudge him towards his bedroom. “Off you go.” I push his back, and he looks over his shoulder and smiles at me before leaving the kitchen.
“Fine,” he says, “but I’m paying for dinner tonight,” and disappears before I can reply.
I finish cleaning the kitchen with a racing heart from touching his skin and a faint smile on my face from his insistence on being fair.
It’s…nice having him here. Different than I expected.
More fun, if a little nerve-racking, but it’s been nice talking to him. I’m almost looking forward to the hike.
We leave soon after and drive as the sun rises over empty roads.
The drive there is mostly silent, each of us in our own worlds with Hemi staring out the window at the new landscape.
The long, wide roads surrounded by mountains and in the distance, mountains covered in snow.
The sunrise frames them, and we’re silent as we watch.
When we reach the gravel road we’ll be on for a while, I turn the music down and clutch the steering wheel.
How turning music down helps me concentrate, I don’t know, but I really don’t want anything to go wrong.
Not when I need to drive across seven fords before we reach the base.
Have I driven through a small river before? No. Am I stressed about it? Yes.
I slow as we come to the first one and drive through the water carefully. Water sprays out the sides of the road, and I flinch when it hits the windows, but I guide the car out of it fine. No one’s hurt, and the car survives.
I blow out a breath of relief and continue down the gravel road, grateful there’s no one behind me getting impatient with how slow I’m driving.
“I would offer to drive, but I think you’re better than I am.”