Chapter Six
Ant
If people’s blood really did boil, there’d be steam coming out of Lilavati’s ears.
Lilavati. It’s a pretty name. And it might not be a good descriptor for her, but I’m still as intrigued as I was when she stomped off across the car park the day we met, back straight, sun shining on her hair like black glass.
Maybe more.
After she left the café last week, Nathan grilled me and gave me all kinds of shit about how hot she is.
And I don’t know why, because Nate and I are good friends and I’ve never been the secretive type, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the fake dating.
So now he’s under the impression we’re actually dating.
Or that I’m at least attempting it. Which is why he’s so curious, because it’s been a while since I’ve shown anything more than a passing interest in anyone.
There are some men who like women who are amenable.
Turns out I’m not one of them. I love how Lilavati gives me attitude.
I’m living for the banter with her right now.
Especially coupled as it is with what she seems to think are sneaky looks.
The way her eyes worked their way up my thighs and across my belly earlier did not escape my notice.
But best not think on that too much, or I’ll embarrass her in the middle of her workplace cafeteria.
“Anyway, let’s get you some food before our hour is up.” I stand and hold a hand out to her, which she ignores.
Today she’s in ugly green scrubs and rubber clogs.
How does she manage to make them look sexy?
Her arse is perfection as we head over to the cafeteria line to make our selections.
And I don’t know where a tiny woman like that puts it, but she orders a chicken burger with chips and a piece of lemon meringue pie.
I slip the cashier my card before she even has time to consider paying for the meal.
“This is not a date,” she grumbles as I load the dishes onto a tray and carry them to our table.
“It could be. This could be our origin story. We met at the hospital cafeteria.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You’re right. Not romantic enough. I’m happy to go with our actual origin story, but I thought you copping a look at the goods before we’d even spoken might be a bit too much for Grandie.”
“If you’d read my bio, you would’ve seen I made a couple of suggestions. Either I bought coffee from you and you asked me out, or a mutual friend introduced us. Simple and straight forward.”
“I don’t think so, Princess.” I pretend to think. “Yes, I think Princess is better than Flower. Or there’s Gorgeous. That has the benefit of being able to be abbreviated to Gorge. And it starts with the same letter as your surname. Gorge Gordon. I do love a bit of alliteration. What do you think?”
“No and no. Can we stick to the topic at hand? We need to agree on how we met.” Her scowl reminds me of those angry cat videos that float around the internet.
“Well, frankly, your suggestions are pedestrian and boring. I can’t imagine either of us being that dull. We need something epic. Can you swim? I could rescue you from a rip.”
“Yes, I can swim. And I don’t see why it has to be epic.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Because ours is going to be an epic love story, Gorgeous. And for an epic love story, you need an epic meet-cute. I don’t make the romance rules.”
I wonder if she realises how expressive her face is.
It’s almost like there’s a computer printout running across her forehead.
Annoyed. Exasperated. Unwillingly amused.
Intrigued. Frustrated. I choose to focus on the intrigued.
Because the more time I spend with this woman, the more I enjoy her company and spicy attitude.
She may not have any PDAs in mind for her grandmother but I definitely wouldn’t be averse to the kind of PDAs that happen in the other P – private. And if I don’t miss my guess, she might not either. Although she’d probably rather die than admit it.
I tuck into the lasagna I ordered while she continues to suggest duller and duller meet-cutes.
“How about we table that for now and play this or that?” I suggest. She gives me a confused look. “Cats or dogs?”
“Dogs,” we both say at once.
“Summer or winter?”
“Spring,” she says.
“Autumn,” I say. Because everyone knows the surf in Sydney is at its best in the autumn. Although an argument could be made for summer. Because hello … bikinis.
“Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee,” from both of us
“Sweet or savoury?”
“What kind of a question is that?” Lili asks, spreading her hands over her tray of food, which includes both. “I can’t be expected to answer that.”
“Ah, so it’s a why choose from you?”
And for the first time, I see her laugh. It’s like the sun came out. I can feel the warmth on my face. And in my belly. Or somewhere in that general vicinity. A laugh from Lilavati is worth something.
“Well, would you look at that. Seems like we have a whole lot in common.”
She’s about to answer when the phone clipped to the waistband of her scrubs lets out a sharp alert.
“Damn. That’s an emergency text. I have to go.” She shovels the last of her burger into her mouth. She’s hardly touched her chips and hasn’t even looked at the pie. I guess that’s how she stays so tiny. She buys food and doesn’t eat it.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask as she stands. “We still need to work on that meet-cute.”
“Sure.” But she’s distracted, reading whatever the message says.
After she’s gone, I finish my lunch and order a terrible cup of coffee, although to be fair, my bar on that is pretty high. Then, I take Lilavati’s pie to the counter and ask them to bag it. I slip the brownies in next to it and wander out to the main reception area.
“Excuse me, could you tell me what floor Lilavati Gordon works on?” I ask the receptionist.
“I can’t give you that kind of information, I’m afraid. I can leave a message, if you like.”
Wow. Security around here is tight. That’s good, I guess.
I wave away her offer. Lili said it was an emergency, so I take a punt and follow the signs to the emergency department.
They won’t let me in because I’m not a patient, relative or staff, but when the doors open for someone else, I catch a glimpse of Lilavati and some other doctors working on someone who looks to be in bad shape.
I head over to a nurse who’s working on a computer behind the triage desk.
“Hi. I was just having lunch with my girlfriend, and she got paged to an emergency. I didn’t want her to miss out on her dessert. Do you think you could get this to her?” I hold up the bag.
“Who is your girlfriend?”
“Lilavati Gordon. She’s an anaesthetist.”
The nurse’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Maybe it’s not just me she’s spiky with. Good to know.
“Lili has a boyfriend?” she squeaks, before she realises how rude the level of surprise in her voice sounds. “I mean, um, I didn’t know.”
“It’s pretty new.” I give her that winning smile that didn’t work on the redhead on the beach, and doesn’t seem to work on Lili. Luckily, it works now.
“Of course, leave it with me. I’ll make sure it gets to her.”
I lean forward and scoop up a pen and Post-it Note pad from the desk. I scribble Lili a quick note, tuck it inside the bag, write her name on the outside and hand the lot to the nurse.
“Thanks. Much appreciated. Have a good afternoon.” And I saunter out into the sun, happy with the way that went, even if we didn’t get that meet-cute nailed down.
The rest of the afternoon disappears under a lava flow of paperwork until I can’t focus on the numbers anymore and need to take a break. I have just enough time to finish shaping the board I’m working on before my friend Josh Markham arrives to catch up for dinner.
“Oi, dickhead,” I hear as I’m studying the line I’ve just created. I take a lot of care with every board I make, but this one has to be beyond perfect. It’s for Matty Taylor, who wants it in time to test out the new design we developed together before the next big competition.
Pushing the protective goggles I’m wearing onto the top of my head, I turn to see Josh and two tall, lanky guys with red hair—one in the sharpest suit I’ve seen in a while and one in jeans and a T-shirt—picking their way through the organised chaos of blanks and half-finished boards.
I pull Josh in for a man-hug.
“Good to see you, man,” I say as we step apart.
“Ant, these are my buddies Will and Ben Carter. Guys, this is Ant Stevens. Best damn board shaper in Sydney. And he makes a pretty drinkable coffee too,” Josh says as he swats away the foam dust I just left on his T-shirt and jacket.
“Good to meet you, Ant,” one of them says. Ben, I think. Will is busy looking around the brightly lit space.
“You too.” I dust off my hands as best I can before shaking theirs.
Josh and I met in the surf when we weren’t much more than kids.
We’d both wagged school because the waves were great that day.
We were sitting out the back of the break, minding our own business, waiting for the wave, when a pod of dolphins dropped in on us.
Scared the crap out of us, but it was one of the best experiences of my life.
Afterwards, we bonded over potato scallops and chocolate milkshakes.
The post-surf meal of champions. We’ve been friends ever since.
He’s recently back in Sydney after years spent living overseas.
Although we’ve always kept in touch, we haven’t managed to see much of each other since he got back last year, but we have squeezed in a couple of surfs.
Last time we caught up, he shocked me with the news he’d just got engaged.
We’ve been trying to sync our schedules and meet up for a celebratory dinner, and we’ve finally managed it.
“Still liking the board?” I ask Josh, who bought one of my stock boards within days of landing back in Sydney.
“Loving it. As I expected. But looking at this, I’m thinking I might need a custom design.” Josh examines the board I’ve been working on. He has a good eye for a surfboard.
“This one’s for Matty Taylor.”
Josh whistles. “Matty is the current world champion,” he tells Ben and Will, who look impressed.
“I can do you something similar, but it’ll cost you. Designed and hand shaped by me? Set you back a few thousand.”
Josh just laughs. I know he can afford it. And he knows I won’t charge him the going rate.
“I’m in the market for a new board,” Will announces, which gets another laugh from Josh.
“Yeah, you might need training wheels on one of these beauties.”
“Fuck off,” Will replies with a light punch to Josh’s shoulder.
“I’d love to take a look around.” Ben steps towards a row of half-finished boards sitting in a frame against the wall. “Josh tells me you might be looking for an investor.”
I raise an eyebrow at Josh who shrugs. I’ll owe him big if this comes off.
“Yeah, I am.” I lead Ben and Will towards the front of the production area and take them through the setup.
Ben turns out to be razor sharp. He asks dozens of questions about the board building process and my business that I’ve never been asked before.
But I’m not fazed. Any friend of Josh is a friend of mine.
After they’ve looked around, I change into clothes that aren’t covered in board dust, lock up, and we wander down the road to the local pub for a meal.
“You’ll have to come out with us one day, Ben. Learn to surf,” I suggest as he slides a business card across the table towards me.
“Let’s talk.” Ben dodges the suggestion.
I’m about to try and set up a time when Josh leaps to his feet, eyes lit up.
“Here she is.”
I turn and look behind me. There’s a beautiful woman wending her way through the tables, eyes locked on Josh, face beaming. His brand-new fiancée.
She does a double take when she manages to drag her eyes off Josh’s face and sees me.
“Well, hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
“You two know each other?” Josh asks.
“Yes,” we respond in unison.
It’s the redhead from the beach.