The gauntlet had been thrown, even if he hadn’t expressed it in words: a bike ride in exchange for an interview. I was feeling reckless, but not ready to throw myself to the wolves just yet.
‘I’m not going to post anything you don’t want public,’ I assured him. ‘The sponsors don’t own you.’
He laughed, but it was a chuckle so dark I glanced up at him in alarm. ‘Don’t they?’ But he cleared his throat and flashed me a crooked smile obviously designed to cover his wobble. ‘But okay, let’s do an interview.’ He paused, regarding me a little too intently. ‘After you’ve held up your side of the bargain and come with me on a ride tomorrow. You can record whatever you like. Wouldn’t that be a great feature? Learning to love cycling again after the trauma of a pro career.’
‘“Trauma” is a pretty strong word,’ I said carefully.
‘Don’t you think it fits?’
‘This is about you,’ I insisted.
‘I want to make it about youandme.’
I gritted my teeth against a desperate retort. ‘No one wants that.’
‘Are you sure?’
There wasn’t enough air in this room and, not for the first time, I wished I were still immune to his strange variety of raw charm. A flicker of his amused smile and I snapped out of it, sucking in an enormous overdue breath.
‘My supervisor wants me to do an interview. I’m not interrogating you for my own pleasure.’
‘That would be a weird kink, but I can think of a lot of other things I’d rather do for pleasure.’
I opened my mouth to tell him off, but he continued.
‘Like an epic descent on the bike tomorrow,’ he finished. ‘You can remember who you really are.’
‘I was never the great cyclist you’re trying to make me out to be. In caseyou’veforgotten, Iquit!’
That word finally hit home, his expression turning serious – almost hurt. ‘You’re stronger than that.’
‘Reality begs to differ.’
‘Reality isn’t what’s stopping you getting on a bike.’ His belligerent tone took me aback, but it was a crack in his usual persona and I wanted to peer inside more than was wise. ‘An interview for a bike ride. That’s fair, Kubicka.’
‘I don’t know why you’re so set on this—’
He cut me off with his next words, as agitated as he had been before he’d fallen asleep in my bed. ‘I’ll shave off the moustache as well. You can film it.’ He flashed his eyebrows at me once, as though he wanted to end this conversation as badly as I did.
It was just one ride. It didn’t mean I’d regress and give up my future for this sport again. Maybe I’d built this up too much in my mind and going on this one ride would prove it wasn’t something that would affect the chemistry of my brain and make me miserable. He was right, getting some GoPro footage from a helmet camera was a good idea – as was a shaving video.
‘I suppose I can’t say no to that,’ I answered carefully. ‘But the moustache comes offtoday.’
‘As you wish,’ he said with an expansive nod. ‘Here’s your coffee.’
I accepted the peace offering for what it was, sharing the moment of relief as neither of us moved. Then I thought to study the froth on top, thankfully finding no evidence of a cock and balls. ‘I appreciate you resisting temptation.’
He pouted at me. ‘Can’t you see the bike wheel?’
I looked again. ‘Oh, I think I see it now. Maybe?’
Clapping a hand against his chest, he said, ‘Harsh, Kubicka. That’s harsh.’
‘Youclaimed you don’t do latte art and it’s kind of fitting that your entire recognisable repertoire consists of cock and balls.’
‘I can do butts too, but I didn’t want to tempt you.’
‘Go on, choose him. I know you’re going to.’
