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Amanda
Asking Stuart and his group to sit with us was a mistake. Stuart was clearly on a date. I should go and find another place to sit, or maybe just call it a night.
I didn’t realise I was holding my breath until Stuart spoke.
“Sorry about this,” he muttered, not looking at me. “Not many seats left.” His voice was gravelly and deep.
“I didn’t see you today.” I picked up my wine and drank half in one go.
“Busy.”
“Look, I’m sorry again about last night in your flat. It was unprofessional - ”
“Ye did nothing wrong. I was a drunk, clumsy twanger. End of story.”
Well, this was going to be a long, awkward night.
His leg tensed against mine. Sweat beaded on his forehead. A muscle twitched in his neck and he clenched a coaster in his left hand, knuckles white. He’d looked similar at the birthday morning tea disaster yesterday.
“Stuart, are you okay?” I whispered.
He sighed, closing his eyes.
“Never been good in crowds.” He inhaled deeply. “Not the ones I couldn’t tackle or take out in a scrum, anyway.”
His lips twitched, despite being pale and his whole body on edge.
“Did you just make a joke?”
Stuart blinked and huffed a laugh. “Kinda.”
I smiled and felt his leg relax a little against mine. “What do you need to calm yourself?”
“Deep breathing and distraction. Sometimes pinching myself helps.”
“Pinching yourself?”
“Just any stimulation that’s diverting.” His voice was deeper again.
“Can it be any type of touch?”
Feeling bold, I took his right hand before he answered. With his palm up, began to draw spirals with my fingertip.
“What - what are ye doing?” His leg tensed beside mine again, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. Colour had returned to his face. The distraction was working.
“Old trick my mum taught me for car sickness and nausea. I hated long car trips. Driving to Sydney took at least nine hours from our farm and that was without stops. I’d start to panic if I could feel car sickness coming on. I would rest my head on the back of her seat with my arm out over the centre console and take deep breaths with my eyes closed, while she’d draw circles on my palm. Always stopped the nausea.”
I looked up to Stuart to find him smiling. The tension was gone from his leg.
“Are ye reading his palm?” Chelsea squealed, clapping her hands. “Can ye do mine?”
James gave Stuart a look and I quickly pulled my hand away. A waitress appeared with several baskets of hot chips, saving me from having to answer.
“Stuart, did ye know Liz works in marketing for the women’s rugby union?”
Liz frowned between James and Stuart and shrugged.
“Yep, I do.” She focussed her attention on her phone again before Stuart managed to say a word.
