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guess that happens to you a lot.’
    He flicks his head around to stare at me, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Why do you say that?’
    Laughing, shaking my head, and trying not to trip over my feet while I stare at him, I realise he’s not being funny. ‘Cooper, watching you eat is sinful. Every waitress no doubt wishes you’d eat them for dessert.’
    He looks genuinely surprised. ‘Sinful? Eating?’ He shakes his head and walks on a bit before stopping and turning back to me. ‘Feel like a walk?’
    ‘Yes. I often do after a big meal.’
    ‘Where do you walk?’
    ‘Anywhere at all. You pick.’
    We walk back to Neds Beach in silence. It’s not uncomfortable but I wish I hadn’t made that crack about him being sinful.
    ‘Why do you think I’m sinful?’ He asks the question as if he can read my thoughts.
    ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
    ‘Because it’s not true, or because you don’t want to explain yourself?’ He smiles to take the edge off his words but I still feel the sting.
    ‘I don’t want to explain myself.’ To lighten the solemn mood I add with a chuckle, ‘For fear of incriminating myself.’
    It works; he laughs out loud. ‘You’re incriminated enough. Your face speaks louder than words.’
    ‘Sorry. I remember what it’s like to never be anything more than meat and muscle. I don’t want to do that to you.’
    ‘You remember…as in it doesn’t happen anymore? I find that hard to believe.’
    I smile at his compliment but I answer his question. ‘I know that it happens, why it happens and I avoid it. The ice queen thing works well. Plus, now I work with kids and that’s easier.’
    ‘What do you do?’
    ‘I train kids, talented kids regardless of socio-economic standing.’
    ‘Does that mean you train kids for free?’
    ‘Some, yes. Others pay. Some are on scholarship-type programs.’
    We walk and talk about athletics, funding, and life. Deep conversations for a ‘first date’. However, the longer I’m with Cooper, the less it feels like a date. It’s friends, talking and enjoying it. We aren’t touching, we’re walking together in synchronous movements and I’m happy. His company is fun, sexy and I’m more alive than I’ve felt for a long time.
    We emerge from the silence of the rainforest to the pounding swish of surf and sand. The night air swirls, kissing my skin until goosebumps appear. I rub my hands up and down my arms and walk to the water’s edge. I paddle, ankle deep, heading along the beach, kicking at the waves that ripple in. The sea’s warmer than the breeze.
    I ask him about football and we end up discussing the demands of our careers; the continuous cycle of training, travel and competing. He is totally absorbed by his football, to the detriment of having a life outside it.
    ‘Don’t you feel a need to balance football and life?’
    ‘I couldn’t find the perfect balance, so I gave up trying. I spend fifty weeks a year being a selfish prick who lives for football. I take two weeks a year to be human. Do you know what I mean?’
    Nodding, I kick out at a wave, watching the green sparkles of the phospholuminescence dance across the water. ‘You train hard and live for football. There’s no time for anything else. Yeah, I remember what it’s like.’ I walk further, kicking at the water to watch the dazzle. I know how hard it is to train enough, eat right, sleep and somehow fit family, friendships and relationships in. It’s almost impossible except with the perfect friend or partner.
    ‘I’m interested in having some fun while I’m here.’ Cooper’s words send shivers of anticipation through me. I need to be more than just one night of ‘fun’. I’ve outgrown that. I want more. I’m not saying marriage but there are a heap of levels between the extremes.
    Deliberately obtuse, I try for innocence. ‘I thought we had fun today. Well, I did.’
    ‘I did too. I’m thinking more along the lines of turning my dive buddy into