lovely. Edison was steering things quite nicely, and once you got past the haunted eyes of a starved Victorian infant, he seemed a friendly and capable man. Dani smiled beatifically and kept her mouth shut as Zaf launched into an explanation of Tackle It, while Edison, bless his soul—he was growing on her by the second—asked all the right questions and delivered all the right prompts.
While Dani had planned to cast her mind elsewhere during this segment—there was only so much interest she could feign for anything rugby related—she found herself strangely fascinated by the discussion. Perhaps because Tackle It was less about rugby itself, and more about equipping young men with the tools to understand their emotions and express them beyond the boundaries of toxic masculinity. Or perhaps it was because Zaf lit up with passion as he spoke, and the gentle glow she’d always been drawn to now burned from his gaze like the sun.
He was . . . wonderful. Brilliant and bold, especially when he said things like “I love sports, of course I do—but the culture can easily become toxic. It’s not enough to say, That’s not me. Like, all right, nice one, but what are you doing to fight it?” She’d always known his grouchy grump routine hid an unexpected softness—but she was starting to notice something else in him, too, a steady core that radiated strength and peace and other cool, immovable things. She heard it echoing in his voice when he said, “You’d never tell an athlete to just get over a sprain; you’d give them time to recover, physical therapy, whatever they needed. Why are mental health conditions any different?”
At one point, Dani realized with a blush that she was nodding along beside him like some sort of hypnotized acolyte. She stopped, of course. But as she leaned closer to him, like the tide drawn in by the moon, it occurred to her that she could think of no one she’d rather fake date. Whoever ended up with Zaf would have a partner to be dizzyingly proud of, wouldn’t they?
Well, maybe. Or maybe the romance he prized so highly would go to his head and his desire for the ideal partnership would devolve into a toxic need for perfection that led him to ultimately and brutally betray his lover. Based on personal experience, empirical evidence, most literary canon, and plain old probability, that seemed far more likely than a boring, uneventful life of contentment and faithfulness.
Even if, for some reason, she couldn’t quite envision Zaf in the role of Textbook Arsehole.
Most likely, then, he’d be the one who ended up hurt, all his sweet illusions shattering like glass. That possibility caused a discordant clang inside Dani that she found quite disturbing.
Eventually, the discussion of Tackle It was expertly wound down by Edison, and Dani waited for more music to be played so she and Zaf could be ushered away. Instead, the deejay rubbed his hands together menacingly—if the poor, juvenile victim of a centuries-old workhouse could be considered menacing—and said with obvious glee, “All right! Before we say good-bye to #DrRugbae, the team and I have cooked up a fun little game to find out if you guys are couple goals”—he pressed a button that created some sort of cheering effect—“or a total fail.” Another button, this time with a boo.
Dani shifted in her seat, frowning over at Zaf. What on earth was this? No boos. She was too accomplished to be booed. And Zaf spent his free time teaching little boys how to feel, so he certainly shouldn’t be booed. In fact, if anyone dared to boo him, she’d stick her stiletto firmly up their arse. Dry.
While Dani’s temper continued to quietly unravel, presumably due to the stress of the unknown, Edison reached beneath his desk and produced two small whiteboards with dry-erase pens Blu-tacked at the top.
“So how this works is, I’ll ask you questions about each other.” He handed them each a board. “You write down your answers, then we see if they match. It’s a bit like they do on Love Island—you watch Love Island?”
Zaf looked bewildered. “Er . . .”
Apparently, he’d completely missed that particular phenomenon. Fascinating.
“Never mind, never mind,” Edison said. “Let’s jump right in, shall we?”
Dani narrowly resisted the urge to say, No. We shall not.
At her side, Zaf veered with impressive speed from confusion to horror to unmistakable panic. Their eyes met, and Dani could almost read his mind. She’d bet money on him