Deep Diving (18 page)

I’m not getting through to him. ‘You exploited my weakness, it’s what competitors do. But our competition isn’t about a baby. We both know that. Our competition is between us. The baby issue is completely separate.’

He nods. ‘I was playing dirty and I don’t usually do that. Sorry.’ He looks shattered.

I lean close and skim my hands up his chest, over those deliciously huge shoulders and up to cup his jaw. I flick my tongue across his bottom lip. His absent smile concerns me. The worry etched into his face, with fine lines around his eyes and mouth, has me sliding my fingers across the marks, smoothing his skin.

‘Just don’t do it again.’ If he’s this concerned, he never will.

I wriggle my hips against his groin and close my lips over his. His mouth meets mine. Hot, hard and hasty. My hands slip behind his head, one curved around his skull, the other teasing his nape. My hips are confined by his hands, held still, pushed tight against his thick cock.

A muffled laugh, then a voice breaks through the kiss-fog. ‘I thought you two were grabbing a quick dinner?’

Our kiss breaks but our body contact remains. ‘Doesn’t this count?’ I ask. Brian shakes his head, laughing as he cycles away.

Cooper shuffles my hips away from his but our hands remain holding tight. ‘We’d better eat. He won’t wait for us now he knows why we’re late.’

We eat and are back at the dive shack before the other divers, but not before Brian.

‘Please tell me you ate more than each other’s tonsils.’ He’s grinning like we’re back in high school and we’re 15-year-olds caught pashing. Then he laughs and waves his hand towards the front door. ‘I think I’m gonna call it “The Love Shack”, what do you reckon?’ He chuckles at his own joke but, fortunately for us, becomes busy with the crowd arriving.

The night dive has 10 on it, which is a fair size group for the night. Cooper and I have our gear from earlier today, we just need refilled air cylinders. We gear up quickly and then go through the camera equipment we’ve hired, familiarising ourselves with the flashes and strobes.

‘Have you done night photos before?’ I ask Cooper.

‘Nope. You?’

I shake my head.

‘So, level playing field.’

I scoff. ‘Hardly. You’re streets ahead of me.’

He looks at me with the boyishness from a week ago, not the haunted look from an hour ago, and my chest swells.

Before I can say anything more, we’re called to load up. I brush my fingers across Cooper’s and then fill my hands with equipment and walk to the boat.

The night dive is amazing. Three sleepy turtles make great photographic subjects. A couple of reef sharks, like puppy dogs, follow us around. Slumbering schools of fish hide amongst weeds or behind rocks. Shadows darken and decorate. Cooper and I jostle light-heartedly for photos. I set off my strobe light a couple of times hoping to overexpose his pictures. Not the nicest thing to do but I don’t think I’ve any hope of winning without resorting to some tricks, and he’s a good sport.

Lugging the extra lighting and laughing must use up a lot more air because the dive goes quickly. When we’re heading back to the exit point, I take a quick snap of Cooper and his three guard sharks. There’s something about the shadows, the bubbles and the intensity of Cooper’s gaze that makes me snap it for a memento.

Before making our ascent, Cooper does an elaborate mime which leaves me snorting bubbles and sucking air as laughter erupts. He wants me to pose as a pole dancer on the anchor line. I strike a few poses but pole dancing with scuba and camera gear isn’t something I imagine will take off.

When we reach the surface, I’m still spluttering, almost unable to lift the camera and lights out of the water.

‘It’s not that funny, Sam.’ Cooper helps with lifting the gear out before holding my waist while I struggle with my fins.

‘It’s ridiculous. The whole idea is insane. The photos will be crazy.’

‘More photos?’ asks one of the other divers.

‘Yes, but you don’t need to wait around for these ones.’ I don’t want people seeing my pole dancing. It was silly enough in private.

‘Oh, no, we’ll be waiting. Some of the divers from today told us about your contest. They’re coming back tonight to see the next lot of photos and vote.’

‘What?’ The tension in my voice makes the pitch increase to a level I’m not pleased about. It’s at crazy fish-wife level.

The laughter among the divers is loud and the discussions about us become fierce. Cooper helps me out of the water while I’m inwardly blustering.

‘When did this become a public vote? I thought this was between us.’ I’m ranting but I can’t stop myself. I struggle out of the dive gear, stand the air cylinder in the rack and start packing up with short sharp movements.

‘It gives people enjoyment, Sam. Don’t sweat it. They don’t know it’s anything more than a bit of fun.’

I glare at him.

‘People like us are rare, Sam. You know that. We compete hard but remain friends. It intrigues others. And they want to be involved in something, even if it’s only a minor role. They’re sports fans cheering us on. No more. You can cope with that. I know you can.’

That’s the trouble. I don’t know that I can. Triathlon isn’t a sport that attracts major fans, not like football. Cooper might be used to this sort of public involvement in his life but I’m not. I’m scared of being judged and found wanting.

Did I just think that?

Sighing deeply I muster up my courage. ‘You’re right. It’s a bit of fun. Sorry I lost perspective.’

We return to shore, clean and pack up, and then go into the dive shack for the camera download.

‘What the…?’ Cooper’s hand squeezes my shoulder when I stop in the doorway. There must be 20 people jammed into the room.

The conversations stop and a low hum of anticipation fills the air. Oxygen expels through my lips, even with my jaw clenched. Cooper gives another squeeze.

‘Here they are, our competitors, Sam and Cooper.’ Brian makes an announcement like we’re royalty entering a ball. I shake my head and laugh. There’s not a lot else to do.

We both hand over the cameras and step back to see how the shots have gone. I’m jostled as others crowd in. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. People cheering photos by amateurs.

My photos are downloaded and then Cooper’s but we don’t get to check them out first. They’re going to make a slideshow so everyone can see.
Brilliant. Public anchor dancing. Can’t wait for that
.

The photos are loaded and a hush falls over the crowd. A couple of nice shots of turtles snoozing. A couple of flash flares ruin some ordinary shots and Cooper gives me a smirk, as if to say he knew I was trying to ruin his shots and took poor ones on purpose. Cooper has a brilliant shot of shadowed seaweed and rock. And then another of shadowed sand and ripples. He’s made great use of the shadows and I raise my eyebrows and tip my head to him. He has an excellent eye for lighting.

Cooper’s photos finish off with a bunch of incredibly stupid but well-composed shots. They’re like the ice breakers at a party. The snaps that make people laugh. I’ll never make a pole dancer, I look much too uncomfortable. But they are fun shots and Cooper has a good eye for an angle.

More okay photos from my camera. I have a nice one of a school of sleeping fish. Then the next photo has my breath catch. Not only my breath; there’s a simultaneous gasp in the room. It’s the photo I snapped quickly, on a whim, and it’s stunning. Eight pairs of dark, shiny eyes peer from shadows, cast in a flare of illumination. The noses of the three sharks gleam, as does the edge of the mask and regulator on Cooper’s face. It could be on black and white film. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

While I’m trying to catch my breath, applause breaks out.

I’ve always heard it said that sharks have deadly flat eyes with a predatory gleam but these sharks don’t. These sharks look like they’re smiling, their eyes dark and shiny. The human has the gaze that sends prickles down my spine. A hungry, predatory gleam is in Cooper’s eyes, for everyone to see. I could kick myself. I don’t want just anyone to see that gaze, to recognise that stare.

I look at Cooper, desperately wishing I could apologise for showing his hunger to the world, but he’s laughing. There’s no resentment, only amusement and happiness. He captures my glance and bows, blowing me a kiss. I frown, but nod, not really sure what he’s trying to convey. Maybe he doesn’t see what I do in the photo.

The photo makes me feel hollow but no one else seems to be concerned. They’re all laughing and cheering, like it’s a brilliant shot.

The slideshow is done and a chant starts up around the room. It takes me a while to work out what they’re saying.

‘Eyes’ is the chant.

It’s a long minute before I work out that my photo has won.

The eyes photo appears back on the screen and a cheer goes up. Three sharks and the giant predator with the hungry gaze. My heart races. I look over at Cooper and he’s grinning, seemingly unaffected by his raw hunger caught in pixels. Brian grabs my wrist and lifts my arm in victory.

‘Finally, Sam gets a win. Three cheers for Sam.’ The cheering is loud, as are the congratulations and the back-slapping. Through it all I keep looking at Cooper. He sneaks glances at me. We smile at each other, a quiet communication in the chaos that ensues.

I thought we’d kept to ourselves the last week or so. Lost in our own private world. But it seems we’ve made a lot of acquaintances with the divers at Lord Howe. Most are holiday-makers, like us, passing through. The few words exchanged before or after a dive have apparently confirmed a friendship. And that’s kind of true. Holiday friendships are easy, brought about by a mutual interest, and gone during the trip home. In other years I’ve had similar experiences when I’ve struck up holiday acquaintances with divers. This time is different. My friendship with Cooper has eclipsed all other meetings. My conversations with him have overshadowed any other conversation.

I hadn’t realised.

Or have I only pretended not to realise how close we’ve become?

I lose the thread of the conversation around me. There’s a momentary panic within me as I try to decipher these observations. If this friendship has eclipsed all others, what does that mean? Does this still end on the trip home? I can’t work it out now. It’s too noisy and the questions too hard.

Thirty minutes later, most people have left. Brian adds tonight’s photos to our USB sticks.

‘You guys have been great for business,’ he says. ‘Want to book in for next year now?’

Cooper laughs and I shake my head.

Brian grins and nudges Cooper. ‘Take her home.’

I protest but not strenuously. I’ve been waiting for Cooper to take me home. I have a little bit of pole dancing I need to practise — with no wetsuit, no scuba gear, no cameras but plenty of wet, wanting, willing woman.

The next day, after the double dive out at the Admiralty Islands, with lunch on Neds Beach, we arrive at the dive shack to another crowd with hot drinks and nibblies. We don’t get more than four steps off the boat before hands reach for the cameras. Brian grins and says, ‘We thought we’d have a bit of a party for the last showdown. Some mainland news guy’s here too.’

The news guy aims straight for Cooper, armed with a notebook and asks for an autograph. No hello. No how are you. No do you mind. Then he shoots a photo of Cooper while he signs. When Cooper hands him back the notebook, he launches into questions about Coop’s holiday, the dives and his photography. He finishes off with, ‘I’ll catch you inside,’ before he whirls away. Cooper hardly says a thing worth reporting.

As we walk up the beach to clean and drop off the gear, I turn to Cooper. ‘This is insane.’

He catches hold of my fingers. ‘You really aren’t used to the public spotlight, are you?’

‘You mean this isn’t odd — the autograph, the reporter?’ My eyes widen and I frown as I try to work out if he’s serious.

‘Not entirely.’ He shakes his head a little. I keep staring at him. ‘People think they know you, that they’re friends with you. Didn’t that happen to you?’

I laugh. ‘Good God, no.’ Doesn’t he realise that crowds don’t follow triathlons? ‘So, even though you play league in AFL territory, people still know you, you still have fans?’

He twists his mouth in something between a smile and a grimace. ‘Yeah.’

‘And this…’ I wave my hand towards the dive shack. ‘This public involvement in our…our private business, doesn’t shock you?’

He gives a short bark of laughter that contains no amusement. ‘Not any more. It used to.’ He hesitates as if thinking back in time. ‘It used to bother me until I learned you can’t change it, or control it, you can only roll with it.’

‘So how do you get any privacy?’

‘They’re sharing a tiny part of me. I control how much more is shared, and usually that’s minimal.’

I must show my doubts because he moves closer and wraps his arm across my shoulder, his lips touch my ear. ‘They know we’re competing. That’s it. They don’t know how much we compete, or what we mean to each other.’

I nod, slide my hand across his stomach and hang on to his waist.

He nips my ear. ‘Give away only what you want to. Protect yourself.’

What we mean to each other
. Hell? What’s that? It’s more than friendship. It’s deeper than a fling. I don’t want to go there. Not here. Not now.

I squeeze his waist. ‘Thank you.’ Sometimes Cooper’s quiet self-assurance and generosity shake me to the core. It shouldn’t. They’re two qualities I love about him. Each time I experience them, my heart swells. That he shares them with me is incredible.

I turn my head and press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. I can’t find the right words to express myself verbally and I hope my kiss expresses enough. Humour is so much easier and stops my wayward thoughts. ‘Let’s go see if I can beat you…again.’ I give his waist one last touch as I turn back towards the crowd.

This time there’s a big screen slideshow and that brings me to a halt at the doorway, but Cooper’s hand low on my spine reminds me I need a backbone to get through this.