"Kat? Never thought I'd see
you
here."
I blinked. I'd been zoning out about rugby again. I'll be the first to admit I think about it a bit too much. I've hardly touched a football lately, which, if you'd known me a couple of months ago, would surprise you. I thought I'd finally found the ultimate team sport, it really pushed all my buttons.
My eyes flicked up. Kasy carried a good workout flush and a fine sheen of sweat on her exposed skin. We'd been mates for a while on the football team, but she'd quit after one too many hard tackles, saying it was all a bit rough for her, and gone off to do... what? "Hey," I managed, catching my breath. I'd been doing short sprints up and down the hundred meter track. Being small means you have to be fast in rugby.
"I thought you said running was so boring you'd rather eat a dodgy biscuit," Kasy reminded me helpfully.
I had a million witty comebacks but my attention was being dominated by her outfit. She was wearing a sleeveless lycra thing that covered her from her thighs to her neck, and she was wearing it in a way that made me jealous. It was patterned in our uni's colours, blue and mint and teal and some black bands criss-crossing it all, it was a nifty design. Heavy stitching stood out on the pale mint that swooped down over her crotch and I think my eyes lingered there a bit too long. Long enough for her to get the wrong idea, possibly. "Yup," I said eventually. "Still hate it. Doing it anyway. The fuck are you wearing?"
She grinned at me. Her mouth seemed wide in her face. It didn't look like she'd lost weight since I'd seen her, but it had moved around some. She had some muscles I'd have struggled to identify. "I'm so fucking good at triathlon, they made me captain. Doesn't do anything for my tits, does it?"
Strapped into the tight lycra, she looked like her upper half was all muscle. Pecs rather than boobs. "Didn't think you cared about that sort of thing." Looking at some of the heavier girls on the football team, we'd said that we'd rather cut ours off than let them slow us down. Since we barely mustered an A-cup between us, it wasn't ever more than a joke.
Kasy smiled at me. "I forget you're not a boy sometimes, Kat. I don't have to flirt with you to get my way."
"Uh-oh," I said, smiling back. "You recruiting for the lesbian mafia again? I keep telling you, I'll fuck anything once but I don't do sleepovers."
That's almost true. I'm not exactly discriminating but I'm not looking for feelings, either. I don't seem to have that kind. Not like I have when I think about rugby.
"Such a bloody romantic, you," she said. "So, I was thinking, best of ten sprints? And when I beat you, you come try out for triathlon?"
It didn't take long for me to decide. Rugby, or football, they're all about short bursts. Running and swimming, and that other one, whatever, they're pure endurance. Boring. There's no
ball
. I reckoned I could take her, fancy suit or no. "What do
I
get?"
"I'll do the thing."
My eyes widened. "You said you'd never..."
She cut me off. "Doesn't matter. I won't be, will I?"
Newly motivated, I was in a hurry to set up a second set of starting blocks for her. "Thirty, fifty, or a hundred?" I asked her.
"Say fifty?" she replied. A compromise between speed and endurance.
She toyed with me for all of thirty meters, then looked over at my red-to-bursting face and kicked into some higher gear that mere mortals didn't have on their stick. I stuck it out for three more before giving up. She beat me by ten meters every time, and she didn't seem to be trying very hard. "Why... the fuck... are you... so fast?" I panted.
She affected a slouch and a pair of imaginary shades. "Honey, I'm just that good." She looked at her watch. "Bring your gear over to the clubhouse, we'll pick you out a locker."
I grumbled, but I gathered my things. I am honourable that way. "So I'm a
triathlete
now," I muttered. "Fuck." I was already pining for rugby, my brutish lady love.
Kasy, that fucking rogue, already had my fucking name on a locker. This was a stitch-up. "You sneaky... thing."
She peered at me, probably wondering if the lack of profanity meant I was having a stroke. "Oh dear, have I gone too far? Does oo want to wun away and pway with your bawls?" she baby-talked at me.
I bristled, literally. I keep my hair short enough to do that. "Fine. Sneaky fucker." I opened the locker to dump in my bag. There was a blue, teal and mint suit hanging in there already, the twin of Kasy's. I slammed the locker shut. "No, uh-uh, not."
I am not ashamed of my body. I... have no feelings about it, particularly. It's fine. It works for me. Clothes, on the other hand. Clothes are speech. You have to be careful what you say, with clothes. The lycra suit said things like, I Am A Poser, No Really, Such A Poser, and Look At Me, Look At Me, I'm a Fit Fucking Poser.
Kasy just grinned at me and checked her watch again. Right on time, the rest of the team started to show up. In about a minute the changing room was loud, in another it was deafening. I stood there glowering, I mean obviously I was already wearing kit for running in, a black tee and shorts, neither of which was particularly tight, so I didn't need to be braying about my chafed thighs at the top of my voice to every posh horse-faced...