FEBRUARY 28, 2019 / ASHER AND TALLULAH'S APARTMENT

Asher had just returned from a birthday dinner with his father.

He shed his coat, scarf and shoes, shivering slightly as his icy nose and ears tingled in the sudden warmth of his new apartment. The gift Vasily had gotten him (he was almost certain it was a shaving kit, but he'd open it later) sat prettily on the dining table.

It had been a quaint, lighthearted dinner at a family restaurant closer to Asher's old house. Lots of laughing, stolen pieces of conversation in between juicy bites of steak and a promise to stop by the shop to visit Vanessa and Vasily more.

Thankfully Tallulah left the air conditioner on, which was pumping heat into the otherwise frigid loft, before she left to attend the premiere of a sports documentary for which she was writing a review. Before Tallulah, Asher hadn't dated in over a year. 

He hadn't felt anything close to romance, or even allowed himself to flirt, after Ryanel. Safe to say, he was rustier with the art of seduction than he had ever been in his life. Which is maybe why he fell so easily for Tallulah. 

The thing between them wasn't seduction, or romance — initially. She was just a good friend. A great friend, actually, who seemed to know when Asher needed to be listened to, shut up or talked over. 

They'd spend nights in watching Star Wars, but Tallulah would also push him into outings on the town. She seemed to know New York City with an intimacy Asher never did, where the loveliest live music was played, which poetry slams didn't charge for entry and which night markets had the best-value food.

"Comes with having been a broke uni student in the city," she explained.

With Tallulah none of the does she, doesn't she? mind games of his past relationships mattered. He didn't have to wonder if it was clingy to call so soon, or text so relentlessly, or want to see her again after just two days. She let him know how she felt as soon as she felt it, but always with a no-pressure clause.

This relationship was wholly more adult. All there was, was honesty, trust and friendship. It had been four months so the future was admittedly still uncertain. At this point in time, however, Asher knew he needed Tallulah in his life.

His phone rang as he plopped down on the sofa and detached his prosthetic leg.

"Hey, Ryanel," Asher answered while massaging his cold, irritated knee joint. "What's up?"

"Just calling to say happy birthday. Did you want to go for dinner tomorrow to celebrate? My cousins are in town and dying to catch up with you."

Asher smiled at the memory of Ryanel's boisterous cousins. "Damn. I'm actually flying to Toronto tomorrow for a birthday getaway. Tallulah's organised it."

"Oh, you guys are still going strong?" Ryanel's surprised voice asked. "Good on you."

"Thanks."

"Well, when will you be back?"

"Monday evening," Asher answered remorsefully. "It's a weekend trip."

One beat of silence followed, in which Asher could imagine Ryanel's lips pursing the way they always did when he was frustrated. He knew that Tuesday would be the earliest they could meet up, by which time it would be the fifth of the month and well past the ideal period to celebrate Asher's non-existent birthday.

Plus, both of them had to work during the week.

"Next year, then?" Ryanel laughed breathily. "I'll see you at work. We'll get donuts for you or something."

"That would be heaven. See you then."

"Have fun on your trip."

"Thank you. Enjoy your weekend," Asher said gratefully, before the call disconnected with a flat tone.

A half day later Tallulah and Asher were buckling in for a short haul flight to Toronto. She'd made him swap seats with her because she always had to pee frequently, and considered an aisle seat nothing less than an absolute necessity.

She threw Asher an enthusiastic grin. "Here we come, baby!"

With only a mirthful chuckle as a response, Asher laced their fingers together on the armrest.

"You know, I really like Leon," Tallulah suddenly mentioned as the plane began to taxi. "And his wife said he loved seeing you again, even if he was watching you from the air this time — and not the other way around."

Asher chuckled, remembering the electric atmosphere of the motocross event Tallulah and he had attended. She, as a sports reporter, had discounted passes and insisted that Asher return to the community which had looked after him since he was a teenager.

In hindsight Asher realised it was well overdue.

He hadn't stepped foot into any arena or racetrack in over three years.

Sure, he'd kept in touch with his old teammates and mentors through social media but it was wholly different from being there. Being wrapped up in the smells of petrol and dirt, rolled around the screaming audience and having his heart seized and released by the turns and flips of the riders.

Leon Lonzano, a father figure to Asher, had crushed him to his chest when Asher approached the VIP lounge post-race.

"My boy! Look at you! Chewed up and spit out somehow shinier than ever."

Asher was worried he'd become an outsider to the community. The people at the entrance to the VIP lounger were all strangers to him, a testament to the ever-shifting makeup of the sport. No-one was in it forever, but maybe no-one was out forever either.

"I've missed you, too, Leon."

Leon, a bit grizzlier but just the same as Asher remembered, had swept his wife, Asher and Tallulah into the lounge for drinks.

"What's the bet you'll be back here soon?"

"I'm already back, Leon. I'm right here," Asher had giggled from around a gulp of whiskey, pointing down to where he sat.

Leon had roared with laughter. His eyes had absentmindedly wandered over Talullah and his wife, who were discussing politics in a shaded alcove across the room. His wife hadn't been drinking due to her pregnancy, and Tallulah — who had the rare skill of befriending people on sight — was doing the same out of solidarity.

"Not down here," Leon had said conspiratorially. "Up there. Where I was. On the track, round the bends. In the air."

"I'm not coming back that way, Leon."

"Oh, but you are," Leon had chuckled, his words slurring. "I'll bet you on it. I give it five years, tops."

"And I wager never."

"Do you now? Would you stake money on that, boy?" he had asked slyly.

Maybe Leon had just zoned out whilst looking at Asher, but it seemed that he'd found a brief moment of sobriety. His charcoal eyes were staring Asher down with such an intensity that they could have pierced flesh. And those charcoal eyes knew something that Asher didn't.

Or, that was what he tried to tell himself.

As the hairs on his nape prickled, Asher realised he couldn't in all honesty take that bet. Something stirred in him. Somehow it was like no time had passed. 

Or, if it had, it did nothing but make his heart even fonder of the sport over which he had once ruled.