Page 41 of Racing Heat
“Yeah, but he got a better one,” Jase reminds me.
“He did, but as far as I can tell, you’re doing what you want to do. And I’m playing for a NWSL team, which is my dream, so…”
“All of that shit aside, it’s been lonely here in Tampa. Running with you and having your lips touch mine have been the highlights of me moving here.”
I freeze. “Jase…” His name comes out with a sigh. But I have nothing to follow it.
He says my name too, and it makes my heart flutter.
“This is a mess,” I remind him. “A complicated mess.”
“Some messes are worth making,” he fires back. “What do you think? Would you want to make this mess with me?”
“What if we get caught?” I ask him. I fiddle with a thread on my comforter. “Maybe we should make this type of decision when you’re not drunk and lonely.”
“I don’t know. I feel like me being drunk is enough to make this conversation possible. My brain isn’t being logical anymore, because it can’t bear the idea of what happens when it’s logical.”
“What idea springs to mind when you’re sober?” I think I know, but I want to hear him say it.
“It makes me think that it would be such a bad idea for us to be together. Think of everything that’s at stake.” He sighs into the phone. “This really sucks. This really fucking sucks. Who knew I would find the woman of my dreams, but she would be someone I can’t actually have.”
“Wait, I’m the woman of your dreams?” I wasn’t prepared for that admission, and it doesn’t make any sense to me.
“Well, yeah. How could you not be?” He says it like I’m the one who has had too many shots and needs to sober up.
“I don’t know. I just feel like we don’t know each other well enough.”
Jase doesn’t say a word for several moments. I even look at the phone to see if the call is still connected, and sure enough, it is. The seconds are ticking away and turning into minutes.
“Jase, are you still there or did you pass out on me?” I ask him.
He chuckles into the line. “Oh, I’m still here, love. Waiting to see what it is you want to say to me. I’m here laying my heart on the line for you, and you’re just smashing it to pieces. It’s a fucking perfect ending to a fucking pointless evening.”
He’s rambling and I can’t tell what’s got him so pissed off. It’s like a giant shift from when he first called me. “Is this because you feel like I’m rejecting you?” I ask.
“Well, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want to.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair, causing my low bun to fall out.
“Then don’t.” He makes it sound so easy.
“I’m afraid we’ll get caught, and the worst of it is, I won’t just lose you. I’ll lose my job and my friends. All of it. Everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
“You’re not the only one who stands to lose. Icameto the US for this job. I came here to coach in the NWSL. Maxwell sought me out. So, Cas, you’re just going to have to accept that we both stand to lose a lot. But at the same time, look at everything that we could gain by giving this, giving us, a shot.”
I want to say yes, I do. I fight the urge to scream it into the phone. “How about we talk when you’re sober?”
“Does that mean you want to meet tomorrow at the running spot? See how we feel in the light of day?”
“It’s almost two. Are you really going to show up for a run at eight?” I tease him.
“If it means a few moments with you, I will show up. Feeling sick as a dog or like I just got run over the by the cab that dropped me off, I’ll show up. Because it means a few unsupervised minutes with you.”
I smile. “That is so sweet.”
“Really?” The words slip out before I mean for them to, but the lightness in his voice is worth it.
“Yeah, really, you bloke.”
