The Line Below

by Ali Dean

  “We should race sometime,” Dad interjects. “I’ll even give you a head start, Jett.”

  Beatrice calls Dad out. “Weren’t you the NCAA champion?”

  “In like, 1945,” Kick deadpans.

  The banter continues through the meal, and Jett must have Mom’s approval, at least for the moment, because she stops interrogating him. Usually if she doesn’t like the answers to her questions she just asks the same ones over and over again. I’ve always wondered if she actually thinks the answer will change.

  We hug my parents goodbye after the meal and wave as they get in their car to drive to Santa Monica. They’ll spend the night at their favorite hotel before driving back north tomorrow. Jett’s pulling his truck around while we wait on the sidewalk for a ride. Kick looks like she’s ready for that nap now, and I’m ready for some alone time with Jett.

  A cold hand touches my elbow and I turn to find Daphne Reed standing a little closer than socially appropriate.

  “Shay, you swam so well today.” She nods at Kick, her silence toward my sister telling.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m very sad to see that things aren’t working out between you and Julian right now.”

  It’s too late to stop my eyes from widening but I manage to close my mouth so it’s not hanging open for too long.

  Daphne Reed had made comments before indicating she knew something was going on between me and her son, but she’d never directly acknowledged it. And what does she mean by “right now” anyway? It’s like she assumes I’m on some sort of break from Julian, and Jett is just a distraction.

  “Oh, um, yeah, I’m seeing Jett Decker. I think you met him?” I know she did. I was there. God, this is awkward.

  “Right. That was a surprise to me. You and Julian have so much in common. You know, it can take boys a little time to get serious, sometimes you just need to be patient. I’m sure you know when Julian comes around, he won’t let you go. I do hope you’ll see that soon.”

  Cue the jaw dropping. I’m incapable of closing my mouth this time, much less of speaking words.

  Kick, however, doesn’t have the same problem. “Mrs. Reed.” Her voice is obnoxiously sweet, and I know what’s about to happen. “Your son only decided he didn’t want to let my sister go when she decided to move on. Shay doesn’t have time to wait around and she doesn’t have to.”

  With perfect timing, Jett’s pickup pulls up by the sidewalk and he calls for us from the rolled-down window.

  Kick adds, “Jett isn’t a boy, and doesn’t need a little time.”

  She doesn’t wait for a response, just turns and opens the door to the pickup, looking at me expectantly. I hurry to jump in, taking the middle seat next to Jett while Kick slides in next to me, shutting the door behind her. My gaze darts to Daphne as we back out. Now she’s the one with her mouth hanging open.

  Kick giggles and I lean my head back with a sigh.

  “What was that about?” Jett asks.

  “Oh, nothing,” Kick answers for me again, and I’m thankful. I don’t want to lie to Jett, but telling him about that exchange won’t do anyone any good. “Julian’s mom’s a piece of work. And not in a good way like Coco.”

  Jett huffs, and I can tell he’s not in the mood to joke about it. Julian’s been a thorn in our side from the beginning.

  It’s not the best time to raise it, but we need a subject change, so I go for it. “Kick, what’s going on? Why’d you get home so late, or early, this morning? What were you thinking?”

  Kick turns away from me, staring out the window, and I feel the wall she’s putting up between us like a slap in the face. Yeah, that was terrible timing. Great way to thank her for having my back with Daphne Reed.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “It’s fine.” It’s not though, because her voice is shaking. “I’m just…” Kick breathes out in a huff before letting the rest of the words tumble from her lips. “I might quit the team.”

  It takes a moment before I process it. “You what?” I must not have heard right.

  “I don’t know that I want to spend the rest of college in the pool every day. Swimming. I want to have fun. Relax. Party. Go to shows. I love music, Shay. I don’t love swimming like you do.”

  A lump forms in my throat and for the second time in only a few minutes, I’m speechless.

  Jett asks from beside me, “You don’t love swimming, or you don’t love it like Shay loves it?” His voice is gentle, and at first, the question seems pointless. I don’t understand why he’s asking it.

  But Kick’s silence gives me the answer. I look over at her and see a tear slide down her cheek. “I’m not sure,” she whispers.

  We’re in front of our condo now, but I don’t want Kick to go. I grab her hand when she goes to open the door. “Can I come in to talk about this with you?”

  She shakes her head. “I need a nap, Shay. I’m exhausted, seriously. I’ll just be a blubbering mess anyway.”

  “Tomorrow? We don’t have practice.”

  She nods. “Sure.”

  Jett and I watch Kick walk up the steps to our condo and go inside. “I had no idea. It almost sounded like she was mad at me.” I’m so confused.

  Jett then takes my hand, just like I took Kick’s. “She’s working through some shit. You’re there for her. Not much else you can do, baby.”

  “It hurts.” And it does. It felt like a slap on the cheek earlier and now it’s like a kick to the chest. She’s in pain. Deep.

  I don’t even realize my other hand is rubbing my chest until Jett grabs it with his own. He raises it to his lips and brushes a kiss over the knuckles.

  “You can go in after her, but I don’t think she wants a babysitter right now.”

  He’s right. I think the admission she just made took a lot out of her. If she wasn’t already spent from getting through a swim meet half drunk or hungover and trying to act normal through lunch with my parents, then the confrontation with Mrs. Reed and the confession in the car did her in.

  “Yeah, she’s wiped.” I lean into Jett’s warm chest and take a couple of deep breaths. “Let’s go.”

  Jett drives the short way to his place, only releasing my hand to shift gears. As soon as we get to his room and shut the door, our bodies connect and the rest of the world fades away.

  We might have fallen asleep for a little while, but I’m really not sure as I rest my head on Jett’s chest, his hand drawing circles on my bare back.

  “You love swimming. Like Kick said. I thought so. But not until I saw you race did I really see it with my own eyes.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur.

  “No. You love it. Hard. Not like you hear people say I love this sport or I love pizza or whatever. You’re in deep with swimming, right?”

  I get what he’s saying but I laugh anyway, raising my head to look at him. “No pun intended?”

  He smiles. “Never said I was good with words. You get me though, right?’

  My finger traces along his lips. “Yeah, I get you.”

  “It’s like that for me and sprinting. Running fast. It’s like falling for a girl. Hard. Every time.”

  My eyebrows raise. “Oh, is it? Tell me about that.”

  He takes the bait. “Adrenaline. Addiction. Want. Need. The temptation to put it before everything else. Raise it on a pedestal and worship it.”

  “Hmmm. I’d say you aren’t so bad with words. This temptation though, I don’t get that. Temptations are things we want but shouldn’t have, aren’t they? Things we should deny ourselves.”

  “Right. Like with swimming, do you put it above all else?”

  A tightening in my chest has me sitting all the way up. “Now I know exactly what you mean.”

  Jett pushes up onto his elbows. “How do you know?”

  My eyes lock with his and the words tumble out. “Because I want it all with swimming.” He gets it. I can tell by the way his chin lowers in a subtle nod.

  But he makes me say it. “Yeah?
You don’t let yourself have it though?”

  I sigh, annoyed at myself for opening the door but relieved at the same time. “You met my mom today. You think she’d be cool with me ditching the finance career path to go all in on swimming?”

  Jett doesn’t shrug it off like I thought he might. He met her. He at least kind of knows what I deal with. “What would that look like?”

  “For the immediate future? Not wasting time applying to these prestigious internships all over the country. Looking into coaching here for the club team so I can train full time under Coach Mandy and travel to the meets with the best competition.”

  “And after?” he asks, sliding up into a sitting position and placing my legs in his lap.

  “After college?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s the big problem. No one actually makes it as a pro swimmer. You need a day job or family financial support. Unless you’ve already been to the Olympics and medaled, there’s not much money in it. I can hope for a few sponsorships, a little prize money, a stipend if I make the national team, but it’s not exactly glamorous. And it’s a long shot.” I’m explaining all this to him calmly, the same explanation I’ve been replaying in my own head for years, but I can feel the frustration mounting.

  Jett stays quiet, just looking at me.

  “There are only a few events I’d have any chance at making the Olympic team on, and I can’t put my future on that. What if I get sick right before the trials? What if I false start? My races are less than two minutes long. I can’t throw away my future for that.” Though I’ve repeated these excuses to myself before, saying them out loud somehow takes away some of their power. Or is it because I’m talking to someone who has already achieved part of my own dream, and plans to keep going for it? But I’m not insulting his goals, because it’s not the same for him. He’s already made it.

  Jett still doesn’t say anything. “What?” I ask. “I’m not wrong.”

  But I know I sound dramatic. Delaying a finance career for a couple of years isn’t the same as throwing away my future. So why does it feel like it?

  I’m worried Jett is judging me right now. Seeing me wide open with everything hanging out and looking at it all with a little disgust. After all, my parents would probably provide at least some financial support, even if they didn’t approve and even if I’d rather try to do it solo.

  But he surprises me when his lips brush my shoulder and he pulls me closer, speaking quietly. “Don’t tell me why you wouldn’t go for it. I want to hear the reasons why you would.” Jett’s demand has me sucking in a breath. He’s flipped it all around, and I don’t even want to allow myself to go there.

  Jett waits patiently, running his thumb slowly up and down my knee. The way this man can be so strong and gentle all at once, it softens my defenses and makes the words spill out of my mouth.

  “When I’m in the water, I’m at peace. When I’m swimming, pushing my body, that’s when I feel most like myself, like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. The stress of everything else is silent under the water. It’s simple, you know? Work hard, and the results come. Push your body, and it gets stronger. I can’t imagine it not being the center of my life. I’ll always swim, but I know if I don’t do it professionally, it won’t be the same. I have no idea how I’ll be able to treat it just as the thing I do for exercise, something I try to squeeze into my schedule. I want it to be the most important thing in my life, because I don’t know how to make it less than that. I’d go crazy. Is that wrong?”

  Jett cups my chin in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along my cheekbones, boring those dark eyes into me. He coaxed words out of me that I’ve never articulated before, and I’m desperate for his validation, his reaction.

  “Just because you go after something you love doesn’t mean you’re giving in to a temptation you shouldn’t. I said that wrong before, or it came out wrong. If you wanted to swim all day and break ties with your sister, your friends, family, the rest of the world for it, that’s what I was talking about. If you skipped classes and ditched out on college life totally and acted like a pro athlete, eating and sleeping between workouts and nothing else, that’d be giving in. I guess I was getting more at balance.”

  He continues tracing his hand over my calf, meant to be comforting, I suppose, but any touch from him is distracting.

  “Like with track, I could’ve taken sponsorship offers thrown my way at one point or another, but it hasn’t been time yet to go all in, make it a career. That comes next. And when it does, I’m not gonna disappear on my family and friends, forget about them when I travel all around to race.”

  He’s holding both my hands in his now. I’m envious of his certainty in himself, his decisions.

  “Sounds like you’re talking about selfishness. Don’t pro athletes have to be selfish? You know, your job is being in physical shape so you have to sleep right, work out at certain times, all that stuff, and it gets in everyone else’s way. More than normal jobs.” I’m not trying to get him to second guess himself. I don’t want to sound as if I’m throwing insults. No, I just really want him to answer my doubts. I want to understand how he sees it. Because I want to see it that way, too.

  Jett frowns. “I guess it’s how you look at it. My family doesn’t see that stuff as selfish because they support me. I’m not a pro athlete yet, but I don’t think that’ll change. If I thought track was all about me, I wouldn’t love it like I do.”

  I think about that, confused. “It’s an individual sport, though. Yeah, you’re part of a team or whatever, but really, it’s individual, except for relays.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I got this gift. God-given. Lots of people have gifts, talents, whatever. Not everyone uses them for something good. Not everyone develops them into more than just talent. Running is as pure as it gets. I’ve got an easy path for using my talent. It’s more complicated for brainy people or artists or whatever, I bet.”

  My fingers massage my forehead. “Did you stay in college instead of going pro because it’s what your parents wanted?” I think I already know the answer, but want to hear it anyway.

  “I know my mom wanted to see me graduate college, but I want it just as bad. Knowing she wanted that too over the faster money if I went pro, that helps, but it’s not why I’m doing it.”

  “This is a deep conversation to have right after naptime,” I say with a sigh.

  Jett grins at me. “We haven’t even gotten to the falling in love part, and how that plays in here.”

  I grin back and hope he doesn’t notice how my heart skips a beat. This is all too easy with him. Even talking real like this isn’t so hard. Even acknowledging we’re falling hard after a short time is simple and smooth.

  “I should check on Kick.” It’s been a few hours since we dropped her off. I shoot her a text asking about dinner plans. She texts back she’s at the store and getting stuff to cook pad thai.

  “Dinner at our place? Kick’s making pad thai.”

  “Definitely.”

  I text Kick to get extra since Jett eats as much as three dudes. As we head out of his apartment, we run into his roommates playing video games. That’s how we end up with three more dinner guests. The guys have heard about Kick’s cooking from Jett and didn’t want to miss out. If they all eat like Jett, let’s hope she’s getting enough for a dozen or we’ll be shit out of luck.

  The banter in the car ride continues right into the condo. I’m squeezed in the front row of Jett’s truck between Jett and Daryl, with Keenan and Anthony in the back. The guys never stop bantering with each other, messing around. They act like brothers, not that I have any of my own, but it’s the only way to describe that familiarity and the easy way they give each other a hard time. I love being around them.

  I’m behind Anthony and Keenan, with Jett’s hand on my lower back, leaning into him as we approach the kitchen. The banter stops abruptly and silence follows.

  “Hi guys.” It’s Julian
Reed’s voice.

  I’m torn between charging forward and hiding behind Jett. While anger and embarrassment battle inside me, Daryl asks the question at the tip of my tongue.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  Kick’s voice enters next, and I finally move to the side to see around the guys, where Julian is sitting cool as a cucumber at our kitchen counter.

  “He was sitting here when I got back from the store a second ago.” Kick sounds like she’s about to lose her shit, her voice tight and strained.

  “Just in time to help you bring in the groceries,” Julian points out.

  “Aren’t you Mister Helpful,” I mutter loud enough for him to hear. His gaze meets mine, and I narrow my eyes. “Julian, seriously, what are you doing here? Who let you in?”

  “It was unlocked,” he says with a shrug. “Decided to wait since I figured you were napping or something.”

  I glance at Kick. Unlocked? She shakes her head a fraction, and I nod back with the same tiny movement only she can read. Now is not the time to question him on that.

  Kick unflexes her hands and turns to the bags of groceries on the counter, unloading the items. Daryl, Anthony, and Keenan help her, or pretend to, since they’ve got no idea where things go.

  “Well, I wasn’t napping.” Not here, at least. “And you can’t just come in and sit around when no one’s home. That’s messed up.” While I’m pointing out the obvious to everyone else in the room, it’s not so clear to Julian, who stiffens in his seat but refuses to stand up and leave.

  “We’re teammates, Shay. Friends.” He’s switched his tone now, almost pleading. “That was true before we got together, and it’s true now that you’re with him.” Julian nods at Jett, who’s remained glued to my side. I can’t look at him. “I was only coming by to say hi, catch up, talk to you about how awesome you raced today. But whatever. Guess now’s not the time.” He sounds so defeated and pathetic. I almost feel sorry for him.

  If he ever swung by unannounced before, it wasn’t to catch up and congratulate me on my swimming performance. It was a booty call. How he thinks he can twist that into something else this late in the game is beyond me.