The Line Below

by Ali Dean

  “No, it’s not,” Jett finally gets some words out, and they are filled with hostility.

  Before he can add more and knowing my role’s got to be de-escalation, I step forward. “He’s right. Bad timing.”

  As I get closer to Julian and stand there, ready to drag him to the door, he finally takes the hint and gets down from the stool. I turn with him to the door, following him all the way out and shutting the door behind us. It feels like he needs something more, a private space to get something off his chest. Maybe if I give him that small victory, he’ll get out of here.

  “Julian—” I start, but he interrupts me.

  “Shay, I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, and you keep blocking me out. What am I supposed to do? You’re with that guy all the time. He’s glued to your side. Aren’t you allowed to have a conversation with an old friend? A teammate? We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  I scrunch up my face at his comments. “Known” is a stretch. We went to the same meets, knew of each other because we were at the top of the heap, but barely conversed. I crushed on him from afar until college. And I really don’t like the insinuation that Jett’s controlling me, not allowing me to talk to Julian, when it’s me making that decision.

  Deciding the only way to get rid of him is to throw him a bone, I concede, “Sorry, what do you want to talk about?” I’m not apologizing for spending time with Jett, it’s not like I’m missing classes or practice for him, and I still have time with my friends, my real friends, so I don’t owe anything to Julian. The only thing I’m sorry about is that Julian doesn’t get it. At all.

  Julian sighs, shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the sky. So dramatic. I’d laugh but I’m too tense.

  “Can’t we just hang out?”

  Okay, now I really do want to laugh. Or scream. It takes some willpower not to point out that our version of hanging out was hooking up, but knowing that Jett might be listening from the window stops me. Not that he doesn’t know already, but he doesn’t need to hear it.

  “No, Julian. We can’t. I have a boyfriend now and you’ve made it clear what you want from me, so it would be pretty messed up if you and I hung out. Especially if we did it alone. At my house. Maybe you don’t get how relationships work, but given our history and the things you’ve said in front of Jett, you and I can’t just hang out.”

  Julian looks like a lost puppy. Not sure what’s going on with the dog comparisons, but somehow, I’m struggling with thinking of him in any other light right now. At least from an emotional standpoint.

  “I miss you.” The simple words would have melted me a month ago. Now, I can’t tell if he’s being real, faking it, or totally confused.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. This time, I turn away and go back inside, shutting and locking the door behind me. Okay, so now I’m the one being dramatic, but I’m done with Julian Reed for the night. Jett’s standing on the other side, by the window. Just as I expected.

  “I was about two seconds away from going out there and putting a fist in that dude’s face.”

  “That’s hot,” I admit, trying to add some levity to the situation.

  “Now that would have been selfish. And not good for my sprinting career. Julian’s got his own pull in the athletic department and I probably would’ve gotten suspended from a couple meets or something. Not good for my image or sponsorship deals after graduation.”

  “You thought all this through and that’s why you stayed on this side of the door?” I can’t hide my amusement.

  “If there were no consequences, that kid would have two black eyes and a broken nose,” Jett explains, all smooth and nonchalant.

  Beatrice says from the staircase, “Damn, that is hot.”

  “Violence is not hot, Bea,” I scold her.

  “Shut up. I heard you say the same thing. What’d I miss?”

  We tell her that Julian was creeping around, at the house waiting when Kick got back from the store. “I was home napping,” Beatrice says. “Didn’t hear him. We should probably start locking the door when we leave even if someone’s here.”

  I’m pretty sure Kick did just that, but we’ll discuss it later.

  The scent of spices and deliciousness wafts from the kitchen and draws us back in that direction.

  With Kick cooking and our best friends all hanging out together, the Julian episode fades away. Not entirely. His lingering is making even less sense as it continues, and his mom’s words make the whole thing totally weird. I don’t know if I should keep ignoring it or confront it somehow, but for now, I’ll just enjoy what is otherwise a pretty awesome night.

  Kick is being her usual funny and cute self, making Jett’s roommates fall in love with her. Well, not all of them. Daryl hasn’t left Beatrice’s side. Her hair’s in a frizzy bun on top of her head and she’s got wrinkled clothes from napping after the meet, but when your best asset is athleticism, the type of guys attracted to you won’t care if you’re all done up and put together.

  Kick’s keeping Keenan and Anthony at a healthy arm’s length – at least, for her, it could be considered that. She doesn’t know how not to flirt with cute guys, but she’s keeping it light. I know she’s doing that for me. If she went ahead and broke Jett’s best friends’ hearts, it wouldn’t be great for me and Jett and all of us to hang out like we are tonight.

  “I’ve got brunch again at my mom’s tomorrow,” Jett tells me quietly. We’re stuffed and snuggling on the couch. Kick’s instructing everyone on the rules of charades, though Beatrice and I don’t need a refresher. I’m impressed no alcohol has come out yet, and know that it’s a conscious decision on Kick’s part.

  “I know Hailey was kind of a bitch last time, but I’d love to have you come again. She’ll warm up to you.”

  I give Jett a doubtful look but don’t deny him. “I’ll come. I like your family. Food’s not bad either.”

  “Good.” He kisses me on the forehead.

  It doesn’t surprise me that Kick has managed to talk four college track stars into playing a game that requires silently acting out random people and things. Daryl’s twerking is easily identified as Miley Cyrus but when Jett attempts to portray Katy Perry’s “Roar,” we have a hard time figuring out why he’s acting like a dancing bear.

  The single thing that could make the night even better walks through the door right as Kick correctly guesses my very creative approach to silently acting out “Google.” It probably wasn’t fair putting the two of us on a team together, given even I wonder occasionally if we have telepathic abilities.

  “I come bearing gifts!” Coco shouts, interrupting us.

  She’s got two giant shopping bags and she starts pulling things out and tossing items of clothing at us.

  “Sorry I missed your meet this morning. Lunch event with some fashionistas I couldn’t miss.” We all know the real reason she didn’t come. Coco avoids my mom whenever possible.

  Anthony and Keenan are almost as enraptured by Coco as they are by my sister. Once she’s settled in – she already knows the rules of the game – she notes the lack of martinis. “It isn’t dry season already, is it?”

  “No, not until February.” The team establishes a “dry rule” going into the final meets of the season and no one on the team drinks for about two months.

  Coco waits for more explanation and when she doesn’t get one she shrugs. “Okay, whose team am I on?”

  I end up going back over to Jett’s place for the night so Coco can crash on my bed. Jett understands when I ditch his family brunch to hang out with Coco and my sister the next morning. Maybe these are the little decisions that matter when it comes to falling in love and not letting it take over your entire world.

  When I showed up for brunch without Shay, Ma was all over it. “Where’s the girl?” she asked, as soon as we were alone in the kitchen.

  “Spending time with her sister and her aunt who’s in town. Don’t worry, Ma, Hailey didn’t scare her off.”

>   “Didn’t think she did. Wasn’t worried about that. The girl held her own. I like her.”

  I paused in refilling my plate with hash browns. Ma didn’t throw approval around much. I glanced over at her, and she was leaning on the counter, arms crossed, staring me down.

  “You sayin’ that ‘cause I haven’t brought a girl around since high school and you want me to settle?” I knew that wasn’t it though, even as I asked the question. Ma wouldn’t want me to settle down for the sake of settling if it was the wrong girl. She already had plenty of grandbabies.

  Ma chuckled and shook her head. “Who said anything about wantin’ you to settle? Naw, Jett, that’s not it. I saw the way you looked at her, scared me half to death. But then saw she looked at you that same way. If you’re gonna adore someone, she better adore you right on back, or she’s not good enough.”

  “Ma, you know all the ladies adore me. And you tell me all the time they aren’t good enough.”

  “Right. They aren’t.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Ma’s got her own way of thinking about these things, and better to let her explain than try to argue. She continued, “I said I liked her, I liked the way she handled Hailey, the way she talked with us like normal people, blended in. Like that she filled her plate and ate it too. But mostly, I saw the way you looked at her, that you respect her. That said more than I could figure out in one sitting. So bring her around again, you hear?”

  Ma said all she wanted to, leaving me grinning like a fool as she went back to the table to join the rest of the family. I didn’t need Ma’s approval to fall for Shay, but having it was gold.

  Shay was it for me. Started as an inkling, a pull that I didn’t really understand, and each time I saw her, touched her, talked to her, it only solidified that she was the girl I wanted now, tomorrow, and on and on through the high and lows that rolled our way. It was fucking crazy. I knew it, but that didn’t make it less real. I already loved her, but I’d give it a little longer before throwing that at her. I knew Shay felt it too, the way it was easy and real with us, but we were moving fast as it was, no need to throw it all down on the table at once.

  The only shit between us was Julian Reed. I’d stood back until now, let her handle it, knowing that wanting to pound the smug little fucker into oblivion wasn’t the answer. I thought maybe I was overreacting to Julian’s incessant interference because I was biased, so I held back. But now I saw he was a real problem. Showing up at her condo like that and sitting there like he belonged when it was fuck-all obvious no one wanted him there? That shit was not okay.

  I met the guys at the gym after brunch, and they knew what was on my mind before I said a thing.

  I joined them by the bench press and Keenan spoke first. “Reed’s not gonna go away without a push.”

  Daryl snorted. “He needs more than a fuckin’ push. A shove, at least.”

  “I know, guys. I was tryin’ to do right by Shay, let her handle it. We’re still new. But this shit has gotta stop. I don’t want the fucker near her.” They already knew about him showing up with breakfast the morning after my first night with her, and they were there when he spewed all that bullshit at Alpha Chi.

  “Can’t keep him away entirely. They’re on the same team,” Anthony reminded us. “But we’ll let him know he’s not to talk to her or even look at her.”

  My muscles twitched with the urge to go after Julian right then and send the message.

  Keenan clamped a hand on my shoulder. “We’re gonna deal with it for you, bro, got it? You gotta keep your hands clean.”

  “No way. She’s my girl. And he’s my problem.”

  Daryl shook his head. “Keenan’s right, man. You’re too visible. Cost of being an Olympic medalist. Gotta let your bros do your dirty work,” he said, trying to add some humor. I got what they were trying to do but I hated it.

  Anthony laid it on thick. “Julian’s a slimy little shit but he’s got power too, hooks in the athletic department. He’ll figure out a way to bring you down if you mess with him directly. You know we’ll handle it for you right, man.”

  I saw the logic but it was frustrating as hell. “I’ll feel like a pussy sitting back here and letting you guys deal with it for me.”

  Keenan still had that hand on my shoulder. “Nah, man, that’s the thing. For a dude like you it takes more to hold back. Everyone knows you could take Julian down if you wanted, so you don’t have anything to prove. Just own that and let your bros send the message that Shay is your girl now and he better back the hell off or we’ll let you loose on him.”

  “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth before turning to the bench press, loading it up with more weight than I should have to start with. I needed to get this urge to fight out of me another way if I was going to stand down.

  When I get back to the condo the next morning, Coco is in the living room, painting her toenails.

  “Morning, sweetie!” she greets me with a smile.

  “Hey Coco. Nice color. You steal that from my bathroom?”

  “I wouldn’t call it steal,” she says. “Just borrowing. How was your sleepover?” She’s feigning indifference and doesn’t find my monosyllable “good” very satisfying.

  “You look deep in thought,” she comments after a moment. “I mean, my toenails aren’t that mesmerizing.”

  “You do have cute little toes, Coco,” I reflect.

  She gives me another minute before pausing in her toenail painting and looking at me. “What’s up, Shay?”

  “What would you say if I told you I didn’t want to go into finance? What if I decided not to do an internship at a bank or wealth management firm this summer?” I’ve barely even let myself voice the questions in my own head, and it’s ridiculous how hard it is to say them aloud. Even to someone safe, like Coco. Someone who understands not taking the traditional career path.

  “If you told me that, I’d ask if you’d decided what you’d rather do or if you were still figuring it out.” She puts the polish brush in the jar and turns it closed, letting the eight finished nails dry and leaving two uncoated.

  “This summer I want to stay on campus to train with Coach Mandy, maybe help coach the club team when I’m not training. Coach Mandy knows me and how I respond to training. We’re working on certain things with my stroke, my turns, my starts. The continuity in coaching would be super beneficial going into my senior year. And there’s no way I’ll be able to train much if I get one of those internships.” I know what the scene will be at the banks or firms. Everyone is going to be trying to prove themselves, out-work each other, and there will be expectations to go to events in the evenings too. I’ll be lucky just to get an hour in the pool in the mornings.

  “So, if this is just about summer plans, yours make total sense to me. You don’t have to decide what happens after you graduate yet, Shay.”

  “Yeah but I do. If I don’t take one of those internships, I’ll already be off track to get the best jobs after I graduate. I’ll be at a disadvantage.” I can practically hear my mom’s voice saying I have to give myself every possible advantage. That it’s a cutthroat world out there.

  “I don’t know. If you win a national title and graduate as one of the most decorated athletes in Cal U’s history, I’m guessing that will give you a pretty big advantage with any potential employer.”

  Sighing, I tell her, “I guess,” but I don’t think she gets it. Not totally. I did confide in her for a reason, because she maybe understands my world better than Jett. But Coco is only Mom’s sister, not her daughter. And Coco is more like Kick than she is like me. They don’t understand what it’s like to try so hard to meet Mom’s expectations, to feel a sense of duty for being a Spark and having all the advantages I have in life. I turn away, mumbling about needing to shower and change, but really, I’m shocked by my thoughts and the feelings that go with them. Bitterness. Anger. And then some guilt for feeling that way.

  But it’s true, isn’t it? If Kick did well in school and fol
lowed our parents’ expectations, I wouldn’t feel so much pressure to be the one to fulfill their dreams. They can’t have two kids with no career goals, no academic success, and free-spirit attitudes. Why is it fair that Kick gets to be that one? Why can’t she take some of the weight off my shoulders?

  And Coco, it’s easy for her to say I don’t have to decide it all now. She bummed around for nearly a decade after college and stumbled into a reality show that launched her fashion career. I sit on the edge of my bed, letting these bitter and angry thoughts infiltrate me and then hating myself for thinking any of it. Because really, they are the brave ones and I’m just the sheep, following along, doing what’s expected of me. They didn’t make me that way. They’re not the ones telling me I can’t pursue my dreams. I am. If anything, I know Kick would support me wholeheartedly if I told her what it was I really wanted. She probably already knows and is waiting for me to figure it out.

  I’m surprised to find tears running down my face and I quickly wipe them away. My laptop sits on my bed and I pull it over and open it up, clicking on the browser and pulling up Gmail out of habit. Mom’s sent me links to the internship applications and I open them. Without pausing, I start to fill out my background information for one of the banks in New York. It’s robotic as I click through each page, uploading my transcript and résumé, responding to the questions about why I want the job. Strangely, it calms me down. Fighting the path is so much harder. This path my mom’s created for me, it’s the one of least resistance. And it’s not even a bad one. I’ll be good at it. I might even like it. But where will I swim in New York? I’d have to find a new club, and I’ve got no idea if there are any good ones. Besides, New York banks are notorious for 100-hour work weeks. There’s no way I’ll have time to train. But I click submit anyway, and while I feel a sense of satisfaction that I accomplished something I was supposed to do, I also feel a sense of loss as my dream floats a little further away.