I lie back down against his chest because I’ve learned to take the good thing while it's in front of me. His heart's going faster than it was a minute ago. So is mine.
“Hey.” He lifts my chin with two fingers. “Whatever it is, we hold to the plan. There’s only us now.”
“Only us,” I parrot back.
And for the length of one more Tuesday night, I let myself believe we have a foolproof plan. That's the part I'll think about later, when it all comes apart. That I knew I was fooling myself, but I let myself believe it anyway.
Caleb
I don't call Christian until almost midnight, after Jasmine's gone home, and after I've spent three hours pretending the ceiling has answers scrawled across it.
He picks up on the second ring, which means he was awake, which means he's been lying in the dark worrying about stuff a nineteen-year-old has no business worrying about.
“It's midnight,” he says. “Who died?”
“Nobody died. Why's that always your opener?”
“Because you call at decent hours when it's good news or when you want to talk to the rugrats. Midnight's for the other kind.” There’s a rustle, a door easing shut. He’s stepping into the hallway so he doesn't wake the girls. Still a kid himself, and he already moves through a house like a grown man. Doing the job my father should be doing. “Courtney made honor roll, by the way. She's been telling anyone who will listen. She’s very proud of herself.”
“And she should be. I’ll call her tomorrow at a decent time. Maybe she’ll finally pick up the phone when I do.”
“I’ll tell to or she’s on dish duty for a week.” A pause. “Caleb, you didn't call at midnight to chat about Courtney’s report card. You've got your bad-news voice on. I've known that voice my whole life. Spit it out.”
I've been the one holding this family up since I was sixteen, and our dad decided we were too heavy to keep carrying. I send the money. I take the good news and the bad news, and I sort it so the kids only ever get the good half. I do not call my little brother at midnight to whine and bitch about my life. That's not the deal. The deal is I'm fine. The deal has always been I'm fine. But I need to talk to somebody, and it can’t be anyone on the team, so it has to be him.
“I think I'm going to blow it,” I say.
The line goes quiet.
“The Carolina thing. The contract. I think I'm going to torch it, Christian, and I can't make myself feel bad about it the way I'm supposed to.”
“Okay.” His voice shifts. It sounds careful, like he’s older than he is. “You've wanted this since you were twelve. Why would you torch the opportunity of a lifetime, and what’s the reason why you don’t give a fuck if you do?”
“There's a girl.”
“You’re kidding me?” He laughs once. “A girl. There's a girl?”
“Don't be a dick.”
“I'm not. It's just,” he stops. “You’ve never once said that sentence in your life. There's been many girls but not one girl. I didn't think you had it in you.”
“Yeah. Neither did I.” I drag a hand down my face in the dark. “It's the coach's daughter.”
“The coach? The one that barely likes you? That coach?”
“That coach.”
“Caleb.”
“I know, bro.”
“You're telling me you went to Vegas, home of a million hot women, and could only fall for your coach’s daughter who I’m assuming is hands off?” he scoffs. “You had to have done that on purpose, dude. Sabotaging yourself, again.”
“I didn't do anything on purpose. That's the whole problem. I never do.”
So I tell him. All of it. I tell him every single special thing about Jasmine. Every date we had. All of her jokes. Her quirks (at least the ones she’d be comfortable with me telling). I tell him she's the first reason I've ever wanted to stay anywhere. I tell him she’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I remind him that the job is in Carolina but she's here, and how her father is calling her into his office tomorrow to talk about how the season ends. I tell him how I've got a feeling I can't shake, like the floor's already gone out from under me and I just haven't fallen yet.
Christian lets all of it land. He doesn't interrupt, which isn't like him, and when I run out of words, the line stays quiet long enough that I check it's still connected.
