Page 95 of Colliding with Ten

“Yeah.”

“My dad used to say that dance was a phase,” I said, not sure why I was still talking except that I didn’t want to hang up. “He said I’d grow out of it, and I believed him.” I paused. “And now I’m afraid. Not just that I will fail at being a doctor, but that I’ll be good at it and it still won't be enough.”

“Enough for who?” he asked.

I thought about it but couldn't answer. I realized that some part of me was still looking for approval that this new direction was the right one. To fight for control of my life, I needed to trust myself.

“Yeah,” he said, understanding that I was realizing my own insecurities too.

We stayed on the line without speaking, the silence doing the work that words couldn’t. At some point, my eyes started to close, and the lamp light got blurry.

“I should let you sleep.” His voice had dropped to a low, groggy register. He was close to it himself.

“Probably.”

He exhaled audibly. “Me neither.”

So we didn’t hang up. We lay there in the dark until the fatigue took us both. I don’t know which of us fell asleep first.

In the morning, the call had ended on its own. But a text was on my screen, timestamped 2:51 a.m.

Sleep well, Callahan.

I read it twice and put the phone face down on the nightstand. The city came to life outside while I lay there, staring at the ceiling. My father’s voice was in my head. It was always there in the morning. But this time, it had company.

21

HOME FIELD ADVANTAGE

LENNOX

Ihad planned to fly to New York, shoot the campaign, keep everything professional, return to California, and lock back in. But between the disastrous shower, fixing Ayla’s hair, icing her knee, and kissing her goodnight—fuck, that kiss was good—my plan fell apart.

By the end of the first week, I had given up pretending I wasn’t looking forward to hearing from her. While on break, she texted me from the training room, and I sent her media bloopers from our practice. That night she called me from AJ’s kitchen because she’d made soup and it was disgusting.

The last thing I heard before going to bed was her, and she was the first person I wanted to talk to when I woke. On Thursday she sent me a voice message from the subway. She had found a man playing the Remember the Titans theme on the saxophone and recorded it, describing the situation as if she were a documentary filmmaker. I listened to it four times and saved it.

I stopped counting how often we talked. The conversation that started in Denver moved through different rooms and time zones. She was funniest before she fully woke up, more cheerful in the afternoons, and gentler at night when AJ was focused on film or out with his girl. She told me things she wouldn’t tell anyone else, and I noticed everything about her.

The rivalry came up on a notification. On a Tuesday afternoon, I was in the film room when my phone received a Hawks highlight reel. The team was on a roll. AJ Callahan had been named AFC Offensive Player of the Week for the second time this season. I watched the clip. Her brother was good. Better than good.

I sent Ayla the reel.

Lennox

Tell your brother I’ve been watching.

Ayla

He says he’s been watching you, too.

Lennox

Does he know that we speak every day?

Ayla

No. I told him we kept in touch, though. He made a face that I won’t tell you about.