Page 37 of Racing Hearts

Oh.

Ohhhh.

That’s why he lifted his chin at me.

“Right,” I manage, trying to reorient. “That. Yes. I have.”

Adrian steps back without picking up another ball, studying me like he’s just found an oar with two blades. Upright, he’s standing close—too close. But I’m the one who staked this ground so I could watch his gameplay from the best angle. I can’t surrender it now.

“What were you talking about?” he asks.

My eyes drop to an oil spot on the rubber-matted floor, and I scuff my toe against it. I’m irrationally terrified that he can read my thoughts.

“I—Uh. It doesn’t matter.”

“Parker?”

I don’t want to talk about this.

But also, shoot. Maybe I need to acknowledge the awkwardness of our history? Of my behavior? Maybe this is how I can keep my blood from roaring in my ears and my heart from skipping every other beat when he gets too close.

I take a long, controlled breath. “The club. I was talking about the club in Italy. And. Look. I…I know I was a mess that night. I’m usually in better control of myself. But I hope you can forget about it.”

Adrian’s brows pull together. “What do you mean ‘a mess’?”

“Emotional. I’d just lost that race. Gotten dumped. I spilled my soul out to you by a bar top.”

The alley is still lit, score impatiently flashing, but Adrian’s looking at nothing but me. “I remember we had a conversation about racing and quitting. I don’t see why that is messy. In fact, I also shared some personal things with you the day we met.”

He’s still not getting it. “Right, well, also the other stuff.”

“What other stuff?”

“You’re going to make me say it?”

He tilts his head in question, zero glint of recognition in his expression.

“I have no idea what I’m making you say,” he tells me.

“We danced.” My whisper is barely more than a hiss. “And then—and then I tried to kiss you.”

I burrow my face in my hands. This is not a conversation I want to be having with my coach, even a temporary one. Games still buzz and whirl around us, a melody of cheer that stands in almost ridiculous contrast to my haze of embarrassment. Still, Adrian hasn’t said anything.

When I peek out from between my fingers, he has one eye closed like he’s seeing double. “You mean before you ran away from me?”

“Because you turned me down!”

“Turned you…what?”

“You backed up.”

Adrian stares at me for so long it’s like he’s struggling to translate my words from another language into English. “We had both been drinking, Kath. I was trying to check in. To see where we were on, you know, consent.”

Oh. “Oh.” Really? “I thought…”

“You thought I was rejecting you?”

I nod.