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“Yeah,” I start, pursing my lips while I try to think back to that summer. “I guess he did, but I was worried, because he sponsored me with the intention of winning and receiving the trophy.”
“Why would he sponsor you?” Her head tilts and I can see her questioning my coach, making me worry she’s reading into the story all wrong.
“I asked him for some help,” I rush out. “My girlfriend got an internship in Paris and I wanted to be with her. So he help me out a bit.”
“But you were worried you wouldn’t win and you would have to repay him the money.”
I nod. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“So you trained harder than you should have and got injured.”
I smile. She’s getting it. Perfect. I can go home. “Yep, exactly.”
Dr. Forrester steps away from her desk and she circles around it, finally picking up her notebook. Shit. She’s going to write something down. I have no clue what, but it will be something. She picks up her pen, and I watch her lift it to the paper. Her gaze lifts to me and I wait for her to write whatever it is she wants to remember about me, but instead she says, “That must have been difficult.”
I blink. “What?”
She shrugs. “Well, your finances are low, which is normal for college students, and traveling to another country is nearly impossible unless you get a grant, a scholarship, a loan, or mommy and daddy’s money. Very few students can actually afford to travel and pay for school and books. What your coach offered you was a great chance, yet it came at a cost. A trophy you had to win. It’s completely understandable why you had to win.”
What’s going on here? Is she on my side? Does she get me, or is she trying to play me?
“Are you a fast runner, Seth?”
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “I used to be the fastest on the team.”
Dr. Forrester purses her lips. “Used to be? What changed?”
“Well, my rival, Alex Goode joined. He moved here from the east coast. Actually, he was at the Paris Marathon, as well. He’s way better than me.” I chuckle bitterly. “I feel like I’m always trying to catch up to him, but he leaves me behind.”
“Why do you want to catch up to him, Seth?”
My brow furrows and I scowl at the floor. “Because I want to be the best.”
“Why is that?”
“Huh?”
Dr. Forrester still hasn’t written anything down. “Why is it important for you to be the best?”
“Well,” I start, my face flushing. “I, uh, I guess I want people to look at me. I want them to think: Wow. He’s so cool.” I grimace. What the hell am I saying? I sound so lame. “Sorry, that probably sounds dumb.”
“No, not at all,” says Dr. Forrester while shaking her head. “That’s completely normal, Seth. Lots of people want to be looked at. There are women who want people to notice their beauty, others who want to be noticed for their intelligence or wealth. You want to be noticed for your strengths.”
I straighten in my seat, not understanding this feeling blooming inside me, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
“What were you doing that caused the injury?”
Never mind. Everything is crashing down. I grimace and turn away from her. “I over trained. Like I said before.”
“How?”
I grind my teeth as I search for the words. “I was, uh, running every morning and night. For probably an hour or two at a time.”
Dr. Forrester doesn’t say anything, but I wince as she turns her focus to her notebook, writing down something. Is she writing about my training program?
“What else?” she asks.
I fidget in my seat. I don’t want to tell her anything else. She doesn’t need to know everything. I’m fine now.
