Page 22 of The Try Line

"Well, that's good," she says a little sullenly.

"Want me to get you an iced chai latte while I'm out?" I ask, trying to diffuse some tension.

She gives me a small smile and nods. "That'd be nice," she says, lifting up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek before walking towards the bathroom.

I spin on my heel to confront the shadow slowly coming up behind me. “Are you following me?"

"Maybe," he says, shrugging. I roll my eyes, and he laughs. "I was actually out for a jog and noticed you here."

I juggle the ball between my hands, not meeting Jason's eye. "You just missed Jase," I say, trying to sound casual. We'd met the other members of his rec team for a pickup game, but they all left to go get burgers as soon as the sky started darkening. As tempted as I was to go with them, I stayed back to let Jase have time with his friends without his old man hovering over him. Being the coach's son is probably annoying enough without me insisting on tagging along all the time.

"You're avoiding me," Jason says, coming to stand beside me where I'm watching the clouds roll in.

He's not wrong. I have been avoiding him, and Janel too. I’ve been leaving early to use the gym before work, staying late in the office, and then covering closing at the store even though we’re fully staffed. I’m missing out on a lot of family time, but I need some space from the pressure of doing something I don't really want to do, and from the mistakes my body seems desperate to make.

Every fiber of my being is aware of his proximity, to the point I can feel my cells stretching towards him every time I pass the door to the guest room where he's sleeping.

"We shouldn't have–"

"I know," he cuts in. "I don't know what keeps coming over me."

I nod as though what he's saying is relatable, but I can't say that I've really tried to resist him at all. I know I should, and afterwards I just end up hating myself more for it. But I want him so much I’m drowning in it.

A fat drop of rain splashes against my forehead, but my eyes remain focused on him. I don't look away from his pained expression until the drops become more frequent. Eyes closed, l turn my face up to the light rain, letting it cool my hot skin.

Severe thunderstorms are forecast for the next three days straight. It’s too early in the year for tropical storms, and after a particularly dry winter, there’s a possibility of flooding. We're about two hours inland, so hopefully it won’t cause too much damage, but there won't be much to do other than hunker down in the house. I'll be stuck inside with my wife, the man I can't stop wanting, and my stifling feelings.

I run my hands through my short hair, slicking it back as the water sluices down my back. When I open my eyes again, Jason is watching me with a closed expression.

"Why do you hide?" he asks suddenly. He directs his gaze at my chest, where my long-sleeved white shirt is now soaked and clinging to my skin. Some of the dark ink shows through the fabric.

"The tattoos?" He nods, and I shrug. "I don't know."

It's a lie. I hide them because it's the last shred of my self-expression that I've kept for myself. Each one of them has meaning. And while many of them are dedicated to my son or books I love, many of them are symbolic of the man standing in front of me. If no one can see them, then no one can ask. There's also the fact that Janel hates them. It's important to her that we maintain a professional public image, not just because her parents would disapprove, but also because of our positions in the community. She thinks no one will visit the store if I look like ‘a mob henchman’ as she puts it, and she's probably right that I wouldn't have been accepted for my position with the town.

"I think you hide more than the tattoos," he says bluntly. His eyes look darker than usual, the storm clouding his blue skies.

"I do what I have to do," I say, trying to ignore the way his gaze pierces me. Trying to ignore the way his soaked clothes cling to his skin, hugging every curve of muscle. I turn my head, looking to the adjacent field, at the very spot where all our barriers dropped. My eyes close at the pain I feel, knowing how much I lost and how much I still have to lose. The stakes are higher than ever now.

The space between us grows shorter, though I didn't notice him moving. The familiarity of this moment isn't lost on me.

I step back and look towards the parking lot, not seeing his car. "We should go before the storm gets worse."

"I didn't drive," he reminds me. "But I can run back," he offers, but that's ridiculous. I can't let him run over four miles home in the pouring rain. It's getting worse by the minute.

"It's fine, come on."

Once we're at my car, I curse and nearly bark out a laugh because fuck my life. Shaking my head, I have to make a split-second decision whether to sacrifice the upholstery or risk being half naked with Jason in the car. I decide it's better just to plan to get the car detailed. I slip off my cleats, but get in muddy and soaking wet. Jason follows suit, and I direct him to put his shoes in the small laundry basket I bring to all practices and games for our muddy gear and clothes. Then I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, not daring to let it idle even though the rain is coming down in sheets and it would probably be safer to wait for a lull. Who knows how long it would last, though. I would never be able to keep my hands to myself in such a confined space. There isn’t enough air to allow my brain to function.

The drive home is silent aside from Janel calling to let us know she's at her parent's house. She's going to try to make the drive across town as soon as the rain lets up enough.

"I called Jase and told him to stay put, too," she says. "He'll probably stay the night at Lee’s house and come home in the morning. I'd rather know he isn't out driving in this."

"Sounds like a plan," I say, my knuckles gripping the leather of the steering wheel too tight.

We're going to be alone. By ourselves. Without supervision.

The leather creaks under my grip as I try to put the thought out of my mind. I’ll lock myself in my office, keep myself away from him. Not that I want to be rude, but I can’t trust myself not to do something stupid.

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