Page 48 of Send It
Colson
You’re bluffing.
Lincoln
Wanna find out?
Colson
It’s cheating, Linc. You can’t race in my place.
Lincoln
No, it would be cheating if I was better than you. It’s simply keeping your racing career relevant until after your surgery.
Colson
Stop trying to rationalize with me.
In reality I wouldn’t tell Reiss anything without giving Colson the opportunity to talk to him first, but it sure was fun messing with him about it. Although I know it isn’t something I should play about.
Do I want to race at Nationals? Yes. Do I want to tell Reiss about us? Also yes. Do I respect Colson’s decisions to tell Reiss in his time? Yes again.
Does it suck? Yes it fucking does.
Lincoln
Even I know that’s hopeless.
Colson
See you tonight.
My mind was all over the place after Colson told me about dinner at his house tonight, so Stassie agreed to just take over my tables completely and I drove home to get ready.
I add the most perfect waves in my long dark hair and paint my cheeks a rosy shade of pink. I opt for a more natural makeup look but still more than I’d normally wear and apply some red lipstick. A statement to match the red sundress I’ve slipped on. If I am going to spend the evening with Colson while he flips his attitude into the guy he is when Reiss is around, then I’m going to have fun watching him squirm.
And squirm he does. He’s so uncomfortable that it’s easy to notice the way he glares at me across the room. How his eyes linger longer than they should. Reiss doesn’t notice but Colson’s dad does. I don’t know what he says to him, but it causes his eyes to jerk away from me and fixate on the man before him.
I watch as they interact and how Colson’s demeanor changes, and I’m not the only one to notice. Reiss crosses the room and instantly it’s like the ice is broken. Colson’s shoulders relax and mine mirror them, feeling calmer when he does.
“How’s my girl?” Dad says as he turns the corner to Colson’s giant family room.
If you can even call it that. More like an abandoned,untouched family room. The most recent picture of Colson is when he had braces. He was probably eleven.
“I’m okay,” I say. “How’s my dad?”
“Trying to understand why Colson is looking at you like you like you’re something to eat.”
I nearly choke on the saliva in my mouth.
Maybe because to himI amsomething to eat.
“Dad, what the hell?” I continue to choke. “What are you even talking about?”
He shrugs, “I mean… I can see why he would be intrigued but please tell me there’s nothing to worry about there. The last thing we need is a mindfuck for Reiss with Nationals next month.”
I stare at my dad and I really want to tell him the truth. But I don’t.
