He made a noise of acknowledgment, and I escaped to the bathroom. I stood under the shower’s spray for way longer than necessary, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do if Travis told me he loved me again. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear it if he said it straight to my face. And he’d expect some sort of answer.
“You have fun with Nate?” he asked, when I finally returned to the bedroom.
“Yep.” A little silence fell as I pulled on a T-shirt and boxers. When I looked up again, he was looking at me. Meaningfully, I thought. Like he might try to say those words again. “What’re you reading?” I blurted out.
He glanced down at the book in his hands. “1984.”
“I think I read that in high school. Or I was supposed to, anyway. I don’t remember if I actually did.” I was only vaguely aware of what I was saying. I climbed into bed, keeping a careful foot of distance between us. “?’Kay, well. Night.”
“Night.” He sounded faintly amused.
I rolled onto my side so my back was to him, yanked the covers up to my chin, and closed my eyes. He couldn’t tell me anything if I was asleep.
But a second later, he said, “Hey, Jacob?”
My heart thudded anxiously. “Yeah?”
“I’m gonna go to the store early tomorrow. D’you want anything?”
“Oh.” A flood of relief ran through me. Relief, and the tiniest bit of disappointment. “No. I’m good.”
“?’Kay.”
I waited, with my heart in my throat, for him to say something else, but the minutes ticked by and the silence remained unbroken. After ten or fifteen minutes, I heard him put his book down and turn off his bedside lamp. He shifted down into bed, not touching me. We rarely fell asleep touching, but more often than not, I woke up with his arm around me, or my fingers tangled with his under my pillow.
His breathing evened out into sleep, but I don’t think I’d ever been more awake. When I was sure he was asleep, I rolled over to face him. There was just enough light filtering in around the edge of the closed curtains for me to make out his features. The strong angle of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips. Travis Keeping, the man who was in love with me.
I knew what I should do if he tried to say it again. I should tell him I wasn’t looking for something serious, and put an end to things.
But I also knew I couldn’t do that. The very thought made me feel anxious and sick. I didn’t want to break up with him. I wanted to be the guy he was in love with. I wanted him to love me, and I wanted to never have to say it back.
It was selfish, but that’s how I felt. All the power I thought I had in our relationship had slipped through my fingertips, and now that it was gone, I realized it had never really existed. Travis was a rich Formula 1 star who read books and donated money to animal shelters and looked like a statue of some Greek god come to life. Who was I, but the first bisexual guy he’d happened to stumble upon? It was absurd that he loved me. Absurd that he looked at me like he couldn’t believe his own good luck.
Fear bubbled up in my chest. Someday, he would realize that, and the thought was almost as terrifying as the idea of telling him I loved him.
Which I did. Of course I did. I didn’t need to ask Nate how he knew he loved his girlfriend. I knew the answer, because I knew I loved Travis. I just didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do with that information.
I shifted closer to him, suddenly desperate to be touching him, and he pulled me close without waking. With my head on his chest, I listened to his heartbeat, one strong beat for every three rapid beats of my own.
I would tell him, I decided, with a surge of reckless bravery. When he said it again, I would say it back. I mouthed the words against his T-shirt, practicing.I love you.I’m in love with you.
For the next few days, every time a silence fell between us, my stomach would tighten in anticipation. But the days turned to weeks turned to months, and he never said it again. And now—
I pull myself out of my memories. I’ve reached the end of the hike. The view ahead is brown and gray and drab, and my face and hands are numb from cold.
I sit down heavily on the bench nearby, and for a minute, I let myself imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t been such a coward. If I’d woken Travis up that night and asked him to say it again. The look on his face if I’d said it back. He would have been so, so happy. And I would have kept chasing that feeling, I know I would have. Moving in with him, telling my friends about him, maybe even telling my parents, for whatever that shitshow would have been worth.
Maybe I wouldn’t have been in the crash, if I’d told him I loved him. Maybe I’d have been distracted thinking about him during qualifying, and started behind McDougall or Theriot. Or maybe he would’ve given me some tip about the track, and I would’ve started farther up the grid, with Ellis Parrot behind me.
Or maybe the crash would have been even worse, for some reason, and I would have died on track. I don’t know. I don’t know what would have happened, really.
I know I still love him. I do know that.
But I guess it doesn’t matter, now.
26
The Realms of Possibility
