ME: You sound like you’re writing a thank-you note, not talking to the guy who just owned Birds of Prey.
A pause. Longer this time.
ÉLISE: What do you want from me, Nico?
Good question.
I want her here. I want her under me, nails in my back, saying my name the way she did in that forest. I want her to stop pretending this is casual when she just admitted she watched every second of my run and was worried I'd crash.
But I settle for pushing.
ME: I want you to stop acting like you're bored. I just won Birds of Prey. You could at least pretend you're happy for me.
ÉLISE: I AM happy for you.
ME: Keep going.
ÉLISE: Nico.
ME: I'm serious. What else?
A very long pause.
ÉLISE: I wanted to be there. In the finish. Waiting for you.
My heart slams against my ribs.
ME: What would you have done if you were?
ÉLISE: You have downhill tomorrow. Go to sleep.
ME: Answer the question.
ÉLISE: Goodnight, Nico.
I stare at the screen, frustrated and wound tight and stupidly, painfully wanting her.
She gave me something. But not enough.
Never enough.
I toss the phone on the nightstand and stare at the ceiling.
Tomorrow I race downhill.
Tonight I fall asleep aching for a woman who won't even finish a sentence.
Chapter 6
Remote Control
Playlist:
The Killers: Mr. Brightside
