ME: How would I do that?
NICO: I have ideas.
ME: Tell me.
NICO: I’d rather show you.
My chest is tight. My body is humming. The sensible part of my brain is faint and far away.
ME: I wish I was there.
NICO: Then come. Val d’Isère is in two weeks. I'll race, you'll watch, and after...
He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.
ME: I can't.
NICO: Why not?
ME: My family doesn't do France.
NICO: That's not a reason.
I could explain, try telling the truth, saying how scared I am. But deflecting seems easier.
ME: I can’t.
NICO: Then Salzburg. In two weeks.
My stomach knots.
ME: You have races.
NICO: I’ll make time. For you? Always.
He thinks it is romantic. To me it sounds like a demand. I hate demands.
ME: Stop.
NICO: Why? Scared you’ll beg for real instead of over a phone?
ME: No.
NICO: Then what?
ME: Complicated.
NICO: Make it simple.
I stare at the words, fingers frozen.
He is turning this into something I cannot afford.
Three dots appear and vanish. I wait, because there is nothing simple for me in this affair.
NICO: You know what I think? You just want the parts that don’t cost you anything.
I stare at the words, pulse pounding.
