Page 85 of Blitz

“Got to go.” I kiss him one last time. He cups my cheek and presses his forehead to mine. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he says quietly.

Coach is gathering the sprinters into a semi-circle for a pep talk. The waiting is always the hardest part. We have another two hours until our races. It doesn’t matter that we’ve been doing this for years, some of us half our lives; the waiting never gets easier. Nervous anticipation flutters in my stomach. Adrenaline pumps in my veins. I wait for my three or four races all week, and then they’re over in the blink of an eye.

Micah is standing at the top of the bleachers. He waves at me, and I wave back, pointing three rows over to where Tucker is sitting. He frowns at me. I point again. Tucker is watching me, confused. I point back to where Micah is standing, and he turns, following my finger.

His happy smile fades as he sees my brother. Yeah, there’s definitely something up with them. Nevertheless, Tucker stands and waves at Micah, who spots him in the nearly empty student section. Amir and Barrett scoot down, clearing a space.

Neither of them look happy to be sitting next to each other. Micah is nervous; he’s chewing on his cheek, something he only does around people he doesn’t know. Tucker is withdrawn, an empty shell of himself.

The three of us were attached at the hip in high school. Micah is my ride or die, my other half. Tucker has my heart. Together, the three of us formed a cohesive unit. Micah is still my best friend, whether he admits to it or not. Tucker is my boyfriend again, no matter the issues we’re currently having. But the boys’ previously strong friendship has splintered—because of me, because of the breakup. I don’t think that we can repair it. Not if they won’t help. Not if they won’t both put the effort in.

Fred bumps my hip with hers. “Your cheering section sure is pretty.”

I laugh. “You still can’t sleep with my brother.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to.”

I roll my eyes. “All of my female friends have slept with him or tried to. I’m used to it. Just know that all he wants is sex. He’s not the type to stick around.”

“So basically he’s the male version of you,” she laughs.

“I’ve changed. I’m not like that anymore.”

“No, you’ve got yourself someone you want to stick around for. I still think you’re going to get bored sooner or later,” she says.

I hate that I think she’s right. I hooked up with plenty of guys at Georgetown. I’ve had flings. Nobody has captured my attention the way Tucker has.

But I didn’t expect us to settle down into a comfortable relationship again quite so quickly. Where are the sparks? Where are the fireworks? I want to be romanced. I want to be courted. And maybe it’s a function of modern college dating, but I can’t help to feel cheated that I don’t get the fairytale romance I see in movies or read about in books.

I love Tucker. I’m in love with him; a part of me always has been, even when we were apart. But he’s so set in his ways. He doesn’t like to go out. He doesn’t like to socialize. I can tell that while he’s making an effort to get to know my friends, he would much rather stay in and watch a movie and cuddle than go out and have a good time. He doesn’t want to party. He doesn’t seem to drink.

Our lives are just so different these days. I don’t know how to make this work anymore. And as much as I don’t want to live my life without him, I don’t want to sacrifice my youth and my Saturday nights to stay in and watch Jeopardy! with his roommates. That’s fine every once in a while; it’s not my idea of a fun Saturday night, week after week.

Yeah, I can see a future with him. Yes, I can see us getting through grad school, getting married, having babies. I can see a life with him. Growing old together.

But I’m so not ready for that. I’m only twenty; I have my whole life ahead of me. I don’t want to be boring and settled at this point in my life. I want to stay up all night and dance with my friends. I want to go to parties and meet new people. And, yes, I want to have crazy drunken sex.

I want to have crazy, drunken sex with Tucker, and he will barely touch me when I’m sober. He seems to have no issue abstaining. Aren’t we supposed to be in the honeymoon phase? Aren’t we supposed to be all over each other? Instead, he won’t touch me. Sex is supposed to be meaningful, he says, an extension of our love for one another. I love him; I love when he fucks me.

But it’s still just sex to me, and I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the difference between what he wants and what I want. We had sex often enough before the break-up that I know what he likes. He’s not as vanilla as he might claim. The dude is downright kinky, and considering how young we both were when we were together the first time, I can only believe he’s grown into himself exponentially since then. He knows what he likes.

I’ve learned more about what I like since then. I’m not the same sheltered kid I used to be. I’ve been with enough other guys to know what definitely doesn’t work for me. He hasn’t experimented. He hooked up with one girl, one time, and when it wasn’t what he wanted—me, asking him to take me back—he decided he was done with dating for the rest of his life. He’s a teetotaler in the extreme.

I’m not like that. I like to drink. I like to have a good time. I like to kick back with my friends and relax. And he… doesn’t. There’s no middle ground. There’s no in between. I don’t know how to compromise between all or nothing. I don’t know if we can.

Chapter thirty-five

Tucker

We sit in silence during the longest track meet of my life. Beside me, Barrett and Amir talk amongst themselves. Wes grunts occasionally, contributing as he sees fit. Behind us, Sam and Miles are making out, and Greg is patiently third-wheeling with them.

Micah is silent. So am I. I have nothing to say to him that wasn’t said last night. Yelled, whatever.

Greg leans forward, his head between ours. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Are you guys going to the Delta party?”

“I think so,” I tell him. She said she wanted to go. I don’t think I can convince her we should do something else instead.