Page 97 of Racing Hearts

Adrian and I can’t have a future. At least not one that doesn’t put my Olympic hopes in jeopardy. Maybe it’s been okay while we’re both living in Berkeley. But trying to be in a relationship across hundreds or thousands of miles is impossible. It would mean putting dozens of cracks in my schedule. Nights of missed sleep spent on the phone or on an airplane. Missed calls. Missed practices.

There’s an even darker possibility, too. I could arrive in Toronto with hope for our relationship. But that would be a disaster because there is a version of my future where Adrian and I don’t end up far away from each other. That’s what will happen if I don’t perform my best in Canada. I’ll lose my spot for good. I’ll be back in Berkeley forever.

I can’t race with that possibility in my mind. I can’t afford to preserve a shred of hope for that outcome and end up subconsciously sabotaging myself.

Mom was right when she said I was lying. Here I am, doing the same thing that she is doing with Rob. I’ve been committing the exact same crime that I lectured her about.

But I’m not her. I won’t choose a man over my dreams.

Thirty

With my stomach climbing into my throat, I knock on the door to Adrian’s apartment.

“One second!” he calls.

When I glance at my watch, I realize I’m on time for our date. He’s expecting me. That, somehow, makes all of this even harder. Like giving someone bad news on their birthday.

The door flies open like Adrian couldn’t get to it fast enough. His hair is still slightly damp and curly from the shower. He’s wearing my favorite button-down, soft baby blue, and he has the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. Did I tell him I like it when he wears his shirt that way? I don’t remember.

I don’t remember anything, actually. Because Adrian has pinned me with his green eyes and the flecks of gold deep in their surface are nearly glowing. Because Adrian is looking at me like he’s thirsty and I’m made of nothing but water.

He reaches out and twines his long fingers through mine.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly.

A sharp ache lodges into my chest. I should have changed before I came over. I should have wiped off this stupid makeup and gotten back into my spandex. I was in too much of a rush to get this over with.

“Thank you,” I manage.

Adrian’s fingers tighten. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I need to talk to you about something.”

He tugs at my hand, like he’s trying to pull me inside. I stay rooted to the spot, keeping to the safety of the doorway. If I go into that apartment, there is a good chance I won’t be able to do what I came here to do.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Is someone hurt?”

I shake my head. That sudden, traitorous tickle settles behind my nose, but I force the tears away.

“I need to—” I have no idea how to say this. How to say anything.

“Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

“I can’t do it,” I blurt out.

Adrian blinks. “Can’t do what?”

“I’ve thought about what you said, about us making it work long-distance. And it won’t. It can’t. I’m sorry.”

He releases my fingers and my hand goes unnaturally cold in the place he was just touching. He’s still staring at me, expression frozen somewhere between confusion and hurt. “Why?”

I clear my throat. “Because I need to train and travel and race. Berkeley might be my hometown, but I’m hardly ever here. Between coaching and recruiting, you take a day off every two weeks. We can’t build a relationship on twenty-four-hour visits twice a month.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I put up a hand.

“But also, I’m worried that if we try, I’ll only end up undermining myself. Long distance is stressful, it’s hard. The emotional toll will be bad enough, let alone the physical one when I come to visit you. I’ll lose recovery time. I’ll miss practices. It will put everything back in jeopardy.”

“I can come to you,” Adrian says. He’s trying to hide it, but I can hear the emotion in his voice. It nearly breaks me in half. “You don’t have to fly up here.”