Chapter 23 Tightrope
Chapter twenty-three
Tightrope
Jasmine Chamberlain
Shepherd: Are you awake?
It is late, since we had a night game, but his text makes me feel like I just got ten hours of sleep.
Jasmine: I am. What’s up?
I cringe at my awkward reply. I’m not usually like that with him, but we also haven’t texted this much before.
Shepherd: Owen abandoned me to go play College Football 25 with some of the other guys on the team. I thought I could annoy you for fun.
I laugh and shake my head.
Jasmine: I appreciate the honesty. You’re in luck. My roomie left to go do damage control with a heartbroken teammate, so I’m bored too. I’ll let you annoy me if you’ll let me insult you.
Shepherd: Always.
A blush heats my face at the finality of his text. Always. The word feels more like a promise than banter.
Without warning, he video calls me. The only light I have on in the room is the lamp on the stand in between my and Claudette’s beds, but even in the low light I can see how terrible I look.
My face is devoid of any makeup, and my hair is in a messy knot that looks like a ball of steel wool on top of my head. Mess is an understatement.
It’s not like you’re trying to impress him, I coach myself.
He’s a friend. Friends see each other like this.
I hit the green button to answer the call.
Shepherd’s face fills my screen, looking unfairly handsome.
His grin is wide and infectious. I can’t help but smile, though my stomach is tight with nervous anticipation.
“I thought you might not answer,” he says.
“I was just making you sweat,” I lie. Really, the only one sweating is me. I’m going to need another shower after this if I don’t relax.
“Should have known,” he says with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “A little sore, but fine.”
There’s already a nasty bruise on my side, but nothing is broken. It’s not going to be fun to practice next week, though.
“I’m glad it’s nothing worse. It looked rough.”
I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on it. It was embarrassing enough to hobble off the field knowing that hundreds of thousands of people saw it.
“You said Owen went to play College Football 25?” I change the subject. “So y’all get done with playing football for hours just to play the video-game version?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, the guys like creating teams with their characters on them. Or, if I’m there, they’ll play with the old school rosters and choose the year my brother played, so I have to play against him. After the interview this afternoon, I wasn’t in the mood for that, so I stayed back.”
I give him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. That would be annoying to deal with.” I toy with the comforter that’s draped over my lap. “Is it always like it was today?”
“You mean them asking about Jason?” he clarifies.
I nod.
A heavy sigh blows through him, weariness lining his expression. “Pretty much, yeah. People love to compare us, and I get it, but it’s hard feeling like every success I have is overshadowed by his previous ones.”
“That would be difficult. You deserve to be celebrated for you.”
“My hope is that if I reach my goals, one day in the future they’ll stop asking.”
I’m taken back to the moment in my kitchen where we talked about the why behind what we work so hard for. “That’s your why,” I whisper.
He nods. “I want my own legacy. So, I can’t mess up. I can’t just do my best; I have to be better than him.”
My heart breaks for him. I understand the pressure of living up to expectations, but to do it in such a public light is unfathomable.
“Is it hard on your relationship with him?” I ask.
“Not really.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t see what I do. He thinks it’s funny when everyone calls me Junior and jokes around about me keeping up the win streak. It’s not that he’s a bad guy; he’s a great brother. I wouldn’t be where I am without him.”
“Have you thought about telling him how you feel?” I suggest gently. Our friendship is growing deeper by the day, but I don’t want to cross a line.
“I’ve considered it, but I can’t. I don’t want him to feel bad or to try and get me to stop pushing. I have to do this.”
“I can relate to that,” I murmur.
He doesn’t say anything, his blue eyes expectant. It feels like the perfect opportunity to share, but at the same time, pouring out my heart for the first time to someone other than my family feels like an in-person thing.
“I don’t want you to think I’m holding back,” I preface. “But my story is kind of…a lot. It feels strange to just blurt it out over a video chat.”
Shepherd nods, his brow furrowed like he’s thinking. Suddenly, his expression brightens. “Then let’s meet up in person.”
My brows raise at the implication. “That breaks the most major rule for traveling athletes, and I’m pretty sure Bash would kill you if he caught us.”
He winces at my mention of Bash. While Bash may not be family by blood, he’s super protective over those he loves.
And I’m lucky enough to fall into that category.
He was the one who funded my apartment for the year, though I tried to persuade him not to.
Yet another person I have to make things up to.
“I didn’t mean in one of our rooms. There’s a business center downstairs. I saw it on the way in. We could hang out down there. If anyone saw us, we could say we decided to work on a school project.”
Technically, we weren’t supposed to leave our rooms after curfew, which has passed.
But after a win, coaches were usually more lenient about that sort of thing.
As long as the guys kept to their room and the girls to theirs.
There wasn’t any rule about meeting in public locations.
I bite my lip. Shepherd waits, expectation written all over his face.
“Okay, fine, I’ll meet you down there.”
A grin spreads across his face. “I’ll see you in five.”
We hang up, and I get out of bed as quickly as my sore body will allow. On top of the hit, I’ve been training extra intensely this past week, so every muscle aches. But excitement overrides the pain.
I slide on my moccasins before grabbing a pillow and the travel blanket I brought from home.
Supplies in hand and my phone and room key in my sweats pocket, I slip out the door.
I scan the hallway for any familiar faces and, when I find none, head to the elevator.
The ride down is slow, giving time for my anxiety to rise.
What if we’re caught?
What if we aren’t?
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a too-loud creak.
I can’t believe I told him I’d share my story. What has gotten into me?
As I head toward the business center, I answer my last question.
Vulnerability invites vulnerability. Dahlia taught me that when she first took me in after our parents died.
So it makes sense that Shepherd sharing with me would make me want to share with him.
It doesn’t make the task any less daunting, though.
Especially when the threat of being caught is hanging over my head like one of those pianos from an old cartoon.
I find the business center without any trouble and use my room key to get inside.
The door opens, and in the far corner of the room is Shepherd.
He’s facing away, hands pushed into his hair.
When he hears my entrance, he drops his arms and turns around.
He smiles, but it’s more hesitant than when we were on the phone.
We lock eyes and an understanding passes between us. We’re taking a risk tonight. Not just by sneaking out, but by sharing with one another. Each of us has stepped out onto a tightrope with unsteady footing. The only thing that’s going to keep us from falling is by holding on to one another.
I step inside and let the door close behind me. Here’s hoping he doesn’t let go.