32. Brent
Brent
When I leave the athletics complex, Posey is waiting for me with a bag at her feet.
Her arms are wrapped around her middle, and I zip my coat to my chin as I approach.
The rest of my teammates call out goodbyes and say they’ll see me at practice tomorrow, but I’m laser focused on my girlfriend.
There’s something about her posture that’s kicked my heart into gear, and a cool sweat has broken out in my armpits.
She’s never waited for me outside a practice, and her closed-off expression isn’t helping my anxiety.
“What’s up?” I ask. “I thought I was coming to yours.”
“I changed my flight. I’m going home early.”
The coolness under my arms migrates through the rest of my body, and I shove my hands in my pockets. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Have you checked your socials?” She tugs her winter hat lower.
“No. I barely used them before you and I went viral. Even less interested now. Why?”
“Val made a video about us. She’s telling everyone we cheated and she’s devastated.”
“Okay.” At some point Val was going to say something. I’d hoped it would be the truth, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be. She’s clung too hard to let the video of me and Posey go without some sort of response. “She can say whatever she wants. We know the truth.”
“But lots of people don’t. Her reach is huge.”
“Fuck ’em. What do we care what they think?”
“I don’t like how she’s making me look,” Posey says. “But if I respond, people will come after me because I seem like the other woman right now. People believe I’m the reason you and Val broke up.”
“I’m not the keeper of other peoples’ thoughts and opinions,” I say.
“This will die down eventually. Just gotta ride it out.” The last time I received so much negative attention, I was fourteen, and my parents were right to lay low.
It did disappear eventually. Even when the attention has been positive after my Olympic appearances, the intense interest always dies.
“I don’t want to ride it out anymore or ignore it or pretend she isn’t dragging me through the mud.” She takes a deep breath. “I want you to do something.”
Do something? Other than telling Val to cut the shit, I’m not sure what she thinks I can do.
“I want you to respond to her or do your own post about all this or something.”
“What?” I give a laugh of disbelief. “No. I’m not feeding the trolls and gossips. The more you give, the more they want.”
“A consistent diet of Val’s lies is currently filling them up.” Her tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “You know what? Fucking forget it.” She waves her hand and takes out her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Ordering an Uber to take me to the airport.”
“You don’t need an Uber. I can drive you.” I step forward to take her bag, and she kicks it behind her without looking up. Somewhat impressive. I would have thought her bag was heavy. The one she took to Bermuda was small but mighty.
She clicks her phone closed, and when her gaze meets mine, the other shoe drops. This wasn’t just a conversation about whatever shit Val’s been talking. I’ve missed some subtext here, but I’m still too dense to get it. My gut twists, and it’s so fierce, I can feel it in my chest too.
“Am I going to see you after the break?” I ask.
“You mean around campus?” She crosses her arms and checks over her shoulder. Ubers never take long.
My heart dips into my feet like I’m on a rollercoaster. I stare at her, and I search for whatever wording won’t scare her off. Each version I prep in my head doesn’t quite strike the right note between caring and indifferent. They’re all fucking desperate.
“I think our fake relationship has run its course, don’t you?” she says. “Something has to stop. I guess it’s us.”
A black SUV approaches from the end of the parking lot, and it inches along. Whoever is inside is clearly scanning the complex for their pickup.
“Posey,” I say, and I try to reach for her just as the car draws flush with the curb.
She jerks her arm out of my reach and opens the rear door to toss her bag in. When she makes eye contact with me, there are tears in her eyes.
There’s a vise around my chest, and I don’t know what to say to fix whatever I’ve fucked up.
“This is why I don’t do relationships,” she says. “One way or another, a guy always lets me down.” She ducks into the SUV, and she tugs the door shut behind her before I can get a word out in response.
I throw up my arms at the retreating vehicle, and then I draw them over my head in frustration. She changed her flight, and she came here to break up with me. Wouldn’t have mattered what I said. But the idea of just letting her go makes my stomach flip, and I take my phone out of my pocket.
We should talk when you get back. It’s not fake for me. Hasn’t been for a long time.
I stare at my screen waiting for it to tell me the message has been delivered or read, but there’s nothing. The wind kicks up around me, and I let out a sigh.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My feelings for her are real, but I’m not sure how much that’ll matter. She’s convinced herself we won’t work, and with an ocean between us, I don’t know how I change her mind.
My younger sister bumps my shoulder in the kitchen of our family’s chalet in Utah. “At what point do you snap out of this foul mood?”
When Posey reads my fucking text. It’s been delivered, but it’s sitting unread. Un-fucking-read. Her stubborn streak shouldn’t be a surprise. She’s resisted taking even a whiff of the relationship I was cooking between us.
“Why don’t you just call her?” Nicole says.
“She won’t even read my text message. She’s not going to take a phone call from me.”
“What Val did was pretty shitty. You said none of it was true? Have you watched the video yet?” Nicole grabs a glass from one of the cupboards and flicks the switch for the coffee maker.
Although I don’t technically have to train for the almost week I’m here with my family, I’ve been taking the public bus to a local athletics center to swim every day.
We’re supposed to be skiing, but sticking my face in the water and watching a pace clock is the only thing that seems to soothe this spidering ache that’s with me no matter what I’m doing.
No other girl has wedged herself so deeply into my conscious and subconscious thoughts.
Any time something amusing or interesting happens, I make a mental note to tell Posey, and then I realize I can’t tell her.
There’s a chance I’ll never tell her anything ever again.
“There’s no point in watching a video filled with lies,” I say. “Doesn’t make any of it true.”
“Want a woman’s perspective?” Nicole asks.
“You think I should ask Mom?” I give her a wry smile.
She shoves my shoulder and pours herself a cup of coffee. “Val did your girl dirty. What’d you do in response?”
“Why would I respond?” I get my own cup and pour myself coffee too.
“Was Posey upset about what Val said?” Nicole huffs out a breath.
I stir the sugar and cream into my coffee while I replay all the conversations Posey and I had about Val. To be honest, I knew other people were bothering Posey on campus, but I didn’t consider the full impact of that on her.
“I’m going to assume yes,” Nicole says. “If my boyfriend didn’t defend me after his ex came after me, I’d rip him a new asshole.” She shrugs. “I choose violence.”
“Rip him a new asshole? Definitely violent. Who raised you?”
Nicole lets out a laugh and then glances toward the bedrooms down the hall. We’re the first ones up.
“Posey didn’t bother with that. But I’m pretty sure she broke up with me.
” One hundred percent sure. Remembering the expression on her face when she said I let her down guts me all over again.
All the viral posts made it to my sister at her college in California, and even my parents were aware I was involved in “some sort of cheating scandal,” but it was easy enough to set them all straight.
Conveniently, I left out the part where Posey was originally supposed to be my fake girlfriend.
If I can get her back, there’ll be nothing fake about it.
“I wish she’d waited until after Christmas so you weren’t so miserable. Isn’t that relationship etiquette?” Nicole takes a sip of her coffee.
If we were in a relationship Posey acknowledged as real, maybe. I even bought her a present. She has a dangly bracelet she wears that has tiny charms of all her favorite things. I bought her a swimmer for it. Not sure I’d make it on the favorite things list anymore.
“What are you suggesting?” I ask in a huff. “You’re telling me I fucked up. I acknowledge that. I’m an idiot when it comes to women. Should I go talk to Val? Tell her to retract all her bullshit?”
“Step one. Watch the damn video. It’s everywhere. Not like it’s hard to locate. If you don’t know what your girlfriend is upset about, how can you possibly fix it?” Nicole holds up a finger. “Step two. Get your ex-girlfriend to back the fuck up. Step three. Grovel. Grovel hard.”
A three-step approach to winning Posey back. The first is easy. Unpleasant but easy. Talking to Val is going to take an inhuman amount of patience. As for the groveling, I’m not even sure she’ll let me in the door of her apartment for me to start the groveling process.
“You’re one of the most driven and focused people I’ve ever known,” Nicole says.
“Apply a pinch of that—no need to scare her—and I can’t imagine she’ll say no.
I also saw the video of the two of you. The last time you looked that happy was at the final medal ceremony of the last Olympics.
If she can rival that feeling, well, that’s worth chasing. ”
She makes it sound simple, but she’s never met Posey. Instead of “resistance is futile,” her motto appears to be perseverance is futile. Though I can’t help thinking I made some headway. In our viral video, she’s looking at me the same way I’m looking at her. And I know how I feel.
“She is one hundred percent worth chasing,” I say. Now, I need to figure out how.