Racing Outside the Line: A Love Story at 190 Mph (8 page)

"Brad, you’re damn lucky her daddy ain’t here or he’d have a shotgun out pointed at your crotch." Brad shoved Greg away from us and wrapped his arms around me again. My happy buzz was starting to wear off, and the comments were starting to sink through the alcohol in my system, but I kept on dancing, although I had pulled away from Brad a bit. Desmond was too busy making out with Christina to notice what Greg was saying.

"Hell, hun, I think I’ll give him a call, what’s yo’ daddy’s number…" That sunk in. I felt my eyes get misty and told Brad, "I’m going to get another beer."

As I walked toward the kitchen, I glanced up at Seth and noticed that his jaw was clenched.

I felt the tears begin to overpower my self-control, and instead of stopping at the fridge, I decided to get some air. I could barely hear Seth yell, "Okay, party’s over!" as I opened the back door and headed outside.

The light, misty rain that was falling felt soothing as it hit my face. The warm air was a nice contrast to the almost too cool air conditioning of the house. I walked to the edge of the deck and decided to keep going down the steps, past the pool and down the dock to where I could dangle my feet and hit the water. I slid my feet from my sandals and sat down. How did my life get so messed up? Here I was, in love with the same man who had destroyed me and making out with another man, who might as well be every single man I had ever dated. All my boyfriends were the same—the nice guy who wanted to wait patiently for me to grow a brain large enough to make me realize what an idiot I was to keep loving a man who didn’t love me back.

This was not the life my dad would have wanted me to lead. I let my head fall into my hands and didn’t force back the tears.

I heard confident footsteps behind me and knew that it was Seth. Brad would have been tentative, he always was, and Desmond would have been shouting his questions long before he got close to me. But, Seth, Seth would come and join me in silence, and that’s exactly what he did. For several moments he didn’t say anything, just moved his feet back and forth in the water, staring off into the distance.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and finally broke the silence, "Everyone gone?"

"Yes, Brad took Greg home; Desmond took Chelsea home and told me to tell you he wouldn’t be back tonight." I nodded vaguely.

We sat in silence for several more minutes until the mist began to fall in small raindrops. I wasn’t ready to go back in the house yet, though. As my hair soaked up more and more raindrops, Seth finally spoke.

"He didn’t know about your dad, you know?" I nodded again. "If he had, he would know how asinine his comments were." More quiet moments passed as I looked out onto the lake. A half moon shone brilliantly in through the clouds, and I loved how it made the surface of the water glimmer and glean. "He would have wanted you to be happy, no matter what that meant." The tears started to fall again. I had to remind myself that "No matter what that meant" clearly didn’t apply to being with Seth. The uncomfortable tension that sat between us after his last comment seemed to take over. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I tried to change the topic to something safer.

"Nope," I actually loved it, as odd as it sounded. Guess I was a glutton for punishment in more ways than just chasing around a man who didn’t want me.

"What about Desmond? You didn’t miss his annoying ways?" He had a lighthearted laugh in his voice as he called Desmond annoying. They always teased each other. I often envied their friendship.

"I missed Des and Wyatt a lot, but they came to visit me often, the thunderstorms never came to visit," I gave a weak smile.

"What’s number one? Something food related, I bet?" He smiled as if he had me all figured out. What a moron. Wiping the tears from my cheeks and not caring whether he noticed the action, I turned and looked at him, raising my eyebrows, as if to ask, "Are you stupid?"

After a moment of staring at my face, he seemed to figure it out, "Oh," was his response. We both looked off into the distance for several minutes. The lake was calm, and the world seemed very still around us. The moon gave off just enough light to make the clouds look backlit, but it was hidden now behind the thick expanse of clouds. I can’t really say that sitting in silence with him was comfortable, not with the mention of having missed him the most while I was at school, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. There was always a sense of calm that Seth could bring out in me; a sense of rightness, as if I were meant to sit next to him and, as they say, "therein lies the problem."

After several moments, he had me eating my words, or thoughts, rather, "Why didn’t you sleep with Brad?"

What a question! How the hell was I supposed to answer that? Uh, gee brainiac, possibly because I’m stuck on you! No, I couldn’t just blurt that out. How best to phrase this... something he would understand without having to explain details, I let out a heavy sigh… "It was Josh all over again."

"Oh," was apparently all he could come up with this evening. I thought that would be the end of this line of questioning when he threw another fast ball my way, "Why don’t you hate me?"

Stunned silence overtook me for a moment while I worked my way up to being completely taken aback by his question. I was left staring wide-eyed at him, like a deer caught in headlights.
Why didn’t I hate him?
The question bothered me partly because it was odd that he was admitting to a reason for me to hate him, most of the time he avoided the subject entirely, but also because there were so many times that I wished I
could
just hate him and leave it at that.

I finally decided to give him brutal honesty. "I do—fervently and passionately—a lot of the time." Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I continued, "And life would be much easier if my emotions ended there. Clearly," I paused to let out a sad sigh, "they don’t." We sat in silence for several more minutes. He seemed as lost in his own thoughts as I was.

Did he think I was so fickle that I could sleep with him and then hate him the next day? How could he not know that I was beyond hurt? And why the hell
didn’t
I hate him? After all that had happened, after all this time without any sort of explanation, I should never want to see him again. He was sitting here questioning me pointedly about my sex life when he himself had a fiancé. A fiancé! If he really cared about me, then how could he be engaged to another woman? Before I could think about phrasing it properly, I blurted out the large question floating around in my head. "Do you love her?"

He turned to me looking startled by my question. He must not have been expecting me to take this into consideration. Hell, I surprised myself since the truth was I hadn’t even given it a first thought, let alone a second one when plotting my attack on him. For some reason though, sitting here with him, knowing that he thought I should hate him, made me feel guilty for the situation I was putting him in. It was necessary to find out, necessary because no matter how much pain he
had
and
was
putting me through, I never wanted to put him through that too. But what would I do if he said yes? What if he did love her and truly wanted to marry her? Would I walk away?
Could
I walk away? We sat there in silence as more minutes passed by.

It didn’t seem as if he was going to respond. I had just begun to convince myself that it was better not to know his response when he spoke. "I don’t have an easy answer for that one, Lex," he sounded dejected, tired, and sad.

I guess that was a good answer. I was interrupting the love he felt for Alexandria, but it made me feel guilty. I wanted to hurt him, but yet I didn’t want him to be in pain. I wanted him to love me, and yet, I still felt horrible that he was having a difficult time loving another woman. I was a massive walking contradiction.

Why couldn’t I be mean? Why couldn’t I screw up his life and be proud of it? Why did I have to stick around when my only real course of action was to cause myself more pain? Talk about masochistic.

What kind of life was I fooling myself into believing I was leading here? Chelsea would not be proud of what I was doing here. I should leave. I should go back to California and stay with Chelsea for awhile. Maybe I could start working again, and get an actual life, instead of this half-life I was living here.

I closed my eyes trying to shut out my senses, to escape my need to be with him. I needed to give up on Seth. I had to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. I had to get over Seth. I had to wrap my arms around my chest to hold in the pain. When I felt a tear slip down my cheek, I knew I was losing my grip and had to get away from him. I stood up shakily. Seth got up quickly and helped me, which only made matters worse. What I wouldn’t do to be in his arms right now, to have it be okay to jump into his arms. The pain in my chest was burning into my lungs making it unbearable to breathe. I kept my eyes focused on the ground, not wanting to let him look me in the eye. He tried to lift my chin up, but I squeezed my eyes shut even harder and broke free of his grasp. I turned and walked back toward the house.

"Lex," it sounded like another apology… another apology that I just couldn’t take, couldn’t hear, and couldn’t let myself hope to hear. I started jogging, and then running. The tears fell faster as I ran into the house. I took the stairs two at a time, sobbing quietly now. I went up to my room and started packing. I didn’t just throw things in, I remained calm the whole time despite my broken, bleeding, burning heartache. That run had burned off the last of my energy, and I was left with the hole in my chest and the need to pack.

By the time I had finished packing enough clothes to stay a while with Chelsea, the tears had stopped. I washed my face and pulled on a comfortable nightgown. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I thought about my own stupidity. I let myself get into this situation, hell, I purposefully
put
myself into this situation. I should have listened to Chelsea in the first place. It was worse now than if I had just stayed in California to begin with. Running away now, meant that I would never be able to come back here and have a life. It would always be this hard except, years from now, he would already be married, living with his wife, perhaps even have children with her. Seth’s children with another woman… the image in my head made me tighten in pain.

I couldn’t think about the number one thing I would miss here because it would continue to keep me huddled in a tiny ball trying to control the pain emanating from my chest. But number two on my list, the weather… that was a safe topic of thought. I would see no more hot, humid summers, no more sticky sunbathing or feeling as if the heat completely encompassed me, and no more thunderstorms. As if my own thoughts were linked to the weather, a bolt of lightning flashed across my closed eyes. At least I could enjoy one last storm. I got up and walked to the French doors that led to the wrap-around balcony. It felt so nice, the misty droplets of rain on my skin mixed with the warm sticky night air. I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes, waiting to hear the deep, unending rumbling of thunder. For a moment, I was able to forget my pain.

Like a radar detector, my heart began to ache again. I didn’t have to open my eyes to feel that he was walking from his room, down the balcony toward me. The closer he got, the more it hurt, until it was a searing pain that I just wanted to hide from. I clutched at my chest and turned to walk back inside, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.

"Lex," more of the apologetic tone; just what I needed. I could feel myself trembling.

"Seth… please," I couldn’t keep my voice from wavering. I couldn’t stop myself from being on the edge of tears. "You said all I needed to hear. Please… I need that to be our last conversation. I can’t survive like this. I know I started this stupid game, but I need it to stop."

He didn’t let go of my arm, and I was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to pull away from him, so I let myself just stand there, my head and my arms dangling like a wet rag doll’s.

"What do you mean ‘last conversation’?"

Please let me hold it together long enough to say goodbye. Whoever is listening up there, please let me just hang on to my sanity long enough to tell him I’m leaving. "I’m"…
deep breaths, deep breaths
… "going back to California—tomorrow." He started to shake his head. I had to hurry up and say what I had to say. "I’m going to stay with Chelsea for a few months," I blurted out. He was shaking his head more fervently now. "Then, I don’t know, but I just… can’t… stay here." That last word ended on a sob, and I clutched at my chest again, trying to stop the pain. I tried to turn away from him again, to go back to my room where I could hide in peace, but he wouldn’t let me.

"Damn it, Lex, that’s not what you want, and I know it."

Was he kidding me? What
I
want? Does he live in the same world I do? "It’s not about what
I
want, it
never
has been," I worked up enough anger to throw those words out there, but it left me quickly, and all I could manage now was a little frustration. My head dropped, and I let my shoulders slump in exhaustion and defeat, "Why would it start being about what I want
now
?"

I allowed myself one last look in his eyes. I was ready to finally say "goodbye" and wanted to memorize the way he looked in that moment. For a moment, I thought he might be in as much pain as I was. Then his eyes changed, they seemed to solidify, and he clenched his jaw tightly. He didn’t look angry, but determined to do something he knew he shouldn’t. "Desmond is gonna fuckin’
kill
me," he seemed really angry, but before I could figure out what on earth he was talking about, he took a deep breath, put one hand on my cheek and pulled my lips to his.