Crossing the Line

by Nicola Marsh

  I knew one thing. If I went after Mia, my tennis career was finished.

  Dirk wouldn't take kindly to his latest protégé absconding. He'd be royally pissed off. And he'd tell my dad.

  Chasing after Mia would mean effectively screwing up my last chance. The thought should've had me terrified. Instead, all I could think was, 'what if I told Dad first?'

  Because that's what I'd have to do. He'd stood by me too many times for me to blow him off for love.

  Love?

  Fuck, that's the second time in as many minutes I'd associated love with Mia.

  I loved her.

  Me. A guy who barely knew the meaning of the word. Pity my timing sucked.

  When I reached my villa, I paced for a good ten minutes. Formulating ideas. Discarding. Refining. And not once in all that time did I feel bad about walking away from my tennis career.

  Guess I had my answer right there.

  Being at the academy, in Sydney and here, had never been about a great passion for the game. It had been about me escaping, running away, doing whatever it took to avoid a lot of the painful crap in my life.

  Thanks to Mia, I was through running.

  I knew what I wanted. Her. And if that meant being in Denver, I'd do it.

  But I needed help first.

  Doing a quick calculation of time differences between here and Sydney, I fired up my laptop to Skype Dad.

  It took several seconds for his face to appear on the screen, a big smile creasing the face that most Australians knew and loved as the face of talk show.

  "Hey, Son, how's life in Cali?"

  I settled for a noncommittal "Okay."

  "Doesn't look it, by that frown." Dad mimicked a gloomy expression. "What's on your mind?"

  Here went nothing.

  "I want to quit tennis. Not entirely, but I don't want to play the professional circuit. I want to go to college. In Denver. Enroll in an English major. Play college tennis for fun, not out of obligation to repay your faith in me."

  The words tumbled out in a rush, the half-formed ideas that I'd toyed with coalescing into a plan that sounded crazy but doable. "Tennis has been my crutch, Dad. My go-to place for years, a way to burn off my anger. But I've met someone and she's made me realize a lot of stuff and I'm not so angry anymore."

  I took a deep breath and rushed on, encouraged by the lack of horror on Dad's face. "You've been amazing, standing by me and pulling strings to get me this second chance. And the last thing I want to do is disappoint you. But I'm hoping you'll be proud of me now, of the decisions I've made, and the way I've learned there's more to life than whacking the shit out of a ball from frustration."

  There, I'd said it. A jumbled confession of sorts that should've left me feeling empty. Instead, I felt liberated.

  I held my breath, waiting for Dad to speak. When he did, by the admiration glowing in his eyes, I knew everything would be okay.

  "I’m proud of you, Son. More than you could ever know." He smiled. "It takes guts to throw away your crutches. Real courage." He made a fist and pumped it in the air. "You're a champ, whether you play tennis or not."

  "Thanks, Dad." To my horror, I could feel tears stinging my eyes. "You've never let me down."

  Dad's smile faded. "Sadly, that's not true." He shook his head. "I let you down before you were even born."

  "You didn't know about me."

  The second Dad locked gazes with me and I glimpsed a flicker of guilt, I knew the truth.

  "That's the thing, Son. I did know. I knew your mum was pregnant and I accepted her decision to abort." His eyes clouded with pain that must've been reflected in mine. "I could've stuck around and supported her through it, but I didn't. I took the easy way out, was relieved in fact she didn't want me around anymore. So I thought there was no baby." He pressed a hand to his heart. "Finding out I had a son all those years later was a gift, but it also made me terribly ashamed of how I'd walked away too easily all those years earlier."

  His shoulders sagged. "Your mum deserved better and so did you."

  I hesitated, wanting to ask a question but not entirely certain I wanted to hear the answer. "Is that why you've stood by me these last few years? Out of guilt?"

  "Partially," he admitted. "But I could see so much of myself in you, how I was at your age, that I hoped you needed a father as much as I'd needed one but never had."

  I admired Dad's honesty and was more than a little intrigued. "So you took your frustrations out on a tennis ball too?"

  "Nothing so harmless." A wry smile alleviated some of the tension pinching his mouth. "I was a dumb bastard who took my frustration at life out on a bottle and pot." He screwed up his nose. "When I wasn't stoned I was blind drunk, seeking solace in something, anything, rather than face my miserable existence. Thank God you were smarter than that."

  "Yeah, so smart I busted a guy's nose."

  "Better than busting into a liquor store and stealing."

  Dad's admission hung in the air until I closed my gaping jaw.

  "I was shady, kid. A real dumb-arse. At least you were smart enough to channel your anger into sport." He pointed at me. "But I knew there'd come a time you wouldn't need to depend on tennis anymore and looks like that time has come."

  "So you're not mad or disappointed?"

  He shook his head. "I eventually worked through my rough stuff and I knew you'd do the same. Mad? I'm bloody proud." Dad glanced away from the screen for a moment and when he looked back at me, I'd never seen him look so uncertain. "I never wanted to be one of those parents who told kids what to do. I felt like I'd never earned the right. So I watched you fight and struggle against your anger the same way I had, but you were so much smarter than me. You were street-wise and savvy and knew how to control it." He gently fist-bumped the screen. "I've led an interesting life, filled with good and bad. But finding out I had a son, then being privileged enough to get to know you and be a father you can turn to, is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

  "Thanks, Dad." I fist-bumped the screen right back at him, swallowing the urge to bawl like a baby. "Just so you know, Dirk's going to throw a shit-fit when he finds out I've gone after Mia, because he already warned me off her and doesn't know we're dating."

  Dad's eyes widened, before a slow grin spread across his face. "You're dating Dirk's daughter?"

  I nodded and Dad laughed. "Dirk's always been a smug bastard, even if he's one of the good guys." He winked. "Leave it to me, Son. I'll take care of Dirk while you go after your girl."

  Your girl … I liked the sound of that.

  "You wouldn't happen to have any friends in high places at the University of Denver, would you? Because I sure could do with some string-pulling like you did with Dirk."

  Dad nodded. "Leave it with me. One of my producers has a son-in-law who's on the faculty at some uni in Denver. I'll follow it up."

  "You're the best, Dad."

  And I meant it. I may not have had a father growing up, but he'd stepped up when I needed him most. I was one lucky son of a bitch.

  "Right back at you, kid." He ended our session with a salute and as I closed the laptop, I was one step closer to achieving my goal.

  Finding Mia.

  Convincing her I loved her.

  And sticking around for the long haul.

  Chapter 25

  MIA

  Two hours after I entered my dorm and indulged in another bout of useless weeping, Dani showed up.

  She didn't knock, just barged into my room like she owned the place.

  I sat up and pointed at the door. "Fuck off."

  She didn't move. Not a flicker of a muscle. Not a blink. If she'd responded with her characteristic smart-ass attitude or apologized or even groveled, I would probably have physically manhandled her and thrown her out.

  Instead, I stared in shock as Dani did the one thing she'd never done in front of me.

  Cry.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, her eerily blank expression scaring me as mu
ch as the way she was staring at me: like someone had just died.

  "Here." I handed her a box of tissues and tried not to feel sorry for her.

  My best friend had betrayed me in the worst possible way and if she thought a few tears would gain my forgiveness, she was wrong.

  She took the box and sank onto the floor, legs tucked under her as she leaned against the desk, the way she used to do when we were kids and swapping stories on our latest crushes in my room. We'd talk for hours, only stopping to nibble on peanut butter cookies and down lemonade prepared by the nanny. We'd braid each other's hair and paint our toenails and scribble secrets into our journals, before proceeding to spill every one of those secrets.

  Without a mom, Dani had been the main female influence in my life. I'd adored her, every loud, rambunctious, bossy inch of her. But no amount of precious memories could erase what she'd done today.

  I didn't speak, because I knew if I started I'd end up screaming. So I sat and waited for her to dry her eyes and blow her nose, quelling the sympathy that continued to well up as I realized how awful she looked.

  Dani never left the house without make-up and her hair blow-dried to sleek perfection. She wore skimpy designer gear with the sole intent to be noticed wherever she went. She never looked like this: blotchy red skin, bloodshot eyes, lank hair snagged in two pigtails and saggy grey yoga pants with a matching sloppy joe.

  When she finally opened her mouth to speak, I braced myself.

  "I know you want to slap me from here into oblivion and I don't blame you, but I'm really hoping you'll hear me out," she said, wringing her hands. "Please."

  I didn't want to listen to her trite apology but I shrugged my agreement. Short of physically dragging her toward the door and shoving her through it, I knew she wouldn't leave until she appeased her conscience.

  "I'm sorry, Mia, for everything. For being a jealous bitch that you found happiness with a guy in such a short space of time. For wanting to hurt you as much as you hurt me for blowing me off. For deliberately setting you up …" She shook her head and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. "I left a note for Kye, saying you'd meet him at the pool house, and I did the same to you. I wanted you to see me come onto him."

  Anger churned my gut as she continued. "Kye didn't even know I was there. He was waiting for you, lying on a lounger, eyes closed. I hid 'til I saw you approaching the pool house and I jumped his bones."

  Her breath hitched in a part-sob, part-hiccup, and my fingers curled into fists so I wouldn't strangle her.

  "He pushed me off straight away, but I'd achieved what I set out to do when I saw you standing there … fuck, I'm so sorry." She absentmindedly shredded tissues, twisting them into tiny pieces. "People have ignored me my whole life. Friends, family, but never you. That's why I used to act like I put out so much in high school, to get noticed. But you were the only person who saw the real me, who paid me any attention. And when you didn't I kinda snapped." She made crazy circles at her temple. "It's no excuse, I know, but I wanted you to know you're the only person I can really depend on in this world and I'd never deliberately hurt you if I was thinking straight."

  "But you did hurt me." I leaped off the bed and stood, towering over her. "Don't you get it, Dani? You've crossed a line. I trusted you and now we can't ever go back. And you've screwed my relationship with Kye in the process."

  Damn, the tears I'd been holding in stung the back of my eyes. Pressing the pads of my fingers to my eyes, I murmured, "Just go."

  I could hear her sobs but I couldn't bear to look at her. Thanks to Dani, I'd run out on Kye. I'd believed what I'd seen and hadn't believed enough in him. Or myself. What we'd had was real and I'd allowed Dani to tarnish it.

  "Look, there's nothing you can say that can mend our friendship so please leave—"

  "I lost the baby."

  Dani had spoken so softly I could've sworn I must've imagined her whisper.

  I lowered my hands and opened my eyes, to find her staring at me with a bleakness that stabbed me in the chest.

  "That's what the nurse said. 'You've lost the baby'." She grimaced, as if in pain. "Like I'd ever lose something, someone, so precious."

  Stunned, I sank onto the floor in front of her. I wanted to ask a billion questions but waited for her to continue. She looked like she was in a trance, reciting the truth like an automaton.

  "That's why I couldn't come here with you." She gestured around the room. "I wanted to attend college with you so badly, but I got pregnant. Didn't tell my flaky folks, not that they would've noticed 'til I was about to deliver anyway."

  Her legs unfolded and she stretched them out in front, rested her hands in her lap now she'd finally stopped massacring tissues. "I was happy, truly happy, for the first time in my life. I thought a baby would fill the emptiness I've always felt. You know my parents. You know the life I've led. Glamorous on the outside, fake on the inside. A baby would've been all mine, would've had to pay me attention …"

  I wanted to say something but had no idea what. Dani's revelation had floored me, and semi-cracked the barriers I'd erected around my heart.

  That had been the start of the end for us, when she'd decided not to come to college with me and made up that lame excuse about having the flu. Deep down, I'd never forgiven her and we'd been drifting apart ever since.

  Knowing the truth, the explosive truth, went some way to healing the rift.

  "You were always my voice of reason, Mia. My adorably strait-laced best friend. And that's why I didn't tell even you." She blinked as more tears fell. "Because I was scared you'd talk me out of keeping the baby. Because I was terrified you'd say all the logical things I probably needed to hear and I'd end up resenting you for it."

  She puffed out a long breath. "So I didn't tell a soul. Then I miscarried at twelve weeks. And I spent the next three years trying to numb the pain by partying hard and sleeping around and doing too many dumbass things."

  Dani knuckled her eyes, before her gaze locked on mine with startling clarity. "What I did to you? Trying to hurt you by ruining your relationship with Kye? It's the last straw. I've been on a downward spiral for too long. Losing this?" She waved her hand between us. "Losing us? Has made me realize I need to stop. So I'm leaving. Going overseas for a while. Anywhere but LA, so I can get my shit together."

  She stood slowly, struggling to her feet like an old woman. "But I had to tell you the truth before I left. Because even now, a part of me hopes that one day you'll forgive me and we can be friends again."

  She held her hands out to me, to help me off the floor.

  I had two choices. Hold onto my resentment and let her walk out of here. Or understand and forgive and get my best friend back.

  I placed my hands in hers and she tugged me up so hard I stumbled. Fell against her. And then we were hugging and sniveling and crying.

  "I'm so sorry you went through all that alone," I said, when we finally stopped embracing and released each other.

  "Thanks, it was tough." Dani plucked the last tissue out of the box, tore it in two, and handed me half. "Gutted me. Which is why I went a little crazy."

  I managed a wobbly smile. "What was your excuse before?"

  "Bitch," she said, and we laughed.

  Her smile faded all too quickly. "Are you going to talk to Kye? Because I really think you should." She grimaced. "I'm so ashamed of my behavior. I'll apologize to him too and then you can work things out—"

  "I'm scared," I murmured, recognizing the truth a second after the words tumbled from my lips. "I've fallen in love for the first time with a guy I barely know. A guy who's going to be travelling the world and meeting gorgeous women and who I wasn't going to see after the end of vacation anyway, so what's the point …" I trailed off, having articulated my deepest fears when it came to Kye.

  I wasn't a fool. Once the initial pain from seeing Dani on top of him had faded, I'd known why I'd run. Because I'd avoided the inevitable break-up we faced. I'd taken the easy way out. So why d
id it now feel so hard?

  "Want to know what I think?"

  "You're going to tell me anyway," I said, incredibly thankful to have my opinionated BFF back.

  Dani managed a wobbly smile. "If you love him, fight for him. Don't let a possible cloudy future dictate what you could have today."

  She squeezed my arm. "At least, that's what I used to help me decide whether to keep the baby or not. I was terrified, imagining how someone like me could care for a baby. I concocted terrible scenarios in my head, each worse than the last. But when it came down to it?" She shrugged, but I glimpsed the incredible pain of loss in her eyes. "I would’ve rather lived my life with my baby than give it away for fear of a future that may never happen."

  "Aww, honey …" I hugged her again, swiftly and fiercely, releasing her before we started to bawl again. "Thanks. You've really helped."

  "Glad to."

  A knock sounded at the door and I glanced at my watch in surprise. Even if most students weren't away on vacation, I wouldn't normally have visitors at three a.m.

  When I opened the door, my heart stopped.

  "Don't you ever leave me again," Kye said, a second before he hauled me into his arms and squeezed so tight like he'd never let go.

  I wished.

  What seemed like an eternity later, Kye released me.

  Dani brushed past us. "I'm sorry, Kye. I was an idiot in Santa Monica." She slung an arm around my shoulder. "Mia will explain everything." She squeezed me and pecked me on the cheek. "Take care, hon. I'll be in touch."

  "Okay." I waited until Dani left before hauling Kye inside and slamming the door shut. There was so much to say and I had no freaking idea where to start.

  "Nothing happened—"

  "Sorry for running—"

  We spoke simultaneously, both halting at the same time, followed by nervous laughter. When Kye took a seat at my desk, I chose the bed. I couldn't be near him to have this conversation, because if he touched me again I'd fall into his arms without needing what had to be said.

  "You first," I said, chicken to the end.

  He braced his elbows on his knees, making his navy T-shirt pull taut across his delts and upper back. A back I'd scoured in ecstasy. A back I wanted to wrap my arms around even now and never let go.