Page 18 of Send It

Colson

The anxious feeling I have when hobbling with my crutches into the Bane house isn’t a familiar feeling. Knowing that I’m about to tell Reiss I’m into his sister makes me physically sick.

My mind swirls with different scenarios but most end with me getting punched.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Reiss says with a giant smirk on his face that falls the instant he sees my crutches. “Geez, not those . God dude, Nationals are like right around the corner and you are hobbling around on fucking crutches.”

“I’m alright, man. Just trying to rest it.” I lie, not really wanting to deep dive into the end of my racing career right now.

“Lincoln acted like you needed surgery.”

I chuckle nervously, “Lincoln exaggerates. ”

“That she does,” he agrees. “Where is she?”

“She’s at Lakeside helping Stassie chase off the drunks.”

He sneers, “I hate the girls closing. I wish Rick wouldn’t let that happen.”

He’s right. It’s not the safest. Luckily I know that Rick, the owner, and John, one of the bartenders, are also closing so I know they’re safe.

“Worried about Stas?” I push, trying to aggravate him.

He shakes his head, correcting me, “My sister .”

“Not Stassie at all? Not even a little bit?”

He shoves my arm, knocking me off balance, “Maybe a teeny bit, but shut up.”

“Why are you fucking around with Mira when you are clearly obsessed with Stas?”

He drops his head with defeat, “Because bro, that’s Lincoln’s best friend. It wouldn’t be right. Lincoln would freak.”

“How do you know?” I ask. “I don’t think Lincoln would care.”

He stares at me blankly for a moment before shaking his head, “Because I would freak. Imagine if it were you and Lincoln.”

My heart constricts so tight in my chest that my leg pain seems like a fucking hangnail.

What do I even say to that?

“What would be wrong with me and Lincoln?” I panic. “I’d be great for Lincoln.”

Reiss hesitates and then laughs, “That’s not even funny, man. I love you but we both know that Lincoln is difficult. You don’t do anything difficult. Plus, you and Lincoln hate each other half the time, so stop fucking with me. ”

The fact that Reiss instantly thinks I’m joking kind of messes with my head because he’s right. Lincoln could do better. She should do better.

She’s all I’ve ever really wanted, but am I what she wants? Sure it may seem that way, but what about when it really comes down to it. Is she going to be happy with me?

My leg is fucked. There’s no chance of me going pro now. I have no back up plan. No support system.

“Colson?” Reiss says, pulling me out of my head. “Did you hear me?”

“Um, yeah… yeah. I was just messin’ with you.”

He blows out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. For a second, I thought you might be serious.”

“No,” I breathe. “Lincoln could do way better than me.”

I can see the tenseness fall right out of Reiss’ shoulders, “No one will ever be good enough for her but when she decides that someone is, I guess I won’t really have a say.”

“You’re right.” I agree. “No one will ever be good enough.”

His dark brows furrow like he sees right through me, but instead of continuing the conversation, he changes the subject entirely. It blows my chance to tell him that I’m in love with Lincoln. But hell, maybe I did that myself since I just lied straight to his face. Again.

I also lied about my injury. I wasn’t just resting my leg but, after working so hard to get to Nationals, it felt like all of that training went down the drain if I admitted that I wasn’t going to race.

A million scenarios float through my mind, too. What if I tough it out and race anyway? What if Lincoln loses interest in me because I’m not racing anymore? Maybe I really am just not good enough?

My pain tolerance is pretty high, so for most people this injury would mean they couldn’t do it, but I’d been riding for months like this. What’s one more week of races?

“What is going through your head?” Reiss asks. “You look like you're fighting your own mind over there.”

“I was just thinking about Nationals,” I admit. “Hoping I don’t completely blow it.”

“You won’t,” he snaps. “You’ve been riding since you were four years old. Why are you so nervous anyway? You never get nervous.”

Try breaking your leg in half and then ask me that, asshole.

Reiss has had injuries. Common ones. Broken collarbones and wrists. A measly month off the bike and then right back at it. I was off the bike for nearly a year.

“Just going to be some stiff competition.”

Reiss laughs with confidence, “Just say you’re scared of me, bro.”

“Did Landon qualify?” I ask, knowing that Reiss was going to be my main competitor, but Landon would get in my head and, with my injury, I’d be riding more on his level.

“Yeah, he did, but since when are you scared of Landon Tate?”

My nose wrinkles, “I’m not scared of Landon. He’s been training hard though, so he will be a problem, Reiss, and not just for me.”

“I’m well aware of what Landon’s doing.” He snaps, almost defensively .

“Is that why you’re fucking with Mira, trying to get in his head?”

He gets defensive, “You don’t know anything about Mira, not a damn thing. She’s not like him.”

I hold my hands up in surrender, “I don’t know because you won’t fucking tell me anything.”

“I’m just helping her out. She’s got some shit going on.”

I bring my brows together, “Should I be worried about you?”

“Worried about what?” Lincoln says, walking in with Stassie, shutting the door behind her.

“Reiss fucking around with Mira.” I say, and the way Stassie’s smile falls is evident that she either didn't know or doesn’t want to hear about it.

Reiss growls, “Colson, just stop.”

Lincoln crosses her arms, “Yeah, I’d like to know too. Does she have something on you, Reiss? Did she blackmail you or something?”

Stassie chuckles, and Reiss’ head snaps in her direction. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she smiles wickedly. “Just wondering what kind of blackmail she could have on the world’s most boring human. Did she catch you riding your dirtbike a little too hard?”

Lincoln giggles but Reiss is quick to fire back, “Don’t you have a One Direction poster somewhere you can go finger bang yourself to?”

“Don’t start,” Lincoln warns them both. “I don’t feel like playing referee tonight.”

Her eyes cut to me, and I can feel her silently questioning whether or not I’ve talked to Reiss about us.

Our stare off is short lived when Reiss’ phone vibrates on the counter. I do feel a little jealous when I see Jackson’s name flash on the screen.

“Hey Jack… yeah she is… okay…”

Reiss looks at me and then at Lincoln. “Jack is having everyone over for a lake day tomorrow. Ya’ll wanna come?”

I feel an instant surge of jealousy because I know that he specifically asked Lincoln to come. He asked Reiss if Lincoln was here. The realization that Reiss is okay with Jackson hanging out with Lincoln, just not me, also makes me seethe with jealousy.

“Uhh…” she mumbles. “I don’t know. What are you doing Colson?”

I can feel Reiss’ confusion radiating off of him when she asks what I plan to do, like my plans will dictate hers.

“You should go,” I snap. “What do I care? I’ve got plans tomorrow though.”

Her face falls, and I can see all of the color drain out of it, like I just broke her.

I lift myself off the bar stool and grab my crutches.

“Ya’ll have fun, I’ll see you at the track on Monday.”

And just like that, I did the one thing I promised myself I’d never do.

I hurt Lincoln, on purpose.