Page 20 of Shade
I still haven’t slept much. Maybe a couple of hours here and there. But I can’t. Not since I said those words to her, “I quit.”
Quitting isn’t inside of me. I don’t understand the concept.
What I do understand is time. Numbers. Scoring.
For a guy like me, time and numbers are important. When I’m competing, everything is based on time and numbers. Time for qualifying, tricks, runs, all of it.
And numbers. . . well, I’m given a number based on my performance. Judged for how good of a show I put on for the spectators using variety, execution, form and flow, use of the course, energy, excitement. . . you name it, I’m judged. I’m given a score. 1-100.
There’s one thing in everyone’s life that’s constant.
Time.
They say it passes day after day at the same pace. But does it?
I don’t think it does. Not for me anyway. Not for Rhya. When I’m on a bike competing, I’m given ninety seconds for a qualifying run. In the Caudrillis Elimination round, I’m given fifty seconds. In the semi-final, seventy-five seconds. The final round, seventy-five seconds from when I take the first jump.
What’s my point to all this?
Time. It means something important. Seventy-five seconds might not seem like a lot of time but believe me, it can seem like forever.
Einstein had a theory on time, too. Have you heard of it?
Time is relative. You’re thinking to yourself, what the fuck does that mean, right?
Or maybe I am. Whatdoesit mean?
Einstein’s theory of relativity is complicated if you ask me, but I have an understanding of it when I’m on my bike. Remember when I said when I’m soaring through the air, time seems irrelevant? It’s the only time when everything around me slows down.
What the fuck was Einstein talking about though? I think it went something like space time is curved and can be warped by matter and energy. And then he lost me on what happens next.
I do know what it’s like to be warped by something and drawn to someone.
Where’s my gravity tied to?
A shithole apartment in Pasadena that might as well be the size of Texas at the way it draws me to her.
There’s nothing worse than being pulled toward someone your heart is begging you to stay away from. That’s how the gravitational force works though.
New Year’s Eve. A night I should be out partying, but instead, I’m heading back to my room at the hotel hours before midnight. The last thing I want to do tonight is to be around a crowd of people. It’s one of those nights I need absolute silence.
Desolation.
Do you see that guy in the elevator? The one with the dark circles under his eyes? Wait, no, my sunglasses are on so you can’t see that. Look closer. He’s the one with his phone in his hand and obsessing over a text message, his jaw clenched, sweating, his mind spinning.
I see him too. Iamhim. I’m that racing pulse. My heart, my head, it’s exploding with confusion, and I can’t snap myself out of it. Probably because of what I’m looking at. A text from Reece, Rhya’s older brother.
We’re back to time and what it means. It’ll mean something here soon. Pay attention.
7:49 p.m. The text comes through.
Reece: Have you heard from Rhya.
That’s the first indication in my night that’s relative to time. But not the last. My gaze flits around the room, never settling on anything, kind of like my thoughts these last four days.
7:51 p.m. My body responds to the message.
Do you see me there in the hotel elevator? The one breathing heavier, louder, body temperature rising. . . tension in my face and shoulders? Can you hear the beating of my heart and the way it skips a beat?
