Crash Test

by Amy James

I did think we were serious. I thought he would be a part of my life forever, and now that he’s not, I’m left with this awful, hollow void inside me, this empty space where he used to live.

😢💔 Jacob is a closeted asshole.

There’s a message—I swipe to open it— Message failed to deliver to recipient. Everything inside of me goes cold. He changed his number. Of course he did. I think that’s the moment when I finally accept it. That he doesn’t want me to contact him, that he doesn’t want to get back together. That it’s really over.

Ok, I’m going to have a hard time from here on in because I really hate Jacob now. He’s been a closeted jerk never fully committing before now and essentially using Travis. And now he’s a cowardly chickenshit allowing his parents to dictate his life. I really don’t want to read this next section where no doubt the author tries to make us empathize with him. Tough sell. I really want Travis to meet someone else and tell Jacob to fuck ALL the way off when he contacts him because you just know that’s coming.

It’s like—I can hear myself being a dick, but I can’t stop it. I feel so awful and hateful inside, it spills out into everything I say, everything I do.

Good. You ought to feel terrible. Because truthfully, you’ve been a dick for a long time, not just since the accident. Come to terms with that. I am having zero sh,pathy or empathy for this douche canoe.

This is about the fiftieth time Paul’s tried to set me up with someone. He and my parents have been dealing with the whole Travis situation by pretending it never happened. They’re so good at it, sometimes I actually wonder if they’ve forgotten.

Like you’ve dealt with it any better? Asshole.

she went to a Catholic high school, and her awful group of friends really leaned into the idea that being classy meant being ultra-conservative. Now she’s dating this Christian block of wood with zero personality and a two-million-dollar trust fund, and she’s always harping on about how there’s nothing wrong with being traditional, and that a true feminist knows that the greatest joy of being a woman is caring for a good man and bearing his children.

Great, so the whole family is full of assholes. And of course it’s religion based.

He did it. He won the championship. And he did it without me.

He did it IN SPITE OF YOU you jackass. YOU nearly derailed him.

my eyes snag on an e-mail from my old F2 team boss, Carl. It’s weeks old, and tells me that Estefan Ribiero has signed with them for the next two years. He adds that things might have been different “if I’d kept in closer contact” and that they might be open to re-engaging with me down the road, “depending on the results of my recovery.”

So you completely ignore them and everyone else for months and now somehow they are the bad guys?! Entitled little prick.

I’m not deflecting this time. I really don’t know. When I think back on the breakup, it’s all so fucking blurry. All I remember is how mad I was, and how much I hated him. He fucked everything up. Everything. “What are you thinking, Jacob?” I open my mouth and the words just slip out. “He had no fucking right to tell my parents about us.”

Again, asshole.

“Hm.” Amanda taps her pen thoughtfully against her clipboard. I wonder what she’s written on there. This guy is a total prick,

That would be an accurate assessment.

And for some reason, he was ridiculously into me, and not even remotely able to hide it. I had all the control, and I knew it.

Which makes you an even bigger dick. Not sure my opinion of this guy could get any lower.

I had all the power in our relationship, and I was using it to hurt him.

Dick

The very thought made me feel anxious and sick. I didn’t want to break up with him. I wanted to be the guy he was in love with. I wanted him to love me, and I wanted to never have to say it back.

Again, controlling, emotionally stunted prick.

The stairwell is completely silent now. I sit down on the stairs with my heart torn open in my chest, and the word “no” running circles in my mind. No, no, no.

Karma is a bitch!

My brain knows that Jacob doesn’t want me, but it’s like my heart still doesn’t believe it. I need to hear him say it out loud. Heather and Hunter have both said I need “closure,” whatever that means. And Matty once told me that he hopes Jacob ends up in F2 again, so I can tell him off to his face the first time I see him.

Uh, he said it out loud when he dumped you. It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming (duh, it’s a romance book!) but man did I not want it to.

“I don’t know what I’ll do here, though.”

Are ‘t there immigration and work rules? Visas or whatever he would need to have?

“I have enough money for a few months,” I say. “Eh, don’t bother. Last week my dad said he hoped I wasn’t dating anyone too ‘ethnic’ here, so let’s just consider it a racism tax.”

Ok, love Kelsie!

God, I was such a piece of shit.

Yes, yes you were.

“Is Travis Keeping going to come back here again?” Oliver asks. I blink. “Is—what?” “Travis Keeping,” Oliver says. “We saw him talking to your mom. We were wondering . . .” He glances at Mason. “If he comes back, could you get him to sign our bike helmets?”

Yay for nosy neighborhood kids!!

“Did he?” I demand. “Did he actually yell at you?” “He made your mother cry,” my father snaps. “Everything makes her cry,” I snap back. “I asked you a question. Did he actually yell at you?”

Ok, I’m all for him FINALLY growing a set and standing up to his parents.

“And that horrible boy nearly ruined your life,” my mother says. “How?” I demand. “How did he ruin my life? By being really nice to me all the time? Helping me be a better driver? Always believing in me, even when I was a total shit to him?” “He would’ve ruined your career,” my father says coldly. “The career you don’t even want me to have, you mean?” His expression is ugly. “He would have made you a laughingstock.” “Oh, fuck you.” The words burst out, cold and impatient. My mother gasps. I ignore her. “Fuck you for saying that. And fuck you for thinking that it’s true.”

Go Jacob!

“We just want you to be happy,” my mother cries. I throw my hands up and laugh again. “Well, living in London makes me happy. And trying to get back into racing makes me happy. And being with Travis made me happy. So, are you sure you still want to stick with that line?”

Good comeback.

“This is a waste of time,” I say quietly, almost to myself. My voice sounds eerily calm after all the shouting. I let out a breath and look my father in the eye. “And you know what, even if you’re right about F1 fans, I don’t care. I don’t live my life to please ignorant people. And I don’t care about the opinions of small-minded idiots. And on that note”—I look at my watch—“I’ve got a flight to catch. Good luck with your lives. Feel free to reach out if you ever realize how despicably you’ve just behaved.” And with that, I turn my back on them and walk out of the house.

And the crowd roars!