She swung it open even as his hand was still in the air. “I’m not running today,” she said, lifting her chin. "It's raining, and I'm tired, and I want a break," she said belligerently.
Theo looked her over, assessing her for injuries, she supposed. Out of habit, she had put on her hot pink bike shorts and a black sports bar. "I'll do yoga instead," she said grudgingly. It was a good compromise because she did actually like the way she felt after exercising, though she wasn’t going to give him another point on his side of the scoreboard. "I'll see you at work." She turned around and shut the door, but Theo's hand shot out and grabbed it.
"You're running," he said grimly. "Get your sneakers."
"I'm not running. I quit.” She crossed her arms and glared.
He stared at her, the disappointment written all over his face doing something awful to her insides. “The race is in two weeks."
He took a step toward her.
She backed up. "I'm not running.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” he said. Theo swooped down, grabbed her sneakers next to the door, and picked up her foot in one swift move. She wobbled on one foot and complained bitterly while he wrestled her sneakers on.
“I told you I can't do this. I'm tired, my legs hurt, and I can't do it," her voice rose toward the end. She felt tender this morning and closer to tears than she had been in years. It made her want to start a fight. “You're always pushing. All you do is push, push, push, and I’m tired of it.”
"Come on, Red Hot. The faster we get it done, the faster it'll be over."
He was merciless, prodding her down the stairs with a large hand clamped on her back.
Theo stopped at the stairs outside. “Stretch,” he said curtly. “We'll take it easy today."
"You never take it easy.” She put her foot on a stair and leaned forward, muttering to herself.
“Other leg.” Theo was doing his own stretching, implacable as ever. The coil within her twisted.
“Did you eat?”
“I had a banana,” she snarled. “Do you want to know why I’m so tired? Huh?”
“Run,” he said, ignoring her. He set a slow, easy pace. That pissed her off too. Of course he would humor her. She knew that was illogical, but she was spoiling for a fight now.
“I was up late...last night...using my...electronic boyfriend...and he ran out of batteries.” She huffed along, pissed that her delivery was punctuated with her panting. Honestly, did running ever get any easier? She’d been at it for weeks and it was still so damn hard. She wanted to quit at least every other day.
Theo’s scowl deepened, and he picked up the pace. Purposefully, she was certain. She was quiet for the first mile, mostly because she couldn’t physically speak and run at that pace, but then her mind started to get in the way of her body. Her calves hurt; her thighs hurt. She hadn't eaten a proper breakfast like Theo was always harping on.
The skies opened up in a deluge, pounding her face and her eyes, and her sneakers were a soggy mess. Her bike shorts and sports bra were soaked through, outlining her body, and all the while she seethed.
Theo's silence grated at her. He never argued. He was always cool and rational. Just once, she wanted to see him be a mere mortal and lose his temper.
They were running past the village green, almost to the gazebo that looked out onto the canal, when she’d had enough. She stopped abruptly, panting. "I'm not going any farther." Rain dripped down her face and into her mouth.
Theo stopped and turned around. He wasn't even breathing hard, the jerk. “We’re more than halfway there.”
“I’m done. I hate running.” She swiped away the heavy, wet hair that had escaped her ponytail and was plastered in her face. “And I hate you!” The delivery was ruined with the panting, but she glared at him, anyway.
Theo’s jaw clenched. His T-shirt plastered to his body, each of the blocks of muscle in his chest and stomach outlined clearly. For once, his neat hair was a mess, dripping down onto his face like hers. She was so angry she wanted to cry. But she never did that. Fight it was.
“Fuck, Amber.” Theo thrust his fingers through his wet hair and held them there on top of his head, pulling as if he wished it were her neck. “You push everyone around you—why won’tyou push yourself?”
“What?” she took a step back as if he had thrown a punch. “What are you talking about?”
“You say that I push you? You’re the one who pushes.” He stepped toward her, and she backed up again, feeling the gazebo at her back. “You push Val to go to college, and you pushed Charlotte out of her shell. You push my buttons every fucking day with that smart mouth of yours. Push yourself, Amber. For once in your life, just fucking do the work.”
“I am doing the work!” she screamed, past all rationality. “I’ve worked harder in the last month than I have in my entire life, and you're telling me to push more? I don't have it in me. It's not there." She was panting and aware that the rain might've turned to tears on her face.
Suddenly, he gripped her shoulders hard, and crowded her back into the gazebo. His face was fierce as he glared at her. "Stop fucking doubting yourself and just do the goddamn thing,” he shouted. He was so close she could see the little droplets of water on his eyelashes and dripping off his nose. His hands gripped her bare shoulders, hot where the rain had made her cold.
