Everyone was watching like I was a sideshow freak.
I crossed my feet, wishing I could hide. “I wouldn’t say I don’t care.”
Peyton shushed me and kept her finger right at the inner crease of my elbow and forearm, eyes closed, totally still. I looked around, hoping someone would help. But everyone was too busy sniggering. Except for the big tattoed guy. He was eyeing me like a juicy steak.
“Okay, Peyt.” Lemon took her by the shoulders and moved her away from me. “Honey, you have to stop that poking thing you’ve been doing. It makes people uncomfortable.”
The guy Peyton was with had his head in his hand, looking like he wished he could die as he led her away.
Tattoos motioned everyone in. “All right, guys, start your watches. The loop is one mile, so keep that in mind. You might get lapped, and that’s okay.” His southern accent was sothick, and he spoke so fast that I had to really focus to understand what he was saying. “We’re all at different levels here. No judgment. Just do your best. And let’s encourage each other. Team Who Sparted on three.” What was happening? What had he just said? Before I could figure it out, he barked “three” and they all yelled, “Who Sparted!”
Wait? That was the team name? Who Sparted? For real? A snort escaped my nostrils. As everyone took off, I stayed, bent over, belly laughing.
“Aren’t you gonna run?”
I looked over to see Holden watching me. I thought he was long gone.
“Yes.” I stood, wiped my eyes, and fanned my face. “I am.” Another giggle escaped.
He tipped his head toward the trail like he didn’t believe me. “Well. Get a move on.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Youget a move on. I’m not running with you behind me, judging how my foot hits the ground or how long my stride is.” In his current state, I knew that’s what he’d do. I made a scooting motion with my hands. “Go. Get.”
He rolled his eyes and took off in a burst, like a freaking cheetah. Okay. So maybe I wouldn’t be kicking everyone’s butts. Possibly not anyone’s. But I was still doing this. If for nothing else than to prove to myself that I could.
Once he was out of sight, I clicked my watch and began jogging.
A half mile in and I was not doing this. My lungs burned and my quads were locking up. What was wrong with my stupid body that it couldn’t run? No one else seemed to be having a hard time. I’d hoped maybe Lemon might struggle, but her complete absence said otherwise. I forced myself to keep going until I got to the top of the next hill. When I wasfinally there, I stopped and dunked my head between my knees, gulping air.
“Coming through,” the short guy yelled. I stood up and jumped out of the way as he flew past. What? How could someone with legs that short be that fast? It wasn’t physically possible. I was glad I’d jumped left. To the right and I would’ve fallen down a small cliff. Not deep enough to do damage but it would be hard to crawl out of.
Tattoos was right behind him, already with his shirt off. I had to look away, because his shorts were hanging low enough that it was verging on pornographic. My face lit on fire. He gave me a smug grin and I was pretty sure he thought I was checking him out.
“You okay?” He tossed over his shoulder as he passed.
“Doing great.” I gave him a wave. Then he sped up and disappeared through the trees.
Dang it. Holden was coming up the hill. And he was shirtless too. Seriously? Where were they storing them? Was there a shirt fairy around here who magically flew up, took your shirt, and stored it for you until you needed it back? He’d started almost last and he’d passed all those people? How was that even possible? If there’d been a bush to hide behind, I would’ve dove for it. Instead, I ran faster than I had before, as if it somehow made up for the fact that I was an entire mile behind him.
“Chris.” He slowed to my pitiful pace and I hated how much I liked it when he called me that, even and especially in this humiliating moment. “What are you doing? You’re a mile behind everyone else. You’ve never wanted to do one of these races. Why are you killing yourself for this?”
“Just leave me—” Gasp. “Alone—” Gulp. “And run.”
But he matched my turtle-like speed, shaking his head and muttering angrily. But I couldn’t hear any of it over my thunderous heartbeat whooshing in my ears. Finally, when mylungs couldn’t anymore, I stopped, certain there was no way cocky Holden Dupree would stop too. Not in the middle of his all-important Spartan Race training. But he did.
He turned to face me, hands on his stupid sexy hips, which were right there in all their hot, chiseled nakedness, his tattoo making a cameo appearance. My T-shirt was drenched, disgusting, and smelled like Taco Bell, and he glistened like he’d only walked around the block.
He threw his hands up, incensed. “It’s not gonna work, okay? We’re not getting back together. Ever. So just stop. Go home, eat a tub of ice cream like I know you’re dying to, and let me run this race in peace.” His tone was even meaner than his words. And they were full of finality.
I stared at him, aghast, for two breathless heartbeats.
We both turned when we heard footsteps. Silas and Lemon were maybe forty feet away and their expressions said they’d heard it too.
I turned back to him, my chest rising and falling, but not just because I was trying to catch up on air. “You’re a jackass, Holden Dupree. The biggest one I’ve ever met. And you’re right. Itisover. I wouldn’t take you back if you begged me to.” Then I shoved him hard in the chest and took off again.
My tears mingled with my sweat. I wiped frantically. I was coming down the hill now and needed to see where to place my feet. Gravity was my new best friend, I ran down that hill like I was being chased by the mafia or a grizzly bear. And it felt amazing.
But if that was true, why was I sobbing?
