Can’t I catch a fucking break?
This is my spot, my morning run, the only hour during the day when I can let myself breathe and clear my head, the only hour I allow myself not to hate my own guts because I can empty my thoughts. And now she’s here too, every single time. No matter if I get here a little earlier or a little later, somehow, she manages to show up.
Yes, fine, one time it was a lucky coincidence that she was here, saving my ass. But honestly? I would rather call a cab than have her do that.
That shit was fucking embarrassing.
I scowl at her, but I don’t let her presence deter me from my run. I hear her mutter, “Good morning to you too, asshole,” as I walk past her and start running without saying a word to her.
I try to tune her out, focusing on my breath, in and out, attempting to let go of everything tearing at me—the guilt, the anger, the frustration, and the loneliness. I’m trying to relax my shoulders with every breath. Running is the only time I feel a little bit like my old self.
Like the good guy I used to be.
After a while, I stop because my shoelaces have come undone. I hadn’t realized Sloan was just behind me. She’s faster than I thought and quickly runs past me. I can’t help but let mymind wander to some very inappropriate thoughts when I see her ponytail swing and her ass wiggle as she goes.
That ass would look so pretty with a red handprint on it.
Just then, she slips on the frosty wooden path, and I watch as she twists her ankle and falls on her perfect behind.
“Oh, come on.” I groan to myself, debating whether I should just run back the way I came and leave her be. But she attempts to stand, hissing in pain as she puts weight on her injured ankle.
“Fuck!” She breathes, then she mutters, “As if that dickhead would help me. You know that.”
I furrow my brow. Maybe I’m not entirely wrong in thinking this girl is crazy. It’s the second time I’ve caught her talking to herself.
I decide to remove my earbuds and walk over to her. She’s trying to limp away, but I simply scoop her up bridal style, startling her with the move. She instinctively wraps her arms around my neck, bringing our faces close together, our breaths mingling in the cold.
“It’s quicker to go back the way we came,” I tell her, my eyes flicking between her hazel ones.
Her stunned expression morphs into a scowl. “Let me down,” she snaps, and I comply, letting go of her and nearly dropping her on her ass. She manages to keep herself on both feet, but it looks painful.
“You’re such a dick,” she remarks, her face contorted with pain.
I shrug. “Just doing as I’m told.”
I start to run again, telling myself I’m content to let her be, but I keep a much slower pace. She hisses in pain once more, then yells a desperate, “Wait!” I stop, turn, and tilt my head to look at her. “I need help,” she admits but avoids making eye contact.
Oh, this is priceless.
“What do we say?” I inquire, and her eyes snap to mine. “Come on, even my five-year-old has better manners than you,”
“I need help,please,” she finally says through gritted teeth.
I’m enjoying the fuck out of this.
“That’s a good girl,” I praise and can’t keep the smirk from forming on my lips, stepping over and sweeping her up again.
Her breath hitches, and her full lips stay open for a second while she clings to me, her cold hands on my neck making me shiver slightly. I walk slowly, telling myself that it’s because I don’t want to slip while holding her, not to prolong the time of having her in my arms.
“Why are you such an asshole all the time? It seems like you can be at least decent if you want,” she asks.
I can only laugh. “Stop getting yourself and others in danger, and I might be nicer.”
She frowns, her cute nose scrunching up with the movement. “Really?” she asks, her tone telling me she doesn’t believe me one bit.
“You want the honest answer?” I ask, trying to concentrate on something other than the feeling of my fingertips sinking into her thighs.
“Yes,” she answers on a visible breath, her teeth starting to chatter.
