“You’ve got a nice face with and without the glasses, Jay. I’m sure you know that.”
There’s something more open about his face like this. I’m seeing him without the usual lens he keeps between himself and the world. Or maybe it’s just the early light playing tricks, and my sleep-deprived brain is struggling. The sweetest blush travels into his cheeks, and I tell myself it’s from the pace we’re keeping.
His shoulder brushes mine once, and it’s not on purpose, I don’t think. But he doesn’t shift away. And I don’t, either. It ignites a buzz under my skin that I’m enjoying far too much.
A couple of streets later, we turn onto a quieter path, where trees line both sides, and the sidewalk dips unevenly under our feet. The houses all blur together, all painted the same, samelawns, same cars out front, and it suddenly hits me how stupid it would’ve been to run alone. I’ve lived here for, what, a little over a week? Every street still looks the same. I for sure would’ve gotten lost. I slow a little, scanning the block.
Jay stops too. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, adjusting my ponytail. “Just realizing I have zero idea where we are.”
“We’ll loop back the long way since we’ve kinda taken that route,” he says, already shifting his stride. “You’ll recognize the turn once we’re past the park.”
I fall in beside him again, the ground feeling a little steadier under my feet.
He points out a crooked mailbox on the corner as we pass it. “That’s the one that looks like it’s about to tip over but never does. You’ll start recognizing stuff in a few days. Muscle memory kicks in faster than you think. Until you’re ready, we can run together.”
I glance at him, but he’s focused on the street ahead. The offer catches me a little off guard.
“You run a lot?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking toward me. “I don’t mind running with you to help you learn the routes.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t. I just keep pace, and thankfully, he fills the silence with facts about the route we’re on.
“That’s the park up there near the lake, it has a good loop if you ever want to run laps. And there’s a little free library at the corner, across from the bus stop. Looks like a birdhouse.”
He gestures as we pass it, and I spot the chipped blue paint, the tiny door swinging open in the breeze.
For our whole run until we get back to his apartment, he points things out as we go, landmarks, shortcuts, where the sidewalk gets slippery after rain, and I’m grateful for him.
It’s nice having someone make the world feel a little less unfamiliar. Even if it’s just for right now. Even if I’m not quite sure what that means yet.
Chapter nine
Jay
“Dammit,”shehisses,smackingthe side of the machine like maybe physical violence will scare it into compliance. The machine beeps mockingly before refusing to spin. “You have one job: wash. So just do it.”
Hearing her mutter, “Useless,” under her breath, I make my way from the doorway into the laundry room.
“Having trouble?”
“It hates me,” she says, pointing accusingly at the machine. “I’m telling you, I did everything right, and it still refuses to cooperate.”
She says it like a joke, but there’s a catch in her voice that I’m not even sure she realizes is there. I don’t call her out, though. I crouch, scanning the buttons. The thing’s ancient, half the machines in this building are. “Or it’s just old. These things are finicky.”
She snorts, clearly amused. “Finicky is a funny word.”
I shrug. “It was in a crossword puzzle I did last week.”
Her head tips, eyes glinting. “You do crosswords? Like, voluntarily?”
“Sometimes at work. They’re good for the brain.” I press a couple of buttons, and nothing happens.
“Right, because nothing says fun like little black and white boxes mocking you for not knowing an eight-letter word for ‘obscure.’”
“Esoteric,” I reply before I can stop myself.
