“Yeah?” Nikolai called, too lazy to get up and out of his bed.
The door creaked open, slowly.
“You decent?” a male voice asked before appearing in the doorway.
“I’m never decent. You should know that by now.”
Reid chuckled as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. He stepped into the bedroom without being asked.
The man was dressed in joggers and a loose-fitting T-shirt.
“So? You coming?”
“Where?” Nikolai asked, looking at his best friend like the man was crazy.
“For our morning run.”
Nikolai’s mouth dropped open. “What? Today?”
Reid tilted his head as if Niko was the one who was now crazy and talking nonsense.
“Do I need to remind you that fat cells don’t stop growing just because you got old and lazy?”
“I’m not old… or… Okay, fine. So I’m a little lazy. But who works out this early on weekends?” Nikolai asked, shrugging his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.
“Guys who don’t want to get flabby.”
“When are you leaving again?” Nikolai huffed, really enjoying the comfort of his warm bed.
“In about five minutes.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Nikolai muttered.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll grab us some water bottles. Meet me at the door in four, flabby man.” Reid turned and started walking toward the door. Just before he was out of reach, he grabbed the bedsheet and pulled it along with him out of the bedroom.
“Hey!” Nikolai shouted as Reid's laughter echoed down the hallway.
Bastard.
It was official. He was old and out of shape.
When they were in their twenties, they used to go for a run every morning, and he loved them. They could jog for hours without breaking a sweat.
But now? Ever since he moved to New Mexico, the only workouts he did were in the gym… and plowing women. His cardio consisted of forty-five minutes on an elliptical or, if he was feeling adventurous, thirty minutes on a stationary bike.
Running outdoors… and in the fresh air? That was for millennials and other children who believed that water was the magical answer to everything and that all problems could be solved in a feelings circle.
No. Not him. He was a badass biker who believed that bodies were primarily made of vodka, and that the only way to solve a disagreement was with your fists.
He’d suggested running with Reid because he missed his buddy and didn’t want to feel left out.
Now he was regretting that life decision.
How Reid could be so chipper and energetic this early in the morning was beyond him. The man looked like a fucking gazelle as he leaped through the air, running circles around his tired, sweaty ass.
Fuck his life.
“So, we good?” Reid asked when they were about halfway from god knows where.
