I let myself close my eyes, dropping my project into my lap, and listen as she describes what they’ve been doing in school recently. She can go on forever about her twins, and I love every minute of it. Moving here was a deliberate way to distance myself from them so we wouldn’t be involved in each other’s daily lives. It’s good for me to be out on my own for the first time, but I miss them like crazy.
“So now my whole backyard is covered in holes, and we have to pay a landscaper to come in and fix the whole thing.”
“They broke it, make them fix it.” Seems fair to me. The twins are adorable, but absolutely feral. I don’t know how Jane and David manage.
“Oliver. Seriously? They’re six. I don’t even think they can do that.”
“They could break it.” I shrug even though I know she can’t see me.
“Yeah, like that ever worked when you were a child.” Hey, being the baby came with a few privileges. Mostly, there was always someone older around to blame. Or to help me fix whatever I broke before our parents got home. And I broke a lot of things.
I don’t know if I was rough or simply clumsy. Probably a combination of both.
“Hey, I gotta run. The girls have soccer practice.” Okay, what I don’t miss is sitting outside on cold Saturday mornings watching them run back and forth across a field. Calling it soccer is a bit of a stretch. It’s a bunch of kids chasing a ball back and forth across a field. They don’t even keep score.
I did exactly once. When I reported it to Jane at the end of the game, she gave me a lecture about child development and competitiveness. I tuned out halfway through, but the gist was that I was never to count the goals again.
I did, but I didn’t tell her.
“Have fun,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. “And thanks.” Just telling someone makes me feel better.
Since that conversation counts as my break, I pull out my laptop again to check my task list. It’s not huge, but it’s getting a little overwhelming. If I did something now, I would feel better about it and avoid waking up in the night thinking about it.
It’s Saturday, though, and I’d prefer to turn on the TV and spend the next several hours watching the new crime drama I found. Relaxation wins out, so I shove my laptop under the coffee table and get comfortable.
AARON
I can’t stop thinking about Oliver. Which is stupid. I spend less time with him than I do with my coworker Barrett, and I rarely think about him outside of work.
Though I’ve never had Barrett’s cock in my mouth.
“Hey, you need help?” Barrett’s crouched down next to me, examining my work on the moving walkway.
“No,” I say far too quickly. I do actually need help with this fix. It’s possible to do it alone, but it’ll take twice as long, which is why Barrett’s here in the first place. He doesn’t deserve to be on the other end of my bad mood. “I mean, can you hand me the comb plate?”
He gives me a questioning look, but hands me the piece I requested so that I can close up the walkway, and we can go back to the office to do paperwork. I prefer to stay here, tinkering with the equipment, rather than spend the next hour answering a bunch of tedious questions on the computer. If I was alone, I would draw it out so I could spend a little time thinking. Since Barrett is out here with me, it’s not a choice.
Or, it is, but I don’t want to be a bad influence. I’m technically the senior engineer between us. I suppose that makes me the mentor or something. I prefer not to think of it that way.
It only takes another ten minutes to finish the job and run a couple of test runs. When we’re both confident the walkway is running safely, we head back to the office.
“You running today?” I stiffen. I know what he’s really asking. He’s asking if I want to run together. I am running; he knows that, but I was really planning to use that time to process my feelings about Oliver. I’ve been back and forth between guilt and intrigue—as well as every emotion in between—since Thursday night.
Running is how I work things out, something that’s harder when Barrett’s right next to me. He’s a talker on our runs, constantly babbling about something or other. I’m often not listening, but I can’t completely ignore it.
“Yeah,” I finally say. Maybe distraction is what I need. The real problem is that my brain has had way too much time to think about this over the last few days. I’ve put in a few hours of running since then and not come up with any answers. There’sno good solution, so instead, I’m stuck choosing between the bad ones. “You want to come?”
He perks up like a puppy hearing that it’s time to go for a walk. “Yeah? Can I?”
“Of course.” I might not be the most social person, but even I can admit it’s nice to have company. I didn’t lie when I told Oliver that I prefer to work out solo, but the next several months include nearly a thousand miles of running in build-up to my next marathon. That’s a lot of time alone with my thoughts. Might as well give myself something to do on a few of them. “Meet me at three?” There’s a great path by the airport that runs along a park. It’s one of my favorite running places because it’s rarely crowded. Most parks are full of kids on shaky bikes and slow walkers, but the proximity to the airport and lack of playground equipment keep this one relatively empty.
He nods, a big grin across his face. I briefly consider talking him into running the marathon with me, simply so I can have another person to run with for more of these sessions. He’s told me no before, but it’s always possible he’s changed his mind.
Then I shake it off. That’s my unsettled feelings speaking, not a genuine desire to have someone spend hours a week jabbering away at my side. Even if it would be nice sometimes, I’ve been wildly unsuccessful at getting anyone else in my friend group involved in running. Tyler walked out of the room the last time I mentioned it to him. Message received.
Back in the office, we return to our individual workstations. I have to fill out a report for the moving walkway and close out the request. There are very few things in life I hate as much as administrative work.
Walking barefoot on hot sand.
