“Um… I don’t think so. First of all,” he says, holding up a finger. “I’d never keep up. And secondly, you’d have to scrape my dead body off the sidewalk at the end.”
“It would be hard to explain that to your siblings. I have a feeling one of them would put a hit out on me.” For the little he’s told me, his siblings are wildly overprotective. I can see why. Oliver is so earnest. I’d say innocent, but having been to bed with him, I know that’s not true.
He snorts, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. “No, they’d all be on your side. They’re always telling me I need to exercise more. Two of them are doctors, so they constantly lecture me about taking better care of myself.”
“I’d slow down for you.” It’s an offer I don’t make often. Ever, actually. Given how little time I have, I’m typically focused on hitting the required pacing for each of my runs. Slowing down—or speeding up—comes with a bunch of issues and could hurt me in the long run. That’s something I learned the hard way in my twenties. I like to think I’m older and wiser now, but apparentlynot when it comes to Oliver. There’s something about the way his brown eyes sparkle when he looks at me.
“How about this. When you finish making your very own scarf, then I’ll go for a run with you.” That sounds suspiciously like he thinks I’ll never manage to finish a scarf. He might not know this about me, but I don’t back down from a challenge. I’m also not a sucker.
“Counteroffer… I’ll pick out something to make, but while I’m making it, you train for a five-k with me.” It’s a fair deal. We’ll both be putting in the work to do something outside our comfort zone. I ignore how much time that’s potentially putting us in the same space.
His mouth falls open as he stares at me. “A five-k? Isn’t that like… I don’t know how many miles. What’s that in American?”
“Three,” I say, leaving out the extra point one tacked onto the end. We can talk about that when we get there.
Oliver groans and shakes his head. “That’s so far.”
“It’s an even exchange.” I shrug my shoulders and try to remember what it was like when I first started running, trying to build up those few initial base miles. “We’ll both be putting in time each week to achieve our goals.” Something tells me that he’ll have more success running than I will with crocheting. He’s got the perfect body for it, so he’ll have no problem in that sense. The real challenge will be getting his cardiovascular system on board.
“Okay, you’ve got a deal,” he says slowly. From the sly look on his face, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’ll give up after a week. At this point, I might make the worst scarf known to man, but I’m going to make it.
And he’s going to run a race. With me.
I smirk. I don’t know about the yarn part, but for once, I’m looking forward to running with someone else. And not in the way I am when Barrett goes with me. I’m actually excited, eventhough I know he’ll be slow. I’m already mentally rearranging my schedule to accommodate the extra slow miles in my training.
“Why are you smiling? Should I be scared?”
“No, not scared.” I try to find the right words to ease his anxiety. “Cautiously optimistic.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound ominous or anything.”
“How about this. I’ll find a pattern I like, and you find a five-k race that sounds good to you. Something about three months from now.”
“I… where do I even look for something like that? I usually only know about them when they’re blocking the road on Saturday mornings.”
“I’ll send you a link.”
And there it is. Not only am I meeting up with someone Nathan, one of my best friends, would call the enemy, but I’ve committed to seeing him a few times a week for the foreseeable future.
CHAPTER 7
OLIVER
“This is insane. Who even needs this many choices?”
Aaron ignores my comment as he pulls a pair of running shoes off the shelf and examines them. I have no idea what he’s looking at. All the brightly colored sneakers look the same to me. And there are a lot of them. A whole wall full of shoes that are supposedly only for running.
When I told Aaron I had a pair of sneakers, the ones I wear for doing anything remotely physical or outdoorsy, he laughed and said he’d pick me up in thirty minutes. I assumed we’d go to a mall or something to pick out a new pair.
Nope. We’re at a store dedicated to running. Apparently, there are enough people who enjoy this activity and enough necessary equipment for dedicated stores. Clothes for runners. Shoes for runners. Hats and gloves—just for runners. I thought running was supposed to be simple? Apparently, it’s a lot more complicated than I remember from PE.
“You can’t possibly need a new pair already?” A short brunette saleswoman approaches us, dressed as if she’s headed out for a run rather than being at work.
“I can’t help but look,” he says, giving her a big grin. A part of me is jealous. I want to keep all his smiles for myself. Especially the ones that stretch his face enough to reveal his cheek dimples. Even though we aren’t together, I can’t help this crazy crush I’ve developed. Somehow, I doubt seeing him in tight little shorts, sweating, and breathing heavily is going to help.
“Actually, my friend Oliver needs a pair of running shoes. They’ll be his first pair.” He tacks on the last part as if it’ll magically change the whole encounter. Maybe it will. This place is like theTwilight Zone. They might have their very own language.
“That’s great,” she exclaims with too much enthusiasm. “We’ll find the perfect pair for you. Why don’t you have a seat, take your shoes off, and we can have a look?”
