I must’ve gone quiet, because Chris stepped closer.
“She’s doing fine,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
My shoulders stiffened. “I’m just worried. I can’t help it.”
“I know.” His voice didn’t push. “Still. She’s doing great.”
I nodded once, eyes still on Pampi. The words sat uncomfortably in my chest because they were true. And for some reason, the truth was harder to swallow.
The silence stretched for a beat. Chris rocked back on his heels, glancing toward the starting line again.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, brightening. “Let me try it.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The course,” he said, like it was obvious. “Let me run it once.”
I stared at him. “You? Why?”
He shrugged, grinning. “You make it look fun.”
“You’ll trip over your own feet,” I said, smirking.
“Probably,” he said cheerfully. “But I still want to try.”
I scoffed. Loudly. Because that felt safer than acknowledging the truth: His confidence was stupidly… cute. Or annoying. Or both.
Chris stepped toward the starting line, bouncing lightly on his toes, the excitement rolling off him in warm sparks that hit me harder than they should’ve.
“Come on,” he said.
I snorted. “Absolutely not.”
Chris stretched his arms over his head. “You know what? Bet I can outrun you.”
I stared at him. “…Why would you voluntarily embarrass yourself like that?”
“If I win,” he went on like I hadn’t said anything, “you let me run with Pampi during the heats.”
That made me blink. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
He shrugged, annoyingly casual. “Pampi runs faster when something fast’s ahead of her, right? Like a chase instinct? Same deal.”
That actually wasn’t a terrible point. Better times meant a better chance of getting through the heats. A faster runner to follow could help Pampi instinctively pick up speed.
But the second I caught sight of Chris’ grin, eyes crinkling with mischief, as if he already knew I’d cave, I dropped the idea straight into a trash can.
“You wouldn’t last five seconds,” I told him.
“We’ll see.”
I sighed, but somehow I was already walking toward the marked starting point on the mat. Behind me, I could hear Chris doing some kind of elaborate stretch. I rolled my eyes.
We took our positions, me settling into a runner’s stance, Chris standing loose. Pampi plopped down beside us, bored as ever.
“Ready?” Chris asked.
I rolled my shoulders. “Try not to eat dirt.”
