Because Miguel is here again.
“Did you shower?” I ask because his hair is combed back and he’s in different clothes.
“I went home, showered, and got my truck to get the bikes.”
Our feet stay planted to the spot. It’s like we both feel the allure of the other but refuse to act on it.
I don’t know exactly what he’s thinking but I’m thinking I want to curl up with him and fucking purr while he pulls his fingers through my hair again.
“Did you eat?” He asks, pulling me from my feline daydream.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Just that one pastry?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He says and then he moves through to the kitchen. I turn and watch him open the fridge and shuffle a few things around. He closes it and turns to me. “You feeling strong enough for a trip to the grocery store?”
“I guess so, why?”
“Because I’m going to use the next few hours to cook meals for you to have throughout the week and then we’re going to walk dogs together and then I’ll go home and draw up your training and nutrition plan.”
Yes sir.I think to myself and struggle to contain my smile. I think I understand the appeal of competence porn now becausethingsunlocked inside me with Miguel’s offer to plan and lead me through it. “Sounds like a plan, Coach.”
Chapter ten
Miguel
Stir In My Lycra
"Wherethehellisshe?" I mutter to myself as I lean against my bike at our designated meeting spot.
I refresh my radar app again. The low pressure system headed this way has slowed down but it could pick up speed and nail us at any point. I wouldn't be so concerned about biking in the rain if Laney hadn’t nearly frozen to death three days ago.
Loathe to admit it, but the day we spent together was fun. Laney helped me in the kitchen as I made her some egg cups and granola bars. She was light hearted and full of laughter as her energy returned and we took the dogs for walks.
Leaving her at the end of the day was more difficult than I’d expected it to be.
And the hours I spent tossing and turning that night set me back in my training routine. Again.
When my alarm went off the next morning I had to drag myself out of bed for my run. While I was running, every blonde had me looking twice to make sure it wasn’t her.
Nothing good can come of my obsession with Laney Matteson.
Already I’m losing myself by giving her my energy and my attention.
But I can’t fucking quit her.
I wish I could. I want more than anything to not feel this pull towards her.
I’d be a calmer, less anxious person.
Especially when she’s running fifteen minutes late to our meet up.
Chaotic.
Disorganized.
