But I also see the way he looks at me. I hear the way he says my name. I see the war he's waging with himself when it comes to touching me.
And I wish he would give in.
We could be so good together. I just know it.
The things I dream of doing to him, with him, for him. He’s giving me so much of his time, and attention, and I want to repay him.
"Thank you, Miguel." I say, genuinely, and I meet his deep brown eyes. The sun is setting and the buildings behind him almost glow in the fading light.
He nods an acknowledgement and holds my eye contact for a beat before turning toward the shore. We cross the sand at each other’s side without a word.
What I would give to know what he’s thinking.
"I'm glad you were able to get the night off for this." He unlocks his bike and stands. I slide my t-shirt on and start to unlock my bike too. "It was a good session."
"It was." I agree. "But, dinner is going to have to be microwave noodles instead of a plate of lamb biryani since I’m headed home." I picked up the packet between dog walks earlier today. I got myself a banana too. The whole meal was only $3.69. Not bad.
"Microwave noodles?"
"Yep and a banana." I say as I slide on my bike helmet.
Miguel shakes his head and growls a low sound.
"I'm sorry? Did you say something?"
"No, you can't fill your body with that crap. Especially after such rigorous training."
"I can," I cross my arms because I don’t like feeling exposed to the truth of my dire financial straits. "Besides, I don't have any other options."
"Yes you do."
He means well, he means well, he means well.
Don’t lash out, don’t lash out, don’t lash out.
"Listen," I say after a deep breath. "I normally would have gotten a shift meal tonight but since I asked to switch for next Friday instead I have microwave noodles waiting for me at home."
"But next Friday is the night before a race." Miguel reminds me of the obvious
"Yeah, I'm going to work and then drive down after."
"No."
"Again, not your call,Coach." The nickname laced with derision. I know I’ve put him in charge of my training, and I can’t deny it’s working, but he isn’t in control ofme.
"I'm going to make it my call. You're coming over for dinner." He starts to walk away, leading his bike to the path.
"What?" I call after him as I hustle to unlock my bike and join him.
"You’re coming to my place. I'm going to make you dinner and give you food that will help to fuel your body and replenish the energy you spent. Nutrition is a vital part of your training, Laney. I spent my morning making you meals for the week. I would have brought them over earlier if I knew what your dinner plans were. Did you even eat lunch?"
My lips roll in between my teeth because I don’t think it’s worth telling him about the handful of tortilla chips with shredded cheese I microwaved before dog walks today.
"I figured. So, you’re coming home with me, and then," He drags his hand through his wet hair, "I don’t fucking know Laney. I’ve got to do something so you can focus on your goals." He takes a deep breath and settles his gaze on me.
"I am focused on my goals." The words are quiet coming out of my mouth. Maybe I haven’t been wholly focused on my goals though. Maybe I’ve let my attraction to Miguel interfere. "But I still have to work, my income is limited until a sponsor picks me up."
"I know, but you’re also making decisions that could set you back."
