When the bookstore comes into view, Gabe gives me a little nod and jogs away while I slip off toward the gym. He doesn’t say anything, just looks back once before unlocking the door and slipping inside.
I stand there for a second longer than I should, watching the door shut.
My legs ache. My lungs burn.
I want to run with him every morning.
I’m still a little dazed when I get to the gym, hoodie damp against my back, hair sticking to my forehead. My legs are dead, but I can’t stop thinking about how Gabe looked when he finally relaxed.
The gym smells faintly of fresh paint. Zeke is in one corner, lining up kettlebells by weight. Jules is across the room, perched on a plyo box, scrolling on their tablet, probably checking the first week’s class schedule.
At the front desk, Aiden is flipping through membership forms, brow furrowed. He watches as I approach, one eyebrow raised.
“Did you run here?”
My dislike for cardio is well known. I don’t know what it is, but it’s always been a struggle for me. Which is why I stick to lifting.
Until now.
“Yeah, with Gabe.” I drop onto the stool behind the counter with a groan. “Your brother is a machine. I thought I was gonna die halfway up the hill by the post office.”
Aiden snorts, clearly enjoying this. “Told you he ran every day, what did you expect?”
“Yeah, well.” I twist open a bottle of water and guzzle half of it. “He barely broke a sweat. Don’t know how he does it.”
Aiden’s face softens. “Running clears his head.”
I nod, leaning my elbows on the counter. “Makes sense. He seemed… lighter after.”
Aiden studies me for a moment, then sets the forms down. “Good. He needs more of that.”
He nods, more to himself than to me, then reaches for the forms again. “I’m glad you two are becoming friends.”
Guilt twists sharp under my ribs. Fuck, maybe I should just tell him how I feel about Gabe. Aiden’s my oldest friend, and he asked me to look out for his brother. Be a good friend. Not wonder how it would feel to touch him. Not stare at him and obsess over his body while we go for a run. But I think if he knew my feelings ran deeper than that, he’d be okay with it.
I roll my eyes at myself nothing to actually tell him. We’re friends. That’s it.
9
GABE
Most mornings, I find the kitchen empty. But this morning, there’s a square of yellow stuck to the kettle, Noah’s messy handwriting sprawled across it.
Want a running buddy again? :)
The smiley face makes me laugh. It’s so unexpected but so Noah. Just ink on paper, yet I stand there staring at it. A wave of warmth comes first, quick and dizzying, little bubbles of happiness popping inside me at the fact that he wants to spend time with me.
Then the familiar prickle of unease chases it down. My stomach flips with uncertainty.
The fact that I’m excited by his wanting to join me feels complicated—like if I let myself enjoy it, it might be taken away.
I curl the note between my fingers, feeling that tug-of-war inside me.
Safe. Unsafe. Warm. Wary.
I put the kettle on and lean against the counter, eyes tracing the words again. Noah left me a choice. He thought about that, thought about my feelings.
My mind flicks to the day before, to him looking at my half-finished website like it was something worth being proud of. I’ve replayed his words too many times since he said them, still unsure how to let them settle. I want to take him at face value, believe he meant it, but it’s like my ability to do that is out of reach. No matter how hard I grab at it.
