“You really should stretch after your morning workouts,” he says, bending to scoop up my folded cane which is resting at the base of the tree trunk.
“AndI’mthe yappy yorkie.” I laugh. “You’re like a dog with a bone sometimes.”
“Just don’t want to see you injured.” He hands me the cane.
That comment blends with the brief brush of our hands. It’s charge crisscrosses within me. It feels like this is about more than just achy, stiff muscles. It’s about keeping me safe. Not just in the big ways like with the pineapple champagne, but in the tiny ways. Teasing me about eating my greens. The annoyance with Miles. He doesn’t always do it in the right way, but I’m seeing that his sole mission in life may be to take care of the people he cares about, and he cares about me. We’re friends, after all, and I’m starting to realize that to him we’ve always been.
“I could always add it to our shared training calendar. It actually has value compared to someone’s twice-a-day reminder for me toturn my frown upside down.”He bumps me with his shoulder as we move towards the sidewalk that loops through campus.
Head tipped back, I groan. “Fine. I’ll get up earlier and make sure I stretch, but I get to rage text you grumpy messages complaining about it.”
“Counteroffer… if you want to work out at night I can drive you home. That way you can have more time at night to work out. I’d imagine the bus eats up a lot of time.” He stops and turns to face me. “Or if you want to keep your morning routine, I can drive you to work. The hospital is right next to the university, and you live five minutes from me.”
“This is sweet, but not necessary.”
“It’s selfish, not sweet. This way I can avoid grumpy texts.” An earnest grin radiates within his cheeky timbre.
“Yeah, but you are at the hospital before seven a.m. most days. Not to mention you’re there until after five.” I motion to him.
“Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me.”
“I’m not.” I bite back the flirty smile that flexes at the corners of my lips. “Anker has just mentioned it a few times.”
“Anker has also said I need more work/life balance, so you’d be doing me a favor if you let me drive you home.”
“You really are a dog with a bone.” Laughter vibrates through me. “It would be nice. I’m so mentally wiped after peopling most days that not having to deal with the bus would be a relief.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the public transportation available. Nonetheless, it’s still taxing. Buses run late, or the schedules change. If I miss one, it can be up to thirty minutes until the next one comes. The PA system announcing the stops often breaks, or the driver sometimes forgets to call out the stops. Not to mention the other humans can sometimes be a lot to deal with. I’m on guard the entire time, from when I arrive at the point to pick me up until I get home.
“Is dealing with people a lot for you?” he asks as he ushers me down the path.
“It can be, but it’s less about the people. I spend most days hypervigilant about my surroundings, which can be mentally exhausting.”
Situations like at the bar the other night is a prime example. Tension coils in every muscle as I track who’s talking and the flow of conversation. It’s tiring to be on constant alert in my environment. The moment I relax is when things happen—like glasses being accidentally knocked off the table.
“Going out is fine, especially when it’s some place I’m familiar with or with people who get it.”
“Is that why we tend to do Harkey’s followed by the creamery most Fridays?” he asks. The jangle of keys tells me that we’re getting close to his vehicle.
“I guess. Anker sets up our happy hour outings.” A crease wrinkles my brow. “Though, I imagine he’d not be up for it this week.”
“Likely not… We’re at my SUV.” A little chirp accompanies his announcement. “Let me get the door for you. We should bring happy hour to him.” He opens the door.
“Like we learn to make his frilly cocktails and have them at his place?”
“I was thinking more on the lines of bringing pizza and a bottle of wine.”
“Plus garlic knots?” I bat my eyes.
“And a salad,” he counters with a cheekiness.
“Monster!”
10
MILE TEN
STALKER DARCY
