Shaking my head, I tug on the rope. “Nope.”
Even if I don’t know the path like the soccer field’s track, certainty hums in my blood that we haven’t gone half a mile yet. As uncomfortable as I am, I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to fail. I just remain tucked up close to Garrett. So close that his elbow nearly collides with me.
“Sorry,” I pant, trying to position myself not on top of him, but close enough to… I don’t know. I don’t want to knock into him, but I don’t want to be far away.
This isn’t an issue when I have my cane. Even if I can’t run with it, I’d feel more comfortable with it. At least with the cane I can trail along the path’s edge to know where I’m going. With the cane, I’d be able to walk away if something happens to Garrett.
Heart racing, I curl my fingers even tighter on the rope. If I keep closing the gap between us, I’ll be on his back. I loosen and then immediately grip the rope in debate, causing a tugging motion.
“Okay,” Garrett says.
“Okay what…” I smack into him.
“Oof,” he grunts, lurching forward.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him to both stop my own momentum and his. Only the force of my body makes it worse. Garrett falls to one knee in a lunge-like formation, while I remain pressed against his back, my legs on either side of him, and mortification blazing up my spine.
I cringe. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He groans just a bit.
“You don’t sound okay. Did I hurt you?”
“Yes… I mean yes, I’m okay.” His sigh vibrates in my chest from where I’m pressed against his back. “Just let go of me andstand straight, so I can get up without worrying about you,” he says.
Worrying about me… Nice job, Jensen.
“Sure.” Swallowing thickly, I do as he asks. Mortification not just inflames my cheeks but thickens my throat.
Garrett stands and turns to face me. “Are you okay?” He places his hands on my arms.
“Yeah… Are you?” I tip my head up to him.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Why didn’t you stop?”
“Why did you stop?” I arch one eyebrow.
“You tugged on the rope to stop.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“I…” I rub at the center of my forehead. “Shit. That wasn’t a tug. I was just trying to find the sweet spot for enough slack to give you space and enough closeness to make me feel comfortable… Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I motion to him.
“Just a skinned knee.”
“Ouch... I am so sorry.” Guilt swirls in my belly.
None of this would have happened if I’d just been able to relax. If I had just trusted him like I’ve been doing, even if we’re in an unfamiliar spot.
“It’s fine. I’ll survive.”
“Are you sure?” I adjust my glasses, which got a little skewed in the collision with Garrett.
