I was doing so fucking good too. It’s been weeks since I felt like this. I just hope it doesn’t devolve into a full-blown panic attack.
“Just let me finish this deliciousness, and I’ll head out.” She doesn’t sound put out, but I don’t know if I believe it. I did commit to working out, though, so what could I even do if I told her not to leave?
I open and close my mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say, but come up empty. She just seems so cool about me ditching her, a complete non-issue, that I don’t know what to say or how to react, so I don’t. I just get up and let her finish her mid-afternoon pick-me-up.
I’m shifting back and forth on my feet, waiting for Lennox. I’ve already stretched and done a few random exercises to hopefully calm my nervous energy.
Shockingly enough, it didn’t work. I roll my eyes at myself for being so fucking ridiculous right now.
“Hey, man,” Lennox calls when he turns the corner and comes into view.
“Hey.”
“You up for a hard one today?” he asks in a no-nonsense tone, and I appreciate it. No shooting the shit, no catching up, just straight to the point.
“Absolutely.”
“Sweet, so let’s run this three-mile trail. When we get to the point, we’ll do some intervals until one of us feels like puking and then run back.” He smirks as he explains, and I kind of love this sadistic side of him. I have no doubt he’ll give me a run for my money, but I think I can keep up.
“Sounds good. See you there.” I take off, not waiting for him, and set a pretty fast pace. I need to work the anxiety out of my body, and this is the only way I know how.
I’m fucking dead.
I barely made the three-mile run back to the trailhead before collapsing in the dirt.
“Jesus, I knew you were in shape, but damn,” Lennox heaves out.
“Fuck you. You didn’t puke,” I grumble, ashamed he actually kept his word and that I was the one who upchucked.
“Sucks to lose.”
“I beat you back here, so therefore, I win,” I counter through my labored breathing.
“You’re really big on semantics, huh?”
“Winning is winning, Len.”
He punches my shoulder, and I laugh.
“How old are you anyway? When someone asks, I need to be able to say I’m badass,” I ask.
“Why does my age factor in? And I’m twenty-nine.”
“Well, eight years isn’t as much as I hoped for, but I’ll take it. I beat the youngest Hutton today,” I gloat before he punches me again.
“You puked; you didn’t win shit. That means you owe me, like, five paninis.”
“We made no bet in the beginning. I didn’t agree to feed your ass.” I would totally feed his ass. That was one hell of a workout. He earned it.
“Seriously, though, good workout.” He turns his head to face mine.
“It was. Thank you, I needed that more than you know.”
“You know, I’m always here if you want to work out, talk, you know, whatever.”
Friendship.That’s what he’s offering.
Outside of whatever I’m doing with Willow, I haven’t gotten close to anyone in town. But this feels nice. There’s no obligation to talk. I can just get the shit kicked out of me, and he’s cool to leave it at that.
