I try to fight it, try not to creep on her. But when she jumps from foot to foot doing high knees, the way her breasts bounce so beautifully has my control fraying at the edges.
It takes all my strength to turn away from her and pretend to stretch. In truth, I couldn’t name a single pre-run stretch at the moment. Her little grunts as she warms up conjure filthy fantasies that aren’t welcome at the moment.
“Ready?” A soft hand lands on my shoulder, and even through the fabric barrier, it sears into me. Fuck, her touch has what little blood was left in my head rushing to my groin. This is going to be a tortuous run, and yet, it’ll be the best one I’ve ever had.
“Yeah. You set the pace.” My voice is ragged in a way that has nothing to do with exercise, but she’s perfectly oblivious.
She nods and starts at her normal pace for our Saturday long runs. I pretend to be focused on the landscape I know by heart instead of the alluring angel by my side. Even her arm pumps with each step call out to me.
“So, you follow the Runner’s World marathon plan?” Not expecting her to talk, I trip slightly, but steady myself. I catch my glasses just in time. “Oh my. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. And yes, I follow their plan.” Of course, I follow the same plan as her. I’m the one who picked it for us after hours of research. It’s catered perfectly to her.
“That’s what I thought. We always have the same runs. Crazy how that worked out. Was the plan all over your social media too?” Speaking has her breathing heavily but not slowing down. Not that I’d care if we were slowing down. Running next to her, talking to her, this is what I fantasized about every time I ran behind her.
“I don’t have social media. But I did get an ad for it at some point. They must have been marketing it hard.” Each lie is vitriol on my tongue. I hate being dishonest with her, but how do I tell her that I’ve carefully curated every aspect of our runs. Even if it’s in her best interest, there’s no way she won’t freak out. She just wouldn’t understand.
“Hmm. I really only have social media to follow the zoo’s accounts. They’ve posted a few videos of my shows with the animals. They’re embarrassing, but it’s cool to educate the masses. One video even went viral.” She throws her hands over her face in mortification.
“It was a great video. They’re not embarrassing.” My fervent words spill out without thinking. Those videos of her at the zoo educating children on the animals are captivating. I’ve watched each one dozens of times.
“You’ve seen them?” Her disbelief offends me.
“Yeah. I like the zoo, and when I recognized my neighbor, I was thoroughly impressed. I didn’t know Komodo Dragon females could reproduce through parthenogenesis. Or that Galapagos Tortoises helped inspire Darwin. It’s all very interesting. And the way you teach it… it’s captivating.”
She stops abruptly and turns on me. I freeze alongside her. “You’re being serious?”
“Of course, I am.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
My brows scrunch in confusion as I stare at her. “Why would I think animals are weird? They’re majestic, and we as humans have much to learn from them. I find your knowledge impressive and your intelligence beautiful. There’s so much you can teach me, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than learning.” I somehow make education sound sensual toward the end of my sentence, so I nudge her and start running.
“Oh,” is all she says. But I will note she’s rosier than when we stopped, so maybe she’s accepting my compliment. When her lips curl into a bashful smile, I know I’ve done my duty to eradicate any doubt she has about her passions.
“I have a confession,” Lizzy blurts out after a few more minutes of silence.
“What’s that?” I highly doubt Lizzy could tell me anything that I don’t already know about her.
“I’m way nerdier than just liking reptiles. I do puzzles constantly. And don’t get me started on Sudoku.” She sighs, then continues. “Most people don’t get it. I was called weird a lot growing up. And still do.”
“I get it.” When she looks doubtfully, I decide it’s time to boast. “I time myself doing puzzles and try to beat my previous times. When I’m bored, I go on Wikipedia and fact-check random pages, then correct them. And I keep flashcards by mybedside to review before bed every night.” I wince at the mention of my flashcards and pray she doesn’t ask what they’re of.
But she just breaks out into a blinding smile and nudges me with her shoulder.
“Sounds like we’re perfect together.” My heart stutters as my dreams come true. “I think you just became my best friend.”
Her words are a splash of cold water, freezing me to my bones.Best friend.I should be grateful. Any position in her life is an honor. Butfriendisn’t what I want. Isn’t what I need.
“Seems like it,” I grit out.
Maybe I can challenge her to a puzzle contest or a game of trivia to win her hand. Then she’d see how much I can offer her.
“We’re almost done. One more mile,” she pants out. She chugs some water then hands the bottle to me. As much as I crave to put my lips where hers just were, I maintain composure and waterfall it into my mouth. The respectable way to drink from afriend’swater bottle.
As we approach the entrance of the park, I see a figure standing on her front step. As I speed up, she slows.
“What–” she starts, but I put up my hand.
