“He’s staying at your hotel?” I ask, once I swallow down the food.
“Yeah. Didn’t you know? I thought he might be in town with you because of the film or something.”
My legs nearly give way underneath me and I steady myself with my hand up against the wall. After nearly eleven weeks of being apart, Christopher’s less than two miles away. Every part of me wants to run out of the studio and straight to his hotel room.
“What did you want me to fix in the segue?” Freddy pulls up the stems for the track on the screen behind him.
But none of that matters right now.
The only thing that matters is seeing Christopher.
8.Christopher
Saturday
One hundred seventy-eight beats per minute.
My Garmin watch shows no sign of my heart rate slowing, despite standing near the entrance of Central Park for two minutes after a five-mile run. I turn to start heading back to my hotel, but pause, blinking away the shock of seeing Alexander standing fifty feet away.
This isnothow I envisioned seeing him for the first time in almost three months. My blue Nike running top clings to my body, dripping in sweat. And my black Yankees baseball cap and a liberal amount of deodorant barely disguises the fact that I’ve yet to shower this morning.
Random tourists hire bicycles at a kiosk right next to him and families are playing a short distance away, but somehow Alexander isn’t being accosted. Probably because his own black baseball cap is lowered over his face, covering those instantly recognizable eyes. His overgrown beard hides a jawline that would cut glass.
I turn to hightail it out the east entrance of the park, but it’s too late. Alexander locks eyes with me and doesn’t bother to hide his surprise or delight.
My feet freeze in place, but my heart is pulled like a magnet toward him.
A thousand thoughts smash together and break apart.
I hate you, I miss you, I want you, how could you, why did you, where were you?
I take a long deep exhale as Alexander gets close and mutterHere we gounder my breath.
“Hi,” Alexander says, and goes in to hug me.
I flinch, my arms coming up like a forcefield to protect me.
“I wouldn’t hug me if I were you.” I move back slightly and pull at my top.
Drips of sweat hit the concrete between my feet and create an ever-expanding puddle that I wish I could jump into and be magically transported back to my hotel room.
“Been for a run?” Alexander awkwardly shoves his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts.
My attention is drawn to the dark circles beneath his beautiful eyes, still as blue and dreamy as ever. His beard hides the scar on his chin and the dimple that usually forms with his smile. He looks exhausted, but for the first time since we met, I’m not sure if I actually care.
“Yeah.”
My answer is short and curt. Not only because I don’t want to engage in this conversation, but because I’m fearful the barricade I’ve put in place to protect my heart won’t hold for long. It takes all my energy to perform what should be the natural act of breathing.
The silence lingers longer in the late-summer air than it should.
The tension between us is no longer full of sexual chemistry, but of all that has been left unsaid. Of our journey from strangers to lovers, back to strangers, and now this. Whatever this is.
Alexander finally breaks the silence.
“I saw the run-through of the ad.” He reaches up and lowersthe bill of his cap when someone turns to do a double take. “It looks great.”
I’m grateful for the change in topic. Work I can talk about. Work keeps these conflicting feelings at bay.
