After Sabin turned Chris away from my door right after the episode at the union, Chris tried talking to me one more time. He came to my room, and I opened the door, but before he could even say a word, I shut it in his face. I don’t hate him, I never could, but I sure as shit don’t want to talk to him. It’s brutal to go from what we had to this. My heart fucking hurts all the time. Although I want him back with me, I am not going to throw myself at him, or beg, or otherwise make an ass out of myself.
At least planning for graduation is offering some distraction. Annie is coming to Madison for the ceremony, and I cannot wait. Not only that, but I asked her if she would help me move back to Boston and stay with me for a while. I thought she’d turn down such an enormous request, but to my surprise she jumped at the chance. Her marriage broke up a few years ago, she has no children, and she said this is the perfect reason to take a much-needed break. She’s stopped practicing as an attorney full-time and instead does a lot of consulting from her Chicago home, so it’s fairly easy for her to travel when she wants. The truth is that I’m going to need help leaving Matthews and settling in back home, and I’m proud that I got myself to directly ask for help. Annie is proof that sometimes relationships can fall apart and be rebuilt, so I cling to that.
And I run. Every day, no matter how much I don’t want to, I run because of that hope.
I am barely past campus grounds on my Saturday-morning run when my feelings start to boil over.
Fuck everything.
I am going to run until I puke.
I am going to get that magazine internship that I applied for.
I am going to hang out with Nichole this summer.
I am going to let Annie mother the shit out of me.
I am going to ask—no, insist—that James come to my graduation.
Chris can go fuck himself.
Naturally, it’s at this moment that Chris’s truck turns the corner and pulls alongside me. I glance to my left as Estelle waves from the passenger seat. I avoid looking at Chris. I don’t realize that Sabin and Eric are riding in the bed of the truck, sitting on milk crates, until Sabin yells to me. Chris drives ahead so that I am running behind the truck.
Sabin sticks out his tongue at me and grins. I stick out my tongue back, but I am not in a smiling mood. I wait for Chris to step on the gas and put distance between us, but Sabin slaps the side of the truck. “Slow down, Chris! We got ourselves a live one!” He lifts his guitar and rests it on his knee while he strums and looks at me.
I give him the nastiest look possible. My music is not up loud enough to block out his booming voice, and I promise myself that from now on I will crank the shit out of my playlists.
Eric is yelling at me, but his voice doesn’t have nearly the obnoxious power Sabin’s does. I remove my earphones. “What are you guys doing? I’m kind of busy.”
“I know.” Eric leans in and says something to Sabe and then he holds up his arm and points to his watch.
“What?” I really wish they’d get the fuck out of here.
Sabin keeps strumming his guitar. “Eric tells me that you’re training for a half marathon.”
“No, I am not.” Eric is going to be in deep shit. Yes, he brought up the idea of a 10K, but that’s only a little over six miles. I cannot run a half marathon. That’s over thirteen fucking miles.
“I told them that you could run a half marathon at a standard marathon-qualifying time!” Eric shouts. His unreasonable exuberance grates on me. “One hour and twenty-seven minutes.”
Sabin leans off the side of the truck bed and calls out to Chris. “Stay with her, Chris. We’re going to clock her mileage.”
“Go to hell!” Not only can I not run a half marathon, but I am obviously not ever going to run a full marathon. I can’t stop myself from glancing at Chris in the driver-side mirror. We make eye contact for a fraction of a second, and even that is more than I can take. I put my earphones back in and jack up the volume. I refuse to have a yelling conversation with these lunatics, and I’m not in the mood to run behind the truck. And what are they all doing out so early in the morning together anyway? Damn bad luck for me that they happened to find me.
Unless Eric organized this. Damn him.
I keep my head down and do what I can to ignore them until they go away. What I’m not prepared for is that Eric seems to know my route, so just before I make a turn, I see him yell up to Chris, directing him where to go. Although I hate deviating from my routine, when we hit the end of the road that leads to the lake, I go right instead of left. Chris has already gone left, so I’m free.
Until I hear his truck peel back a few yards before he bangs out a U-turn.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter. I keep my eyes on the road and just run, not even flinching when his truck pulls in front of me again. Sabin and Eric are cheering and clapping, and I can’t help but crack a smile. They are ridiculous. I give in and accept that they are here for the duration of my run. At least I don’t have Chris in that truck bed facing me, too. Presumably his eyes are on the road. Eventually I circle back and pick up my favorite route.
Goddamn if Chris doesn’t keep the truck fifteen feet in front of me at all times, even waving the occasional car to go by us. I feel incredibly stupid, but I maintain my normal pace. Twenty minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Zach waving wildly to signal me. I look up and see him shaking his head. He cups his hands and yells at me.
Annoyed, I take out my earphones again. “What?” I yell, not hiding my aggravation.
“You’re too slow,” he calls out. “You’re way, way too slow.”
“Too slow for what?”
