Page 66 of Get Me to the Starting Line
But it’s not solely because there are fewer people to bump into or intimidate—it’s the woman running beside me.
The thought pulls me up short. I haven’t felt the need to make myself smaller in a while. When was the last time I felt like I needed more space?
When I’m with Leah, I’m so focused on the space she takes up in my head that I forget to feel self-conscious. And when she’s not with me, I’m wishing she was.
Her presence creates a bubble around us until it’s just me and her.
“I want to run a 5k today,” she says out of the blue. “Without stopping.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I, uh, have extra energy as well.”
I’m a weak man. She makes me weak. When I sneak a glance at her, she’s staring straight ahead but her cheeks are flushed. It could be from running or the cold wind, but it could also be from last night.
Holy fuck, even the thought of it has me blushing as well. And hard. So fucking hard.
“Oh?” It’s the only word I can manage.
“Yeah. Do you think I can do it?” She finally turns and our gazes collide. My body tingles with the memory of her wrapped around me, almost coming undone. If I’m not mistaken, she’s remembering too.
“I think you can do anything.”
She looks away, a smile on her lips. They’re still a little swollen, her neck marked where my beard scratched her.
How the hell am I supposed to do this? I blow out a breath.
“Okay then.”
I check my watch. We’ve only done about half a kilometre. We typically run and walk in intervals for about three kilometres. But she wants to do five without stopping, so that’s what we’re going to do.
“You’re probably going to call me a jackass,” I warn her.
“I’m fine with that.” She shoots me a smile that takes my breath away.
“Alright, we’re half a kilometre in,” I tell her.
She stops running.
“What’s wrong, is it your shins?” Worry rushes through me as I look her over. But she seems fine. Better than fine. She’s shapely in her running gear, black leggings that show the flare of her hips and strong legs. Her jacket is bright pink, matching her shoes.
“What’s wrong?! We’re only half a kilometre in, that’s what’s wrong!” Her eyes go wide, the light catching on the emerald green of her eyes.
I don’t know what to say. She never asks how far we go, typically just how long we have left in our intervals. So I shrug. Her anger flares, and I have to hold in my smile.
“Here I was thinking we were at least a kilometre and a half, maybe even a mile.”
“Nope.” I make thepsound pop, drawing her attention to my lips. Hunger crosses her face, exactly like last night. I know because I’m thinking the same. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
“Don’t,” I warn her.
“Don’t what?”
I give her a look telling her I know exactly what she’s thinking. She shakes her head and breaks the tension, focusing instead on the path in front of us.
“I can do this?” It comes out as a question.
“Yes.” There’s not a doubt in my mind. She’s standing in her own way, and if she won’t remove herself, I will.
