Page 8 of The Run Option

Her bright smile falls as I approach. I tell myself I don’t mind. Lying doesn’t ease the sting though.

The sign she’s holding reads: If you were an animal, what would you be?

“Be honest, how many guys said a lion?” I ask and she surprises me with a soft laugh.

“Too many,” she answers, making me chuckle.

“They probably couldn’t think straight after practice.”

“That bad?” she asks, surprising me again. This is the most civil conversation we’ve had in–well, ever.

“Let’s just say an ice bath sounds pretty good right about now.” I squint as beads of sweat get in my eyes. I lift the bottom of mypractice jersey to wipe it away. When I lower the fabric, I catch Willow staring.

“Did you get that on video?” I ask with a smirk. Her gaze snaps to meet mine. “In case you want to watch it back later.”

She rolls her eyes. “If winning games was based on humility, the Lions would be on a losing streak thanks to you.”

“It’s hard to be humble whentheWillow Delmont was just staring at my abs. Have you seen you?”

Her cheeks tint a rosy pink, making me grin. Withstanding her ire is worth it if I get to see her blush.

“I need to get back to work. And you need a shower, I can smell you from here.”

I laugh at her brushing off my compliment. “You don’t want to know my answer?”

When she gives me a questioning look, I gesture to the sign.

“I’d be a penguin.” I start walking backward toward the locker room. She follows my movements with her camera.

“Why?”

I shrug. “They mate for life.”

Chapter five

Willow Delmont

“How rude would it be to cancel right now?” I ask Bianca as she curls my hair.

Normally, I’d consider curling my hair at my desk highly unprofessional, but today…okay it’s still unprofessional, but it’s also necessary. I have a date thirty minutes after I get off work, and it takes twenty minutes to get there. That only leaves me ten minutes to have a full-blown existential crisis in the car, which is the bare minimum for me.

“Very. Especially considering this is a friend of Cody’s,” she says from behind me.

When I had a mini freak out earlier about the number of hashtags on a recent post, Bianca deduced that I was stressed out about other things. One of which was getting ready in time. So she offered to help with my hair. I would have curled it earlier this morning, but I didn’t know about this date until lunch. Apparently, my date, Leo, is a brain surgeon. That makes him a very busy man who can only give so much time to dating. Cody talks with Leo at the gym they both frequent and mentioned myname when Leo said he was looking to get back into the dating scene. He said we should get together tonight, so here I am, panicking.

I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that I’m beingsqueezed inbetween surgeries. But maybe since he’s a doctor he’s too busy to be a sports fan. A girl can dream. While I’d love to date someone who shares my love for the Lions, most of those guys tend to use me to get close to said team. So it’s better to date someone who is indifferent.

“Why are you so nervous?” Bianca asks while wrapping another section of hair around the curler. Just a few more, then she should be done. After that, I’ll touch up my makeup, change into the dress I rushed to my apartment on my lunch break to get, and then head to the expensive steak house he suggested we meet at.

“Because this is a blind date. It’s different than an app. All I know is that he has brown hair and goes to the gym daily. I have no idea what to expect.”

“That’s the fun of it!” Bianca spritzes the newly formed curl with hair spray. “It’s a mystery, but instead of murder you’re finding out who a cute guy is.”

“You’re assuming he’s cute,” I say as I tug on the sleeve of my Lions athletic jacket.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

I have a repeat of my last date.My stomach swoops thinking of my interaction with Jason at the bar. His compliment was likely faux flattery, but it still affected me. And the one from yesterday too…I hate it when he does that. It’s disconcerting. There’s always some girlish part of me that flutters to life, wondering if he means what he says. But I know he doesn’t. He said similar things the first time we met, and he doesn’t even remember that night. He’s just flirting to pass the time.

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