Page 165 of Defend Me

“Yeah. If I break you, I don’t want to get sued.”

“I’d win that case.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get your ass on a treadmill and see who’s superior.”

“We’re not even running outside?”

He gestured toward the window. It was three, but it looked dark outside. As a lover of the rain, I thought he’d be into it, but I definitely wasn’t, so a treadmill sounded great.

“I’m gonna embarrass you,” he whispered loudly.

“Bet.”

Once I turned around, I dropped my confident façade. I had no doubt he was going to destroy me and laugh about it. I was fit but not as a runner. I swam and lifted the occasional weights.

Well, at least I’d have a front row seat to Tilian Holloway’s competitive side. I was damn proud to call that weird fucker mine. More than that, I was lucky as fuck.

Chapter 45

Tilian

Was it rude to laugh?

Brooks was actually a decent runner and he went for longer than I thought he could, but he clearly hated it. He liked to swim and used his body to stay fit in other ways. Pullups, pushups, sit-ups, and the like.

It was effective, obviously. He was perfectly lean with a beautiful amount of definition to his body.

I wanted to fuck with him, so I’d been teasing him by increasing the speed on mine. He kept up for a bit, but when I added elevation, he called me a string of names I’d never heard put together. I didn’t run more than a couple times a week, so I was really pushing myself to beat him, but it was worth it.

One thing he wasn’t was a good sport. He fucking hated to lose. A lesson in humility was far overdue.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunted as I hopped off the treadmill.

He glared at me as he stretched his hamstrings.

“This is stupid. I don’t even like your body anymore. I resent it.”

“Gonna tap out?”

“Fuck you,” he growled. “Why do you do this horrible exercise?”

“I abuse my lungs for a living, so maybe it’ll balance out. You’re also not the only one who needs outlets. It helps my anxiety. I don’t only rely on weed for that.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“There might be something you’ll like more than running.”

“Unless it’s fucking, I say no.”

I grabbed his hand and threaded our fingers before I pulled him through the gym. For how massive it was, I was surprised more of the residents didn’t use it. I preferred to run outside, but if I didn’t feel like being in the land of the living, this was a good alternative.

Through one of the doors, there was a studio. I was pretty sure they used it for yoga classes a couple times a week. I steered clear of those.

At the far end, there were three punching bags hanging from the ceiling. Pulling my hand free, I playfully shoved him into one. He stumbled, then righted himself and narrowed his eyes for what must’ve been the hundredth time today.

“Take that anger and hit the bag,” I suggested.

“Maybe I’d rather hit you.”

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