Page 49 of Get Me to the Starting Line

The second class I teach is a bit smaller. It’s an advanced biomedical design class. Which is perfect because that’s my main fieldof study as a PhD in Biomedical Design and Biomechanical Engineering.

I love this class because most of these students are on track to pursue even higher education, and I love seeing more women than there were when I was in school. It’s not quite half, but it’s close.

The class goes by in a blur, my lesson stretching into more of a discussion as my current research bleeds into my teaching. It was helpful to get some fresh perspectives. Some professors are too proud to get ideas and feedback from their students, but I find their more basic knowledge helps me get back to the fundamentals of what I’m trying to achieve.

Oftentimes my colleagues are reaching for more complex research, diving deep into complicated and hard to prove theories and designs.

I think that’s bullshit. There is so much to be said for the basics. The fundamentals are what our field is built on, and utilizing the base ideas is what propels my research forward.

The last student leaves my class, head buried in their book, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I take out my phone.

I have one text from a number I don’t recognize.

Unknown

Paige is on the warpath, watch out

What the hell?

I’veneverbeenparticularlynervous going to work, but today is different. After I got home from that confusing morning run with Leah, I knew I was in for some sort of interrogation from Paige.

All day I keep watching, waiting for her to show up. To catch me off guard. She hasn’t yet, and I don’t know why. The anticipation is throwing me off, my mind and body tensing, fight-or-flight response in effect. I want to flee.

When I’m on the ice, I typically leave everything else behind. My head clears and it’s just my eyes tracking the play, my body ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

But I see a door open in my periphery, and when I look over to check, the puck my trainer launched smacks against my helmet. He begins scolding me, but I don’t hear him. I’m still thinking back to this morning.

The hurt on Paige’s face. The guilt on Leah’s. I don’t have any siblings, so I don’t understand their dynamic. Will this create a rift between them? Should I have said something? No, I don’t think Ishould have—Leah would have bitten my head off. I was right to stay quiet.

Once I’m finished with my ice time, I check my schedule, having forgotten this morning to memorise it for the day.

Massage with Paige.

Oh fuck. No wonder she hasn’t said anything or sought me out—she’s going to have me all to herself for a full hour. I sigh and slowly make my way over to the health and wellness offices at our training arena. Knocking on the door feels more ominous when I hear her soft voice telling me to come in. I hesitate for a breath before letting myself in.

“H-Hey, Paige,” I say hesitantly.

“Hey, Julien. Have a seat.” She doesn’t seem upset.

I pushed myself hard when I ran home this morning. I don’t usually run faster than my easy pace, but I practically sprinted the five kilometres home. It was a mistake.

My phone buzzes, and while Paige is getting her notes together, I take it out.

Adam Ashford

if my fiancé comes home more pissed today than when she left this morning, I’m blaming you.

Of course. Shit. Just thinking the word puts a smile on my face, remembering the way Levi’s voice sounds when he swears. So damncute. And when Leah’s face lit up after repeating my French word for wolf. So damn stunning.

“What are you smiling about?” Paige quirks a brow.

I suddenly feel considerably smaller—not an easy feat given my size—as she appraises me. Though I’m sitting and she’s tall, I’m almost at her eye level.

“N-Nothing,” I say, putting my phone away and take a seat on the massage table

“Mm-hmm. So, Julien, what do we need to work on today?” she asks, her professional demeanour back in place. Though there’s an edge to her voice, and her face is not as cheery as usual.

“My legs.”

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