Page 74 of Get Me to the Starting Line

“Ten,” I mumble.

Her brows shoot up. “And you thought I was the best person to help you up the stairs?” She gestures at her small frame as if I need the reminder. “If you go up there, you won’t be able to get down.”

For a full minute, we glare at each other. But I can see it in her eyes—she’ll leave if I don’t do what she says. I carefully brace myself on my good leg, though that still puts pressure on my sore hip, and try to dig out my keys. Except the pain is so bad I nearly fall over.

“God, you’re a mess,” Leah says while steadying me. Her hands brace my shoulders. “Your keys are in this pocket?” She points to the right side of my sweats.

“What are you—” I start to say, but she’s already there, her hand plunging into my pockets.

“No wonder you couldn’t get them. How deep are these fucking pockets?” she mumbles. But I can’t breathe because her hand is sliding across my sore hip and dangerously close to the inside of my thigh.

I am standing at attention. All of me. She fishes the keys out with a triumphant gleam in her eyes and a smirk telling me she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Go sit down, I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” I say as she turns to head for the stairs. “You don’t know where everything is.”

“I have a sister, I’m excellent at snooping,” she says with a wink.

“There’s a duffle bag in the front closet!” I call after her. She gives me a wave of her hand to show me she heard and then disappears through the door.

Shit, I forgot to tell her what apartment number.

Leah Harrison

Julien: apt. 1010, end of the hall to your left

you think I made it up ten flights of stairs already?

you won’t have to wait when you get there

no one asked you to do this

you’re welcome

now stop texting me, I have to focus on not dying while I climb these ridiculous stairs

are there like 10ft ceilings in this place?

holy shit, I thought I was getting inbetter shape

these stairs are kicking my ass

how dare you not prepare me for this

stop distracting me

I bark out a laugh, the feeling foreign in my throat. I imagine her flushed and cursing as she climbs the stairs. Even though the elevator has been in tip-top shape until today, I did the stairs daily. I used to time myself, but I’m fairly certain my legs are twice as long as Leah’s. I’m not sure how long it’ll take her to get up there.

My phone doesn’t buzz, even though I’m staring at it, wishing for more. My thoughts will it to happen.

Fuck you

that was the worst

your apartment is absurdly bare, when did you move in?

wait, let me guess, six years ago when you moved here

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