Page 4 of An Uphill Battle

“Thought we could start thefence?”

“Right now?” heasks.

“Yeah,now.”

“Son, it’s already past five. The sun’ll be long gone by the time you’rehome.”

I punch the steering wheel and groan in frustration. “Yeah, you’re right. Guess I’ll start first thingtomorrow.”

“Sounds good, son. Come by the house for breakfast, and I’ll head out withyou.”

“Will do, Dad. Love you.” I end the call just as I turn down my family’s long driveway. My house is first, then the house my dad shares with my stepmom, Didi—that woman is a saint. She and my dad met shortly after he and Mom divorced. It wasn’t messy or painful—their split was totally mutual, which may seem weird to some, but it is what it is. Beyond their house are our crops andbarns.

Still feeling restless and antsy, I text my lifelong friend Simon. Maybe he’ll be down for a nighttimerun.

Drake:Run?

Simon:Now?

Drake: Yup. Down by thepier.

Simon: Sounds good. See you in afew.

With a new plan in mind, I quickly strip out of my jeans and T-shirt, exchanging them for some Nike shorts and an Under Armour compression shirt. I lace up my kicks, and I’m back out thedoor.

Fifteen minutes later, Simon and I are eating up the asphalt one step at a time, racing down the same path by the bay that we’ve been using since highschool.

Simon and I met on the first day of kindergarten, and he was always out at our house during harvest seasons when my dad would bring his dad on for work. Hell, we stayed close even after I moved with Mom to Arkansas. And when I moved back, it was like no time had passed, other than his scrawny ass filling out and him all but adopting a pint-sized redhead and her snarling blonde friend as his “littlesisters.”

After two miles of running in silence, void of all our usual small talk and bullshit, Simon slows us to a slow jog. “Azalea?”

He never was one to beat around the bush, and he’s certainly never hesitated on calling me on my shit. “Yeah,Azalea.”

“Y’all ever gonna gettogether?”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Us getting together ain’t the problem. It’s staying together. She’s got it stuck in her pretty little head that I don’t want strings.” He shows no reaction to the fact that I just shared that Azalea and I have been sleeping together.Odd. Shaking my head, I grunt in annoyance. “Girl’s got it wrong. I want more than strings. I wantchains.”

“Hmm.”

Here we go. “Hmm what,Simon?”

“Well, and this is just a thought, but have you ever actually told her you wantmore?”

“I mean, Iguess?”

“You don’t sound so sure. You either have or youhaven’t.”

“I’ve told her we were a long time coming and that I’ve always wanted her, and just today, I told her how good we are together. So, yeah, I’ve told her.” My voice comes out strong and confident. Too bad Simon’s about to crush that confidence like a tincan.

“You’re an idiot. That’s not telling her how you feel. That’s telling her you like the way she makes youfeel, if you catch my drift.” Judging from the confused look on my face, Simon can see, clearly, that I’mnotcatching his drift.“Dude, you basically made it sound like you enjoy fuckingher.”

Is he right? I mean, I do, but... “Aw, hell.” Yeah, he’s totally right. “I’m such anasshole.”

“Pretty much, brother.” Simon claps me on the back, like that’ll somehow detract from the fact that I’m a pea-braineddickbag.

“How do I fix this? She’s it for me. Always has been.” My voice sounds foreign—rough and full ofagony.

“Gotta step up your game. Don’t just play to win. Play forkeeps.”

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