Page 15 of The Comeback Pact

“Are you stalking me now?” I shout, before turning around and continuing to jog. My heart slams in my chest, but I try to push it to get away from him. Of course, his stride eats up the distance between us in no time.

He settles into a cadence beside me, and I peek over. I’m a sweaty mess, but he’s barely glistening. I try slowing down, and he stays with me. I speed up, and he’s still by my side. We’re coming up on the mile marker on the trail, designated by a wooden bench, so I stop.

When he does too, I glare at him. “No, we’re not doing this.”

“I’m not stalking you,” he says, barely a hitch in his voice. His delivery is so monotone, like the epitome of casual indifference.

It’s infuriating.

“Oh, we just happen to be running the same trail?” I challenge. “How did you even know I was out here?”

He shrugs, but when I keep my heated expression on him, he says, “A couple of players saw you turn down the trail and let me know.”

“Oh, wonderful.” I’m onalltheir radars now? This is a nightmare.

I get to my feet, my calves flaring in pain with the stretch of my muscles. I definitely shouldn’t have taken that break. I need to push on.

“Don’t run with me,” I call out over my shoulder before taking off again.

He doesn’t listen. His surprisingly light footsteps start off after me.

“I have mace,” I throw back as he nears.

“Is that supposed to stop me?”

“Something has to,” I snap.

“Just agree to let me help you.”

Exasperation takes root. “Why?” I yell, spinning on him. He stops where he is, and we face off on the paved trail surrounded by trees.

He stares at the ground. For my own ego, I’m happy to see that his forehead glistens with sweat. He brings his gaze up to meet mine finally. “I just want to help.” The wind lifts his dark hair, and my stomach clenches.

His eyes are so open, so vulnerable in that moment that it stuns me to silence. It’s not the reason I expected, which makes me want to lash out even more. “Because I’m deformed? Because you feel guilty about what happened to me?”

His jaw tenses, and suddenly, I know what it feels like to line up across the field from him. Fear spreads through me with a jolt.

“Fine.” He peers away. “It’s because I want to get you to practice.” The vulnerability is on hiatus. He’s back to his monotone words.

I knew it.

“You said you needed training for diving, so I’m going to guess that you haven’t been able to work out lately. Maybe your coach said you needed to get back in shape?”

I blow out a breath, surprised he even thought that much about my circumstance at all. “I got a doctor’s note that I can get back in the water and start practice again, but Coach took my synchro partner away and told me she’s going to bench me this year because of my conditioning.”

I don’t even know why all of that comes out. It feels good to unload it somewhere though since I didn’t tell my mom the truth earlier, and Sydney cares, but she’s not much into sports.

Anger sweeps across his face, but it’s only there for a split second before he returns to his normal noncommittal expression. “So, let’s make a deal. I’ll help you get back into shape. If I can get you back on that dive team this year, you come to practice with me. Only once. I don’t care if you just show your face for a second.”

My shoulders slump. It really is all about football for him, isn’t it? I don’t even know why his response makes me so disappointed.

On the other hand, one second of showing my face at a football practice could get me back on the dive team. That’s…enticing. Right? Hell, I could even spend that time telling them I think they’re a bunch of coddled bastards. He didn’t say in what capacity I had to be there.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, but even I don’t believe my own words. I’m in. I guess.

But all this is only proof of how desperate I really am to have everything back to normal.

When I turn to run again, he follows.

---