Page 9 of Someone Like You

“I kinda lied to my fiancée about our encounter last week.”

Ian’s perplexity grew. “What exactly about that required lying?”

Phil needed to sit down again. Confessing his personal troubles to a stranger wasn’t on today’s agenda.

“She’s been nagging me about making friends since we got here.” He pressed his lips together and another sigh escaped through his nose. “I may have told her we’ve become running buddies for her peace of mind.”

“There are worse lies to tell,” Ian commented, looming above him. Phil didn’t dare to look at him.

“I’ve never lied to her before. I feel… dirty.”

“Then don’t lie.”

“I can’t! Her job requires frequent trips to London and she doesn’t…” Phil trailed off, burying his face into his hands. He had to give Iansomethingif he wanted him to understand. “I’m on antidepressants.”

“Ah.” Ian’s head tilted knowingly. “Got you there.”

“I think she doesn’t trust me to be alone with myself.” Phil eyed Ian guiltily and received an unexpected sympathetic nod in return.

“She needs to know someone’s got your back.”

Phil blinked. That was a much better phrasing than‘She wants someone to keep an eye on me’. He could tolerate that — someone having his back. He’d never been one to rely on others, but, then again, he’d never fallen this low before.

A foot poked his shin. “So?”

Phil glanced up: Ian was staring at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“So what?”

“Let’s do this runnin’ club thing.”

No fucking way, Phil wanted to reply, but his conscience refrained him. It probably wouldn’t last, as Ian was positively a much better athlete than Phil was, but they could give it a shot, if only to spare Phil the burden of lying to Abby. Worst case scenario: it’d actually work out and perhaps he’d finally get back in shape. Win win.

He locked eyes with Ian and a shiver coursed down his spine. The man had a hand stretched out to him, a hint of dimples at the edge of his beard. Much to his own amazement, Phil took it.

“Just running,” he stressed. “No talking.”

Ian’s dimples deepened. “Your lungs can’t handle both?”

“You know what? Never mind.” Phil tried to pull his hand away, but Ian chuckled and yanked him to his feet instead.

“Off that flat arse, old man. I’ve still got three miles to go.”

“My ass isn’t—” Phil bit his tongue. He wasn’t going to fall for this guy’s antics. He could be the bigger man. Figuratively. “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

“You sure you can keep up?”

“Fuck you.”

“At least buy me a drink first.”

Phil scoffed to mask a laugh. He kind of liked this guy’s humour. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“What will a coffee get me?” he quipped back, and this time it was Ian’s turn to scoff.

Phil chalked up a point for himself.

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