Page 59 of Go Luck Yourself
He isn’t being idiotic.
Until I jog up alongside him.
He increases his pace.
So I do, too.
We bob through the other runners, who throw us confused looks as we gain speed.
First him a little.
Then me a little more.
He passes me, so I push faster, and soon we’re well ahead of the other racers, and I’m definitely no longer cold, sweating sheets in the thick, chill air.
The river path bends to the right, snaking through a cluster of buildings so damn quaint I forget I’m supposed to be kicking his ass and he gains a few yards on me.
I shove on, lungs burning, and fuck, I am going to hate myself tomorrow. Seems to be a reoccurring pattern in Ireland.
The road inclines and I can’t stop my gasping, winded moan.
Loch glances over at me. He’s sweat-slicked too, just as winded, but his smirk is cutting. “Struggling?”
“You wish.” Oh god this hill can screw itself.
“First whiskey,” Loch pants, “then hangovers. Now running. Whatcanyou handle?”
Oh-ho.Ooohhhhh, that’s it.
I break into a sprint and we’re not even halfway through the race yet. Loch huffs at my burst of speed and matches me, and we crest the hill as it finally levels out. Rowhouses blow past us, the river on our left at the base of an ivy-covered hill, and we run like we’re being chased by something, like we’re both absolute morons.
The path curves and a castle pops up on our left. Looks like it’d normally be a tourist stop, but a water table is set up in front of its closed gates with a few race volunteers already holding paper cups out for us.
“Blackrock Castle,” Loch wheezes as he snatches one, downs it, and nods his thanks.
I bypass the water. “You sound tired.”
“Just getting started.” Loch cuts an accusatory look at me. “You didn’t drink, boyo.”
“You can take”—I have to break to gasp—“each time you call meboyo”—smack talk while sprinting, all of this is a bad idea—“and choke on them.”
Loch laughs.
It’s bright and shattering andreal,not weighed down by the weirdness of our fight earlier, and as we leave the castle to glide down into a parking lot, the path drops. Isee itdescend, but that information doesn’t make it to my brain, sticking against the dam of his laugh.
I trip head over ass and go crashing down the road.
Chapter Seven
My knees smash to the pavement, jarring my body so bad my teeth clack. I try to catch the impact by rolling onto my shoulder at the last second, but the momentum carries me flipping one more time until I land on my back in the grass at the edge of the path.
And I just lie there.
Because yeah. This seems about right.
I already knew my body was going to hate me tomorrow, but it’sreallygoing to hurt now. Pain flares up both my legs, my shoulder is burning, something on my temple is wet—
“Kris!” Loch skids to a stop, doubles back, and drops to the grass next to me. “Holy shite—Kris, are you all right?”
