Page 28 of Hunt for the Roses
“So far, just going for a run Saturday morning. The rest is still to be determined,” he responds.
“You run?” I ask as I furrow my eyebrows.
“Tell me I look out of shape, without telling me I look out of shape?”
I laugh as I put my palm to my forehead. “I’m sorry, not what I meant,” I laugh out. “I know you kickbox, I wasn’t aware you took up running too.”
He takes a sip of his water before responding. “I’ve gotten into it more the past year, especially during the warmer months,” he explains. “You could join me if you want.”
I look off to the side, considering his offer. “Hmm, maybe I will. I’ll let you know.”
“How about you? Any plans?” Dane asks.
I shrug as I hold a forkful of stir fry in front of me. “I may just stay in, watch a few movies. Sometimes it’s nice to just kick back and relax.”
Dane nods. “Well if you feel like getting out of the house, let me know.”
Finishing my bite, I say, “Only if you promise not to drag me on a Ferris wheel again.”
“Such torture I put you through, I know,” Dane jokes.
I pick one leg up so my foot is resting on the seat of the chair, and I’m collecting another forkful of stir fry as I respond. “Make fun all you want, but I’m sticking to the fact that it’s the scariest ride at the carnival.” Then I whip my forkful of stir fry to the side. “It’s basically a death trap.” When I feel the contents on my fork fall to the floor, I purse my lips as I look down at the food next to my foot.
“Uh oh, she’s flinging food now,” Dane comments.
I bend over to pick up the bite of chicken and two pepper strips that fell, then shrug as I look at Dane. “I cleaned my floors yesterday. Whatever,” I say as I pop the food in my mouth with my fingers.
As I’m chewing and wiping my fingers on my napkin, I notice Dane resting his elbow on the table as his chin rests in his palm, and he’s eyeing me with a smirk.
Mid-chew, I decide to pry. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
He shakes his head in his palm with that same smirk. “Nothing. You’re just…entertaining.”
I smile as I chew the rest of my mouthful and flip my hair to one side. “Look at that. You didn’t need Netflix after all.”
“No, I definitely didn’t,” Dane says with a chuckle as he resumes digging into his plate. We continue eating our dinner together, and once both of us clear our plates, I stand up to take his, but Dane gets up from his seat instead. “I got it. It’s the least I can do for you after youslavedover a stove for me,” Dane says with a wink as he grabs my plate from me.
While Dane is at the sink rinsing our plates and loading the dishwasher, I’m clearing off the kitchen counters. But just as Dane shuts off the water and turns to face me, I grab the Disco Doughnuts box out of my fridge and hold it up. “Have you ever been to heaven?” I ask with raised eyebrows.
“That good, huh?” he eyes curiously.
“Oh, yeah,” I gasp. I take the chocolate frosted with sprinkles out and take a bite, not even bothering to sit down at the table or grab a plate.
“Well, when you put it that way,” Dane trails off as he walks over to look into the box I’m holding. He winds up taking a vanilla frosted with sprinkles, and I smirk up at him as I chew.
“What?” Dane asks.
I swallow my bite and start to close the box to put it back in the fridge. “If you were going to take the other chocolate frosted one, I would have pummeled you to the ground. So you’re lucky.” When I close the refrigerator door, I take another bite of my doughnut and start talking mid-chew. “Yeah, I’m definitely on for that run on Saturday.”
Dane chuckles. “One doughnut won’t kill you, but it sounds like a plan.”
We exchange a few more laughs in the kitchen before saying our goodbyes, and I think about how nice it was to have company in this house again. For the first time since I’ve been back in this house, I didn’t go to bed feeling soalone.
Saturday June 18, 2022
On Saturday, Aria and I are jogging along the boardwalk of the beach, sweating bullets on this June morning. We run side by side most of the way until the last quarter mile when I am jogging alone. When I reach the end of our run, I look back and see Aria has stopped jogging, and is now walking. I’m standing there with my palms resting on my hips, dripping sweat through my white tank top and black basketball shorts.
As Aria makes her way within shouting distance, I tease her. “Really? You’re going to jog the first two and three-quarter miles, then just walk the last quarter?”
