Page 78 of The One Night Dash
“You mean in front of us? Or just in general?”
“If I could elbow you without breaking … whatever stride this is, I totally would.”
“Noted. Zipping the lips,” he states … evenly and with zero panting or huffing.
Lord, help me …
Half a mile in, I’m gasping. “I can’t?—”
“Not an option,” he says firmly.
Then, before I can argue, he scoops me up, swings me around to his back like I’m a toddler, and takes off at a jog that might as well be a stroll for him.
I shriek, pounding my fists against his shoulders. “Put me down! Dash Sterling, I swear to God, if you don’t?—”
“Save your breath, sweets. You’ll need it for the victory speech.”
I bury my face in his neck, mortified, muttering every threat I can think of while laughing, because this is so ridiculous, wholly. The costume, me thinking I can do a 2.5K in anything but maybe a writing sprint online. He just laughs, the sound rumbling against me, and keeps running.
When we round the bend, Caleb and Ethan are just ahead. Dash slows, setting me down on my feet right before we pass them.
They don’t even notice. That is … until Dash, the showoff, is now runningbackward,grinning at my brothers.
“Nice form, boys,” he calls. “But hockey legs beat football legs every time.”
He knows they play football? Whatever. Focus on not swooning, because him knowing details like that punctuates the fact I have always thought there was a fine line between sweetness and stalking … in books, anyway.
Caleb flips him off.
Ethan yells, “Better hope you don’t trip.”
Dash just winks, keeping pace like it’s nothing. “Already skating circles, fellas.”
Caleb yells. “Backward doesn’t count.”
Dash grins wider. “Backward is harder. Style points, gentlemen.”
Ethan quips, “You skater boys are all quads, no lungs.”
Dash gives it back, “Funny, because I can still talk while you’re wheezing.”
Caleb jabs out, “This isn’t hockey, Sterling. No skates, no stick, no puck; what do you got left?”
Dash nods in my direction. “Still your sister’s favorite runner, apparently.”
Ethan groans. “Gross, man.”
He grins. “Not gross—accurate.”
Caleb tries to surge ahead. Dash shadows him easily, backward. “Nice burst of speed. Reminds me of when I allow rookies past me to boost their confidence.”
Ethan shouts, “You’re supposed to stay in your lane!”
“A man with confidence knows no lanes.”
Ethan laughs. “We’d crush you on the field.”
“I’ll have to confirm with your highlight reels. But from where I’m standing, you’d have to catch me first.”
