Page 24 of Running Into You
“Basically. After a couple more runs, we’ll increase your running time and eventually cut out your walking breaks.” I start to stretch my hamstrings and smile when I see her try to mimic my movements. “You did well. If we stick to this, there is no reason you won’t be able to run the marathon.” She stares up at me and those beautiful green eyes look so hopeful that my breath catches in my lungs. “Go do some stretches and make sure you eat a good breakfast,” I say, backing away in the direction of my apartment.
“Thanks, Coach!”
“You’re welcome, Speedster.”
***
Later at work, I’m in my office taking advantage of my free period. Several of my new students have special needs and I want to familiarize myself with their abilities and limitations and ultimately ensure that they feel included in my classes. Inclusivity is something that is incredibly important to me as an educator. I want everyone who enters my class to feel like they belong. My phone buzzes as I’m reading one of the files.
Betty:I can’t believe how good I feel! I’m not sore at all!
I snort and type my response. She has no idea what’s coming.
Me:Oh, Speedster. You will be.
Betty:Are you sure?
Me:Quite sure.
Betty:How do you know I’m not just a natural-born runner? My new watch seems to think I’m pretty great.
Me:Does it now?
Betty:Yes. It tells me I’m on my way to closing my rings (whatever that means). And it keeps telling me to get up and move around and then when I do, it says stuff like “you’re the greatest!”
Me:I think you two are going to be very happy together.
Betty:I do too. I just hope that my new sneakers don’t get jealous.
I put my phone down and run my hands through my hair. I really need to get my hair cut. I wonder if Betty would like it better shorter. It is becoming more and more difficult for me to deny that I am developing feelings for her. I don’t mean to think of her, but my mind keeps pointing to her like it’s a compass and she’s true north.
After the Eleanor-saga, I’m not ready to jump into a relationship. What I need is something casual. Some no-strings, emotionless sex with someone who wants the same thing. A random hookup would release any pent-up frustrations and then maybe I wouldn’t be thinking about Betty constantly.
“Knock-knock.” A woman stands at my open office door. I’d put her in her mid-thirties, with long bottle-blonde curls, small frame. I recognize her as a fellow teacher here, but I can’t for the life of me remember her name. Mary? Karen?
“Hi there!” I say brightly, hoping her name won’t come up.
“I just wanted to see how you’re settling in.” She clasps her hands together in front of her and treats me to a generous view of her cleavage. She wears a large solitaire diamond and plain band on her left ring finger. “Do you need anything? Anything at all.”
I realize the irony of the situation. Wasn’t I just wishing for a hookup? Mary/Karen is staring at me expectantly.
“No, I’m all set. I don’t need anything.” It’s best to be direct. I have no interest in dating someone at work and would never consider getting involved with a married woman, no matter how hard up I am.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says with a shrug and turns to leave. I watch her walk away and think about how Betty fills out her skirts better. God, I need to get laid.
Frankie appears moments later, her expression laced with warning. “What did Maren, the desperate housewife want?” she drawls, then holds up her hand. “Scratch that question. I can guess what she wants. That pariah can smell fresh meat a mile away.”
I grin up at her. “Am I the meat?”
“Oh, NSYNC. You’re the dumb blonde who goes skinny dipping in the shark movie, and Maren is the shark. Avoid her if you value your balls.”
“I’ve always identified as more of a Backstreet Boy,” I say, still fighting the grin. “And what do you know about balls?”
“I know they’re ugly as sin and sensitive as fuck. I kicked my older brother in his so many times when we were little, I’d be surprised if he’ll ever be able to father children.” I can’t contain my laughter at this, and she seems genuinely pleased with my reaction. “All jokes aside, if you are hellbent on shitting where you eat, I can point you in the general direction of a few non-terrible people who work here.”
I shake my head. “Thank you, but not interested. Things are complicated enough as they are.”
“Are you talking about your new neighbor?” I straighten in my chair, and she rolls her eyes. “You’ve brought her up every day that we’ve known each other, and whenever you do, your eyes get all soft and sappy.” Well, shit. I’d argue with her, but who am I kidding? We both know she’s right.
