Page 33 of Running Into You
“What. Was. That?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I almost choked on your pheromone exchange.”
“Stop it! No talking about men!” She giggles. “What does the rest of your day look like?”
“I’m going for a run after lunch.” I admit, not looking for her.
“Another run, eh?” she teases me. “Make sure you’re properly warmed up; you don’t want to pull something.”
“Noted,” I reply and drain my last mouthful of coffee. “We need a wine night soon. It’s been way too long.”
“Yaaass! Next weekend?” Maggie pulls out the calendar on her phone.
“Friday and Saturday both work for me.” I don’t need to check my phone to know I don’t have plans on a weekend. For a moment I wonder if I should see if Josh wants to make plans, but I promptly remind myself that weekend plans are for people in relationships.
“Mark is going to a basketball game on Friday night, so how about then?”
“Done. My place?” I don’t know why I ask this. The man she lives with doesn’t like me, so we never go to her place.
“I’ll bring the wine,” she says, adding it to her calendar.
“I’ll provide the snacks.” I start making a mental grocery list that I will promptly put down on paper when I get home. Maggie gives me another hug before we go our separate ways.
“Enjoy your run,” she says sweetly as she walks away. “Keep your heart rate in check.”
I’m trying to, I think.
Chapter 19
Betty
Ispend far too much time figuring out what to wear for my run. I try on different outfits and then turn myself into a pretzel, bending and twisting to see myself at all angles in my mirror. I settle on a black pair of leggings and a red, short-sleeved top. It’s a warm September day and I’m hoping that I won’t be a sweaty mess by the time we finish the run. I’m meeting Josh at 2:00 p.m. and I’m ready early, so I spend a few minutes tidying my already tidy living room and redoing my high ponytail three times. At 2:00 p.m. exactly, I head to his apartment.
He answers the door eating a bowl of cereal. He’s got a pair of running shorts on and no shirt. I think about the way I kissed that chest last night and I’m sure my face now matches my top.
“I don’t think I’ll need a warm-up today, I’m good,” I say, not taking my eyes from his torso. He gives me the lopsided grin and motions for me to come in, his mouth clearly still full of Shreddies. I realize I haven’t actually been in his place yet. The bones of the apartment are similar to mine. His living room looks a bit bigger, but it could be because he has less stuff in it. There is a walnut coffee table placed in front of a coffee-colored couch. There is no art on the walls, but on the far wall is an Ikea bookshelf with a dozen books and a couple of framed photos. I gravitate toward the pictures. One is Josh when he’s about five or six, in a kitchen I’ve never seen with a woman I assume is his grandmother. They are both wearing aprons and are covered in flour, their laughter frozen in time. The other picture is of him with his mom and Rilla. It must be his graduation from his education program. His arms are around the two of them, he and Rilla both smiling at the camera, but Nancy is looking up at her son with obvious pride. There are no pictures of Eleanor, to my relief.
Josh has finished his snack and returns from the kitchen, still missing the shirt. He walks slowly toward me, running his eyes over me. When he stops, our bodies are inches apart, and I have to tilt my head up to make eye contact. He takes my hands in each of his and brings them up around his neck, then trails his hands back down over my arms and back, settling them on my waist.
“Hi,” he says, smiling down at me.
“Hi,” I say back. I’m suddenly shy around him. I’ve spent so long hiding how my body reacts to Josh, letting it show now leaves me feeling exposed.
“Want to chase me around the neighborhood for a couple miles?” He nods his head in the direction of the door.
“You will be the one doing the chasing. Do try to keep up.”
He smirks at me and lowers his head, planting a kiss where my shoulder meets my neck. I feel like I’ve just been branded. When he looks back at me, there’s heat in his gaze.
“I’ll give you a head start,” he murmurs.
The run is my best one yet. My body feels energetic and strong, aside from a bit of leftover soreness from last night. I’m not gasping for air at the end of the runs and I’m raring to go when our walking segments are done. I attribute all of this to being high off my ass on endorphins.
There is a new easiness between Josh and me. Not having to deny our attraction to each other has relaxed us both, and we joke and tease one another throughout the workout.
“Great job, Speedster.” He says as we’re climbing the stairway after the run. “On Monday, we’ll increase the time on your running intervals.”
