Page 11 of Before Eve
Amused, I extend my hand and he gives me a tiny square that I pop into my mouth. With that, I jog off.
He appears at my side. “Are you one of those runners who doesn’t want company?”
Oh, I hadn’t thought about it. “Sorry, I’m so used to running alone I guess it didn’t occur to me.”
“I thought maybe it was the gum.”
“The gum is fine.” I blow a bubble to prove it.
“Well, that’s a relief. Because I’m not sure we can be friends if you don’t like cinnamon gum.”
I’m so glad he keeps things light and funny. “Ilovecinnamon,” I assure him, and we both smile.
“How long have you been a runner?”
“Only a month now.”
“A newbie! Well, welcome to the club.”
“Thanks.” Growing up I always saw runners out and about and envied them. It was one of the first things I did when I was free. I took the running shoes Brynn bought me and just…ran.
“My one piece of advice would be to breathe.”
“Um…thanks?”
“No, seriously! So many people forget to breathe. The best way to train yourself is to talk while you run.”
“Is that your way of telling me we’re going to be talking the whole time?” I tease.
“Well, don’t sound so excited,” he teases back. “Tell me, do you go every day?”
“Pretty much.”
“Me too. It’s the only time my thoughts are calm.”
I nod my agreement. Calm. It’s the same way for me—running and music keep me calm.
“My guitar,” he adds. “That also chills me out.”
A couple of quiet beats go by, and I use the time to scan the street we’re running on. To the right sits a gated community, to the left an upscale mall that is empty at this hour. Straight ahead a car comes toward us and passes. If it were a weekday, this street would probably be packed with people driving to work.
Again, nothing seems out of the ordinary.
In my periphery, I catch West looking at me. Quickly, I run through our last few sentences, trying to figure out if he’s waiting for me to answer something.
“You’re not a girl of a lot of words, are you?”
I was taught not to speak unless spoken to, but I don’t say this and instead wipe a bead of sweat trickling down my cheek. “I talk,” I say, a little breathless now from the pace. “I talk, I suppose, when I have something to say.”
“I talk just to hear my gorgeous voice.”
I cut him a sideways glimpse.
“Kidding!” He signals us to turn at an upcoming corner. “If you’re going to be around me much, you’ll learn to take me with a granule of sugar.”
“Not salt?”
“That’s what my Gramma always says about me. Sugar ‘cause I’msosweet.”
