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She left abruptly with a few of those nonsensical sentences she’s so good at—a jumble of words and phrases that barely made sense.
And I knew because she was so flustered that another kiss was on her mind, too.
I haven’t seen her this morning yet. Left the house before she showed up. I bet she’s there now, feeding the dogs and giving them that loving, nurturing attention she seems to be so good at.
My body weight presses into my palms, which dig into the mat beneath me. Sweat drips from my temple. My arms shake harder.
I wasn’t thinking about risk and reward yesterday. That was the problem. I let myself get caught up in my feelings for her, and I forgot about the consequences.
Unable to bear the weight of my body for another second, I step forward, one foot, then the other. I fit my feet between my hands.
Then I jump up.
My sneakers squeak as I land back on the gym’s floor. I tense like a coiled spring, then jump back, so I’m once again a long plank.
Jordan, beside me, does the same. “That’s twelve,” he grunts.
“Twelve more,” I choke out as I catch my breath.
“You serious?” He groans.
“I’m serious.” With massive effort, I get my feet between my hands again and propel myself up. Every muscle in my body protests, but I do it anyway.
This pain is the good kind of pain. The only good kind of pain.
And I deserve it for yesterday.
I didn’t think about risk and reward, when I pulled her in close and lowered my lips onto hers.
That kiss will come with consequences. Same goes for holding her hand at the park, and then for walking along my driveway, under the stars. We talked a lot, as we let the dogs get fresh air. She told me about the house she’s working on renovating, with her brother; the roof repairs, her hopes for exposing a brick chimney in the living room, what type of siding she’d like.
She chatted about replacing the floor in the kitchen, and how she’s missing a notched trowel for the chore. It was nice listening to her talk. Relaxing. Her voice is serene and melodic, and it calms me deep in my bones.
She asked me about my family, and I let myself open up more to her, too. I even talked a bit more about my divorce, and I hardly ever talk about that with anyone, even Leo and Jordan. There’s something about Gwen that just makes her incredibly easy to confide in. Maybe it’s the way she listens, as though it’s the most important thing in the world she could be doing.
When we talked about how Kate’s doing, up in that hotel room in Alaska, waiting for Sawyer to get in, I didn’t even get riled up. Which is wild, because I always get riled up about Kate.
Hm.
Where will all this lead?
I really have no business getting so personal with Gwen Temple.
I’m ahead of Jordan now. He’s still stretched out in plank. Sweat drips from his temple and his lower back sags with fatigue.
“You got this, dude,” I tell him as I spring back so my body’s long, like his. “Couple more. Stick with it.”
“Don’t know if I can…”
“You can.” I jump up as high as I can. I land on the balls of my feet, trying my best to be light.
When I get my legs behind me again, I look over at him. “So… you guys got in my head yesterday about Gwen. I ended up kissing her.”
“That’s great, man.” He steps one foot forward, then the other. His jump is half as high as when we started, but at least he’s doing it. “Here at work, or what?”
“We took my sister’s dogs to the park.”
“Nice.” His back sags, a deeper curve this time. Then he collapses down onto the mat beneath him and rolls over. “That’s all I got.”
