Georgie had a flashback to last night and the same strong arms stopping her from falling over next to the postbox. And, oh no, no, no, she’dcommentedon his arms, and his muscles. In fact, she’d practically sexually harassed him. He was a lawyerand therefore probably litigious.
She could see the headlines in theBristol Telegraphnow. ‘School deputy head loses job after drunkenly sexually harassing New York lawyer.’ If she’d had any breath left for it, she’d have groaned. She should say something, apologise maybe, but she really couldn’t talk. She also needed to keep running or she’d never get going again.
‘Resolution,’ she managed to say. ‘Got to go.’
‘I’m out for a run, too. Want to run together?’
She so, so didn’t.
‘Too slow for you.’
‘Not at all. It would be nice to have the company.’
‘Great.’ Georgie tried to smile.
They jogged together down the lane, with Raf, not sounding in any way as if he was making any physical effort or as if he was hungover, chatting about the snow and the village, and Georgie grunting on her side of the conversation.
The lane was long. Really, really long. Georgie’s chest wassohot; it was like it had a clamp round it. She was sure she wasgoing to vomit. This was what marathon runners must feel like twenty-six miles in.
At the end of the lane was a stile and on the other side of the stile was a hill. And Raf was still next to her. He climbed over it, giving her an excellent view of his toned legs, which, despite all the thoughts whirring in her head, she could still appreciate.
‘Want a hand?’ He turned round and held an arm out towards her.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she panted.
‘You sure? I’m verystrong.’ He was outright laughing now. ‘Muscly.’
She should just be grateful that he probably wasn’t going to sue her. She gave what she hoped was a dignified smile.
‘Honestly, I really am fine, thanks. You go.’ She waved vaguely at the hill.
‘No, this is nice.’ He was still laughing. ‘Companionable.’
Georgie didn’t have the energy to care now. She was too busy putting one foot in front of the other and not throwing up. The hill was really, really steep. Her thighs were already aching and, weirdly – and not pleasantly – so were her bum cheeks. Raf seemed absolutely fine.
The one good thing about his presence was that it meant that Georgie had to keep on running. Eventually they arrived at the top of the hill and started going down the other side. That was a lot better, until Georgie’s stitch set in.
‘You okay?’ asked Raf.
‘Stitch.’
‘You need to keep on running through it.’
Georgie didn’t answer. She couldn’t speak.
Eventually, they arrived back at the pub. Georgie stopped and nearly fell over, her legs now turned to jelly. She was unbelievably hot but she absolutely couldn’t take her coat off in front of Raf. Her head was miraculously better so maybe someof those endorphins had indeed kicked in. Or maybe it was only better relative to the rest of her.
‘Well done,’ Raf said.
Georgie couldn’t reply.
She was so hot now that any minute she was going to have to give in and take her jacket off. And everything was swimming in front of her eyes. Her stomach was going like a washing machine on top spin cycle. And… No. No, no, no. She put her hands to her mouth but nothing could have made a difference at that point. Her stomach gave a huge heave.
She and Raf both stood staring for a while at the lumpy vomit covering his legs and previously blue and green trainers.
She should definitely chew her food more. Especially sweetcorn.
‘Better out than in,’ said Raf eventually.
