“It would be very unsafe for me to go running without my phone, Ben. I’m surprised you wouldn’t know that.” He makes a face as I shush him. “This’ll just take a second. My mom demands that we FaceTime every weekend, and if I don’t answer, she’ll assume I’m dead in a ditch.”
“Ah, so she must be aware of how you get home at night.”
I shoot him a dirty look as I answer. “Hi, Mama!”
“Katie Cat! Where are you? Show me on the screen!”
“Katie Cat!” Ben hoots behind me.Great.
“I’m out for a run on the Mall.” I flip the camera and rotate slowly to give her a panoramic view.
“It’s so beautiful,” she says wistfully. “You’re so lucky to live in such a gorgeous place. All that history!”
I shake my head, laughing—she says this every time we talk. I flip the camera back toward me, and with no warning, Ben crowds onto the screen, jamming his head on top of my shoulder.
“Mrs. Adams? Howlovelyto meet you. Wait, you’re Kate’smother? You could be her sister.”If only he knew.
My mom laughs merrily, thankfully choosing not to enlighten him about the less-than-savory details of my birth. “Well, who is this? And please, call me Beverly. Or Bev!” Then she giggles. Actuallygiggles.
I wrench the phone away. “That’s just Ben.” I struggle to explain him, my mind cycling through the possibilities:He’s my colleague. My archenemy. The Incredible Hulk. The bane of my existence.
“He’s my running buddy,” I finally tell her. I see his features pinch in irritation out of the corner of my eye.
My mom raises an eyebrow. “Arunningbuddy? Well, I’m so sorry to interrupt.” Her exaggerated wink could induce facial paralysis.
“Mom,stop. You’re not interrupting.” Ben smirks in my peripheral vision, and I swing the other way so I can’t see his smug mug. “Can I call you when I get home?”
“Sure, honey. I wanted to confirm some times with you before I book my ticket, but just call me later. Have fun on your run and be safe. It was nice to meet you, Ben!” she calls out, her voice teeming with pathetic hopefulness. She’s about as subtle as a freight train.
Ben presses his face back into the nook of my neck. “It was nice to meet you too, Bev. And don’t worry about Katie Cat. I’m keeping averyclose eye on her.”
He’s cackling as I hang up.
“Boy, am I glad I overheard that. Katie Cat is so much better than Princess. And think of all the iterations: Kitty Cat, Scaredy Cat, Kitten, Purrrrrincess—”
I take off running while he’s still midsentence. My watch dings with a text a minute later.
Mom: How have you not mentioned this guy?? He’s so cute!
We make a pit stop at the Lincoln Memorial water fountains, and while I’m catching my breath Ben launches into a circuit of superhumancalisthenics: running the stairs, lunges and squats, then sit-ups and push-ups—the impressive kind, with clapping in between. If I tried to do it I’d probably fracture my face, but he makes it look easy, setting a breakneck pace. He’s clearly in better shape than I am. Yet another reason to hate him.
I do some stretching of my own, but once I’m done there’s not much for me to do besides stand there and wait for him to finish. As he completes his jumping jacks with military precision, my gaze zeroes in on the sliver of stomach revealing itself on every up-clap: ripped abs, flat belly, tan skin, the lightest smattering of dark hair at his navel.
Holy smokeshow.
He abruptly stops jumping and I hastily avert my eyes—but not before he catches me.
His smile is a slow build. “See something you like?”
“Just thinking it’s amazing what steroids can do.”
“No muscles on your Donkey Dates, then?” He tsks. “Damn shame.”
“Keep that up and you’ll be swimming in the Reflecting Pool.”
“If you want me in a wet T-shirt, all you have to do is ask.”
“Pass.”
