Page 46 of Fate Fiction

I laced up my sneakers and chugged a glass of water in the kitchen. The steam was still rising from the lake, casting a hazy golden glow over the surrounding mountains. My stomach growled, and I rifled through bags of food to extract a protein bar. Good enough to hold me over for a bit.

As I stuffed the protein bar in my mouth I noticed something. The door was shut. Last I remembered we’d opened it to let the squirrel escape, if the squirrel was even real.

The door being shut served as confirmation that last night was imagined.

It had to be imagined.

I stepped outside, holding the last few bites of the bar with my mouth and fumbling with my headphones and phone. My teen angst playlist was loaded and ready to go. Evan’s porch was unoccupied, finally he didn’t materialize at the worst possible time.

Finishing the protein bar and stuffing the wrapper hastily in my pocket, I walked to the head of the driveway. My Chemical Romance was coursing through my headphones and my veins as I took off during soaring guitar notes.

I rubbed more sleep from my eyes and had a fleeting thought of the time my middle school health teacher said that going for a run immediately after waking up caused a guy to have a heart attack. If my corpse was found on the side of the road this morning, then so be it.

I turned my music up so loud that my brain couldn’t comprehend anything else. Caroline would have told me that I was going to be deaf by thirty five if I kept it up, but listening to Gerard Way screaming “I’m not oh-fucking-kay” was a form of catharsis.

About a half mile down the road a silhouette took form, running directly towards me. It had to be either an axe murderer or Evan. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

I tucked my head down and continued running. Evan materialized fully into view. Sweat glistened on his shirtless torso, the humidity made his curls look extra curly as they bounced to the rhythm of his footfalls. He was moving quickly, his form perfect. My form was stiff, clumbering, and awkward. Something I could feel self conscious about, until I remembered his full time job is to be hot and muscular, and this was little more than a hobby in between staring at screens for me.

Nothing existed out here, besides myself, the road, and whatever animals may be roaming. Nothing existed, except for Evan and I, running directly towards one another. We both seemed to expect this exact outcome. And even from yards away we danced around each other with a clear uneasiness.

Did we need to come clean? Was there anything to come clean about? Why did it feel dirty to keep it unspoken?

We both gradually slowed our pace, then mutually opted to do nothing more than wave at the other. Best case scenario. We could go back to being fellow guests and forget everything from the night before. Everything from my subtle rejection on the dock to sharing a double bed.

My turnaround point came into view. Evan had all but disappeared down the path. Funny that he needed the escapism too. On his end, it was the most logical reaction to waking up riddled with regret for getting too close. I’d obviously scared him off somehow, and we wouldn’t find ourselves in that position again. I could regain control over myself, over this situation we were in.

My feet crunched against loose gravel again as I picked my pace back up and made my way back to camp. Each familiar stump, each root I avoided served as landmarks. My body unwillingly carried me back to what I wanted to run from.

Wafts of bacon cooking trickled through the air yards from Sue and Randy’s house, my stomach growled at the aroma, that protein bar was hardly sufficient.

Sue had supernatural senses and poked her head out the door as I approached, “Dan, I’m making you kids breakfast! Come on in, Evan’s already in here!” She punctuated the sentence with an over exaggerated wink.

The small kitchen could be easily confused for a bustling diner where Evan and I were the only patrons. He sat at the table giving me a look that said, “I tried to help her but she refused.”

I slid into the seat opposite him.

“I can’t remember the last time I had bacon and pancakes,” I said to no one in particular, but Evan’s eyes glinted with interest.

“How was your escapism this morning?” he asked playfully, if not nervously. He was being weird, that much was obvious.

“As good as it can be, and how was yours?” I matched his strangely formal tone and tried to gauge his mood, but the actor was definitely acting right now.

“I consider my runs as more of a part of my required physical training,” he flipped his hair out of his face. He was lying, and he wasn’t sure if I could tell. I could definitely tell.

“Mmm sure,” I said, maybe a little flirtatiously.

He waved his hand at me in dismissal.

Evan redirected the conversation, speaking to an imaginary, less hostile table mate, “running here was infinitely better than a treadmill that’s for sure.”

“If it’s raining and you need to run, Randy and I have a treadmill in our office we never use, except to hang our laundry!” Sue interjected before tossing a few plates between Evan and I. “Come and get it!” She gestured to the spread on the counter and patted Evan’s—still unclothed—shoulder.

He happily stood up and began filling his plate, singing Sue’s praises and joking that he couldn’t tell his personal trainer about the damage he was about to do on this meal.

I needed something to dull the headache that was creeping across my temples. “Do you have any coffee, Sue?”

Sue gestured to a pot on the stove, “Randy made some earlier, just needs some heating up.” I turned on the gas stove and went to fill my plate. This coffee pot would need to be emptied in order to mute my quarreling mind.