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I sigh and shake my head, knowing negative thoughts are never going to get me out of this room, let alone the apartment. I hoist my body up and trudge out of the room, feeling my head sway from too much sleep. Lucas brushes past me and I frown, watching him stomp into his room and slam the door.
“What’s his deal?” I mutter while entering into the kitchen, finding Seth leaning against the counter and drinking an espresso.
Seth shrugs.“Whoknows?”
My eyes linger yearningly on Seth’s cup and I point, asking, “Can I have one of those?”
Seth sighs, turning around and working with the espresso machine while I gaze out the long glass window, displaying a beautiful terrace and beyond that the Eiffel Tower.“Did Rachel already leave for her internship?”
I wince, hearing the grinder turn on for a moment, followed by the boiling of water.“I suppose so,” Seth shouts over the sound.
“Do you know when she gets off?” I ask while leaning against the island.
Seth taps my shoulder and gives me the coffee.“Probably around four or five.”
I take a sip, savoring the bitter taste and instantly wishing I asked for a double. The only way I’m going to get through this whole jet lag thing is by drowning myself in coffee. Seth shifts and I watch him grab his keys, heading for the door.
“Heading out for a run?” I quickly ask, feeling awkward while setting down my cup.
Seth makes a face, resting his hands on his hips.“What’s with the interrogation? You know I go for a run every day.”
I rub the back of my head, wondering if I should just wait for Rachel to get back or find something else to day. But football involves running. It wouldn’t be so strange to pick it up with Seth and it would give me a morning routine I could stick to for the next few days.
I shrug, knowing I had nothing to lose by simply asking.“I was just wondering if I could join you. That ok?”
Seth’s face contorts into a mixture of annoyance and intrigue. I have no clue what’s he going to say. I know he used to go running with Rachel. I don’t know if they went running together anymore given I was pretty much gone last semester, either out partying or at my dad’s.
“Okay,” Seth finally says after several minutes of me watching him, waiting. “But I need to train for the marathon.”
I nod and quickly turn on my heel to change.
“You have two minutes and then I’m leaving!” Seth calls after me as I rush into my room. I strip down to my underwear and grab whatever shorts and t-shirt are close to me. I hear Seth’s footsteps and scramble for my shoes, reaching for my keys on the nightstand before running out. I hear the door open and quickly race after him, shoving the door open. Seth is nearly to the staircase, stretching his arms over his shoulders as he waits impatiently for me.
I stop in front of him and he shoves a finger in my face.“If you can’t keep up, that’s on you,” he says while taking the first steps down. “I gotta win this marathon for coach.”
I nod and follow him down.“Fair enough.”
We walk down the staircase in silence and I watch Seth stretching his arms over his head, tilting his neck from side to side. As we reach the landing, he lifts one leg behind him, grabbing the ankle and stretching. I copy his movements, wondering why this is the first time I’ve gone running with Seth. I think, when we first hung out, I would go with him, but the guy was too fast and I couldn’t quite keep up.
I make a face. It’s most likely going to be the same this time.
Seth shoves the door open and as soon as we are out on the sidewalk, he’s running towards the Eiffel Tower. I pick up my pace, sidling up next to him. It’s slow, which I’m thankful for, given that I am a little out of shape from spending the last several months either doing drugs and drinking or going to therapy. My physical therapy for my shoulder has helped me keep a bit of my figure, but otherwise I feel like I’ve let me body go compared to how it once looked. I’m a bit thinner. My muscles are there, yet I’m not as strong as I once was.
I guess I could focus on that this summer. Getting back into shape, feeling more confident in my own skin.
As soon as we reach the Eiffel Tower Park, Seth picks up the pace. I grind my teeth, urging my body forward. My arms pump at my sides and my hands fist, fighting through the need to stop. I concentrate on my breathing, and the trees surrounding us, shaped into large green cubes. I dodgeother runners, chatting easily with their friends in French. I hear a bit of English, yet it’s hard to focus on anything but the burn in my muscles.
This is probably exactly what I need.
As soon as that thought enters my mind, Seth surges forward and I’m scrambling to keep up. My breathing rasps, my fists tighten and I feel a stitch forming in my left side. There’s no way I can run that fast. Maybe if it’s for a minute or two, but I doubt Seth had a couple minutes in mind. I slow my pace until I’m no longer running, but standing, heaved over, and trying to regain my breath. Seth is already several feet ahead of me, the distance growing more and more with each passing second.
Well, there goes that plan.
With a groan, I straighten myself and stumble forward. I breathe in deep, closing my eyes and enjoying the sun on my face and the wind whipping through my hair. I had forgotten to tie it back in my attempts to catch up to Seth. Moving forward, I walk briskly, knowing I can still run in the park, I’ll just have to do it at my own pace and rhythm.
Stretching my arms over my head, I practice the exercises my physical therapist gave me for my shoulder. It’s still stiff and at times and I’m unable to lift my arm more than eye level, but it’s better than before. The pain isn’t as bad.
I continue walking, taking in the people running through the park. There’s a group of people near a tree, standing around a large picnic blanket. Several girls are sitting while smoking, passing round a bottle of liquor. They laugh and sway against each other. It must be a party still continuing from last night.
