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ALEX
Sweatdripsdownmyforehead as I pump my arms harder, faster. My legs sprint forward. I barely feel the sidewalk under my feet. I try to concentrate on my breathing, on the stars twinkling above me, on the humid air and the heat flushing my cheeks. I try to think about anything other than the man running on my right.
Seth.
I curse myself as I find my gaze sliding toward him. The wind rustles through his hair. His muscles are pulled taut with exertion, his hands fisted as he pushes himself forward. His eyes stay forward, at attention, focused on the prize, on his training. Well, at least that’s one of us. He’s still wearing his new Puma clothes. I think he likes them, no matter how much he complains about the prices. I find his hands running along the fabric and his eyes staring with adoration at them, as if they are his “precious.”
I’m honestly surprised he decided to come with me tonight. Before Denver, we were training all the time together, deciding to use our best efforts to better each other rather than continue as rivals. It was better, not only for the team, but for our relationship with Rachel if we got along. However, since Denver, Seth seems a bit more perturbed. He refuses to look at me, is short, doesn’t speak more than a word or two to me, and tends to brush off any of my invitations to go running.
Except for tonight.
Is it because of that night?I wonder while facing forward. Heat pools within me, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the running or the temperature. That night in Denver, our last night in that hotel room, constantly haunts my dreams. I don’t know what was going on, or why Seth ran out. But there had been something. A look? A touch? I know Seth felt it. I definitely did, but I don’t know exactly what to call it.
It makes me wonder about every single interaction I’ve had with him in the past; the teasing, the arguing, the times we’ve shared with Rachel in her bedroom. I’ve always liked watching her give Seth blowjobs, but I just thought that was a fetish. Could it be something else? And why do I enjoy picking on Seth? Does my teasing mean more than I originally thought?
I would like to speak with Seth about this, but after he pretty much ran out of our room, I don’t think that’s possible. He’ll probably clam up, tell me to leave him alone, start an argument about something inconsequential.
Not to mention, I have bigger things to focus my energy on. There are tryouts at the beginning of the next semester for the Olympics. This would be for a completely different year, but that’s fine. I can spend the next four years training. All I want is to belong to a team. I’m graduating after this year. It would be good to have a career lined up for me, rather than hearing my parents say,“I told you so,”and then send me off to the closest grad school.
I wonder what Seth wants to do when he graduates. If he has any plans lined up. If all else fails and I decide not to go to grad school, I can always fall back on my sport modeling career. Puma has been talking about having me sign a full-time position with them. What is Seth’s fallback? Does he have any options? Why do I even care?
“It looks like Lucas is pulling another late shift,” Seth gasps while nodding toward the café on my left.
I look through the window of the café, finding Lucas standing at the counter, looking flustered, his hair a mess with a long line of people waiting for their coffees. It’s so late and classes have barely started. Why do so many people need their coffee now?
“Sucks to be him, huh?” Seth says with an awkward chuckle.
I nod. Lucas has been spending most of his time at The Café. I don’t think he’s done much of anything else besides hang out with Rachel. I know he writes, but that’s more of a hobby rather than a career choice. Does he really plan on working at a café for the rest of his life? Better yet, what do I plan on doing if nothing works out? I can’t help but think, by looking at Lucas, I’m looking into my future. I, too, could end up like him, easily. I need to train harder if I want to succeed.
“Race you back to the apartment!” I shout while surging forward. “Loser has to do the dishes for the next week!”
“Hey!” Seth shouts when I grab his shoulder and shove him toward a nearby bush. He pauses, stopping himself from hitting the plant, and gives me a dark scowl. “Fucking cheater!”
I laugh, enjoying his cursing, the way I can easily rile him up. I can hear his footsteps behind me. He’s nearly upon me. I pump my arms faster. I don’t know why, but I like the image of Seth chasing after me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see his flushed face, his fierce eyes filled with rage. He’s about a foot behind me.
“Give it up, Garcia!” I laugh.
“Never!”
Turning around, I see our apartment in the distance. Five more minutes and we will be there. I grit my teeth, pushing myself forward. I cross the street, nearly slamming into Seth as we run toward the staircase. We make it to the bottom step together. I stumble up the steps while Seth races past me. I grab his leg and he flails forward, slamming onto the stairs, but breaking his fall with his hand.
“You fucking bastard!” Seth shouts while kicking his foot at my face.
I laugh as I block his attack, unable to catch my breath as he kicks my forearm.
“You fucking, cheating, lowlife bastard!”
I can’t stop laughing. I release his foot while trying to regain my breath. Seth turns around but doesn’t stand. He just continues to stare at me as I laugh. He stares at me as if I have suddenly sprouted five pairs of eyes and two heads, which makes me laugh even harder.
“What is wrong with you?” Seth asks, yet there’s something in his gaze, something soft and not hate at all.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp. I inhale deeply, but chuckles still erupt through me. I wipe the tears from my eyes. “It was just so much fun.”
“For you!” Seth shouts while standing quickly. I expect him to turn around and leave me, but instead he offers me a hand. “Come on, you idiot. Let’s get you inside before you attack someone else.”
I swallow the last bits of laughter and place my hand in his, allowing him to pull me up. He’s about my height, with him standing on the higher step, staring into my eyes. He’s so close. I’m once again reminded of Denver, but Seth quickly turns around and stalks about the last few steps.
“You’re washing the dishes,” he mutters while pushing the door open.
