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“I’m sorry I startled you,” he says as he releases me.
“It’s okay.” Part of my hair has fallen down from my ponytail. Feeling self-conscious, I shove it out of my face. I probably look like a hot mess.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks.
I try not to stare at his body as I struggle to catch my breath. He’s so… fit. Like every inch of him is firm and chiseled and sculpted. My pulse starts racing. “Where did you come from?”
He shrugs apologetically. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was here. You told me to shut up and let you run.”
“Jeez, I wasn’t talking to you. I didn’t even see you come in.”
“Then who were you—oh.” He pauses when he realizes I was talking to the voice in my head.
“Yeah, when I’m alone—or think I’m alone—I sometimes talk back to her.”
“So…” He gestures to the treadmill beside mine. “Is it okay if I join you?”
“Sure. Wait—how did you know I was down here?”
“When I heard you leave your room, I followed. I guess you didn’t notice.”
“Sorry, I was preoccupied. I came down here because exercise helps me cope.” I climb back onto the treadmill and reattach the safety clip to my top.
I start running again, gradually working my way back up to my top speed. Jason easily keeps pace with me, and I’m pretty sure he could run a lot harder if he wanted to.The showoff.
After about twenty minutes on the treadmill, he hops off and walks over to the free weights, picks up a set of barbells, and starts doing arm curls. Now he really is showing off. Holy cow, those biceps. I stare at his reflection in the mirrored wall as his muscles flex in stark relief beneath his taut skin. Those big weights must be heavy, as he’s straining and grunting with each lift.
Stop drooling. You’re embarrassing yourself.
I force my gaze away from Jason and run another twenty minutes, until I’m hot and sweaty and still just as agitated as I was before. I came down here to get away from him, and he followed me. Watching him lift weights isn’t helping.
“I’m going back upstairs to do homework,” I say, hopping off the treadmill. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Jason wipes his sweaty face on a towel. “I’ll walk with you.”
I’m tempted to tell him not to bother, but I don’t want to be rude. As we climb the stairs, there’s a heavy silence between us, and I’m not sure how to break it. Why am I making this so awkward?
“See you later,” I say when I reach my room. I step inside and start to pull the door shut.
“Layla, wait.” Jason wedges his foot inside the door.
I turn back, my pulse in my throat. “Yes?”
He looks conflicted. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right? If something’s bothering you, we can talk about it.”
I sigh. “I’m fine, Jason.”
He frowns, clearly not buying my answer. “Okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He closes my door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I need a distraction, so I take a shower to wash all the sweat off of me. When I’m done, I pull on a robe and sit down to check my blood sugar level. I feel wiped out, exhausted. It’s more than just a post-workout fatigue.
Sure enough, my blood sugar level is plummeting, which isn’t a surprise after a physical workout. I grab a box of apple juice, my phone and earbuds, and curl up in my armchair by the hearth.
I select my playlist of sad songs because that’s how I feel… melancholy.
Forget him. He’s off-limits.
I know.
