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I had already planned to go later, but might as well really go for a run now. It’d been too long since I had last done a few laps, and maybe it would release some of the negative energy I’d been feeling. I grabbed lunch first, not wanting to run on an empty stomach, and then headed to the park.
I changed in the park bathroom and stretched out my hamstrings before beginning to jog, my earbuds securely in so that I could run to the beat of the music. I sometimes liked the sounds of nature to accompany me, but I needed to quiet my brain today, and music was a quintessential part of the process for me.
“Left!” I heard someone call behind me, and I moved to the right to let them sprint past me. When I glanced at the man, I realized it was Roarke and I stopped in my tracks. I forgot that he was a runner, too.
I frowned. He hadn’t so much as looked at me. I started to run faster, sprinting to catch up to him.
“Left!” I called out, but Roarke didn’t move over, just running faster.
I growled in frustration. He sure was fast for a guy ten years older than me. I pumped my legs, my muscles burning, but he was too quick for me, running full tilt. I started to jog and then walk, getting a stitch in my side, and I saw him up ahead, doubled over with his hands on his knees.
“You’re getting too old for this,” I teased, hoping that we could get some of our old banter back. My heart ached to know that it would never happen for us, but I wanted to at least be civil again.
Roarke didn’t snark back at me. He didn’t say anything, just pulled in a couple of deep breaths before taking off again, running so hard it looked like he was punishing himself. I sighed and figured my workout was a bust. It was only making me feel worse.
I picked up my phone noticing I had several messages from Mark already. I groaned. Would this guy never quit? I had to get away for a couple of hours.
I texted my father to tell him I wasn’t feeling well.
He called me immediately.
“Is this about Roarke Brentwood?” he asked in a low tone, and for a brief second, I thought maybe he’d found out that we’d slept together and my breath caught in my throat.
“What do you mean?”
“Things have been awfully tense around the office,” he said, and I let out a relieved sigh.
“We talked it out,” I said flatly, even though not much had been resolved.
“Good to know. He’s recommending you for partner, I think,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice disheartened instead of excited.
“Are you okay, Magpie?” my father asked softly, and the old pet name made tears well up in my eyes as I pulled up at my apartment.
“Fine,” I lied, and hung up the phone.
Two hours and a long nap later, I felt a bit better, but I woke up to a new series of texts from Mark.
Where are you?
Why aren’t you back yet?
You’ve been avoiding me.
Why won’t you have lunch with me? I showed you a good time last time.
You know we belong together.
Magda, answer me.
I frowned, looking down at my phone. This had gone too far. His tone was too demanding for a guy I only went on one date with. It wasn’t even a good first date. I had been thinking about Roarke the entire time.
I always thought about Roarke. I knew that at this point, my feelings had progressed from a crush to something like love, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I was most likely in love with Roarke Brentwood, and I had no idea what to do about it.
I didn’t know what to do about Mark, either, but I figured I had better nip this in the bud. I bit my lip and texted him back.
Look, Mark, I’m sorry that things didn’t work out the way you would have liked, but we should just be friends.
