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“If you’re trying to run away, you’re just playing into my plan,” he says with a sing-song voice, getting on my last nerve.
Dammit, I didn’t even think about that.
“I can chase you if that’s what you want?” A sly grin spreads across his face, making irritation boil in my veins.
“Maybe we should go back to me trying to punch you. That was fun.”
“It was,” he chuckles, his eyes lighting with mischief. “I’ll tell you what, if you run with me. I promise that I’ll let you try to hit me again.”
“Change that to let me hit you and we have a deal.” I grin triumphantly.
“Fine,” he groans, dragging his hand back through his short dark-brown hair. “But not in the face, that’s my money maker.”
“What are you even talking about?” I shake my head in exasperation. This man is definitely going to drive me crazy if I have to spend any more time with him.
“Five laps around the arena, and if you don’t make it, you have to do fifty push-ups,” Titus says, motioning for me to start.
“That was not part of the deal,” I groan, trying to get him to waste some more time, but he just stands there, apparently catching on to what I was about to do. “Fine.”
I trot over to the outside of the arena where a dirt track was made the other day. Students are running a few paces ahead, their pace way too quick for me. I start off slowly, basically a fast-walk as Titus follows behind me.
“It’s going to take us all day if we go at this speed,” Titus says. “I don’t mind, but I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day with me. At this rate, I’ll be able to talk your ear off the entire way.”
He istheworst.
I step it up and increase my stride, doing my best to keep a steady distance with the group in front of us. Thankfully Titus keeps his word and stops talking for once, both of us dropping into a comfortable silence as we make the first lap.
“I seriously hate you,” I gasp as I think ahead to the next four laps.
“That’s fine.” He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as he decides to run beside me rather than a few paces behind. “You can do better than this.”
I groan, but I push myself farther, already seeing the widening gap between us and the students in front of us.
I pull in ragged breaths as I focus on the track, trying to drown out anything else from my mind other than completing this stupid task. Five laps and I’ll actually get to hit this asshole.
Four laps.
Three laps.
Two laps.
One more lap to go. My legs feel sluggish now, my mouth wide open as I struggle to pull in air. Whoever thought that running should be a regular exercise should be severely tortured—but then again, if they think running is fun, they might just like physical pain. There goes that plan.
“We’re almost there,” Titus says, and I almost want to punch him right now for being so positive ... and also for being able to speak right now.
I narrow a glare at him, letting that fill in the blanks as I focus on breathing.
“Keep pushing,” he says, grinning as though he knows how much he’s pissing me off right now.
Almost there, I tell myself, keeping that prize in my mind’s eye.
As I cross over that invisible line I memorized at the start, I finally slow my pace to a walk before pulling off the track. No way am I getting in the middle of these students and their running.
I clasp my knees and bend over, pulling in breath after breath as my heart thunders away.
“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day,” an unmistakable voice says, and a grin spreads across my lips at the sound.
My savior.
