Chapter Fourteen
Amanda was dying.
That was all there was to it. She’d had a nice time circling the sun all these years, but now her time was up.
That was the only thing she could conclude from how her heart was pounding and her legs were aching. Every muscle she had was screaming, plus a few muscles she’d never known existed. Pretty soon, they were bound to give out.
She was going to die, and then she was going to kill Noah for doing this to her, and then she was going to drop dead again.
“You can do it,” he urged her, keeping her painfully slow pace stride for stride long after the other runners had finished.
“No, I can’t,” she spat. It was a waste of breath to choke the words out, but that didn’t stop her.
“You have to tell yourself you can. You have to believe.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Anything worth doing takes effort.”
You’re not a fucking motivational poster, she wanted to scream. But that would take too much effort, and she didn’t have any to spare.
“Run to that tree,” he told her.
She looked where he was pointing. Somehow, gasping, she made it. But just when she was about to stop and fling herself down, he kept going. “Now run to that post.”
“You fucking liar. I hate you.” But she kept doing it, if only because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her quit.
“Pretend you’re being chased by zombies in that game of yours,” he said.
“First of all, you’re on the zombies’ side in Brain Gobblers,” she panted. “And second…”
“What?” he asked when she couldn’t continue.
“Just shut up and let me die in peace,” she grumbled. Brain Gobblers was fun. This was torture. Did Noah enjoy anything? Or did he only find new ways to make himself suffer?
She wanted to ask him what the point of any of this was when she rounded the corner to a volley of cheers. Everyone was clapping and shouting for her. Crap, they were way too happy about this. They didn’t even know her, but they couldn’t stop waving her on.
“Final stretch,” Noah told her. But she had zero gas left in her tank. He pushed ahead, trying to set an example or something. Amanda would have stopped in her tracks…except for one definite benefit she noticed as soon as he pulled in front. It might have been the only perk of this hellfire misery thing called running. But it was a good one.
Sure, she’d appreciated it in jeans. And she couldn’t deny the role those goddamn running pants had played in making her lose her mind at her office. But it was different to see them in action.
His long legs made it look effortless as he propelled his body forward, his arms by his sides, shirt clinging to his back muscles with each step.
Nothing about this felt effortless to her. She wanted to stop and lie down in the grass right there. She had stopped a whole bunch of times. Wasn’t Noah’s rule that she just had to keep moving, even if she walked?
But Amanda didn’t want to walk this last stretch. Not while everyone was watching and cheering. And not while Noah’s ass got farther and farther ahead.
So she gritted her teeth and pumped her arms and made herself do it. As she came gasping to the makeshift finish line, she had to admit that it actually felt kind of good to have kept going. Not only because Noah’s ass was highly motivating, but because there was something to be said about not giving up or taking the easy way out. She may be dying, but she’d done it. The cheers were genuine, and it was hard to be grumpy about the ungodly hour and the miserable weather and how much everything hurt when the people around her were just happy to be there.
So, fine. Maybe Noah wasn’t the worst person she’d ever known—even though that’s exactly what she called him as the group disbanded and she stayed, stretching her quads. Because her muscles were killing her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk for days.
But also because, just maybe, she didn’t want to take off and leave. Noah was right—she’d obviously come here to see him. So what was she supposed to do now?
Call him an asshole, apparently. Which gave him the biggest shit-eating grin, like he’d legitimately enjoyed torturing her for the last hour. For all she knew, he probably had.
“Admit it,” he said. “You had fun.”
“Only reluctantly.”
He raised his palms. “I’ll still count that as a win. I’m used to people hating me at my job, you know.”
“You’re good at it, though.”
“Being hated?” He gave her a look.
She laughed. “No, I mean you’re good at coaching.”
“Is that…oh my God…a compliment? From Amanda Perkins’s mouth?” He clutched his chest.
“You know plenty of things my mouth is capable of,” she teased and was pleased to see she could disarm him so easily—even if she was a sweaty mess and he looked like he’d done nothing more than stroll through the park.
Even if as soon as she said the words, she knew she shouldn’t have.
It was the exact opposite of why she’d come here and the things she was supposed to have said. Her speech about not doing this anymore. About the five weeks until he left and her friendship with Luke and what was going on with his feelings for his ex, anyway? It all added up to one simple fact: it was better for everyone if they backed away and allowed this to fizzle out rather than crash and burn.
Everything sounded good and right and sensible and smart in her mind—until she found herself standing in the drizzling rain, quads burning, face flushed, hair a mess of flyaways…and only wanted to stand closer.
“When do you have to be at work?” he asked.
She laughed. “I’m not usually up by now. And some jerk let the rest of my coffee get cold and then brutalized me for an hour. So honestly, I’m leaning toward taking the day off and heading back to bed.”
“Get breakfast with me.”
The laugh died in her throat. She hadn’t realized that was why he was asking.
“Seriously?”
“You need to refuel.”
“That’s what coffee is for.”
He shook his head. “Real food. My treat.” He paused. “Why are you looking at me like there’s a catch here?”
Because there’s always a catch. A slow fade. The ghosting from Gregg. The “I’m not feeling a connection anymore” text from another guy she’d gone out with, twelve hours after they’d agreed to be exclusive. Her father, making a vow he broke as soon as something shiny came along. Luke himself, keeping her on the hook just enough to make her think there was a chance.
But somehow, looking up at that one dimple, all the anger and hurt fell far behind her. All she could think about was the feeling in her chest, the looseness of her limbs. Something unlocking inside her.
Noah was right. She was starving. And even if he was putting on his jacket, covering up those sweaty pecs, she couldn’t say no to seeing more of his legs in those pants. The coffee was just the caffeinated cherry on top.
It didn’t matter what they’d texted each other before or what she’d come here intending to say. She couldn’t lie anymore and say she wanted this to be over.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. And then she plunged. “I’m in.”