“What if we take the rest of your workout on the road?” he shrugged. “I’m off the clock and I need to get my own workout in, but this is the last place I want to hang out after I’ve been working all day. Want to go for a run?”
He stood up, offering a hand to help me to my feet. I took it, but stayed sitting for a moment, considering the myriad excuses I could make to get out of this.
“Running?” I stalled, pushing off the mat while Noah pulled me up. “Like, off the treadmill?”
He feigned a look of shock, leaning back. “Jennifer Smith, if you’ve never gone for a run outside, I feel genuinely sorry for you.”
“That’s not nice,” I said, hands on my hips. “Can you please try to remember that I’m new to all of this and cut me some slack?”
“As your interim trainer, I will do no such thing. Come on, you can leave your stuff here, we’ll pick it up on the way back.” With that, he was jogging toward the door, leaving the empty gym to the other two trainers, and waving for me to follow him. “Let’s go, Lazy.”
With one last look of lament for my comfortable square of padded gym mat, I decided it’s not every day that you get permission to chase after a hot man in public. And outdoors, no less. So I threw caution to the wind, quite literally, and sprinted toward the door.
“That’s more like it,” he said, winking at me. And as soon as the door opened, he took off.
****
Noah ran like he was born to do it, every one of his muscles working together in a choreographed motion. Like a cheetah hunting its prey, his every movement was graceful and smooth. Despite running behind him, I felt like I might be best portrayed as the escaping prey, clunky in my attempts to keep up. I stumbled over a few rocks or tree roots here and there, the debris of the sidewalk proving to be an unforeseen challenge of running outside instead of on a treadmill.
A nice and safe treadmill, stored indoors without any natural interference like weather or falling leaves.
The day was brisk, since it was early November, but between my previous workout at the gym and the exertion of the run itself, I didn’t feel the cold after a few minutes. Noah was still running up ahead of me, only a couple hundred feet or so, but I couldn’t tell if I was catching up or if he was letting me. Determined to make up the difference, I dug deeper to pull out that last bit of whatever it was that motivated me when I was near Noah. I found it, and the result was a sudden push forward. Within a few moments, we were finally side by side, our legs working in sync. He actually grinned to see me running next to him.
“Welcome to the front of the pack,” he said, barely fighting for breath.
I couldn’t answer, I was so winded. Instead of waiting for a response, he stepped up his own pace a notch, leaving me behind again. So this is the game, I thought to myself. Cat and mouse.
He darted around the corner, headed toward Boston Common, and I followed as closely as my throbbing muscles would allow. My thighs burned, my arms ached, and my stomach was growling. Audibly, I was sure of it. But there was Noah, up ahead of me, running like some jungle cat set loose on the city streets. I couldn’t let him get away from me and I had no idea why it mattered so much, just that it did.
I checked my energy reserves again, seeing if there was anything else to come up with. Scraping the bottom of the fuel tank, I found one last burst and let it propel me forward, closing the gap between us. I leapt over the curb as we crossed the street, closer and closer to him. Just as we crossed the gateway into the Common, I caught up again.
“Ooh, kitty has claws, doesn’t she?” He chuckled and I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me.
I wanted to laugh with him, but there wasn’t any oxygen left in my lungs. Seeing the pained look of struggle contorting my features, Noah mercifully slowed things down. He always seemed to know exactly when I needed some time to recover. He eased our pace to a light jog, enough to keep my heart rate elevated while letting my lungs get reacquainted with air.
“Thanks,” I said, managing a weak smile. “For the break.”
“Don’t get too comfortable here,” he warned playfully. “You never know when I’ll take off again.”
“Yes, I do,” I smirked. “You’ll only take off again when you’re confident I can catch you.”
“A full sentence? You’re speaking in sentences, now? I think that means you can catch me.”
And then, once again, Noah took off across Boston Common, leaving me in his dust. My arms and legs had just gotten used to the slowed pace, the aching in my lungs had just started to dissipate. I wasn’t ready for this yet, but somehow, because Noah believed I was, I found something inside to push myself forward.
I started going faster and faster, darting around a stroller here or there, hearing the thumps of my feet on the pavement. As I let my mind finally process everything that was around me, I realized how much more exciting it was to run outside, with so much to see and hear, people to pass by, nature to enjoy. The cool air was another bonus, wicking the sweat from my forehead as it swept by me. Noah was right to get me out of the gym, out of my comfort zone, and give me something to really push for. At that thought, I noticed he was almost near enough to reach out and grab his t-shirt, so I looked down at my feet and silently pleaded with them to keep moving.
When I looked up again, it was too late to do anything. Another body was mere inches from colliding with mine, someone walking or running toward me along the pathway. I’d drifted in front of him, while I was talking to my shoes, and we crashed into each other. On impact, one of my hearing aids popped out and bounced over the sidewalk. The rest of me crashed to the pavement in a tangled heap of limbs, and my skin stung in several places, scratched up on rocks and other natural debris.
Just when I thought treadmills were for losers.
Disoriented, I tried to absorb what had happened, and see who I’d hit. It was a young guy, around my own age, wearing a baseball cap and sweats. He must’ve been out for his own run across the Common when I’d so unkindly cut him down.
“I’m really sorry,” I stumbled over the words, shamed beyond reason. My face burned with the effort. “I should watch where I’m going.”
“Me too,” he said, climbing to his feet. He wasn’t too tall, a little shorter than Noah, but he had a nice, trim build. A daily run was probably part of his regular maintenance, just like Claire. The thought made me feel like a total hack, out here running, disturbing the good-doing athletic citizens of the world by crashing into them mid-stride. “Are you okay?”
I’d know what voice anywhere.
I managed a nod, swallowing the embarrassment and anxiety threatening to spew forth from my mouth. I kept my lips closed against the words and concentrated instead on standing back up. I shook out my legs, finding them in perfect working order, although a bit scratched up. I felt okay to keep moving, so I looked at my victim to tell him as much, but my voice froze up instead.
Because staring at me from underneath that baseball cap, was a face I’d spent a lot of time hovering cursors over on my computer. A face that had broken my heart once before and almost did so again this past Saturday night.
“Sean?” The name was out of my mouth before I even knew I was thinking it. Immediately, I slapped my hand against my naked ear, praying he hadn’t noticed my runaway “accessory.” Where was that thing anyway?
His eyebrows furrowed as he considered me, all sweaty and disgusting, standing before him.
“Do I know you?” He blinked a few times. “I’m sorry if I don’t remember. I’m terrible with names.”
“Well, we’ve sort of met…” I stopped, not sure how to take the news that he could forget me in four days’ time. “This weekend?”
“Oh…” His voice trailed off and he started looking past me, like he just needed an excuse and he’d be off running again. In hindsight, I should’ve just let him leave, rather than complicate things any further.
“I’m… um… I’m…” A total idiot? Totally screwed? A gigantic
liar? Might as well go all the way, if I’d made it this far already. “Olivia Saunders is… um…”
“You know Olivia?” His whole persona changed at the mention of her name, just like that. Sean’s smile brightened, no longer just a result of faked politeness, and his attention refocused on me. I felt like I was onstage in that instant, performing a careful ballet for a rabid audience just waiting to tear me apart at the first misstep.
“I’m…” Exactly how was I supposed to explain my sociology project in a not-boring way that made me not the bad guy? I guess if I didn’t care what Sean thought about me, it would’ve been much easier to do. But then again, would I even feel the need to explain it at all? Would I have pretended I didn’t recognize him, like any normal human being?
So no, thanks to my weird moral hang-ups, I couldn’t blow my cover and hurt his feelings. I wouldn’t admit right then and there that I was Olivia, a scheming liar toying with others’ emotions just to get a better grade and earn my Master’s degree with honors. I needed to keep up the ruse, just for now. Until I had a better plan.
“I’m Olivia’s roommate. Remember me? From the party?”
“Oh, right! Nice to see you again,” he grinned again, shaking my hand. Then, just as abruptly, his eyes were searching in every direction around me. “Is Olivia with you?”
“Uh…no. She’s out of town.” The answer fell on my tongue easily and I knew then what I had to do. If I kept Olivia out of the way long enough, maybe I could keep Sean’s attention for myself. “So, uh… how have you been? You know, since school? We didn’t really get a chance to catch up at the party, so…”
“I’m not sure if I remember you from school,” Sean said, puzzled. “What was your name again?”
“Hey Jen, what happened?” Noah cruised to a halt in front of me just then, almost toe to toe with Sean. “Sorry. Who’s this?”
“Just an old classmate I ran into. Literally,” I answered him, wincing. “Sean, this is my trainer Noah. And Noah, this is Sean, a former schoolmate and a pal of my roommate.”
A moment passed between them, something I didn’t really understand, but a lot like they were sizing each other up. Guys.
“Nice to meet you, Jen,” Sean said suddenly. “Could you tell Olivia I said hello? I hope she’s back in town soon so we can hang out. If she ever takes a break from those modeling shoots, that is. Anyway, take care!”
As Sean jogged away from us, Noah’s eyes looked to me for some answers. A roommate who was a model had no doubt piqued his interest. Next thing I knew, he’d be asking me to bring her around to the gym sometime, or inviting himself back to my place for private sessions—just so he could meet her accidentally. You know, all in the line of duty.
“Yeah, I know, I have a…” I started to explain, distracted by the search for my missing hearing aid. Noah spotted it first, pointing it out in a patch of dandelions. I snatched it up, only slightly mortified. ”What was I saying? Oh! Olivia! Yeah, I have a—”
“A huge gushing wound on your knee,” Noah cut in, alarm in his voice. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay? Come on. Back to the gym with you. To the first aid kit!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
So maybe my wound wasn’t huge or gushing, but Noah certainly treated it like it was the most serious injury ever sustained on his watch. Maybe it was… Still, the irony of his overreaction to my skinned knee after making fun of Tom wasn’t lost on me.
For a big, muscly guy, Noah had surprisingly gentle hands. Not that I can say I’ve been tended to by someone like him before, or even any guy, for that matter. But it surprised me nonetheless. Back at the gym, I watched—mesmerized—as he cleaned and bandaged my scraped knee. With the gym’s first aid kit at the ready, he swabbed my entire knee with antiseptic, being sure to pick out the tiny bits of gravel as he did so. I winced at each twinge, looking at the raw, red skin around the scrape.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, studying it. With his hands all over my leg and his face just inches from my skin, I have never been so glad to have shaved in the morning.
He rifled around in the kit for a tube of Neosporin, which he applied liberally, and then for the bandages. A scraped knee was no big deal, something every kid gets pretty regularly. But as a grown woman, watching a grown man—no, watching Noah—kneel at my feet and tend to it so… tenderly… It was disproportionately intense.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked, admiring his handiwork. He was careful to smooth down each corner of the bandage completely, so it wouldn’t peel up and stick to my clothes. I hate when that happens and then they’re all linty and won’t stick to anything else. It’s like Noah knew this.
“Not too bad,” I said, then caught his skeptical look. “Well, not anymore.”
“I think you’ll pull through,” he teased, the corner of his mouth twitched. Slowly, he rose from his position on the floor and as his lips passed mine, I felt myself lean towards them. Like they were magnetic or something.
Noah noticed and it stopped him in his tracks, half-sitting in the seat next to me. As he hovered there, a million thoughts zoomed through my brain, most of them negative in nature and none of them totally coherent. The word “stupid” featured prominently. So I did what any normal girl would do under the circumstances to compensate: I giggled. And then, I wanted to slap myself again.
Instead, I cut my giggling short, almost mid-breath. For a moment, the air thickened with silence. I felt like my hearing aids should be buzzing from the increasing pressure around my head. We just sat there, breathing in that air and staring at each other.
Noah cracked first, erupting into laughter. He had a full, hearty laugh—one I could’ve heard even without my accessories in place from across a crowded mall. The kind of laugh that goes viral.
And so I laughed along with him, out of both my relief and the delight he inspired with that sound. Together, we laughed for several minutes without trying to stop or to speak. I’m not truly sure what we were laughing about, but I couldn’t stop myself. I hadn’t laughed like that since… I couldn’t even tell you, it had been so long.
Eventually, as do all good things, our chuckles came to an end. The laughter subsided into short bursts and quiet shakes. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye and tried to relax my facial muscles, aching from the exertion. I’d laughed so hard, it actually hurt.
Noah’s laughs stopped abruptly and the sudden lack of sound drew my eyes to his face. His expression had shifted somehow, from out-of-control laughter to deep thoughtfulness, like he was about to say something profound. My face fell as I studied him, studying me.
Before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me. The kind of kiss that makes your heart stop beating for a minute. His lips were soft and warm, gentle. Noah pulled me toward him, his arms winding their way around my body. I slid across the bench easily, like I was practically weightless, until, suddenly, our bodies were pressed together. Even sitting, he was taller than me, so my head tilted back as his lips caressed mine. He placed a hand to support the back of my neck, as though aware of how much it would ache tilted at this angle. With his fingers in my hair and him all around me like that, my brain threatened sensory overload.
I wanted him, which I realized with abruptness—and not just in the stupid fantasies I allowed myself during workouts. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before, but I guess I'd been too wrapped up in the pursuit of Sean not to realize much of anything. Thinking about Sean didn't even distract me then, something I thought about much later, after I had time to process the fact that I had kissed Noah. But then, in that moment with Noah, I just closed my eyes and let myself melt away, thinking only one thought over and over.
Noah was kissing me.
Noah was kissing me.
Wait... Noah was kissing me.
And he was kissing me well, too.
When we broke apart, we each drew in a deep breath. As my lungs refilled with air, I couldn’t help myself. The giggles broke through again—a s
illy schoolgirl with a crush on the popular boy in class. I felt foolish and I’m sure my blushing cheeks gave me away.
Noah smiled affectionately, the occasional chuckle escaping his lips, and shook his head at me.
“You’re a raving lunatic,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.
The gesture was so intimate, so sweet, that I stopped giggling in surprise.
I tried not to gasp, but a tiny bit of air escaped my lips. I wanted to fall into him, squeeze him against me. I could even overlook that we were in a gym—of all places—and that I was not in any kind of condition to be so close to anyone at all, thanks to that run.
If he thought I smelled bad, he didn't give any indication. And to be honest, if he smelled bad—hey, he'd just run the same route of the Common that I had, granted it wasn't as much of an exertion for him—I didn't notice it either. Instead, I just took in that moment, that sweet exchange, and let it affect me. Overcome, I leaned in to him for more.
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