Waves - Book #2 [completed]

53 ~ Gunnen

Gunnen
(Dutch)
To find happiness in someone else's happiness because that's how much you love them.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Kacey asks, eyeing me with quizzical amusement as he rises from his spot next to me. "I've been pretty consistent with my running."

I grunt because I have not.

"I didn't think you'd join me when I texted," he goes on, jumping up a few times to warm up and stretching his quads.

I lift my upper body from where I'm crouching and tying my shoelaces and give him a look. "I can keep up, don't you worry, hot shot," I gloat, knowing full well that I probably cannot keep up with him. He's fitter, in much better shape than I am, and I haven't been running like I planned to when I travelled to Australia. I've been busy eating Rathi's savory Indonesian cooking and following Riley around. In fact, not only have I neglected working out, no, I've gained a few pounds. My stomach feels softer than it used to, my abs disappearing under a layer of softness. My arms are less defined. Next to my athletic girlfriend who balances on a surfboard almost every day I must look like a freaking couch potato.

Shit. I need to find a gym after I move to Down Under.

Kacey snorts, watching me as I self-consciously suck in my gut when I stand. "What?"

"Nothing." He lifts his hands in innocence and turns around, strutting away toward the starting point he chose by the Marine Park Nature Trail close to our parents' house.

Huffing out a breath I follow him, tying my hair back with one of Riley's hair ties as I go. I don't know what convinced me that going for a run at eight in the morning was a good idea.

"Ready?"

"Born ready."

With that Kacey sends me a smirk over his shoulder and takes off, falling into a trot that should be easy enough to keep up with.

~~~

I can't keep up with him. Fuck. I can't.

Being in much better shape than I am, he's outrunning me, not even breaking a sweat while my long-sleeved shirt sticks to my damp body and I'm huffing and puffing like an eighty-year-old man, about ready to put my feet up and pass out.

I avoid tripping over a cobble in my way and falter, catching my step with a flail of my arms. Kacey grins, coughs, and grins some more, his short dirty blond hair bobbing with every smooth and casual step he takes as he keeps pace with me.

Asshole.

We've only covered about two miles and have about three more to go. I'm determined to at least manage two more miles before allowing myself to slow down. So, I level my breathing and steer my mind toward the woman I left tangled in the sheets earlier. She was wise, telling me while half-asleep that she's not running on vacation. Clever girl. Brave too because she texted me that she got dressed and went to my parents' place to have breakfast with my mother.