Sprint

Chapter eight

When I wake up, more hungover than should be humanly possible, for a moment, I think it was all a dream.

Then I open my eyes and catch sight of the Christ the Redeemer replica standing atop the mini fridge, and it comes back to me with a vengeance.

The tequila shots, the dare, the low-key flirting, the way Archer had looked at me outside the club like he wanted to grab me and kiss me.

The way I'd wanted him to kiss me.

And then he'd proved once again that I can't trust him. What was his endgame? Had he leaned in just to elicit a reaction from me? So he could then laugh in my face?

I shouldn't feel this hurt by it.

It's stupid. I'm too old to fall for my bullies.

But last night, with the alcohol in my system and Archer watching me from across the table, it hadn't seemed like he hated me. Actually, for a moment, it'd felt like maybe we could be friends...

When I crawl out of bed and quietly get dressed before leaving without doing my morning exercises, I tell myself it's because my head is pounding and I feel on the brink of death, and not because I don't want to have to wake Archer and cash in my reward from last night.

Calling attention to it would make it all too real, even if the idea of watching Archer do downward-facing dog while hungover is hilarious.

By the time I reach the diner, I think the worst of the alcohol is out of my system, but Jack takes one look at me and laughs. "Rough night?"

I refrain from doing something childish and stick my tongue out. Instead, I slide into the seat across from him. "You have no idea."

I glance at the menu, even though I know it by heart. Jack and I have been here a lot. This is where he took me when I graduated high school and again to celebrate my setting the world record back in March.

"I know you're old enough to legally drink now, but I feel like I should urge you not to overdo it. Liver poisoning isn't fun," Jack says, regarding me with something between concern and amusement.

"Speaking from experience? I'm sure you were very responsible in college, huh?"

His face cracks into a grin. "It's good to see you, kiddo."

My shoulders drop in a content sigh. "You too."

A waiter drops by our table and takes our order. I go full greasy breakfast with a shitload of cappuccino, while Jack sticks to Eggs Benedict and tea.

Once the server leaves, Jack leans to the side and grabs something under the table. "And speaking of turning twenty-one, happy birthday, Roy." He hands me a parcel, and I almost drop it because of how heavy it is.

"Jack, you shouldn't have," I say. "Taking me out for breakfast is more than enough."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Oh, you think I'm paying? Aren't you supposed to be an adult now?"