Heart in Training

Chapter 15

"Er, I'm headed to the store," my mom calls out, keys jingling in her hand. The front door closes behind her, and the hum of the car engine fades into the distance.

My phone vibrates. I glance over to see Jeremiah's name pop up on the screen.

Jeremiah: Hey

I respond: Hey, what's up?

Tossing my phone onto my textbook, I scoop up my books and notes and head upstairs. Before I even reach the top step, my phone buzzes again.

Jeremiah: Just wanted to check in. How does 10 tomorrow morning work for you?

I let out a sigh. Reaching my room, I drop my books onto the vanity.

"That works!" I text back with fake enthusiasm. I definitely wasn't in the mood, but I tried to sound excited.

Jeremiah had somehow convinced my parents to let him train me for the next couple of weeks. I still hadn't figured out how that happened.

Jeremiah: Great! Don't be late.

I groan, flopping onto my bed and tossing the phone beside me. Just great. My mom's idea of "helping me stay active" had turned into Jeremiah becoming my personal drill sergeant.

The next morning, I wake up earlier than usual. Nerves twist in my stomach as I throw on a pair of black leggings, a graphic tee, and tie my hair back into a messy bun.

It's a little after 9 a.m. when I head down to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

My eyes immediately land on a box of donuts on the counter. Jackpot.

I lift the lid and spot my favorite—jelly-filled, powdered perfection. I grab it and take a bite, licking my lips.

Just then, the doorbell rings.

Through the mosaic glass, I spot a tall male figure.

I open the door to see Jeremiah—tall, muscular, and, of course, wearing his usual smug expression. His eyes drop to the donut in my hand.

"Morning, gre—You can't be serious," he says, staring at the donut like it offended him personally.

"What?" I mumble, taking another bite.

"Hand it over."

Before I can react, he snatches the donut from my hand.

"Hey! What are you even doing here?" I protest, trying to reach for it. He smirks and holds it behind his back.

"Just wanted to catch you off guard. Make sure you were gonna be on time," he says, slipping through the doorway and closing it behind him.

Then—because he's Jeremiah—he takes a bite of my donut.

"Seriously?" I slap my hands on my hips.

"I made a promise to help you out, and you're eating a donut on day one?" he says, still chewing.

I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen.

"You almost ready?" he asks, following behind.

I take my sweet time answering, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "I guess," I mutter flatly.

"Great," he replies with an annoyingly chipper smile before tossing the donut remains into the trash.

We head outside, the morning sun already warming the quiet street. We walk in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. I glance over at him—he's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that shows off his arms a little too well. I quickly look away.