Running From You

Chapter 22

TYLER

"I'm going out!" I grab my water bottle and head to the door, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.

"You done your homework?" dad peeks his head out from the kitchen.

I roll my eyes. He and his obsession with my school work. "Duh."

"Just making sure," he scowls. "You can drop the attitude."

I sigh, already regretting my tone. "Sorry."

He nods, "It's alright. Be back in two hours. I have a night shift."

"Sure thing," I wave before stepping outside. I love Bells but some days I wish I didn't have the responsibility of raising her when dad's working all the time. I know he does it for us but it's just annoying at times. I can barely keep my own head above water and I'm supposed to take care of a kid? Figures.

I shake off the gloomy thoughts and start jogging. It's four miles to the track and when I get there I notice I'm not alone, despite the late timing.

Nora's doing four hundred meter sprints on the otherwise empty track, her curly hair swinging from side to side in the high ponytail she's tied it to. She's wearing tight black shorts and a yellow sports bra, her darker skin glistering with sweat. The muscles in her legs and abdomen are visible when she runs, her face determined.

I realize I'm staring when she stops at the line and turns to raise a brow at me. I quickly look away and casually lay my water bottle down on the ground when she starts walking toward me.

"I know I'm sexy when I'm sweaty but..." she stops in front of me and grins wickedly.

I roll my eyes, pretending I'm not affected by the sight of her bare skin. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I don't need to," she smiles. Goddamn that smile. "Your roaming eyes do it for me."

"You're delusional," I try not to look at her body. I see it everyday in practice, I don't know why this time is different.

"Sure, whatever you say," she hums and starts walking back to the white line with a bounce in her step. I can't help but stare at her ass. "Wanna try a four hundred with me? I mean, if you think you can keep up," she winks at me over her shoulder and my eyes immediately fly back up so she doesn't catch me looking.

I snort and follow her. "I'm going to destroy you."

"We'll see about that," she grins confidently.

Got to admire her confidence. We both know she's good, better than good, but I'm a guy. We're faster, stronger. It's just biology. Nothing you can do about it.

"You ready?" she gets into starting position and I mimic her.

"Yup."

"Ready. Set. Go—" she says and we set off.

I don't know how long she'd been running before I got here, but she's not showing any fatigue as she tries to keep up. I'm faster at the hundred and she knows it. Even if she was a guy I'd probably decimate her. I'm just that good.

When we reach the halfway mark, the gap between us starts to get smaller. I'm still ahead of her by meters but this is not my event. I haven't gotten the strategy of running the four hundred down like she has. I've never cared to, so I just run it like I do the hundred: sprinting as fast as I can.

At the three hundred meter mark my legs are filling with lactic acid and I feel terrible. I don't know how she puts herself through this torture every single day. She must be crazy. Crazy sexy, my subconscious whispers.