Part 25 (1/2)

Chapter 31.

Everything fell away as my Nike covered feet slapped the pavement. I focused on my breathing, drowning out the sounds and smells and sights around me. Just like every other time I tied those shoes on, I was alone. The internal world of a runner. Me versus myself.

And five hundred other racers.

I focused on the time I had to beat and felt another little pump of adrenaline shoot through my body. Coach Melrose's training schedule had been brutal. If I'd wanted it easier, I could have gone back to the RVHS cross-country team and dealt with the snotty girls there. Yeah, not so much.

The cool September breeze kept my skin from getting too heated, but on a short 5k that wouldn't have mattered anyway. I liked the run. I liked feeling my body work and knowing I was pus.h.i.+ng it. And then pus.h.i.+ng it some more.

A third person fell from the pack in front of me and I kicked it up a little, just enough to pa.s.s her by. One by one. Just like Coach M talked about. Track them. Stalk them. Pa.s.s them. Win.

I'd never thought of myself as a compet.i.tive person. Running was for me. But the way he pushed and trained, when that gun went off I wanted to beat every runner in the world.

Another one dropped back and I maneuvered myself past him. I wasn't as close to the front as I wanted to be, but it was my time I actually worried about. I'd been mid-pack at that starting line. Hopefully I'd made up the difference to cross the finish with the official race time hitting my goal.

I didn't want to let Coach down. Either Coach.

The crowds along the edge of the road became thicker, louder, too obvious to ignore. The end was getting near. I gave myself a mental nod and pushed. Pushed myself like I never had in a school race. Pushed myself like I never had to in a school race.

I shot by three more people before the finish line timer came into view. It was going to be close to break that time. Push, push, push. There was no way I was going to be this close to Coach Melrose's set time goal and not make it. With a last ditch effort, I all but threw myself forward over the finish line, the timer a blur over head.

One of the race coordinators placed a hand on my shoulder, guiding me out of the way, walking me to a gra.s.sy area where those who'd beat me were already walking it out or stretching to cool down.

”I said by the end of this season.”

I fought a smile at the mixture of pride and annoyance coming from the shouting coach stalking toward me.

”I said play it cool, let's see what you can do. I told you not to push it too hard. We talked about this being a pace-race to re-gear your training.” Coach Melrose squatted in front of me as I dropped to the ground and reached for my way-to-far-away toes. ”So, can you explain to me what that was?”

I grinned up at him, unsure if he was really upset at my aggression or not.

”It was a good day to run.”

”Whalen, I can see why Sarche handed you over. He didn't have the patience for you.”

A gruff voice came from my other side. ”The best thing I ever did for you was hand you my girl here.”

The two coaches glared at each other. I can only imagine they considered their own compet.i.tion a sign of a deep, long-standing guy friends.h.i.+p.

”Good job, Whalen. Stop standing around here. Don't be late.” And with that Coach Sarche stomped off.

Don't be late? When was I ever late? I beat him to practice half the time.

”Alright. You're dismissed. Anyway,” Coach M jerked his head toward the edge of the park. ”That boy is hovering. It's distracting.”

And with that, another coach stomped off.

A pale purple bottle drifted under my nose. Check him out knowing Rain was my favorite Gatorade.

”Hey.” And-of course-he still hadn't learned a new way to start a conversation. ”You were great.”

Luke's strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground.

As soon as my feet hit the dirt, I pushed away.

”And sweaty. Like, yucky sweaty.”

His grin hitched up on the right, the one I secretly was convinced was just for me. ”You hug me after my games.”

Yeah, how to explain that was completely different. His sweat wasn't all yucky proof of not being a girly-girl thing.

”What's up with Coach Melrose?” He asked, watching the man walk away.

”Apparently, I ran too fast.”

Luke stared at me for a long moment before busting out laughing. ”Only you could annoy someone by excelling.”

He tossed a bag at me with my clean, dry s.h.i.+rt and the tea tree oil wipes I was addicted to. I'd thought I'd have to wait to get to the truck. Seriously, has there ever been a better boyfriend?

In case you were in doubt: Nope.

But then he just stood there with that Luke Smile watching me.

”Um...”

”Yes?” He looked at the bag. I could see him wondering if he'd forgotten something.

”Could you look over there?” I pointed in the opposite direction of where I stood, which was where the Port-a-potties just happened to be. Figures.

He glanced over his shoulder and then back.

”Nope. Keep looking.” I rummaged through my bag, tugging the T-s.h.i.+rt out. I could feel my skin heating. Man, I hated blus.h.i.+ng.

He looked again. Briefly. ”Amy, what exactly am I looking at?”

”Luke,” I sighed his name. And not in the he just kissed me way. ”Would you just look over there until I say so?”

There was that grin again. ”So you can change your s.h.i.+rt?”

Proof! Proof guys weren't total idiots. ”Yes!”

I knew it wouldn't be a simple pivot-and-look-elsewhere deal when that smile quirked again.

”But you run in your sports bra when it's just the two of us.” He crossed his arms over his chest.