Chased

by Piper Lawson

  I mentally shake my head to clear it. I don’t even know this girl, and Ash is at least this hot.

  But she doesn’t look at me like this.

  With Ash it’s knowing. Expecting.

  With this girl? She’s wary, aware. Uncertain. Like every part of her’s totally focused on me because she doesn’t know what I’ll do next. How she’ll feel next.

  “Do you take signups?” she breathes, her pulse hammering in her throat.

  Fuck. I’m half ready to drag her upstairs and find a bathroom where I can press her up against the sink and see if this chemistry holds when she adds, “My roommate has a serious crush on you.”

  Her roommate, huh?

  I play along. “I don’t know about your roommate. I’m afraid it’s a bit more exclusive than that. But maybe you should try it sometime.” Unable to resist the urge, I wrap my hand around her waist and jerk her toward me. She puts her hands out, surprised, and they land on my shoulders.

  I drop my mouth to hers. Quick, hard. Her lips part in surprise and for a second, five, I tease her with my tongue. A startled little noise escapes but it ends on a moan. Her body, too shocked to resist, molds to mine as I pull her hips against me.

  How did I not think she was hot?

  Finally she shoves me back. There’s fire in her eyes, but something else too. “Get off me.”

  Then she’s gone, in a flash of red and miles of leg and heels that should be illegal.

  I’m driving down the road away from campus, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel in a comforting rhythm. Rerunning tonight in my head. Like I do when something doesn’t play out like I expect.

  I still remember the first rich girl I met. Lisa something.

  She didn’t go to our school, or live in our neighborhood, but sometimes she’d go to the same video store on the corner. She wore nice clothes and looked away when I tried to catch her eye.

  Then in high school, one of the girls from private school across town hunted me down and asked me if I’d have sex with her in the back of her father’s BMW.

  That’s how I learned one of the world’s fundamental truths: rich girls always look at me like I’m dirt or a steak.

  Neither of those bothers me. The thing that rubs like a papercut in my brain is that I’m starting to think Varis’ girl is neither of those. And frankly I’m not sure what’s left.

  She looked every part the spoiled princess tonight. It caught me off guard and I hate when things do that. Tonight I could see the way her dress, hardly more modest than lingerie, hugged curves I’d ignored when I first saw her. Her blond hair streamed around her head like silk, and eyes threatened to rob me of…something.

  I’m impulsive. Compulsive. But I’ve learned to value discipline, control to bury it all under. To harness it. But tonight the irritation forced my hand. I wanted to push her a little. See if she’d bend. Break.

  Instead she might’ve beat me at my own game.

  I’d lost my mind when she looked up at me with those big eyes, her mouth open like she wanted me to think about those lips sliding up and down me.

  And I’m still trying to get her strawberry smell out of my head.

  Something catches my eye and I do a double take. Unreal. Steering the truck in a U-turn, I slow to a crawl by the shoulder. Buzz down the window.

  “Nice night for a stroll,” I comment.

  The girl who’s taking up most of my mental processing shifts a duffle she’s got hoisted on her back.

  She’s walking down the street in that mind-numbingly short red dress, the matching shoes dangling from her fingers. I realize she’s wearing sneakers and can’t help the bark of laughter.

  “Where you going, basecamp?” I look at the giant pack she’s toting on her back. She says nothing. “So you’re going to keep me in suspense.”

  “Guess so.”

  I don’t know what her deal is. Most girls like to talk to me. Hell, after I’ve kissed them, most of them won’t shut up.

  “I’ll keep driving until you tell me what happened.”

  We crawl along for another fifty metres. She ignores me. Blatantly.

  “You think you can outlast me, princess? I hold the state record for the half-marathon. And that’s without wheels.”

  “I got kicked out.” The words come out the side of her mouth as she walks. If I hadn’t been listening so closely I would’ve missed them.

  “Why?”

  “My roommate thought I did something I didn’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  She stops and turns to face me, shoulders square as she stares me down.

  “You, moron. I got back to my apartment tonight after the party to find my roommate had locked me out.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tess runs track too. She knew who you were when you came to practice and has a major crush on you. Tess saw us at the party tonight. Thought we were…I don’t know. Something. And she was pissed.”

  It takes me a minute to put the pieces together.

  The girl in front of me wasn’t asking for it. She really had been talking about her roommate.

  I’d wanted to surprise her tonight, maybe shake her out of that cool shell. Instead it backfired. The way I’d impulsively touched her at the party shook me and got her kicked out.

  Fucking genius, Owens.

  My brain does some quick recalculating. “Get in,” I say abruptly.

  “No way.”

  “Listen, princess—“ My voice is tight. I’m getting seriously annoyed but that’s not going to solve this. I force myself to take a breath. “Hastings, right? Get in. I won’t touch you again. But you walk much farther you’ll run into someone a lot less friendly than me.”

  She hesitates only a moment before opening the door and sliding in next to me. Her duffel sits on her lap. Those sexy as hell shoes go between us.

  “That’s a great dress,” I say.

  “Tess’ idea,” she sighs. “Where are we going?”

  “My place.”

  She shoots me a look. “I don’t think so. Take me to my friend Ben’s? I’ll call him.”

  I groan. “I’m not hitting on you, believe me. My roommate’s gone. You can crash tonight. I’m not driving you back to campus.”

  “I didn’t think you were. But I’ll walk.”

  I ignore her. Five minutes later we pull into the driveway of the small house just on the good side of the bad side of town. The neighbors are blue collar but they’ve got your back. It’s safe.

  I turn off the truck and turn to her.

  “I get it. You’re stubborn and independent and whatever. Stay here. Walk back. I don’t care. If you get picked up on the side of the road by some murderer and want to beat him into submission with your stubbornness, be my guest. It’s off my conscience.”

  I get out of the truck, forcing myself not to look back to see if she’s following me up the stairs.

  I wake up feeling like something’s off.

  Oh yeah.

  There’s a rich girl who smells like strawberries asleep down the hall.

  I get up at seven sharp, do some pushups, situps and pullups, my usual routine. Pull on an Underarmor compression shirt and gray shorts. I’m more tired than normal, probably because I had weird dreams that made me wake up with a serious boner.

  When I pass her door, I’m surprised to hear her voice. Most girls – hell, most college students – aren’t up this early on a Sunday. Especially the night after a party. It sounds like she’s on the phone, and speaking in a worried voice, but I don’t stop to listen.

  I’m lacing up my shoes when she comes downstairs, carrying that huge bag again. Today she’s wearing shorts and a tank top. It’s less modest than what she had on in practice, but has way more coverage than last night’s dress. Her hair, long and smooth, is tied back in a ponytail that hits between her shoulders.

  Still, she can’t hide because I know what’s underneath. Dreams from last night flash before my eyes and I realize with an inner groa
n she starred in every one of them.

  “You’re running now?” she asks me, sliding her phone into the pocket of her shorts.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I – can I come with you?”

  “You couldn’t keep up.” I don’t want her running with me. Today or any other day.

  But when I look at her face I see the frown lines. Not actual lines, just tension. Maybe it’s seeing her in daylight, without makeup. Or maybe I just hadn’t cared to look before.

  “Your roommate forgive you for all that sex we didn’t have?”

  “Not yet.” She shoots me a look that’s more tired than annoyed. “But I’ll move my stuff tonight.”

  “To where?”

  “I don’t know. Ben’s. I can sleep on the floor.”

  It reminds me this is all my damned fault. I was the one who’d practically mauled her at the party.

  “Tell you what. Spence’s gone all week and I’m not around much. Stay another night if you need to. I don’t care.”

  I gesture around us at the small kitchen and dining area. The furniture’s new, but cheap. “Might not look like much, but this is a good neighborhood. There’s a spare key under the mat.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll find somewhere else.”

  “Suit yourself.” I turn to walk out to the truck.

  The passenger door opens as I’m putting it in gear, though I hadn’t heard her follow me out. She slides inside the cab.

  “What are you doing?”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “So I can stay with you but I can’t run with you,” she states.

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  “You’ll let me in your house but you won’t let me share a public space with you?” She crosses her arms over her chest and I get the sense she’s not moving. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Doesn’t have to make sense,” I mutter.

  But I’m already looking over my shoulder and backing out of the lane.

  We pull into the parking lot minutes later after a silent drive. It’s one of my favorite trails. Rough enough you have to watch where you’re going but smooth enough it doesn’t count as a hill run.

  “Here’s the drill,” I tell her as we get out and walk side by side to the trailhead. “It’s a 10k slow with speed pickups at three points where the trail opens up.”

  She eyes me sceptically. “Is that what you were going to run today?”

  “No.” I’d have done 20k. “This’ll show me how many Doritos you’ve been eating this summer.” I glance at her ass to reinforce my words, but it’s a bad idea. There’s nothing wrong with that part of her, at least.

  When I pull my gaze back up she’s looking at me, waiting for something. I hold up my hands. “Any day now, princess.”

  A determined look crosses her face and she sets off. I fall into the stride she sets, comfortable.

  We run in silence for the first mile. Two.

  I hate running with other people. Running’s all about shutting out the world and living in my own beautiful moment. A time for me to be alone in my head, or to get out of it. I’ve needed that over the years. More times than I can count. If I hadn’t taken up running, I’d have gone crazy.

  Or I’d be dead.

  Our feet shuffle along the trail, the same rhythm.

  I try to fall out of step with her, but somehow we end up back in stride. Like she’s pulling me into her gravity, or I’m pulling her into mine.

  After awhile I realize she’s almost faded into the background. Not because she’s fallen behind – she’s keeping up. I like that she’s content to run without talking.

  My running watch beeps and I glance at it. “Pickup starts now.”

  We go hard for the next half mile. The trees fly by, the only sound the muted footfalls and our breathing.

  It’s beautiful out here and nothing beats the feeling of being in nature and blowing by it all at once. Though this is nowhere near my fastest, my body responds to the dialled up speed and new chemicals are coursing through my blood. Telling me this is what it means to be alive. To be safe. To be free.

  After the distance I ease off immediately, but she keep pushing. I check my watch again. “You’re going too fast.”

  “Isn’t that the whole point?” she pants, breathing hard. “I need to be faster.”

  “You’re going out too fast for the distance. Lesson number two. Sometimes you need to go slow to go fast. Your long run needs to be slower. It helps your body build capillaries for endurance. Your muscles have more oxygen to dig deep when you’re tired and hurting.”

  “I know that, Chase,” she wheezes.

  Less than one mile from home and two pickups later, we’re in the final stretch. My breathing’s gotten harder, but next to me, hers is still louder. She’s sweating and determined.

  All of a sudden she falters. Pulls up, like she’s disoriented.

  “Chase…” her voice is alarmed. I grab her as she’s halfway to the ground.

  But she’s out cold.

  “Hey.” I feel her pulse, a little weak but regular in her throat. Then I wait, laying her back carefully on the ground.

  Shit.

  She looks fragile, delicate despite the running gear. Faint freckles mark her cheeks and her eyebrows are drawn together. Her mouth’s a bow, lips just parted like she’s asleep. I tug out the ponytail that’s making her lie funny and run a hand through her hair, my thumb stroking her forehead. “Ariel.”

  A long minute later her eyes open. She blinks, coming back to me in slow seconds.

  “Are you OK?” I demand, leaning over her.

  “Yeah. I’ve…I’ve blacked out a couple times before.”

  I pass her water. She sips it carefully.

  Once she looks like she’s all back, I let it out.

  “Fuck, Hastings! You can’t run like your feet are on fire. You won’t finish strong. Or at all.”

  I expect her to wither but her eyes flash. “Why not?” She demands, propping herself up on her elbows on the ground. “I’ve seen your race tape. You run like hell itself is breathing down your neck and you don’t stop until you cross the line. It doesn’t matter if you’re ahead by a foot or a mile. You go like your hair is on fire.”

  “Why can’t you listen? I’m trying to--”

  “Trying to what? Coach me?” she replies.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” I shoot back.

  This girl would drive me mental. She looks so pristine, untouchable, but lashes out in equal, unpredictable measure.

  “Here’s the thing about running, princess. You can run fast with a plan or you can run fast because the thing that’s chasing you is so goddamn scary you can’t let it catch up. I’m guessing you don’t have that in your life.”

  A shadow crosses her face and for a moment I wonder if I’m wrong.

  She’s quiet as she gets up without my help. We walk, then jog, the last mile.

  I want to hold onto the fact that she not only invaded my run and wouldn’t listen to me, but proceeded to scare the shit out of me. Still, by the time we get back to the truck the endorphins from the running start to make my irritation with her evaporate.

  I glance over at her to see the most serene expression. “What’s that face?”

  “Still coming off the high,” she admits.

  I nod, because I know. “It’s like climbing Everest, every fucking time.”

  A faint smile paints her mouth as briefest moment of synchronicity washes over us.

  She tilts her head like she’s thinking about something. “When you left the team last year, did you miss it?”

  I don’t want to talk about why I left. But she’s not asking, not really. “I missed the running. Not the team.”

  Ariel’s nodding before I finish. “I’m not a team person either. Sometimes when I’m training with Tess and the others, I pretend they’re not even there. I try to trick myself into thinking that if I hear their breathing, their footsteps, it’s just mine ampli
fied.”

  It surprises me. She seems like a rich girl content to play with her rich friends. But I realize at the party she’d been alone. Except for Dave the Douche.

  “So why do you do it?” I find myself asking as I pull into the driveway.

  “Because…” she trails off. “Because there’s nothing else in the world that makes you feel completely invincible even when life keeps handing you evidence to the contrary.”

  I watch her for a long minute, silent.

  As if the girl hadn’t just packaged a piece of my soul with her words and handed it to me.

  I put the truck into park and get out, pushing down the uncomfortable feeling. I lead the way up the porch steps before letting us in. Her arm brushes mine and I ignore the flare.

  Once we pull off our shoes, I grab water from the fridge, filling two glasses and handing her one.

  She makes an appreciative noise. Chugs it.

  Both of us climb the stairs, making a beeline for the shower. I realize a moment before she does there’s only one bathroom. Our eyes connect and my chest tightens. We’re standing across from one another in the hallway and suddenly it’s like I’m stuck. Neither of us breaks our shared gaze.

  “Go ahead,” she says finally, even though she’s soaked, her clothes clinging to her, and I’ve barely broken a sweat. “It’s your shower.”

  I lift a shoulder. “Ladies first.” It’s probably the first time I’ve said it in my life. For some reason I hope it doesn’t come off that way.

  She grabs a towel from the linen closet. I walk to my room at the end of the hall to check my phone, trying not to imagine her under the spray.

  She’s not for me, I remind myself. That girl is not the kind of girl who wants to roll around and get sweaty.

  When I’d kissed her, she’d been surprised. And while I can’t believe she’s untouched, it felt like she was unfolding under my hands, my mouth. Like a piece of paper with a secret written inside.