Unspoken Endings

by Gabbie S. Duran

  Groaning at his loss, his eyes look back at me. “Fine, but you owe me big time for this, Abigail,” he says through clenched teeth. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at his childish whine. “How do we get there?”

  Briskly leading the way, I already know where we need to go. After signing up, I researched all the information needed for the race. “It’s not that far from here. Just a little over a mile walk. That should help warm you up.”

  He grunts as he keeps up with me. As we near the corner to what should lead to the starting line, I can already see other runners walking in the same direction. Not having any clue where to pick up my packet, I stop someone to find out.

  “Do you happen to know where same day packet pick up is?”

  The gentleman whom I’ve stopped considers my question and points me in the direction I need to go. Quickly thanking him, I head in the direction he’s pointed me towards and see the registration table within view; along with a huge banner indicating which race it is.

  “You never said this was a marathon,” Matt surprisingly lets out.

  “This isn’t a marathon. It’s a half-marathon,” I clarify, not chancing a look at him because I can already feel his eyes narrowing down at me, clearly unhappy with my response.

  “It’s still more than you should be running,” he clenches out.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I draw in a deep breath to help calm my frustration to his response. “I’m up to running six miles now. At a slow pace,” I emphasize before he can lecture me about the distance. “And as I told you earlier, I’m not running this race for a personal record. I’m running it for fun.”

  “Running a 5K would be logical if you’re running a race for fun,” he throws back at me. “What the hell are you trying to do, Abigail? Break you ankle for sure?” His question makes me feel like a child being scolded.

  “My timing was pathetic during that race, but I was happy with it because I earned it,” I reply. “I’m running this race today, Matt, and I don’t need you lecturing me about my pace. It’s embarrassing enough I have to live with it,” I say as I glare at him before turning to face forward again.

  Julio, who is standing at my side, is speaking under his breath. I can’t quite make out the words, but I’m pretty sure he’s mumbling about Matt and me.

  Since I’m currently in a bad mood, I don’t hesitate to remark, “You know, Julio, you sound like a grouchy old man sometimes.” Thankfully, his chuckle tells me he isn't upset with my comment.

  “You make me feel like one sometimes with the way I have to put up with the both of you,” he teases.

  Wondering what his true age is, I chance asking. “Just how old are you, Julio?” He’s skeptically staring back at me, as if contemplating whether to answer the question or not.

  “I'm old enough to be your father.”

  I’m shocked. “Really?” I ask, earning me a snicker. “I mean you don’t look that old.” This time I hear a grumble. “At least you’re in good shape for your age,” I add, trying to soften up the mood I have sent him into. “Maybe I should stop now before I hang myself any further.”

  “Yes, that would be a good idea. Remember, I’m the one with the gun,” he teases as we step forward.

  “You’re lucky I like you, or else I’d fire you for that comment,” I playfully tease back. His eyebrows arch even higher, if possible.

  “I wouldn’t let you fire him,” Matt proclaims from my side.

  “Along with thinking you have the right to order me around, you’re back to thinking you have control over my decisions as well?” I furiously retort.

  Slumping his shoulders forward, he attempts to speak “Abigail—” is the only word I allow him to get out before my hand shoots up to silence him.

  “You better hope I run off my anger this morning or else you’ll be sharing a room with Julio.”

  Matt’s silence is acknowledgment of his defeat.

  “I swear, Abigail, this has to be the most entertaining job I’ve ever had,” Julio says, as if trying to break the awkwardness now floating in the air. One step forward and we’re now next in the pickup line. Ten minutes later, Matt and I have our bibs. Still ignoring him, I head to the starting line.

  “Here, let me do it,” Matt offers as I fumble with my bib, grabbing for the pins. He uses the opportunity to tug me forward, closing the space between. His lips close over mine as my mouth unconsciously relinquishes to his kiss, completely forgetting I’m mad at him. Seconds later, breathless and incoherent, I’m staring at him as he smiles back at me.

  “What was that for?” I eagerly ask, wondering what the motive is behind it.

  “Just because I love you,” he comments, making me smile, completely throwing all bitterness aside. He returns to the task at hand as my body blissfully flutters while watching him, remembering all the times he’s done it before.

  “There. All done,” he whispers, kissing my nose and stirring the feeling in my belly.

  “Come on, Emily. I run enough during practice. Why are you making me run with you now?” Matt utters, sounding as if he’s containing himself from whining.

  “Because I read somewhere it's relaxing, and according to my physician I either find a way to bring my blood pressure down or he's putting me on medication. You know how much I hate taking pills,” I explain.

  “So take up yoga or something,” he suggests.

  I roll my eyes at his comment. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging me instead of complaining?”

  “I wouldn’t be complaining if you hadn’t gotten me up so fucking early,” he mumbles under his breath. He doesn’t think I’ve heard him, but I prove otherwise. “Watch your mouth, Matthew. You may no longer be a little boy, but I can still punish you,” I scold.

  “Oh, yeah?” Matt says before scooping down to pick me up and toss me over his shoulder. He quickly starts spinning us both around as fast as he can, all while I’m screaming and pounding at his back. “Matt! Put. Me. Down!”

  He spins us a couple more times before he stops and we’re both swaying, leaving me in fear of landing on the ground if he drops me. A couple of seconds later, I feel him grip my legs and lower us both to the ground to allow me to climb off. With a huff, I compose myself before I look up into his face to see him joyfully smiling back at me. I hate the fact that with a smile, like the one he is currently giving me, I can never stay mad at him.

  “Alright, Em, I’ll run with you this time, but don’t expect it to become a habit. I’d have to be crazy to take up running. I do enough of the shit during practice,” he declares.

  “Language,” I clip out, making him chuckle. I can only shake my head at his response. Even if it’s only this one time, it’s still one more thing I get him to do to spend time with me.

  The memory fades and I return to the same smile I was given moments ago in both the memory and reality, but it quickly turns down into a frown as if realizing where my mind had wondered off to. The hands resting on my hips gently tighten while he sincerely looks at me.

  “Which one was it this time?” he rasps out, as if hesitant to ask.

  Before answering, I grab onto his face to tug him down to kiss me. My sole purpose is to remove that frown from my lips. “The very first time you ran with her,” I say against his lips with a heavy heart.

  Leaning his forehead against mine, he replies, “Who knew I’d come to depend on it for my sanity?”

  “Or be forced to do it as you were back then?” I remind him of our bickering from this morning. I’m rewarded with a heart-filled laugh.

  “Obliviously I can’t push you because of your ankle,” he voices, already trying to change the subject. He puts his lips to my ear and whispers, “But you owe me for making me run this thing.”

  “What exactly is it that I’ll owe you?” I playfully tease. The crowd starts to cheer as they gradually start counting down for the race to begin. My already fluttering stomach is adding to the excitement coursing through my veins as we look around
at the roaring crowd.

  “I expect that earlier promise,” he murmurs into my ear before he pulls away.

  “What promise?” I ask, searching my mind, wondering what I’ve missed or can’t quite remember at the moment. His finger comes up to my mouth, slightly tracing my lips.

  “The one where your mouth is going to warm me up later,” he says over the roaring cheers.

  I gawk at him. “It wasn’t a promise!” I shout back. Ignoring my protest, he begins putting his ear buds into his ears. “Matt! I never promised anything!” I continue to argue. His brows go up in question, as if indicating he hasn’t heard me. From the smug lift of his lips, he knows why I’m shouting at him.

  “You shouldn’t have suggested it,” he replies before jogging off with the crowd already taking off.

  For a moment, I’m rendered speechless and watch him jog a couple of step ahead of me. “Ugh!” I huff out as I start to jog after him, wondering what I’ve just gotten myself into.

  “I LOVE YOUR laugh,” Matt mumbles against my skin, making me giggle again. Lifting his head to look at me, his deep brown eyes are contently staring back at me. My stomach takes the chance to rumble, announcing its demand to be fed.

  “Someone’s hungry.”

  “I am. But I’m too exhausted to move.”

  “Someone pushed herself a little too hard this morning.”

  I laugh as I remember this morning. “It was worth it to see you struggle,” I tease as my mind returns to this morning and the constant grumbling I heard coming from Matt’s side. Holding my medal up in the air to admire it once more, I smile. “They sure are addictive,” I tell Matt as I glide my thumb across the lettering on the emblem of the race’s logo.

  “Yes, they are,” he replies, his teeth nipping at my stomach, breaking me from my thoughts. Yelping, I shove his head away.

  “Stop it!” I tell him, earning me a bout of laughs. My stomach growls immediately after coercing Matt to climb off my body.

  “Come on, beautiful. You’ve earned your pancakes so it’s time to feed you.”

  Although I’m exhausted, the thought of eating Matt’s pancakes is motivation enough for me to get up and out of bed. Heading for my dresser to retrieve a pair of underwear, I pull open the drawer and rummage through it, but only find socks and sports bras.

  “Crap,” I huff out, remembering I’d used the last pair yesterday. Biting my lip, I search the room for an alternative and see Matt’s duffle bag. Rushing straight for it, I dig for a pair of his boxer briefs.

  Feeling victorious when I find a pair, I quickly start pulling them up, already hearing, “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t have any clean underwear and I used my last clean pair of running shorts so this will have to do until dry cleaning delivers my clothes later today,” I explain, giving him a peck on the lips as a thank you, even if I didn’t ask to use them.

  “What are you supposed to wear for your show?”

  “I’m not allowed to wear anything at all. They claim it interferes with the wardrobe.”

  Matt’s eyes widen in shock. “They expect my girlfriend to prance around commando in front of hundreds of people?”

  I giggle at the thought he has portrayed with his choice of words. “Matt, it’s only under my dresses,” I say, still laughing at his reaction as I leave the room. He follows me as he states his claim. “You don’t care?”

  Stopping, I turn to face him. “Matt, you can’t tell because I’m completely covered up,” I tell him while wrapping my arms around him. “I know you probably don’t like it, Matt, but you need to stop overreacting so much,” I dispute.

  Embracing me back, his teeth start nibbling at my collarbone. “The only problem I have is knowing that you’ll be bare underneath your dresses and I have to sit back and watch you prance in front of me. Can you imagine the hard-on I’m going to have?” he mutters against my skin.

  “Stop that!” I convey to his nibbling at my neck. I would drag him back to the room if it wasn’t for my protesting stomach demanding to be fed.

  His hands start roaming across my butt before gripping it. “How about you just wear these underneath?” he asks, stepping back so he can better take them in. “I never thought my boxer briefs would look so sexy on someone.”

  Tilting my head, I arch my eyebrow up. “Am I the only one that’s ever worn your boxer briefs?” He opens his mouth to answer, but quickly clamps it shut as if choosing to not answer instead. “Never mind, don’t answer that,” I clip out, knowing I’d rather he not as I pull away and resume walking over to the kitchen area.

  “If it makes you feel any better, you’re the only one I’ll let keep them.”

  “Do you want a pair of mine in exchange?” I tease, needing to break the tension that would have come otherwise.

  It works when Matt throws his head back to laugh, making me follow soon after. Minutes later, we’re wiping tears from our eyes when Julio walks in the door.

  He eyes us in confusion, only making us laugh again. “What’s for breakfast?” he asks staring at us with a perplexed expression, as if he’s trying to figure out why we’re still laughing. My stomach grumbles with his question, causing both Matt and me to burst out laughing again. I swear I may just pee my pants if I can’t get myself to stop.

  “I’m making Abigail pancakes,” Matt tells him around a chuckle.

  Julio perks up with a smile. “I think I’m going to like him visiting,” he replies while heading to his room. “I’ll be right back out. Extra for me,” he shouts over his shoulder before the door closes.

  Matt shakes his head. “You both make me feel like I’m your personal cook sometimes,” he playfully mumbles. Locking my arms around his neck, I ask, “Would you prefer I cook for us?”

  “No,” he clips out faster than I’d expected. My mouth drops open as I swat him on the chest.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say, feeling dejected as I walk away to open the fridge and grab the ingredients he needs.

  “Yeah, you’re definitely keeping those boxers. I like your ass in them,” I hear Matt draw out behind my back, making me smile.

  CLOSING MY EYES and taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for my cue. The first beats of Red Lights immediately opens my eyes and my lips go up into a wide grin. I quickly push it aside as I take my first step. The flashing lights and the shuttering sounds from the photographers snapping pictures are silent as my body absorbs the bass and I lose myself to my zone.

  The eyes of the audience are following my every move, as if waiting for me to make a mistake. It’s almost intimidating, but it’s not enough to damper the rush I feel inside. Suddenly my eyes find Matt’s, the smile on his face is brighter than any of the flashing lights aimed at me. The pride radiating off him completely illuminates me from the inside out. I’m unable to control the smile I was fighting to contain as I briefly stare back at him before rounding the last corner that leads me backstage.

  As rehearsed, I rush to the curtains standing as a makeshift wardrobe. Hands quickly tug at me from every direction as they strip and dress me in my next outfit. In record time, I’m rushing back into line to walk back out and do it all over again. My earlier exhaustion from my run has completely vanished, replaced now by adrenaline.

  Waiting in line to be queued for my second walk, a tinge of soreness travels through my bones; a result of my near sleepless night and overachieving run this morning. My thoughts are broken with the shout of my name ordering me to go.

  Close to an hour later, I’m walking the final walk next to the designer as the crowd proudly gives her a standing ovation. My body is beaming with elation after the walk. Stepping off the runaway, Charlie immediately thrusts a set of roses into my arms.

  “These are for you.”

  Perplexed, but still excited from receiving them, I pluck out the card tucked inside of the roses expecting to read a message from Matt. Instead, it’s the familiar scrawl from earlier this week. “Happy birthday, but how man
y more will you have?”

  The blood drains from my face as I drop the roses and hastily walk away from them, not caring if they get trampled on. The corners of the card are digging into my hand as I crush it within my palm, my heart pounding in my chest. Stepping into my wardrobe station, I quickly strip from my dress, carefully handing it off to a wardrobe assistant and put my own clothing. The curtain suddenly swings open and my heart stops.

  “Damn, you’re dressed already,” Matt huskily says to me with a smile. My heart starts up again in relief that it’s him, but my earlier shock is still lingering upon my face. “What’s wrong?” he worriedly asks, taking in my pale expression.

  I force a smile. “You scared me. That’s all,” I truthfully respond. With a chuckle, he lifts me up into his arms and slams his lips down onto mine, stealing the only breath I managed to hold onto from moments ago. Holding onto his shoulders as I return his kiss, I can still feel the card in my hand.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he says as he pulls away. His prideful words make me smile, helping push some of the worry lingering inside of me away. Giving him another kiss, I need him to push the remainder of it to the back of my mind. It’s soon accomplished as I feel him groaning into my mouth, making me laugh.

  “Have I ever told you how sexy you look while working?” I hear him say, his lips leaving my mouth as they trail across my jaw. My body is already reacting as a tingle shoots between my legs. Digging my fingers into his forearms to hold myself up, my now weak legs threaten to buckle on me as he continues to trail kisses across my skin. My only response is a soft moan as he continues to breathe down my neck; his nose gently nudging itself against me.

  His lips are now at the hollow of my ear as he whispers, “Can we leave now so I can hear you scream my name instead?” Actions speak louder than words as I pull him out of the curtained area and past everyone to the exit. An amused chuckle is heard behind me as I tuck the card into my pants, praying Matt didn’t see me doing it.

  “Abigail!” Hans shouts my name, bringing Matt and I to a halt. “Where are you going? You have an after party to attend.”