by Lisa De Jong
I finally calm down, my mind still wandering to where that little bead of sweat traveled to, as sleep slowly takes over.
****
I feel rested when I wake up; full of energy and ready for a run. Running is therapy for me. When I run, I don’t think or feel. Stress, worries, or anxieties temporarily disappear—it’s just me and my music. Lately, I’ve been pushing myself harder; adding more distance or increasing my pace. I will admit there is something slightly disturbing about the excitement I feel when my lungs burn or my legs want to give out, yet I continue to push myself harder.
I change into a pair of black capri running pants and a hot pink tank top. Standing at the full-length mirror, I look myself over from head to toe. I can pick out every flaw on my body in this outfit, which only motivates me to run faster, harder. I’m momentarily pulled out of my negative thoughts when there is a light rap on the door.
“Come in.” The door opens slowly, and Gabe peeks his head in. “Hey,” he says with his deep voice and a smile.
“Hey.”
“Ava in here?”
“Nope. I just woke up and haven’t seen her.” I shrug and pull my long hair off of my neck and onto the top of my head as I tie a binder around the messy bun.
“Going for a run?”
“Yeah.”
“Want some company?” I pause at his question. He’s never run with me before. I try not to smile. Of course I want him to run with me.
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound so convincing.” He laughs and steps closer. With two quick steps, he’s directly in front of me, and I still. My throat tightens up with him this close to me. I can smell the light scent of his body wash. I take in the sight of him in a pair of faded blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt. Our eyes meet and I feel his hand brush my shoulder. His fingers slide under the strap of my tank top, untwisting it. I had not realized the straps were twisted with those of my sports bra.
“You were twisted,” he says quietly, his hand still on my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I whisper, swallowing hard as I notice the flecks of gold sparkling in his hazel eyes.
“I should get changed. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says, his hand falling from my shoulder, lightly running down my arm as he backs away toward the door. I release the breath I was holding and feel the adrenaline that is coursing through my veins. I grab my tennis shoes, sit down on the edge of my bed and put them on. My heart is still beating rapidly and it amazes me that his touch can cause such an intense reaction.
I nervously rub my arms as I wait for him downstairs. A minute later, he comes bounding down the stairs. He’s changed into a pair of black athletic shorts and a tight gray compression shirt.
“Ready?” he asks, placing his hand on the small of my back while guiding me toward the front door. His touch immediately sends a shiver through me. How does he do that?
“Ready.”
“So where do you normally run?” he asks as we walk down the driveway toward the street.
“Today, I am just going down Main Street to the entrance of Washington Park, then back. It’s about three miles there and back.”
“You always run three miles?” he asks, stretching his arms over his head.
“Usually around five miles; today is just a quick three miles, though.” I see his eyes widen when I mention I normally run further. “I’ll keep my pace steady; just try to keep up,” I say, starting into a slow jog.
“Try to keep up,” he says under his breath as he jogs alongside of me. I keep our pace slow and steady and less of a run; more of a jog. When we finally reach the entrance of Washington Park, I slow to a walk and let him catch his breath.
“So that was three miles?” he asks between breaths.
Chuckling, I keep moving to keep my heart rate up. “No, that was a mile and a half. We still have to run home to get our three miles in.” He stands there with his hands on his hips and his head tilted backwards, continuing to take long, deep breaths. I can tell he’s not used to long-distance running.
“Let’s walk for a bit,” I offer and bump him with my shoulder.
“It’s still hot out here, and I’m thirsty. How do you run every day in this heat?”
“I don’t run every day, but I like running. It helps clear my mind. I just listen to my music and let my feet carry me. Sometimes, I run and don’t even know how I got as far as I did. I like running.” I shrug. He leads us into the parking lot of a convenience store, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Water?” he asks, opening the door. The cool air-conditioning greets us as we walk in, causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. He grabs two waters from the cooler, pays for them, and we retreat back outside to drink them. Dusk is setting in and the streetlights have just turned on as we continue our walk back home.
“So, are you excited to graduate?”
“Sure, I mean, I’ve never disliked high school. I guess I’m just glad to be moving on to college now, you know?”
“Any idea what you’re going to major in?” he asks, taking a long drink from his water bottle.
“I’m thinking about broadcast journalism. It’s always interested me.”
“That’s right up your alley. You’re gorgeous, and your ability to find shit out is impeccable.” He laughs at me.
“Are you making fun of me?” I joke as I bump him with my hip.
“Me, make fun of you? Never.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t stay in Tucson for the summer,” I remark, wondering why he chose to come home this summer.
“Coach wanted me to, but it’s too hot, and…” His voice trails off before he continues. “I don’t know; I guess I just wanted to come home.”
“I’m glad you’re home,” I admit nervously.
“Me too.”
It’s times like this when we’re sharing little pieces of ourselves that I want to be back in his bedroom in Tucson with his lips pressed to mine. I want so badly to know if he thinks about those few minutes we shared, and if they consume him as they have consumed me. Neither of us has discussed the kiss, and I can’t help but assume he thinks it was a mistake. Shaking those thoughts from my head, I ask, “So what are your plans for the summer?” I take another drink of water. Of course, me being clumsy, I spill it down the front of me. Stopping, I screw the lid back on the bottle.
“I don’t know. I was thinking about maybe taking a class or two this summer.” He reaches out and runs his thumb over my bottom lip, catching me off guard.
“Water,” he whispers as he runs his thumb across my chin. His touch is soft and slow, and I want him to do it again.
Trying to appear unaffected, I respond quietly, “But classes you take here won’t transfer back to Arizona, right? These aren’t your general requirements anymore.”
He smiles at me and starts walking. “You’re right; they won’t transfer. This is why you’d be a great reporter; you think quickly and dig for more information.” He chuckles.
“Then why would you take them?”
“Just exploring some different options, I guess. I haven’t decided anything yet.” He smirks at me.
“When do you have to go back to Arizona? Football conditioning starts mid-summer right?” He doesn’t answer immediately. I can tell he’s hesitating.
“Yeah, mid-summer. I’m not sure of the exact date,” he answers quietly, his voice trailing off again. Something is bothering him, but I don’t want to pry. Oh hell, yes I do, but I won’t. He stops momentarily and looks at me. My stomach flips every time our eyes meet. I wonder if he can see how affected I am by him. He reaches his hand out and tucks a piece of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. “Can we not talk about Arizona right now?” he asks quietly.
“Sure.” I drop my eyes from his, hoping that all of my questions didn’t upset him.
“Let’s just walk home. I enjoy talking to you and I can’t do that if we’re running.”
“Okay,” I respond shee
pishly. The twenty-five minutes it takes us to walk the remaining distance home pass too quickly. I could walk and talk to him for forever. Arriving home, I glance across the street to my house.
“Hey, I’m going to shower at home. Tell Mom I’m sorry we missed dinner. I’ll head over as soon as I’m done.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me run with you.”
“You’re welcome to run with me anytime,” I reply nervously. He nods and waits until I’m safely in the house behind a locked door before he leaves.
I strip my clothes off in my bedroom and walk across the hall to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Catching a side glimpse of myself in the full-length door mirror, I stare for a minute. Sighing, I run my hand over my soft stomach, wishing I were as toned as Ava, who has a perfectly flat, hard stomach. Looking up, I move my hands to the one area I have Ava beat¬—boobs. I am blessed with large breasts. While Ava is overall toned and fit, her chest is as flat as a board. I am soft and curvy and have breasts to die for, or so Ava says. I guess the saying is true, “you always want what you don’t have,” and I would love to lose some of my curves.
I turn on the shower and let the water warm up as I brush my teeth. I step into the warm spray and take extra care to loofah my skin, shave my legs and bikini area smooth, and let the conditioner set in my long hair a little longer than I normally do. The scalding water pelts my skin and helps relax my tight muscles.
When I finish my shower, I step out onto the small bathroom rug and dry myself quickly, twisting the same towel around my wet hair, securing it on top of my head. Using my favorite coconut scented lotion, I take extra care to moisturize my entire body.
When I open the bathroom door, my heart jumps to my throat—then stops altogether. Gabe’s hazel eyes shift to mine, but not before looking me up and down, slowly. “What the HELL are you doing here?” I panic, frantically moving my hands to cover my breasts and stomach simultaneously. I’m desperately trying to hide myself, when I finally grab the towel off my head and stretch it out over the front of me.
His mouth twists into a small smile and his eyes light up. “Mom sent me over to find you. She wanted me to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep over here. I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer, so I let myself in. I was just heading to your bedroom to check on you when you opened the bathroom door and flashed me.” He chuckles as if this is funny.
“Gabriel, I did not flash you.” I never call him Gabriel, but I’m pissed. Actually, I’m more embarrassed than pissed. He stands there, smiling at me with his hands on his hips and his eyes fixed on the short towel that is covering me. “Can you wait in the living room while I get dressed and grab my things for school tomorrow?” I ask with a harsh tone.
When he turns his back and begins walking down the hallway, I quickly step into my room, shutting the door behind me. My heart is racing as I try to calm myself down. I quickly throw on some clothes and toss extra clothes for school tomorrow in my bag. I slip into my flip-flops, take a deep breath, and slowly open my bedroom door.
Standing in the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest, he looks up and our eyes meet. I blush and nervously drop my eyes to the floor as I move to walk past him. His hand reaches out and catches my arm, abruptly stopping me.
“What, Gabe?” I whisper, my voice full of embarrassment as I raise my head and our eyes meet again. His brown eyes shift back and forth between mine, down to my lips, and back up again.
“I don’t want you to feel awkward about what happened. I didn’t know you were going to open the door and be naked.” His eyes stay focused directly on mine, and I hear the sincerity in his voice. “You’re beautiful, Jess. I’m not gonna lie; it’s going to be hard for me to fall asleep tonight with the image of you standing in the doorway so fresh in my memory.”
Gabe thinks I’m beautiful? I’ve always felt like he looked at me like he would a sister. Not attractive, not beautiful, just—there.
My mouth falls open as I try to gather my thoughts to speak.
“Gabe, I….”
“Shhh…Let’s go.” He presses his finger to my mouth, letting go of my arm. He pulls my bag off of my shoulder and carries it, motioning towards the door. “We better get home before Mom sends the police looking for both of us,” he says, smirking.
We walk quietly across the street and in the front door of his house. Gabe hands me my bag, and his hand brushes against mine, sending a wave of chills over me. He walks over to Mom and bends down to give her a hug and kiss goodnight while mumbling something about trying to get some sleep tonight. Rolling my eyes, I wave and say goodnight to Gabe’s parents. I fly up the stairs two at a time and run into my room. As I shut the door behind me, I throw my bag on the floor and fall onto the bed in dramatic fashion.
“What’s wrong?” Ava mumbles from her bed, her face buried in a book.
“Everything!” I say, covering my face with a pillow to hide my smile. I hear her book smack the nightstand and suddenly feel my bed sink. Ava tugs at the pillow over my face and I hold onto it tighter.
“Let it go!” she squeals.
“No.”
“Dammit, Jess.” She yanks it again, this time pulling it from my grasp. Tossing the pillow behind her, she rakes her eyes over me in concern.
“Doesn’t look like you’re upset,” she observes.
“I’m not upset.”
“Then why did you say ‘everything’ was wrong?”
“You’re really nosy. You know that, right?” I laugh.
“You’re really evasive. You know that, right?” She grabs the pillow from behind her and tosses it to the top of my bed. She lies down next to me and we lie in silence, staring at the ceiling for a minute like we used to do when we were little girls.
“Can you believe we graduate in two days?” she whispers.
“Yes and no.”
“I’m really going to miss you when I leave for Stanford,” she says quietly.
Ava has been my best friend, and the closest thing to a sister that I will ever know. The thought of not seeing her every day pulls at my heart. “I’m really going to miss you too,” I say, keeping my emotions in check. “Now get off my bed and leave me alone,” I demand as I toss a small throw pillow at her, trying to lighten the mood.
“Tell me why you can’t stop smiling and I will.”
“Goodnight, Ava,” I say, rolling over.
“It’s obviously been a good night for you,” she says, climbing into her bed.
“Love you, Ava.”
“Love you too. You know I’m going to find out why you’re smiling, right?”
“Goodnight,” I say again with a little giggle.
“Goodnight, Jess.”
Chapter 2
Gabe
“Fuck,” I mutter, stretching before getting into the shower. When I decided to go for a run with Jess, I didn’t expect to run a mile and a half. I may be a football player, a damn good one, but I am NOT a fucking cross-country runner. I haven’t done much cardio conditioning since the season ended last November. I love spending time with Jess, though, and I’d gladly run again tomorrow as long as I get to spend time with her—alone.
Watching her run about kills me. She has these legs that go on forever, and I can’t stop thinking about having those long legs wrapped around me and all the things I want to do to her. She is perfection in my eyes with her soft olive skin and huge green eyes. She’s lean, yet curvy, with breasts that any man would die to get his hands on. It’s hard not to think about raking my hands and tongue over every square inch of that body when I’m with her.
Never in a million years did I expect to see her naked tonight. As I let the warm water run over me, all I can think about is what I saw when she opened her bathroom door. The images of her body, the curve of her hips, and the way her breasts hung keep replaying through my mind like a slide show. I’m as hard as a fucking rock, and it’s killing me to know that she’s lying in the room across the hall, so close—yet out o
f reach.
I struggle a bit with the feelings I have for her. Part of me thinks I should stop thinking about her like this—she’s practically my sister, for fuck’s sake, but she’s not my sister. She’s fair game, and I want her to be mine. For months, I’ve pushed thoughts of her to the back of my mind and fought the temptation to act on what I’ve been feeling out of fear. Fear that she looks at me as nothing more than an older brother, an older brother that crossed a line last fall in Arizona when I took a small taste of her. But tonight, after I told her she was beautiful, I saw that fire in her eyes, and that’s not something you have for your brother. I know she wants more.
Finishing up my shower, I wrap a towel around my waist. As I stop just outside the bathroom door, I see a small stream of light sneaking out from under the bedroom door where she is lying. She’s still awake. Touching the door, I’m tempted to knock—just to see her, to hear her voice, but doubt seeps through and I think better of it.
Lying in bed, I try to count sheep, run algebra problems in my head; anything to try to sleep so that I stop thinking about her and all of the things I want to do to her. No matter what I do, she consumes my thoughts. I see her lips, the small mole on her cheek, her green eyes. Dammit!
Reaching over to my nightstand, I grab my phone and I start typing a new text message to her. Pounding out a few words, I lay the phone on the pillow next to me and roll over to try to go to sleep, but when I close my eyes, there she is again.
Chapter 3
Jess
When I wake up, I feel refreshed— happy. I’m rarely happy in the morning; in fact, I try not to think most mornings. Reaching my arms above my head, I stretch. My muscles were hurting last night, but this morning, I feel great.
It’s Friday, the day before Ava and I graduate. School is officially done, but Ava has volunteered both of us to set up the gym for tomorrow’s graduation ceremony. Lying here, I think about the last fourteen years and how grateful I am to the Garcias. I only remember bits and pieces of my mom, but I look at all the pictures of her and me together and can’t help but wonder what today would be like if she were here.