Page 36 of Wicked Serve

I groan, flopping my head back. “No. No way.”

“What? It’s cardio.”

“It’s horrible cardio, unlike swimming, which is wonderful.”

“They’re not really that different.”

“The fact you don’t think they’re different makes you the weird one.”

“There’s a trail the next town over that I’ve been meaning to check out.” He winds his arm around me. “I’ll run at your pace, sunshine. It’ll be fun.”

I narrow my eyes. The words fun and run should not go together, even if they rhyme. There’s a reason why I never went running with Nik in Central Park, despite repeated invitations and attempts at bribery. Of course I can run; I’ve gone on runs with my family for years, but it’s so boring. And yet... if the choice this morning is between spending time with him on some stupid trail or not having it at all, I know my answer. I didn’t wake up early and sneak out of the house for nothing.

“Fine. But you’re buying me pancakes after.”

His fingers dig into my hip. “Sure.”

“Chocolate chip pancakes. Like, the huge ones that take up the whole plate.”

“Got it.”

“And a pumpkin spice latte.” I smile at him sweetly. “Even if you think it’s an affront to coffee.”

“Any other demands?” he says, mouth twitching.

I pretend to think, tilting my head to the side. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind throwing in a few orgasms...”

I trail off as he makes a low noise, looking every bit the wolf to my rabbit. “Run, Isabelle.”

Spoiler alert: it’s not fun. We’ve been running for fifteen minutes, and I’m already sweaty, aching, and vaguely itchy. But Nik is clearly having a great time, and I know he’s slowing his pace for me, so I just smile and focus on sticking to the path. I’ll bet that when he goes on runs by himself, he tracks his blood oxygen levels and eats that gross gel stuff for the electrolytes.

October’s in full swing now, so the forest around us looks like a box of jewels, each glowing shade more beautiful than the last. At least I’m warm enough that the chilly morning air feels pleasant. It’s not the pool, but it’s something.

I give him an appreciative look. He’s ridiculously easy on the eyes when he’s like this. I never thought the leggings-plus-athletic-shorts look was an especially hot one, but clearly, I wasn’t checking out the right guys. Combined with the way his hair flops invitingly over his forehead and his fitted black T-shirt, I need to be careful I don’t run right into a ditch.

“Chuck and Blair are getting together, right?”

I arch an eyebrow as I dodge a tree root. “You’ll have to watch and see.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“When I asked about Dan and Serena, you gave me a straight answer.”

“So?”

“So, I know Blair’s your favorite, which means you want to keep what happens to her a secret, to watch my reactions.” He laughs at the expression on my face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“To be fair, basically everyone dates on that show at some point. It’s the most incestuous friend group ever.” I dance around a puddle, grimacing when the toe of my shoe gets wet. “And yes, I will judge if you don’t have the right reactions to Queen B.”

“I can’t get over how I’m supposed to believe they’re in high school.”

“I went to a Long Island version of Constance, but the biggest scandal we dealt with was the art teacher trying to pass off a student’s work as her own.” I poke him in the side. “What about you?”

“You should talk to Cricket, not me. She went to Dalton.”

“Isn’t Dalton coed? You didn’t go there, too?”

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