Page 15 of Come Fly with Me

“I think you have things a little wrong here, Taylor. I’ve spent a total of twelve hours with you and already you fucking own me. You don’t even realize it, but it’s me who’s on my knees.”

I swallow hard, trying to process his words, but also knowing the attraction was there right from the get-go. I tried to ignore it, but it was nearly explosive in that small corridor of the pilots’ lounge and after spending today with him it has only grown.

“You don’t want me, Jake. I’m messy. And after what that flight attendant said to you outside the hotel, I can’t believe you’re even still here.”

I’m now standing on the sides of the treadmill as the belt hums methodically, drowning out the sound of our labored breathing. Both our chests are rising and falling rapidly, and I can’t imagine it has anything to do with running.

He stops, turning his body so he’s now facing me, his eyes burning with desire and mine mirroring uncertainty back at him.

“We all have our vices, Taylor. Maybe you’re mine.”

“It only takes one vice to drown out all your virtues.”

“Then let me drown.”

The gym was supposed to cool things down, make it so I could sleep tonight, but this has taken a turn toward crazy town and this train is moving far faster than I want it to.

All aboard…next stop my hotel room! Where minding the gap has a whole different meaning.

I shake my head, attempting to clear my now-clouded head and remind myself what started this whole conversation.

“Your wager?” I ask, my words muttered on a hard exhale as the seriousness of his words hang heavy in the air.

“Ah, yes, that’s where we were,” he says, as if he’s just as grateful for the change. “I was saying, for every mile I run faster than you, you give me an hour of your time tomorrow. That doesn’t include breakfast because we already finalized those plans.” He winks at me, proud of his ability to clarify all loose ends.

“I was a cross-country runner,” I shoot back, holding my head a little higher. “What happens if I outrun you?”

“I guess you’re off the hook then. But I don’t see that happening. In the Air Force, everyone has to choose a sport. I’ll give you one guess as to what mine was.”

“Interpretive dance?” Now it’s me who’s smirking at him, and he shifts a little, a hand shoved into the pocket of his gym shorts.

“Just run, Taylor,” he growls, upping the speed of his treadmill, but the smile he’s trying to hide slips through, and he gets a head start on me.

“That’s not fair!” I yell, my words echoing in the nearly empty gym. “You’re very distracting!”

“And you’re not? For fuck’s sake, I’ve been watching your tits bouncing for the last ten minutes.”

I burst out laughing and pull my tank over my head, tossing it on the floor in front of me so I’m only running in a sports bra and shorts.

“Who’s the cheater now?” he calls out, mimicking my move and pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his tanned and muscular body that is now glistening with sweat.

Fuck me, I’m going to lose!

I up my speed, glancing over at Jake’s display as I see he’s only a few seconds ahead of me. I’m running faster than I ever have, my arms pumping, my feet slamming hard against the belt, but despite all this, he comes up ahead on that first mile.

“Fuck yeah!” he screams out, throwing a fist in the air. “Take that! One hour!”

It’s hard to concentrate, the tears from my laughter now stream down my cheeks as I watch him celebrate.

“That’s only the first mile. I’m going to fucking annihilate you on the next nine.” I point a finger at him and narrow my eyes. What he doesn’t know is I’m highly competitive, but I’d have spent tomorrow with him regardless. I just want the bragging rights.

Our faces are flushed, our chests heaving and our bodies are dripping with sweat, but neither one of us slows, if anything I’ve gotten faster and when I look over, I’m only a tenth of a second behind Jake for mile two.

I pull in a deep breath and push myself harder. He will not win this one, and when we hit mile two, it’s me who takes it.

“Yes!” I scream out. “Suck it, Campbell!”

“Fuck!” he yells back, his hand slamming against the handle of the treadmill, but his pace never slows, his form never falters.

---