Page 9 of My First Time Fling

“Three miles is a perfect place to start,” Mark said. “And honestly, I’m not that fast. Or competitive. I just thought it sounded like a good hobby to fill my time with. But no worries. I’m not trying to pressure you into—”

“Oh, just do it already,” Brooklyn said, and both Mark and I turned to look at him. He raised his eyebrows and looked back at each of us in turn. “It sounds like you both need something to do. At least, I knowyoudo,” he said, pointing at me, “and don’t try to deny it.”

“Hush, you.” I shot him a dirty look, then turned back to Mark. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not doing this for our own good, he’s just afraid I’ll leave town and leave him without his cocktail source, and he’s desperately trying to find ways to get me to stick around.”

“You’re moving?” Mark blinked. “I didn’t realize. You definitely shouldn’t put off moving just to run a marathon with me.”

“Well, I’m not like,movingmoving. It’s just something I’m thinking about,” I reassured him, marvelling at the words coming out of my mouth. Thirty minutes ago, I’d been pretty convinced I was going to move back to Florida as soon as I could, and now I was thinking about putting it off for the indefinite future? Seriously, what was wrong with me?

That was an easy question to answer, though, when I actually thought it through.

After a month of feeling sorry for myself, and at the end of a terrible day, a hot, funny, hot, nice, did I mentionhotguy was not just talking to me, but telling me he wanted me to stay in town so he could train with me multiple times a week for the next few months.

What else was I supposed to do but develop an immediate, overwhelming crush?

“Oh. Well, then in that case, you should definitely stay,” Mark said, and when he smiled, his eyes lit up, and my breath caught again. This was not good. “Because now that I know you can make a killer cocktail, what the hell am I drinking this beer for?”

He held up his nearly empty glass, and I laughed. “I promise, I’m a good tipper,” he added, and I felt something inside me shift. Was I really doing this?

“You’re sure you’re serious?” I asked him. “You want to run a marathon with a total stranger? Who sucks at running? And is probably going to whine and complain the entire time?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life,” he said, smiling blithely.

“I doubt that,” I told him. But dammit, his eyes. His smile. His whole…everything. I knew better. I really did. I did not have the best track record with men, and jumping straight from a breakup with my ex to an irretrievable crush on a guy of undetermined sexuality wasnotlikely to improve things. “But I guess I don’t have a good reason to say no.”

“Spoken like a true champion.”

“Spoken like someone who is probably going to annoy the shit out of you the first time we go for a run together,” I said. “But I don’t actually have a job lined up back in Florida, so I suppose I’m not in a hurry to be unemployed.”

“I’ll take it.” Mark grinned. “And I promise, we’ll do nice slow training runs with lots of water breaks. I’ll go easy on you.”

Go easy on me?

Fat chance. I’d already fallen. Hard.

4

Mark

“Oh God, I think I’m dying,” Jesse gasped as we rounded a curve on the running path. Downtown Savannah wasn’t a super hilly area, but the path we’d taken wound its way out of town and into a park that had a bit of elevation. The incline wasn’t steep, but it was continuous.

“It flattens out soon, I promise.” I glanced at Jesse to make sure he looked alright. His cheeks were flushed, which made his high cheekbones stand out even more, and his eyes were bright with exertion.

He blew a stray piece of hair up off his forehead from where it had flopped down into his eyes, and I had to stop myself from laughing. For all that he was complaining, he actually looked pretty good. Not that I was looking at him likethat. But just, generally speaking.

“You don’t look like you’re dying,” I added.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he huffed. “I’m dying. Trust me.”

I laughed. “We’re not that far from my place. If you want, we can swing by there for a water break.”

“Oh my God, yes, please.” Jesse threw me a grateful look, and a weird feeling shot through me—a jolt of something hot and sweet in my core. Maybe I was getting a cramp.

“Come on,” I said, angling us towards a cross street. “We can turn in here. It’s not much farther.”

“I’m thanking every running deity in existence,” Jesse said as we turned, and the route flattened out a bit. “You didn’t warn me there were going to be so many hills on this route. I’m congenitally unable to run hills, I think. My inner Floridian can’t handle them.”

“Coastal Georgia isn’t exactly the Alps.”

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