Page 24 of Black Roses

I’ve never run a full marathon before, just a couple of half ones last year for various benefits. But the only qualification I really needed, other than the available slot, was a decent pledge amount and a promise to be able to finish in under six hours. I’ve been training hard with Trick, so I figure I can do it in a little more than half that time. In fact, my one mission today is to catch up to the mercurial princess, watch her fabulous behind for a mile or so, and then beat the black spandex running pants right off her gorgeous body.

I saw her before the race, but she didn’t speak to me. I could tell she was mortified over what happened the other night. She all but ignored me. I told myself it wasn’t me; that it was the crowd. And maybe the nerves she was feeling over the possibility of losing and having to hold up her end of the deal.

For a minute, I even contemplate losing on purpose just to see what she would ask for. But despite my curiosity, and the very tiny part of me that wants to see her cross the finish line ahead of me, I still know that, being a guy, I’d rather have her see me as this strong alpha-male type, not the pussy who got beat by a five-foot-nothing girl who is half his weight soaking wet.

And I really want a date.

The gun sounds, but there isn’t much movement in the herd. I suppose it takes a while for almost ten thousand runners to get started. There are officials trying to keep eager participants from trampling others in their quest to fulfill their dream of running in this momentous race. Finally, we creep forward; a pack of sardines vying for position in a too-tight space. It makes me wonder how Piper is handling the crowd. I’ve never felt so claustrophobic. I noticed she had her earbuds and iPod with her this morning. Although it’s discouraged by the race organizers, and forbidden among those going for prize money, it may be the one thing that allows her to get through marathons despite her distaste for crowds.

I, on the other hand, am not listening to music today. I’ll admit, it’s therapeutic, and it does get me through grueling runs on the treadmill. But I know I will thrive on the incessant crowd noise. Just like when I’m playing in a game, the noise is encouraging. Motivating. It’s what will get me across that finish line. Well, that and the impending date with the woman who manages to both infuriate me and get me hard in the same goddamn breath.

It doesn’t take me long to advance my position, weaving in and out, passing the slower runners and leaving them in my wake. Occasionally, I’ll hear a pointed shout from someone in the crowd who recognizes me. I’ll tip my chin or wave at them, but after a few miles, I find my stride and get consumed with thoughts of the past weekend.

I lost a lot of sleep Friday night, worrying about Piper. I know she was drunk, and she does seem to have her issues with men, but what could have driven her to hit the poor valet who was just trying to help me with her? It’s like she was lost in a dream—or living a nightmare.

When I called Skylar the next day to check on her, I was invited to dinner at the townhouse. A dinner Piper would not be attending because she was scheduled to work. Griffin and Skylar often have me over, taking pity on the bachelor who can’t even boil pasta correctly. I lose myself in my punishing pace and the memory of that night.

“I can’t believe she hit him!” Skylar said. “She said nothing to me about it this morning. She left early for a run and then went to her shift at the restaurant.”

“I don’t know what happened. One minute I was carrying a drunken Piper with sore feet, limp in my arms, and the next she was flailing around, batting blindly at us when he helped me with her.” I put my fork down and stared meaningfully at Skylar. I wasn’t sure if she knew about Charlie and I didn’t intend to betray Piper’s trust, but I wanted to figure out what was going on with her. “Has anything happened to Piper? You know, to make her the way she is around men?”

“As in, has anyone hurt her?” Skylar studied me, pondering her own question. “Um . . . I don’t think so. She’s just never been much into guys before. In fact, Baylor and I thought she was gay until we saw the way she was with you.”

“The way she was with me?” I asked, innocently.

Griffin laughed, joining the conversation as he put a juicy hamburger on my plate. “Oh, come on, Dix, the girl is smitten. Even if she won’t admit it to herself, it’s pretty obvious to the rest of us.”

I smiled at the affirmation. I’d suspected as much, but hearing it from them, it made me want to pound my chest like a goddamn gorilla.

“Still, not being into men doesn’t exactly explain what happened the other night,” I said.

“I don’t know.” Skylar got up to refill my water glass. “She changed a lot when she did that semester abroad her junior year. I suppose something could’ve happened then, but you think she’d have told us. We were really close. She came back a different person, but we just thought it was the experience that changed her.”

“Different how?” I asked.

“When she came back, all she wanted to do was work in the restaurant to make money for traveling. She stopped helping with Maddox and spent all her time with Charlie or at Mitchell’s. She even quit studying theater. She was all about acting before that, wanting to earn a scholarship to a school of the arts. But after she came back, she didn’t audition for a single production. She was obsessed with her plans to travel after graduation.”

“She used to act?” I recalled Piper saying Charlie’s mom used to be an actress. Did that have anything to do with her turning her back on it?

Skylar’s face lit up with pride. “Yes. She was good, too. Even from the time we were little, she was always dressing up and performing monologues for us. I remember she got the lead role as Anne Frank when she was only a sophomore. She was really talented. Baylor and I kept telling her she was wasting all that talent following a pipe-dream to travel the world. We knew she would go incredible places, but we always figured acting would be what would take her there. I mean, she was only making slightly more than minimum wage at the restaurant, so how could she afford to go? We were shocked when Mom and Dad said they were going to let her use her college fund for traveling. They had always been adamant about their kids getting a college education, yet they gave her carte blanche with the money they’d saved for years.”

“Skylar, having a passion for travel is one thing,” I said. “But doesn’t it strike you as odd that she came back a completely different person than she was before she went away?”

“You said it yourself, Mason. When we talked about her before, you said life is different overseas. People are different. I think she just found the place where she thought she fit in more than she did here. She was always a wanderer, a gypsy, but we assumed it was all part of her creative process.” Skylar took a drinkfrom the beer I rejected, being only two days before the race. She blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Maybe it was partly my fault. By that time, I was in college myself, commuting into the city to get my degree in restaurant management. It consumed me, and when I wasn’t studying, I was partying. I suppose I kind of hung her out to dry.”

Griffin grabbed her hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Sky. People grow up and change, and there isn’t a darn thing you can do about it.”

As the miles go by, I think about Griffin’s words. People do change.Ichanged. In college, I used to be that cocky football player Piper thinks I still am, sleeping with any woman who would lift her skirt for me. It took something huge, something monumental, something completely unthinkable and life-altering to get me to change my ways. It took Hailey. And although I agree with Skylar that Piper’s semester abroad could have changed her, I feel there’s more to it than that. I wonder if there is more to the Charlie story than what she’s telling me. What if Piper was abused by the mother’s drunken friends, too?

My stomach turns over thinking about another man’s hands violating her. I run faster, trying to catch up to her. With every step, I vow to protect her. With every labored breath, I promise to keep her safe. With every drip of sweat, I swear to become the reason she remains in New York.

Around the three hour mark, I spot her. Even among the many clusters of runners and the endless sea of competitors, I find her. I should know what she looks like from behind, I’ve watched her enough at the gym this past month, much more than I’ve led her to believe. I would know her backside anywhere.

In a very Piper-like manner, she’s running alone, away from the pack and off to one side. I slow my pace so I don’t catch up, watching her from behind as I admire the fluid grace she exhibits with every pounding stride. Her tight running pants hug every demure curve of her hips and ass. Her light-green tank top reveals a line of sweat between her shoulder blades that have gotten more defined thanks to Trick’s punishing workouts. Her bi-colored ponytail bobs up and down, the stray wisps of hair being held back by a headband that matches her shirt. She’s gorgeous. Statues should be made from her alluring mold. If my body wasn’t almost at its breaking point, I’m sure I would be tenting my running shorts by the mere sight of her.

It’s now when I realize the race is almost finished. Barely more than a mile to go, according to my running watch that I’ve completely ignored. While competitors have been falling behind, dropping out and cramping up, time has flown by for me, thoughts of Piper fueling my every step. If I can run a marathon at the simple thought of her, I can only imagine what I could do with her by my side.

I come up next to her and pace her for a second, eyeing her in my periphery. Finally, she seems to notice I’m here. A devious smile curves her sweat-laden face. She pulls an earbud from her ear. “It’s about time,” she says.

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