Page 65 of It Should Have Been Me

“That’s a fuck no from me.” I think about flipping over onto my back, but I’m too tired. Instead, I stay on my stomach, adjust my pillow, and smoosh my face into it so I can go back to sleep.

“Please.”

“Did you just take a thirty-minute cab ride all the way here to go for a run?”

“Yes! C’mon, it will be fun.”

“What time is it?” I groan tiredly.

“It’s a quarter to seven.”

“A quarter to seven? Are you out of your goddamn mind? Some of us who have normal jobs like to sleep in on our days off. I’m not going for a run at a fucking quarter to seven.”

“Well, you spent so much time complaining that it’s ten to seven now. C’mon. Get up. Get up. Get up!” She hops off the bed and tugs my arm until my tired body is halfway to the edge of the bed. “Get your ass out of bed!”

I honestly forgot what a nag she was. “Jesus! Fine. I’m up.”

It’s only when I rub the sleep from my eyes and get out of bed that I see she’s already in running gear and there’s a small bag in the corner of my room. I assume a change of clothes is in there. She certainly came prepared.

I make a quick job of brushing my teeth and changing, pulling on a cap as I walk back to my kitchen. Twisting it back to front, I head for the fridge. After taking out two bottles of water, we do some light warm-up stretches. This is something we used to do together, and I’m trying really hard not to read into the familiarity of the situation. Yesterday, she made it very clear that there’s no chance for us, so...why is she here?

I don’t question it, though. Instead, I walk with her to the back exit of my apartment building that leads directly to the beach. We head toward The Strand, which is the running path along the ocean that eventually leads to the Venice Boardwalk. We take in the sights and the early morning sun.

Once we reach the boardwalk, we take a break, catch our breaths and check out some of the street performers before we start running back. Despite the early hour, it’s already scorching hot. We’re drenched in sweat, but thankfully, my apartment building is already in view.

“I can finally pick up Rocky next Tuesday,” I say as our feet thump against the ground.

“That’s great. How’s it going to work in your apartment, though? He’s got no room.”

“Well, we’re on the beach, so it’s easy enough to step outside. Plus, I also have the top floor, so I have roof access. I converted the whole thing into a little garden for him. The grass is fake, but there’s sufficient space for him to run around. It’ll be a nice chill spot for the two of us.”

“You can show me when we get back.”

I don’t confirm or deny her request because I’m still not sure what the hell is going on. I thought she just came for the run, so I assumed she’d be leaving once we were done.

Stepping into my apartment building is a cool reprieve from the oppressive heat, and I’m huffing hard as we step into the elevator. Bending over slightly, I place my hands above my knees to catch my breath.

Her golden bronzed skin is damp and glistening, her dark curls clinging to her neck. Those perky tits rise and fall in time with her quickened breathing, and my eyes rove over every voluptuous curve. This woman is stunning. Everything about her is pure perfection.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She smirks and gives me a naughty wink.

“It’s a little hard when you’re dressed like that.”

Heat and tension rise between us, and she awkwardly clears her throat. “Why don’t we end off with abs and burpees?”

“Sure.”

The elevator dings, the doors open, and both of us walk to my living room.

We do three sets, ten reps of burpees with a thirty-second break in between, then move on to five sets, twenty reps of various ab exercises. I miss doing this with her. We move from one exercise to another in unison. Whether it’s working out, dancing, or sex, our bodies find a way to synchronize with each other. After we’re done with abs, she walks a few feet to the kitchen for another bottle of water. She takes a few gulps as she whips out her phone so we can catch the last hour of theCrude Awakening.

I move into pushups, also intending to do five sets, twenty reps with a one-minute plank to break up each set. Between my first and second sets, Cat returns to the living room.

“You want some extra resistance?” she asks, kicking off her sneakers.

This is another thing she used to do while we were working out together, and once again, I don’t call her out on it. “Okay.”

She walks over to lie on my back. As I straighten my arms for the second set, she hooks her feet up on my ass cheeks, resting her head between my shoulder blades, and makes herself comfortable, like she’s getting ready to read a good book.

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