Page 11 of A Hard Sell

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Sunday dawned bright and clear, although with a definite late September chill in the air. Luka put on his run shirt and a hoodie, and, after a brief internal debate, shorts. His summer tan was still valiantly hanging in, and he might as well show it off. The starting line was at a park not far from his place, so he decided to walk for a good warm-up. He bought a coffee along the way and found himself smiling at nothing in particular, energized and looking forward to the day.

He joined a growing stream of racers as they approached the park, then tracked down the Breakpoint group under a tent with their name on it. Finn was in peak form, making the rounds, cracking jokes and handing out stickers and balloons for the kids.

Morgan was also there, sweatbands on his foreheadandwrists, running belt around his waist, carrying two water bottles and multiple packs of protein gel. He was alternating between jogging in place and swinging his arms around in gigantic circles. His running shoes were glowing white, clearly experiencing their first contact with the outside world.

Luka rolled his eyes and waved at Tawney when he saw her chatting with Ilona. He turned in a nonchalant circle. Thomas should be easy to spot over the crowd but he was nowhere to be found. Then, just when he was worried that Thomas wasn’t going to make it, the bodies parted in front of him, and there he was, crouched down helping a little boy tie his balloon.

When he stood, Luka saw it in slow motion, his brain clinging to the long black lines of Thomas’ running tights, thick legs unfolding and stretching on forever, muscles rippling under the shining fabric. Luka gulped, short on air. Finn had indeed found an XXL shirt for him, which was at its breaking point over his shoulders and chest, but loose around his waist.Howwas the word that came to mind.How is he possible?

“Hey,” Luka said as they met, willing his eyes to stay on Thomas’ face.

“Good morning, Luka.”

The man was a fucking god, descended from a sacred mountaintop, swathed in fabric spun from midnight, skin burnished and glowing…absolute divine perfection.Am I drooling?Then he shook his head to clear it.Shit, Luka. Get it together. You’re here to fund cancer research, for God’s sake. Now is not the time for your dick to be in charge.

But before he could say anything else, Finn climbed up on a chair and called for their attention. “Welcome to Breakpoint’s fifth annual 5K for Hope!” He paused for a round of enthusiastic applause while Luka imagined he could feel the heat from Thomas’ body standing so close to his. “Thanks to your fundraising efforts and a last-minute anonymous donation, we have smashed our previous best for a total of just over twenty-six-thousand dollars!”

The cheering grew louder.

“You’re all making a real impact! Don’t forget to stay for the closing ceremony, drink lots of water and have fun out there!”

A pair of bubbly blonds bounded onto the main stage to lead the group in a warm-up. Luka’s eyes were drawn back to Thomas’ legs. The sharp lines of his calf muscles looked like they were carved from marble. Thomas was bouncing up and down on his toes, light as a feather, then lifting each foot back one at a time to stretch his quads. Luka tried not to stare when Thomas lunged into a calf stretch. Luka did his best to copy his movements instead.

“You a runner?” Thomas asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“Oh, you know… Sometimes.” He had run from the subway just a few days ago, hadn’t he? Luka normally walked the race with the families and dogs and strollers toward the back, but…the idea of keeping up with Thomas in those tights was appealing. It was only five kilometers, the shortest of all the charity run distances. How hard could it be?

They followed the herd to the start line, but ended up toward the back, losing their friends—and Morgan—in the crowd. One of the blonds counted down the start, then sent them off with a whoop.

He fell into stride with Thomas, enjoying the morning sun warming his shoulders and the explosion of brilliant red, yellow and orange leaves all around them, sharp against the searing blue sky. The first kilometer that looped around the park was okay…sort of. Thomas seemed to be setting a brisk pace and Luka’s body grew heavy quickly. He pulled off his hoodie and tied it around his waist as his temperature spiked. The ache in his thighs was concerning as Thomas breezed right on by the first water station.

The ache extended well beyond his thighs by the second kilometer. Particularly into his lungs. He was also sweating, a lot. Thomas looked like he had just leaped from the pages of a high-end running catalogue. Not even a single drop of sweat marred his chiseled brow line as he cast a sideways glance at Luka. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Luka gasped. He would have added more—a breezy ‘Just a bit rusty!’ or ‘Hammies are a little tight, is all’—if he had any oxygen to spare.

By the third kilometer, Luka was suffering profoundly, ready to find a hole he could crawl into and die if he had the energy for doing anything beyond collapsing right there on the pavement.

Which he got a chance to do when a dog of indeterminate but trendy breed—a something-doodle, no doubt—changed directions ahead of him, its neon pink leash stretched out across Luka’s path.

Had he not been near death’s door, off-balance and hand pressed to the sharp pain in his side, it would have been a small matter of sidestepping it. But his legs didn’t respond to his brain’s sluggish command in time, and he went right over the leash, elbow-first onto the road. The owner lost her grip and the dog yipped and bolted, fleeing across the street.

“Luka!” Thomas said with alarm, hovering over him in an instant. The stream of joggers parted around them as he knelt next to Luka’s sprawled figure. One hand came to rest on Luka’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” the dog owner cried at them as she chased after her dog and vanished.

Luka grimaced. His elbow and knee were hurting something fierce, the skin scraped open on the gravel, bright red blood welling up. But his ego was in much worse shape.Can I do anything right?Thomas was already signaling a race official.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Luka protested, trying to scramble to his feet, mortified.

“Easy,” Thomas said, locking eyes with Luka. “Let’s make sure you’re all right.”

Luka swallowed hard, settling back into the pavement. “Okay.” Thomas’ eyes were molten gold, impossible to look away from. He forgot about the stinging wounds for a moment, and just felt…safe.

He tore his eyes away when a woman wearing a First Aid uniform approached and gave him a quick, calm assessment. Once she had determined that everything was as it should be, minus the scrapes, she began cleaning and bandaging them.

Still embarrassed, Luka looked up at Thomas standing and waiting as she worked. “Really, you should go on ahead.”

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