Page 4 of Resisting the Running Back

“Do you want to talk about what happened with Tyler?” I ask as I walk back to the Bellagio rather than asking if she remembers.

“We’ve just been growing apart for a while now, so I ended things.”

“And?” I ask. Sophie is a badass. She’s not the type to sit around crying, which tells me that he did something.

Something bad.

“And, uh…it’s a long story.”

“But you called me,” I point out.

“Yeah. Are you really coming to Phoenix?”

“I’m walking into my hotel to grab my suitcase right now,” I say.

“I’m so sorry for ruining your trip. For ruining your birthday.”

“You’re not,” I say softly. If anything, getting to see her is the only gift I could ask for this year. You know…aside from learning she ended things with that asshole.

“Let me know when you land. I’ll pick you up.”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I ask since that’s the reason she’s not in Vegas celebrating with me tonight.

Apparently that was the wrong question. She bursts into tears, and I realize I need to get a move on.

I rush through the hotel to the elevator. “Fuck, Soph. What did I say? I’m sorry. Let me book a flight, and I’ll call you right back.”

She sobs out some reply, and what the hell am I walking into?

I don’t have any idea.

I pull up flights on the elevator. I book the first one I find. It leaves in a half hour, so I bust my ass packing my shit and rushing out to the valet, where I offer a decent sum of money to get me to the airport quickly. They offer me the hotel limo, and I get to the gate as they make the final call for boarding.

I realize in all the rushing that I didn’t call her back, but I slip into airplane mode, pay for the WiFi, and shoot her a text as the plane pulls back from the gate.

Me:I’m on a plane. Landing at 11:45.

Sophie:I’ll be at the usual doors.

Me:Just be safe. No driving and crying.

Sophie:No promises.

I text her again when the plane touches down, and once the doors open, I run through the airport with the suitcase I carried on to get to her.

She’s waiting there where she said she’d be. Dependable as always.

She rushes around the car and practically attacks me with a hug, and I drop my suitcase and hold her tightly to me.

I lean down and draw in a deep breath, the warm scent of her shampoo wrapping around me and climbing into my chest the way it always does. It’s a clean scent, fresh and a little fruity, like a summer garden. It’s the same way she has smelled since the day I met her, and any time I catch a whiff of it, I’mimmediately transported to this spot right here—no, not the airport, but a place with her in my arms.

She just…fits. She’s maybe eight inches shorter than me, and her body just seems to nestle right into mine as she leans her head against my chest, and I hold her in my arms where she belongs.

She draws in a deep breath, and I have the strongest urge to lean down and kiss her.

It’s the same urge I’ve fought for half my life now.

I met her when I was fourteen—our freshman year of high school. We were in the same English class, and we would laugh together every single day. Our friendship grew from there.

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