Page 5 of Rome: The Ballerina

“Tell us?”

“You wouldn’t be joining me this morning?”

“Hm?” August asked.

“Of course he didn’t. He told you to pretend I was alone.”

“Well, in our defen–”

“Quiet, Koen. You don’t have a defense.” I sighed. “Did you at least sign up?”

He nodded. “We did.”

“Good.”

I headed toward the street, prepared to strike out. Low protests began behind me. I turned around, wondering what was going on.

“Yes?” I questioned.

“Why aren’t you taking the car?” August wanted to know.

“I need a pre-work out before the actual workout. A warm up.”

“The meet up is two miles away,” Koen informed me.

“I’m aware.”

“How will we get back?”

“The same way we came,” I assured them.

Instant regret covered their faces. Victory would be mine soon. Patience was the key.

“Bal–”

I pressed play on my cell, drowning out their moans and groans as their faces fell flat with regret. If I were lucky enough, they’d give up before the start of the group run. However, I knew the nature of their punishment if they did, so my chances were slim to none. Nevertheless, I’d try my hardest to get them to tap out. If not both, one would suffice.

SZA settled in my spirit as I conquered the path to the meetup. The inclination of Clarke initiated the burn that felt so familiar, I almost missed it. Most late nights as I lie in bed, I craved it. Movement was one of my love languages. Not for others, but for self.

I was fluent in fluidity when it came to Rome Childers. Maintaining my mobility and exercising the privilege made me feel alive.

Useful.

Purposeful.

Beautiful.

Disciplined.

One foot in front of the other, I put the two miles behind me without stopping to catch my breath once. Stop signs were my nemesis. The guys longed for the moment we approached one. With their hands on their knees, exhausted from the sixteen-minute warm-up, they tried regulating their systems. I tapped the earphones, pausing my music.

Strong lungs and long-windedness weren’t a requirement for employment. Your ability to fire a weapon with precision, outsmart the average person, remain poised in the eye of danger, and your willingness to die are what determined your level of qualification.

“Stay far behind.Farbehind,” I requested, “And, keep a good pace. If you’re going to accompany me, I’m going to hold you accountable. Both of you. That was only sixteen minutes. A start. We will be running for the next hour, and we must return home shortly after. Tighten up.”

With nods, both agreed. Words weren’t spoken because neither of them had caught their breath yet.

“I’m secretly rooting for you both, although I wish you’d just give up.”

---