Page 90 of Rome: The Ballerina

The challenge was immediately accepted. Though I wanted to run in the opposite direction and hide behind my gate, I couldn’t. Iwouldn’t.

“Good morning, Saint.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” he pointed to the AirPod he’d stuck in his ear.

“I don’t,” I admitted.

“And the run?” He asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t.”

He tilted his head rightward and pursed his lips.

“Good, because it would’ve broken my heart to hear you say otherwise.”

I pushed the saliva down my throat. My belly flipped twelve times. The butterflies were dizzy with the movement, confusing us both. I fought the urge to close my eyes to gather myself, because for once, the dream was nothing in comparison to the reality.

I picked up my pace and set my sight forward. The changing of the song gave me a fresh start. I tried my hardest to push Saint’s presence to the back of my brain. However, it didn’t belong there so it didn’t stay long. Not even for a few seconds.

Fine. I surrendered with a sigh.

I rounded the bend,pushing myself to the point of exhaustion. I lifted my wrist to check my progress, mentally calculating the distance left on the twelve-mile run.

Half of a mile.

I was near my home, but it still felt so far away. My legs and arms tingled. Sharp, invisible needles pricked my skin with each step I made.

Half of a mile, Rome. Keep going.

I was near the finish line. Sweat dripped down my oily frame, rolling right off me and onto the ground. Peering behind me, I watched as August and Koen altered their positions.

They both stood in the middle of the street, prepared to use their bodies as human shields to save mine. So that they weren’t casualties to my cardio addiction, I crossed the street.

They were accustomed to the route now and knew every move I’d made exactly when it was time. Within seconds, we were on the opposite side of the road. Safely, everyone continued their stride.

The lovely home I passed morning after morning came into full view as a lump grew in my throat. My nerve endings began to split.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe, Rome.

I formed a small circle with my lips, hoping to steady my breathing. My lungs were screaming.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe, Rome.

Dramatically, my chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose and fell.

Long fingers gripped my elbow. An even longer frame blocked the sun’s glare, offering shade. I peered up to find Saint staring down at me. His head tipped forward. He was signaling for a change in my direction.

The gates of his parent’s home were still open. A beautifully manicured lawn that was worth a battle with envy and jealousy greeted me from the gates. Though the home in front of us was twice as small as mine, it was incredibly large.

It would house a family of at least six to eight people, comfortably. It was a shade of gray. Modern. Massive. And inviting.

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