Page 34 of Best Friends
“He was.” I force a smile. “That’s one reason I was late today. We stayed up really late partying with those chicks.” I feel bad lying, but I have to say something to throw her off the scent.
“While I’m glad you hung out with Malcolm, that wasn’t the smartest thing to do the night before you run a marathon.” She grimaces. “You’re just asking for trouble. You’re going to suffer during the race, dude.”
“I agree. If I’d remembered today was the marathon, I never would have hung out last night. But what’s done is done.”
“I guess that’s true.” She shrugs. “Now you’ll have to suffer the consequences.”
“I know.” I sigh. “It was dumb.”
When we turn onto Main Street, it’s already chaos. Cars are parked everywhere, and people are walking toward the town square wearing bright running gear and numbers pinned to their shirts. The Whispering Pines Community Center has transformed into marathon headquarters, with colorful banners stretched between the oak trees and volunteers setting up water stations. There are signs with photos of dogs and “Paws for a Cause” written in bright letters.
“Jesus,” I mutter, taking in the crowds. “How many people signed up for this thing?”
“Not sure, but I’m not surprised so many people are here,” Cheyenne says, pulling into a parking spot two blocks away. “It’s for the Sunshine Paws Animal Shelter, remember? They take in some of the worst abused dogs. There were posters all over town.”
Another wave of guilt hits me. Not only did I almost let Cheyenne down, but I’m about to half-ass a run for abused dogs because I spent all night having sex with my best friend.
We walk toward the registration area, and the Texas heat is already making me sweat. It’s barely eight in the morning, but the sun is beating down mercilessly. The humidity wraps around us like a wet blanket, and I can feel my t-shirt starting to stick to my back.
The town square is buzzing with energy. Families are spread out on blankets, cheering sections are forming, and volunteers are handing out water bottles and energy bars. A local radio station has set up a booth, and upbeat music is pumping through speakers tied to the lamp posts. The smell of sunscreen and coffee mingles with the scent of the food trucks that have lined up along Elm Street.
“There’s our check-in,” Cheyenne says, pointing to a table with a banner that reads “Paws for a Cause 5K Fun Run.”
We get in line behind a group of high school kids who look way too energetic for this early in the morning. My legs already feel heavy, and we haven’t even started. I should have eaten something. I should have slept more than two hours. I should have trained more with Cheyenne when she asked.
“Carrick Quinn and Cheyenne Williams,” Cheyenne tells the volunteer, a woman I recognize from the grocery store.
“Oh, you’re two of our local heroes.” The woman beams, handing us our race numbers and safety pins. “Thanks for supporting the cause, officers.”
“Our pleasure.” I force a smile and pin my number to my shirt. 427. At least it’s not 666 or something equally ominous.
“You doing okay?” Cheyenne asks as we walk toward the starting line area. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just didn’t get enough sleep.”
That’s the understatement of the century. Malcolm and I had barely closed our eyes. Every time one of us tried to drift off, the other would start something, and we’d be all over each other again. I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin, the way he whispered my name in the dark. The memory makes my chest tight with longing and regret.
The starting area is packed with runners doing stretches and warm-up exercises. I should be doing the same, but I can barely think straight. My mouth is dry, and my stomach is growling loudly enough that I’m worried Cheyenne might hear it.
“Want some water?” she asks, pulling a bottle from her small backpack. “I brought you one because I figured you might forget.”
“Thanks. You know me well.” I give her a weak smile as I twist off the cap and take a long drink, but it doesn’t help the hollow feeling in my gut.
When was the last time I ate? Yesterday evening at the restaurant with Cecilia and Amanda, maybe? Thinking of howI let those women down just makes me feel even worse. Even Malcolm is disappointed with me because I won’t just come out and tell people we’re dating. Is that what I do now? Just disappoint people?
A man with a megaphone climbs onto a small platform near the starting line. “Good morning, runners. Welcome to the annual Paws for a Cause Charity Marathon!”
The crowd cheers, and I try to muster some enthusiasm. This is for a good cause. I can do this. It’s just a 5K. I’ve done longer runs before when I was younger. Of course, I hadn’t run them on just two hours of sleep and an empty stomach. But I’ll do my best.
“Let’s give a round of applause for our amazing volunteers and sponsors,” the announcer continues. “And remember, every step you take today helps support the Whispering Pines Animal Shelter and our mission to help abused and abandoned dogs.”
More applause. I clap along, but my heart isn’t in it. I keep thinking about Malcolm, probably showering at my house right now, maybe making coffee in my kitchen. If I was willing to be open about our relationship he could have been here with me. He could have run side by side with me. Instead he feels like shit because I ditched him, and I feel the same.
“You sure you’re okay?” Cheyenne asks again. “You seem really out of it.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “The water helped.”
The announcer starts giving instructions about the route, but I’m having trouble focusing. The crowd is getting louder, more excited, and the energy is infectious despite my exhaustion. Little kids are running around with face paint andballoons. Families are taking photos. Everyone looks so happy and united.
