Page 70 of In the Long Run
‘It’s fine,’ Gen says.
‘Are you su—’ I clamp my mouth shut, spotting the spa bath in the corner of the room.
Inexplicably, it’s full of bubbles and steam rises steadily, curling through the air like it doesn’t have a care in the world.Which it probably doesn’t, because it’s not a sentient being and it’s not being presented with the challenge of spending two nights alone with the woman it can’t stop dreaming about.Who it kissed and asked out.Who’s spent the last hour in my lap while I tried not to get hard.The only thing that separates the bath from the main room is a large glass wall, which is just fucking great considering glass is so well known for promotingprivacy.
‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ I offer even though the bed’s so big we’ll practically be in separate suburbs.‘I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.And I’ve got plenty of experience sleeping on the ground.’
There’s my military training coming in clutch.
‘You don’t have to do that.It’s two nights.We’re both adults.’She’s saying the right things, but the uncertainty in her tone knocks me even further off balance.
‘Right?’Why does my response come out like a question?Maybe it’s because all I can think about is how we could do a whole lot ofadultthings in this space.Every time Gen’s given me a little bit of herself, I’ve wanted more.
Gen’s arms hang at her sides as she surveys the rest of the cabin.There’s a door near the bath, presumably for a toilet.And asmall kitchenette occupies the opposite corner.Everything’s done in beige and neutral tones bar the brushed gold taps and door handles.It’s nice and clean, and that benchtop’s definitely big enough for Gen to sit on.Be about the right height too.
Ahem.
It’s important to remember that we need to run thirty-five kilometres tomorrow.An all-night sex fest hasn’t appeared on any of the race prep checklists that I’ve seen.And there’s no way once will be enough with Gen.
‘Knox?’Gen slides her bottom lip between her teeth, and I want to kick myself.She’s putting on a brave face but she’s nervous.This is a lot.
‘What if we agree not to make it weird?’You know, because that always works.
Gen arches her eyebrows at me.‘And how do we do that?’
Kissing her now would be a bad idea.‘We hang out.No pressure.No expectations.’
‘Yeah?’
The jagged edge of the room key bites into my palm.‘Yeah.’
‘Okay.We can do that.’
So we do.
We spend the rest of the afternoon ignoring the bed-and-bath-shaped elephants in the room.Like always, spending time with Gen is fun, but there’s an undercurrent of tension that grows bigger and bigger as night falls around our little cabin.We share pizzas and the charcuterie board as we watch more running documentaries.I couldn’t tell you a single thing about them, though.
Everything we need in the morning is ready and prepped.Hydration vests, shoes, energy gels and clothes with our bibs already attached via safety pins.
All that’s left is to go to bed.
Together.
Nottogether, together.
But kind of together.
Gen sweeps the rose petals off the doona while I start moving all the pillows stacked against the headboard.
She fidgets with the top of her pyjamas.The grey fabric matches her eyes and it’s so damn fluffy that it’s an effort not to touch it.Her cheeks are still red from the five minutes she spent outside while I showered.When I’d told her she didn’t have to go out into the cold, just because I did when she showered, she mumbled something that sounded a lot like she didn’t trust herself not to peek.I’d enjoyed hearing that so much I’d had to have a cold shower.
‘Which side do you want?’she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I normally sleep on the left,’ she says.
I step away from the bed and when Gen walks past me, she leaves a trail of her orange blossom body wash behind her.
