Page 25 of Your Pace or Mine
It looked like District line to Embankment, then a change to the Northern Line all the way to Battersea. That was manageable, long, but at least it was only one change. Jamie had been in London for nearly six years and still spent way too much money on Ubers because he couldn’t be arsed with navigating multiple changes on the tube.
He still had actual nightmares about his first time changing at Bank.
This was easy, though. Hopefully, he’d get a seat and be able to rest his knee a bit, then he’d be totally fine to run this morning.
Arriving at the park, Jamie walked carefully towards the track entrance, wincing as pain stabbed up his leg with every step. Darius was already leaning against the gate, his deep brown skin glowing bronze in the early light. His dark eyes narrowed on Jamie as he approached.
“You’re injured,” Darius said by way of greeting. “What did you do?”
It sounded more accusatory than caring.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Darius argued. “You’re favouring your left side significantly, and you’re wincing in pain with every step.”
Jamie had honestly thought he’d been masking it pretty well; he was good at hiding pain, at smiling through it—the show must go on.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened, I’m fine.”
“I’ll just have to assume you did something idiotic then. Fall off the stage at your show?”
Jamie tilted his head. “I’m in between jobs at the moment, and I’d never fall off the stage. You only do that once before you figure out to stay pretty damn far from the edge.”
A smile was tugging at the corner of Darius’s lips, but it was quickly tamped down. “Whatever, you’re sitting this one out.”
“I’m bloody not.”
Their conversation stopped abruptly as Claire arrived, followed shortly after by Chi and Adam. They all seemed enthusiastic to get going. Mark sauntered up last, and Jamie couldn’t help but notice the slight curl of distaste that passed over Darius’s face when he did. Mark was abrasive, but he wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t griping about his fundraising target as if he were the only person who had one. Jamie just figured there was a better approach than constantly whingeing about it to everyone he met. Though maybe he wasn’t the best judge of that, he wasn’t exactly closing in on his target despite all he’d done to get the word out.
“Now that we’re all here. Let’s get warmed up, give me a couple of slow laps, then meet back here for strides and stretches.”
The group set off. “Not you, Jamie,” Darius half-shouted.
Jamie slowed to a stop, shooting a glare at Darius despite the sharp pain in his knee, reminding him this was definitely the right call. He walked back to stand beside Darius while the rest of the group kept warming up.
“What’s your issue with Mark?”
Darius arched a perfectly groomed brow. “Seriously?”
Jamie shrugged in response.
“He’s been messaging me nonstop about his charity target. I already gave him a hundred quid on the first day of the clinic, but he’s relentless now.”
“I haven’t seen anything in the chat.”
Darius turned fully to Jamie. “He’s been messaging me directly.”
Shit, that was probably Jamie’s fault. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. “I did tell him not to keep talking about it in the group chat, I didn’t realise he would…”
“Not your fault.”
“It kind of is, though,” Jamie argued.
Darius laughed. “Is this like a compulsion for you? Do you have to disagree with everything I say?”
Nodding gravely, Jamie replied. “I’m afraid it’s programmed into my DNA; it’s an automatic response to received pronunciation. I hear that boarding school accent and the claws come out.”
