Page 41 of Your Pace or Mine
Darius nodded curtly and ran in to fetch it. Whatever had been building between him and Jamie dissipated in the wind. When he returned and saw Sebastien off yet again, Jamie had his jacket on.
“I’ve got to get going, it’s a trek back to Mile End.”
Darius bit his lip. “See you tomorrow?”
“Of course, yeah.”
“Make sure you rest—“
“And ice, elevate, stretch—I got it, Darius,” Jamie laughed. “Thank you.”
Jamie hesitated for a moment before arching up and kissing Darius softly on the cheek.
Darius watched as he walked down the street towards the tube station, his eyes trained on him until he rounded a corner and was out of sight. Closing the door, Darius leaned heavily againstit, tracing the spot on his cheek Jamie’s lips had brushed. God, Jamie was incredible. Incredibly bloody distracting.
They hadn’t even put their bloody fake dating plan into action yet, and Darius was already wondering how much of this he could handle. He knew he was in too deep, but he also didn’t have it in him to call it off.
The next day, Darius had a couple of free hours before the training he’d scheduled with the group and decided to use them to get his own tempo session done. He laced up his trainers and set off straight from his front door at a punishing pace on the hard, uneven pavement. The burn felt great; it was exactly what he needed to get his thoughts in order.
Running had been Darius’s everything since he was a kid. His father had been passionate about it, likely encouraged by his Ethiopian mother’s interest—an old framed photo of famed runner Abebe Bikila hung in the Duke’s study beside his Oxford memorabilia, the only reference to his mother’s homeland in the house. As a teen, Darius had sought out any way to connect with his father, the growing distance between his parents and the mounting pressures he felt to conform to the archaic traditions of the peerage creating a gulf between them. Running had been an activity his father approved of, was even proud of him for. He may not have been emotionally available, butHis Gracehad attended every cross-country meet.
Darius ran faster as he carried himself through Battersea Park, his father’s voice echoing in his head.
Are you trying hard enough?
Was he? Was he doing enough? Or even the right things? He knew none of the things he’d put in motion would be enough on their own, but maybe between charity work, hisrelationship,and pacing the marathon, he’d at least start to cast some doubt on the media accusations. It just felt like there was nothing he could do to change people’s minds about him. Like it was all too late.
He ran harder. There was a state you could reach sometimes, if you pushed your body close enough to its limits, a state where everything went completely silent. Darius was chasing that feeling now, but he wasn’t getting there. His thoughts were racing faster than his feet ever could—until they caught on a moment.
That first run with Jamie. His first time meeting the group that had started to feel like a little family. Even Mark, who was still a total dickhead, had become an integral part of his life.
Jamie had challenged him right from the start, right from the moment he’d crashed into him. Now that he’d seen more of him. He liked it. He likedhim.
Realising he needed to call this run and get home if he was going to make it on time to meet the group, Darius changed course. His stride relaxed into a steady rhythm as his thoughts meandered over the curl of Jamie’s lips and the way his nose scrunched when he laughed.
The warmth of the water from the rainfall shower washed over him, and Darius’s muscles eased. He stood still in the stream, enjoying the peace for a moment before lathering himself up with the eucalyptus body wash that was one of his major self-care indulgences. Money might be no object to him in a figurative sense, but no soap should cost what Fortnum’s were charging for this stuff. Tipping his head back, he let his thoughts wander, and wander they did. Right back to where they’d landed during the tail end of his run.
As the water streamed down, Darius closed his eyes and let the tension in his shoulders completely melt away. The faint, calming scent of eucalyptus filled the small space, and he inhaled deeply, trying to ground himself in the moment.
His thoughts drifted to the way Jamie had rolled his eyes at him yesterday, that little smirk tugging at his lips—it was ridiculous how much that expression stuck in Darius’s mind. There was something about Jamie’s energy, his humour, even when he was angry, that made it impossible for Darius to look away.
Darius scrubbed his hands over his chest, the rhythm of the water a soothing counterpoint to his restless mind. Jamie was resilient, and he had this approach to life that Darius really admired, but he was clearly at least as bad at resting as Darius was.
Being around Jamie was mostly an exercise in self-control. He’d always thought he had it in spades, but somehow Jamie’s sharp tongue and magnetism had his hard-won resolve in a crumbly mess, leaving him liable to either snap back harshly or fall apart and bare his soul at any moment.
And earlier—that moment in the doorway, the softness of Jamie’s lips on his cheek. That moment had sparked something deep in his chest, something warm and dangerous. It wasn’t just attraction, though that was certainly part of it. It was the way Jamie made him feel seen, like maybe he was more than his name.
Darius’s thoughts lingered on the curve of Jamie’s smile, the effortless grace in his movements, his legs in those damn neon shorts he was always wearing. The image was so vivid it made Darius’s breath hitch slightly, the heat in the shower suddenly feeling stifling.
He braced one hand against the cool tile, the other trailing absently over his stomach, his body responding as his thoughtsgrew more vivid. He thought about Jamie’s hands, the curve of his neck, and the way his laughter could light up a room. Darius bit his lip, his fingers skimming lower, as he imagined Jamie there with him. His lips had been heaven on his cheek; what would they feel like on the rest of him? He longed to trace those floral tattoos that covered his torso with his fingers, with his tongue.
It wasn’t exactly a revelation. Darius had been attracted to Jamie from the moment he saw him. He wanted him, that much was obvious, and their interactions always felt charged. He couldn’t read too much into Jamie’s actions, though. They’d agreed to pretend to date, and that was all it was. Darius couldn’t allow himself to let someone in any way, not now, not with so much on the line. And no matter how much he liked Jamie, he didn’t know him. He couldn’t really trust him—could he?
He’d already trusted him with far more than he did most people. It had been a risk, revealing his sexuality, but it had felt easy with Jamie. Everything had. Letting him into his home, even trusting him to help him through this mess with Anders.
And fuck, he was stunning. The tension that had been coiling inside him came to a head, and with a soft groan, Darius let himself give in to the fantasy. If he couldn’t have Jamie for real, at least he could have this.
For the first time since they had started these sessions, Darius was last to arrive. The group were huddled together for warmth, puffs of their breath visible in the brisk March air. Jamie’s eyes caught his as soon as he rounded the corner, and Darius felt a lingering wave of lust creep over him. He was fucking beautiful.
