Page 45 of Your Pace or Mine
Reggie let out a low whistle as they moved into single file to pass by a group of women walking tiny dogs down the pavement. “What about your rich, fake boyfriend?”
“I’m hardly going to ask him for money on top of this mess,” Jamie replied.
“Fair enough, you know your parents would probably kick in more if you need them to.”
“I’m not going to ask my parents for help either, Reg.”
“It’s for charity!”
“They’ve got enough on without worrying about me and my finances. Dad wants to retire soon.”
They reached the park and settled back into stride, side by side. The path curved gently, sunlight finally breaking through the clouds in pale streaks.
“I sincerely doubt eight hundred-odd quid will make or break your Da’s retirement.”
Jamie shrugged. He still wasn’t going to ask.
As he ran, Jamie’s brain circled back to Darius. It was probably the association. He’d never be able to jog without thinking of him and his stupid, perfect body and stupid, gorgeous, dimpled smile. He wanted to call him. They needed to be seen together more anyway.
Even in his head, it sounded like a weak excuse, but he resolved to ask Darius to meet up. Maybe they could go out and then see where things took them.
Chapter 12
Darius
8 weeks to the London Marathon
Darius adjusted the strap of Jamie’s bag over his shoulder as they stood outside the modest brick building. There were progress flags in the windows and a sign painted in soft, fading colours that readHaven LGBTQ+ Youth Centreover the door. The early spring wind bit at his neck, but he barely felt it.
Jamie was quiet beside him, his gaze fixed on the centre’s entrance like it might open up and swallow him whole. Darius had learned to recognise that look over the past few weeks.
“You good?” Darius asked, nudging him lightly with an elbow.
Jamie nodded, lips twitching into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… this place is important. You know?”
He did. And not just because they were here to sell the image of a cause-driven couple, but because—beneath all the pretending—Jamie cared. Really cared about so many things: the environment, human rights, these kids. And Darius couldn’t help but admire that, even if he wasn’t sure where the lines between pretending, admiring, and wanting had blurred for him.
“I, when I signed up to run for them, I was just trying to impress someone, but…”
Something in Darius reared back at that, a flame of jealousy igniting in him. “Who were you trying to impress?”
“Just another dickhead producer that left me on pencil for weeks before going another way,” Jamie replied with a sigh.
The fire burning in Darius settled at the knowledge that it was a work thing.
They made their way inside. The centre had a lived-in feel with hand-painted walls, threadbare furniture that had survived more than its share of teen drama, and a pulse of energy that made the place feel alive. A woman behind the front desk stood as they entered, smiling warmly.
“You must be Jamie,” she said, stepping around the desk. “And you’re Darius.”
“That’s us,” Jamie said, his hand brushing briefly against Darius’s as he reached to shake hers. The contact sparked something stupid in Darius’s chest.
“Jade,” the woman introduced herself. “Thanks for coming in together. It’s nice to see you in person.”
Darius kept his expression polite, nodding like this was totally normal and that he had no ulterior motive for being here.
Jade led them through the centre, room by room, explaining the programmes, introducing staff, pointing out where kids gathered to play board games or where private spaces were reserved for therapy. Jamie asked thoughtful questions, and Darius tried not to get distracted by the way Jamie’s eyes lit up every time Jade mentioned something about their performing arts initiatives.
When they reached the mural-covered art room, with its makeshift stage, Jamie let out a breath like he’d been holding it since they walked in.
