Page 9 of Your Pace or Mine
“Why the bloody hell not?” the man groused. “What are you here for then? Cause it certainly ain’t motivation.”
Darius felt, well, exactly how he’d expected to feel after this, disappointed. People only bothered to speak to him because they wanted money from him, as expected, and Anders seemed to be just waiting for him to say something wrong so he could take another dig at him.
This had been utterly pointless.
He gathered his things and dismissed the group with a dejected wave before darting into the cold night air and flagging a passing black cab to avoid the awkward walk to the station with everyone.
Out of the corner of his eye as he climbed into the back of the cab, he spotted Jamie. His posture was tense, curls blowing in the breeze as he gesticulated wildly at the man who had, for lack of a better term, chased him off.
The ride home was long; it would have been faster to take the tube, but he didn’t regret it for a second. Darius didn’t want to spend any more time around those people than necessary. His phone buzzed in his bag, and he fished it out of the hidden pocket he’d stashed it in. His sister, Selena’s voice came through the speaker, bright and teasing.
“So, big bro, how was your first session as a big, scary Coach? You whip them into shape?” she asked, laughter clear in her tone.
Darius groaned, running a hand through his hair as he sank further into the seat. “It was a nightmare,” he muttered. “Anders was ordering me around, and almost everyone asked me for money. Or stood around filming themselves.”
“You didn’t want to get in on the TikTok action?”
“I can barely keep my Instagram updated; I’m not going anywhere near the clock app.”
“Oh Lord, I know. We need to talk about these photos you’ve been taking. Trainers and smartwatches? Really? That’s your idea of engaging content?”
“What else am I supposed to post?” he asked defensively. “I’m a runner. That’s all I do.”
He could practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone. “People care about stories, Darius, not just your marathon time. Why you run. What it feels like. Even the boring stuff like your training routine. You’ve got this whole inspirational thing going for you, but you’re too busy trying to hide behind your finish times to use it.”
Darius leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to get personal. It’s… complicated, you know that.”
“It’s only as complicated as you make it,” Selena said gently. “You don’t have to share your deepest, darkest secrets. Just… be a little human. Let people see more than the machine that runs a 2:06 marathon. Trust me, it’ll help.”
“2:05:37,” he replied automatically.
Selena laughed. “Of course that’s what you got from that.”
“I don’t see why I should bother.”
“I think you’re just worried the world will figure out you’re actually a grumpy old man trapped in a 26-year-old’s body,” Selena teased.
“Exactly,” Darius deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Seriously, Lena, I don’t have time for social media.”
“Did you at least take a selfie tonight?”
Darius grimaced. “No, I had other things on my mind. God, it was a disaster right from the start. I even tore my favourite hoodie courtesy of a late arrival to the clinic.”
Selena laughed. “Now that sounds like a story.”
“Hardly, he just crashed into me, and we landed hard on the asphalt.”
“Was he cute?”
“He could have injured me, Lena. It doesn’t matter if he was cute.”
Selena laughed again. “That’s not a no,” she teased. “You should ask him out. Or like, see if he wants someprivatetraining sessions.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Darius snorted. “I don’t have time to date anyway, not with these clinics on top of my training schedule. I should never have let Jax and Ellison talk me into this.”
“How is Jackson these days?” It sounded innocent, but Darius knew Selena had been harbouring a crush on Jax for years.
“He’s fine. I think he’s fallen for a secret lover and I’m expecting a wedding invitation any day now.”
