Page 52 of Script Swap
“And I don’t need you peeking over my shoulder and making sure I do my work every day!”
“Dash, I’m sorry.I didn’t mean that.I didn’t mean any of that.I thought—” Bobby’s silence could only be called bewildered, and now, propped up in bed, still naked, he looked surprisingly vulnerable.“I was trying to help.”
Something creaked in the old house.I slid the drawer shut slowly, and it settled against the frame with a quiet click.I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact, so instead, I stared at the pair of running shorts in my hand.“I know.I know; I’m sorry.I love that you want to help.I appreciate you checking in.It’s…revising this has been so fudging frustrating.”(I mean, I used the adult word because it was me and Bobby.) “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
Bobby was still watching me from the bed.He smoothed his hand across the sheets and said, “Come here.”
I did, but I didn’t climb into bed.I leaned down to kiss him and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“It’s been a weird night.This isn’t me at my best.”
Bobby reached up like he might cup my cheek, but he hesitated, and then he tweaked my ear.“It’s been an awful night.You’ve been through a lot.And I wasn’t being sensitive.”
“No, I was beingoversensitive.”
“Then we were both jerks,” Bobby said a little too seriously.
I kissed him again.
“Come back to bed?”he asked.“I’ll put this stuff away and we can spend some time together.”
With a super weird smile, I held up the shorts.“I think I’m going to go for a run.”
“Oh.Okay.”
“Is that all right?”
“Sure, of course.Let me grab some clothes, and I’ll go with you.”
“That’s okay.I need some time alone.”Bobby’s expression is like Fort Knox sometimes, but I also knew him better than I had a year ago.“I’m not mad, I promise.It’s been such a weird night.”
Bobby reached up again.He ran his fingers above my ear.Finally he said, “Run against traffic.”
I gave him one last kiss, tugged on shorts and socks, and headed for the door.
Chapter 12
It was dark, and although some of the day’s heat had dissipated, it was still surprisingly warm—at least for the Oregon Coast—and, worse, muggy.I ran south along the state highway.This was my new favorite route, day or night.There was only a narrow shoulder, and the ferns grew so thickly along the road that sometimes I had to leave the shoulder entirely.But even at the height of tourist season, the state highway wasn’t what anyone could considerbusy.
It was, on the other hand, beautiful.Even at night.
My run carried me under the branches of spruce and pine, where the shadows were thick.The pines stood ramrod straight for the most part.The spruces, on the other hand, were twisted and gnarled, and the fog, which was thick tonight, seemed to wind itself more tightly around their branches.The air held hints of the ocean and, of course, asphalt and tar that still held some of the day’s heat, but the crisp, clean scent of evergreen dominated.When the wind lifted right, you could smell the huckleberries.
That was it: me and this beautiful foggy nightscape and the sound of my steps echoing out into the trees.
I usually tried to run two miles.Two miles was a respectable distance.It wasn’t aBobbydistance, but it was a good distance nonetheless.It was different, running at night.There wasn’t much light out here—only the occasional sodium lamp buzzing atop a utility pole, and the weak glow of stars and moon that filtered through the canopy.
As I ran, my body warmed up.Muscles loosened.I hit my stride.
God, what in the world had that been back at the house?Had I actually gotten into an argument with Bobby about—of all things—him trying to help me?
I mean, it certainly wasn’t the first time we’d gotten into a fight.But those fights had been—well, they’d been building for a long time.They’d been about serious things.It might have been a stretch to call themgoodfights; I hated fighting with Bobby, and it made me feel like that one time Indira forgot about the cookie dough and I had full access.But in some ways, those fights had been real.They’d been about real things.And we’d said stuff to each other we’d needed to say.And that’s why, at the end, we’d come out of those disagreements stronger—as individuals, and as a couple.
Tonight, I’d been a grumpy cat who’d gotten his tail pulled.
(There was aCrime Catsarticle about a void kitty who hadn’t been given enough tuna, and I was starting to understand his pain.)
