Page 6 of A Million Times, Yes
“I’m not going to be doing anything with him.” I put my glass in the sink and adjusted the sides of my sports bra. “But am I crushing over him? Uh-huh. Probably a lot harder than I should.”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Let’s discuss my dating history, shall we?” I held my thumb. “High school boyfriend: total loser.” I moved to my pointer finger. “First college boyfriend: cheated.” I grabbed my middle finger. “Second, and also final, college boyfriend: liar and manipulator.” I gripped my ring finger. “First postgrad boyfriend: mooch, cheap-ass, and wanted to live the rest of his life in his mother’s basement. After him came two, maybe three assholes.” I tapped my pinkie as though the assholes weren’t even worthy of a finger and said, “And the last guy catfished me.”
“So you haven’t had the greatest luck with men.”
I held out the sides of her long, blond hair, which was still curled even though she’d worn it up yesterday. “Trust me, Mr. Green Eyes will be no different. Anyone who’s that handsome, that cocky, and has that body—they’re nothing but trouble.” I smiled and closed my eyes for just a second. “But knowing he stares at my ass for over four miles every morning gives me this weird satisfaction, and the way he swooped in and played hero definitely makes me swoon.”
She put her hands on top of mine. “It makes me swoon too. So does the date you’re going to have with him tomorrow.”
I moved my fingers out from beneath hers and shook my head before I walked toward my tiny bedroom to get ready for work. “It’s not a date,” I said over my shoulder.
Those were the same words I repeated in my head the next morning when I headed out of my building to start my run.
Since I’d left my earbuds in my room, assuming I would be talking to Jordan rather than listening to my true crime podcast, I had nothing to focus on aside from the silence as I made my way down the block.
What that quietness did was cause my brain to stir. And each rotation brought me right back to him.
A man that, up until yesterday, had been a total stranger.
A sexy stranger. An intriguing stranger. A stranger who spent as much time in the gym as he did running, because hitting the pavement multiple miles a day couldn’t define muscles like his.
Right after Emily and I had moved into our new apartment, I’d gone out before sunrise to relieve the stress that was eating at me. The financial burden of first and last month’s rent, plus the security deposit—along with helping my mom, who was in a similar situation with her apartment—all while picking up overtime to make it happen was too much.
I couldn’t breathe.
But once I’d laid eyes on Jordan, the anxiety paused, and a tingling took over my body. As soon as I returned home, the anxiety came right back. But those five miles had brought on a stillness in my chest, and I soaked up every second.
That wasn’t the only factor that sent me out each day.
I could add Jordan’s handsomeness to that list, his smile and presence. Even the way he always wished me good morning was so incredibly hot. A tease of sorts that made me want more, and that was what drove me to the crosswalk where I met him each morning, arriving at the same time as him.
God, he was so devilishly attractive. I had no idea what his appearance would be like in a few hours, if that was when he went to work or maybe he had a later shift, but now he was hot.
His messy ash-brown hair looked like I’d just tugged on it, and thick, dark scruff covered his neck, cheeks, chin, and that sexy spot above his top lip. A jaw that was square, a solid sloped nose, and hooded green eyes, staring at me through his long lashes.
I couldn’t hide the smile. It was his green eyes—I swore they were making me melt straight into the ground. “Good morning, Jordan.”
“Maya.” He nodded. “Cobalt blue. I like it.”
I remembered what Em had said about my all-white ensemble revealing everything. I wondered if he’d seen as much as she had.
Sweat began to seep through my pores, and it wasn’t from my warm-up. “Shall we?”
He held out his hand, signaling me to lead, and I instantly noticed the muscle in his forearm and the dark hair and veins. A flash of a memory came through my head of how that arm had felt when it had been wrapped around me.
“After you,” he said.
“Are you actually going to run with me today?”
“I run with you every day.”
“No.” I laughed. “You run behind me. That’s not runningwithme.”
He kept my pace. “I can’t imagine you’d want me to be next to you for over four miles. Considering we’ve never spoken, that would be a bit strange, don’t you think?”
“So why do you go behind me and not ahead?”
