Page 75 of A Million Times, Yes
I finally laughed, holding the bag of food higher in the air. “With this.”
“Follow me.” Maya backed away from the door and walked through her apartment.
“Good luck,” Emily whispered.
I nodded at her and followed Maya inside. My eyes stayed on her ass and the way her leggings hugged those perfect fucking cheeks, the slimness of her waist, and how her tank top showed off the muscles in her arms and shoulders.
A body I didn’t just own, but was obsessed with.
I turned at the living room to go down the short hallway and through the second-to-last door on the right. As she shut the door behind me, I took in the tiny room. It was just large enough for a double bed, a dresser that was half the size of most, a narrow shelving unit, and a vanity with a miniature stool in front of it that I didn’t think could even hold me. The walls were painted a deep green, the accents in gold. The artwork was minimal, the pictures were of her and Emily, and I assumed the others were of her mother. There were nursing books and psychological thrillers on the shelves and a vase of fresh flowers by her bed.
What I liked most was that the space felt like her. Balanced and comforting, a spot that would relax you the second you stepped inside. And the smell, fuck ... Every one of my breaths was filled with green apple and lime.
“I hope you don’t mind eating on my bed.” She sat by the pillows, leaving the middle and end of the mattress for me.
“Not at all.”
I placed the six-pack in front of her along with the to-go bag, and while I opened two beers for us, she dug into the food, taking each of the items out.
“Thai,” she moaned. “One of my favorites.”
“Mine too.”
“Looks like you got all the staples—fresh spring rolls, pad Thai, green curry, pad see ew, and papaya salad.” She carefully set the plastic soup container and ladle on her nightstand. “Tom yum, I’m assuming?”
“Yes.” I waited for her to pull out the last dish and said, “And mango sticky rice for dessert.”
“When I say you got everything I love, I’m not kidding. One of these dishes I end up ordering every time I go for Thai.” She spread out the containers in front of us. “I cannot wait to devour this food.”
I laughed. “Don’t wait. Dig in.”
She handed me a set of chopsticks. “Let me grab some plates—”
“There’s no reason to be fancy. Besides, I think it tastes better when you eat it right out of the container.”
She stared at me for a moment before she popped a shrimp into her mouth. “You know, you’re the last thing I expected tonight.” She took the beer I held out to her. “I was going to sink into the couch and eat whatever Emily was getting delivered, since she never finishes her food, and eventually find my way into the bathtub to soak until the water turned cold.” She rubbed her leg as she chewed, her expression telling me she was in pain.
“Are you sore?”
She nodded.
“From what?” I waited, and when I didn’t get an answer, I said, “Running?”
Her chest lifted as she took a breath. After a few seconds, I expected it to fall. But it didn’t.
“Seems that you’re good at helping me hit my personal bests.”
My cheeks puffed out with air. “Damn. That’s a blow.”
“But it’s the truth.” Her voice was just above a whisper.
“I have a lot of thoughts about this, Maya.”
“I figured you would.”
I set down my chopsticks but not the beer. “The first is, I hate that you’re running without me—I understand why you are, but I don’t like it.”
She twirled some of the pad Thai noodles around her wooden sticks. “I can’t run with you, Jordan. I ... can’t.”
