Page 126 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

There’s a track next to the gym at school. I have weights at home, and usually, I’m a sucker for running around campus instead of the monotonous loop a track provides, but sometimes, I crave it. The monotony. The way I can push myself, timing each lap until my muscles are spent and my lungs are aching.

And today, it’s exactly what I need. A distraction. Something I can focus on. Something I can lose myself in. And since we haven’t covered running or any other track and field games, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get in a quick run before introducing the kids to the track field. They should be here any minute.

I’ve been here for almost an hour and take another cool down lap, letting my Nike’s pound against the asphalt in rhythm to my steady heartbeat until I round the last corner and pause. It isn’t for long, barely a millisecond, but it’s enough to throw me off. To bring me back to reality. To erase the distraction running usually gives me.

I keep my gaze glued in front of me, ignoring a stupidly attractive Theo who’s stretching his quads next to the track. His red and black joggers match his LAU T-shirt as he watches me from the edge of the grass. Since his navy blue eyes are partially hidden beneath the brim of his baseball hat, it only showcases his strong jaw even more.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he finally managed to track me down. He’s been texting at least every hour and even cornered me at The Bean Scene yesterday, offering to walk me to my car. I looped my arm through Colt’s and said he’d take care of it. Thankfully, my brother was a gem and didn’t bat an eye.

Today, however, is a different story. The one and only cherry-popper is here in the flesh. And he’s looking at me. Despite my best effort at pretending he doesn’t exist, I can still feel it. His gaze. His hesitancy. His remorse.

Which is ridiculous.

We’re cool. So, we slept together. Big deal. I asked him to take my v-card, and he ruined my career by trying to claim my heart in front of everyone. It’s super great. But I’ve moved on, or at least, I’m trying to. Okay, it’s a lie. I haven’t moved on. I’m not sure I can move on. Not when it comes to Teddy. But crawling back to him after everything that happened? I can’t exactly do that, either.

I glance at him again, my heart rate kicking up a notch. I have a feeling it has nothing to do with the exercise.

Why is he here? I know for a fact how much he hates running. Did he know I’d be here? And if that’s the case, should I be flattered or would it make me feel even more desperate? I stare at the white painted lines separating the lanes on the track and try to get a grip on my emotions before it’s too late. But it still doesn’t make sense. Why hasn’t he given up yet when I know he has the attention span of a gnat and I’ve already made my stance very clear?

My stance I’ve been regretting as soon as I slammed the door in his face, but still.

When I don’t slow down as I run past him, Theo curses under his breath and jogs after me.

“Blake, wait,” he calls.

The rhythmic thump-thump of his feet against the pavement rings in my ears as he runs after me, so I pick up my pace. My lungs are screaming at me since I’ve already been working them for the past hour, but the bastard doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t quit. He keeps pushing.

So, I do too.

Pumping my arms back and forth, I speed around the final turn while trying to block out his pounding feet acting like a soundtrack in a horror movie or something. Which is an insane analogy. He would never hurt me.

At least, not any more than he already has.

Once he finally catches up to me, he matches my pace and stays glued to my side.

Bastard.

Despite the stitch in my ribs, and the lightheadedness making me dizzy, I run two more laps until I finally give in and slow down.

“Thank fuck,” Theo mutters beside me as he catches his breath.

It’s kind of adorable. Or at least, it would be if I wasn’t so pissed at him.

With my hands on top of my head, I breathe in deep and attempt to slow my heart rate as I ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to talk.”

“Well, I’m finishing up my run, so…”

“Yeah. Caught that. Guess it means I’m running, too, until you’re ready to talk.”

“Since when do you run?” I challenge.

“Since”––deep breath––“recently, apparently.”

“You don’t run,” I remind him, my breath slowly steadying as the seconds tick by.

He takes another deep breath and rolls his eyes. “Special circumstances, I guess.”

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