Page 129 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Great.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I hedge, and it isn’t because I’m afraid of losing. It’s because I’m afraid of winning. We’ve played this game already. Put our hearts on the line under the guise of a bet. And so far? It hasn’t exactly worked out in our favor. He’s been on my mind constantly since the blowup with Coach. And even though I’ve ignored his texts, even though I’ve avoided all things cinnamon and every Adam Sandler movie on the planet, none of it has made me feel better. I’ve still missed him. I’ve still read his text messages. I’ve still thought about him. More than I’d like to admit. The idea of him giving up under the guise of it being what I want, even if it’s only for a week? In reality, it sounds pretty terrible.

So where does it leave me?

Honestly, I have no idea.

“You can do it, Miss Blakely!” Billy’s little sister calls. Her name’s Hailey, and she has the darkest, curliest hair I’ve ever seen. She also looks at me like I’m a warrior goddess, practically worshipping the ground I walk on since the moment we first met. The idea of letting her down pushes me forward.

I give her a smile and turn back to Theo, crossing my arms and popping out my hip. “All right, Teddy Bear. I’ll play.”

“Oh, you will, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” With a bow, I motion to the starting line a few feet away. “Ladies first.”

He chuckles, lining himself up with the starting line and bending into a runner’s stance. “On the count of three?”

I stand beside him, mirroring his position. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

40

THEO

Shit, this girl’s fast.

We take off from the starting line, pumping our arms back and forth. She’s on the outside of the track, giving me the smallest advantage, and even though I don’t want to admit it, I’m gonna need all the help I can get if I want to beat her.

She’s right. I hate running. But I’ve also been doing it more often lately to blow off steam before and after practices. Guess I’m a sucker for beating myself up, and today isn’t any different.

She laughs as she passes me. The tiny wisps of red hair that’ve fallen from her ponytail trail after her in the wind. Her ass looks great in her black shorts. Her lean stomach and muscular back pull and stretch as she takes the second turn around the track.

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to hold her again.

Forcing myself to focus, I dig deep and push a little harder, knowing full well it might actually kill me. The distance between us is smaller now, but she’s still a foot or two ahead. Such a small distance, but it feels like a mile as my heartbeat thrums in my eardrums.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Come on, asshole.

Our feet hammer against the track as we take the final curve, Blake’s heavy panting spurring me on. The kids are cheering next to the finish line, their tiny hands waving in the air as they scream their lungs out.

At least they find this entertaining.

I’m so close.

So. Fucking. Close.

But it isn’t enough.

I cross the finish line right behind Blakely, and I collapse onto the grass, rolling onto my back. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as my chest rises and falls in a chaotic rhythm, proving just how shitty I am at pacing my breathing while running. It’s a bitch to recover from.

Blake collapses next to me on the field, a wide smile of satisfaction stretched across her face. Our past doesn’t matter in this moment. The shit I put her through doesn’t matter. Nothing does. Because she’s riding the high from beating my ass fair and square, and we both know it.

“You won, Miss Blakely! You won!” the kids cheer, surrounding us on the grass.

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