Page 32 of You Had Me At Thirteen

I shove my earphones into my ears and tune out the sound of squealing happiness. I’m feeling none of that right now, so I up my pace until the pressure in my hand becomes too much. After dropping back, I settle into a sweet spot.

It’s not until Wren jogs up beside me that I sense him. A glance out of the corner of my eye catches his bare chest, sweat-coated and glistening as the sun bares down on him. Each one of his long strides eats up almost three of mine, but I keep my comfortable pace.

After a few minutes of ignoring him, I pull one of my earphones out. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Just enjoying my run,’ he says, as if I’m the annoying one.

I snort. ‘Since when do you run?’

‘All the time.’

‘I’ve never seen you on one before.’

He side-eyes me. ‘So? Does that mean I don’t?’

I lift a shoulder as I watch him for a moment longer. God, he’s so pretty it makes my heart hurt. ‘No, I guess not.’

Silence falls between us again, each breath matching the pace that has somehow become more competitive. My legs cramp up, but I won’t back down as each step we take gets faster with every metre.

When we reach the end of a long street, we slow to a stop – or should I say collapse – to catch our breath. Wren walks in circles, his hands behind his head, his face pained as he squeezes his eyes shut. His abs clench when his stomach moves in time with each inhale and relaxes with each exhale. I love that he’s out of breath, but I love even more that he’s out of breath because of me. Sweat drips down his chest, making my mouth water as I imagine what he tastes like.

As I attempt to control my runaway hormones, I turn away from him, not wanting him to see how much I’m hurting while trying to keep my stomach contents actually in my stomach. Even though I’m an athlete, keeping up with Wren’s long legs wasn’t the plan when I set out from home.

‘You’re quick for a little thing,’ Wren says with a wink. ‘We should do this more often.’

‘Shut up,’ I say between breaths. ‘I prefer quiet on my runs, thank you very much. Besides, how did you even know I was out here?’

‘I saw you.’ He shrugs as though it’s no big deal that he invited himself to my moving meditation.

‘Should I be concerned about your stalker-ish tendencies?’ I grin at him with a raised eyebrow.

He snorts. ‘Please, you’re one to talk.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You know exactly what it means, Matilda. But let’s not argue over who watches who more. I want to show you something.’ He motions for me to follow him before he takes off again.

I take a moment of open-mouthed annoyance before deciding that I don’t have the energy to argue with him right now, and set off to catch up to him. ‘Where are we going?’ I say as I come up behind him.

‘You’ll see.’

He leads me down a path between two houses until we hit a dirt track, which disappears into the surrounding bush. I’ve never dared to venture onto the bush tracks for fear I’d somehow get lost and become one of those missing girls you see on TV. Except, I wouldn’t have been kidnapped. My stupid arse would have gotten lost in the forest then died of starvation. I’m into crime documentaries, not survival ones.

As we get further in, Wren takes a sharp left off the track, weaving through the tall trees. ‘Come on,’ he says, holding out his hand when he notices I’ve stopped running.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glance around. ‘No way.’

I want to follow him, but who knows what’s lurking in there? I’ve seen enough murder documentaries to know that serial killers will lurk anywhere, and as my luck would have it, there’s one wherever Wren is taking me right now.

‘Promise I’ll be on my best behaviour.’ Wren’s grin tells me he’s a big fat liar, but I’m unable to deny him anything when he smiles at me like that.

Sucking in a deep breath and pushing my anxieties aside, I take his hand and let him drag me to my impending homicide like the blind Betty that I am. We walk for another ten minutes, my heart pounding with every little movement or scurry of little feet. I swear to God, if I see a snake…

Wren comes to a stop and lets go of my hand when the trees open to a small clearing about six or seven metres in diameter. It’s covered in lush green grass, untainted by human feet. Tall ornamental grasses with fluffy purple flowers surround the area, blending back into the dense forest, while a large tree sits to one side, creating a canopy over half the area with its crawling branches.

This should be the spot where the rainbow ends. Instead of a pot of gold, it’s just this, right here, where I’m sinking into the soft grass.

‘What is this place?’ I say, moving to inspect the flowering grasses, and brushing my fingers over the soft fluff.

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