“No thanks,” I deflect, ignoring how much it feels like ants are crawling beneath my skin. I never turn down a bet. Ever. And oh, how I would love to beat Theo’s ass today. But accepting his challenge would open the door for more communication. More feelings. And I’m not sure I’m strong enough to keep them in check. Not when I’m so close to caving already.
Stepping closer, he pushes aside his amusement and drops his voice low until only I can hear him. “I messed up, Blake. And it’s been killing me. I should’ve listened to you and taken things slower. I shouldn’t have ruined your trust.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “But I’m here. And I’m not done fighting for this. Fighting for us. Give me a chance to do it differently. Please.”
Damn those eyes.
“Come on, Miss Blakely,” Billy interjects. “You can totally beat him.”
Theo’s mouth lifts in a smirk, his eyes shining with sincerity. “He’s right. You can totally beat me.”
“Glad we’re finally in agreement,” I quip.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, and the sound makes my stomach somersault. “It’s a pretty rare thing with us, isn’t it? We should probably work on that.”
“And what if I win?” I continue, ignoring his assumption we have anything to work on in the first place because we aren’t a we. Not anymore. Not ever, actually. The realization stings.
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Space. Dinner,” he teases, though I can see the worry in his eyes.
Because he knows I’m faster than he is. But he’s desperate. And his desperation is about to bite him in the ass.
“You’re not worried?” I ask.
“Scared as hell.” His dry response makes my mouth twist up in a ghost of a smile before I bite it back.
At least he’s honest.
As if he can’t help himself, he trails his fingertips along the shell of my ear, tucking my hair behind it as he looks down at me with so much want, so much need, I’m afraid my legs might give out at any second.
Stay strong, Blake, I remind myself.
“But I’m not afraid to make a fool of myself or fight for the things I want. Besides, you aren’t the only competitive one around here.” He drops his hand to his side as if remembering I’m not his to touch. “One lap. Then, I’ll either leave you alone…for a week,” he clarifies, “or you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you tonight. Deal?”
“A week?” I ask with a laugh, my heart twinging. But I can’t help it. The guy is hands down the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.
He brushes his fingertips against my arm but drops his hand to his side again. “You really think I’d let you go forever, Baby Thorne?”
Stupid heart. And his stupid proximity.
“Yeah, come on, Miss Blakely!” Bridger calls. I’d been so distracted by my conversation with Theo, I hadn’t realized we’d collected quite the crowd. Almost everyone’s here. Even a few of the other volunteers are watching.
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.
“Miss Blakely’s still got it,” Blake says as she catches her breath. “Everyone take a victory lap so I can have a little chat with my friend.”
Friend.
I’ll take it.
The kids take off at a sprint while the volunteers give us a wide berth, leaving us alone, and I savor the moment, hoping it won’t be our last.