(7) Sometimes he can be really sweet, like when he’s joking around with his brothers.
(8) He can annoy the hell out of me occasionally, but it’s okay, because
(9) he is a great kisser. And finally,
(10) I’m attracted to him much more than I’m willing to admit.
Over the sound of my music I hear the honk of a car, which crashes my train of thought. My eyes flash to my left as a vehicle pulls up by the sidewalk, so I slow to a halt and pull out one earphone. It’s not until I take a few steps closer that I realize I recognize this car—it’s Dean’s, and he’s not alone.
As the window rolls down, Tyler offers me a small smile and raised eyebrows. He purses his lips and then says, “I knew it was you.”
“What gave it away?” I ask as I pull the other earphone from my ear and lean down. I press my hands on the car door, my breathing heavy. I don’t know how long I’ve been running for.
Tyler’s eyes light up for a moment, and he laughs under his breath and glances at his lap. “We just got outta the gym,” he tells me, but it’s not the reply I’m looking for. I was expecting an answer to my question. “We’re heading back to my place and you look like you’re about to die, so you may as well just get in the car.”
My eyes drift past him to Dean. His cheeks are flushed red from working out and he gives me a quick nod.
“I am not dying,” I protest indignantly, panting. I’m insulted that he said such a thing. “I can run for miles, okay?”
“Okay,” Tyler mimics, but his tone is playful. His smile turns lopsided and suddenly he reaches for the car door and pushes it open, forcing me to remove my hands and take a step back. He gets out of the vehicle and straightens up next to me on the sidewalk. For a long moment, he holds my gaze. “I’ll jog back with you.”
“But I like to run on my ow—”
He steps in front of me and leans through the car window to grab his bag, cutting me off midsentence as he says, “Bro, you don’t mind, right?”
Dean shakes his head and then asks, “Another session on Wednesday?”
“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “See you then, man.”
As the window rolls back up, Dean drives off, leaving me alone in the blistering heat with Tyler by my side. I can see the sweat on his biceps and the way his tank top clings to his toned chest, and I can’t help but gulp.
“Just so you know,” he says as he begins to walk, and I follow suit, “it was your ass that gave it away.”
My lips form a surprised O and I automatically glance down at my attire. Maybe today was a bad day to wear my fitted boy shorts. I feel self-conscious all of a sudden. “Um.”
He ignores me, quickening his stride as he stares at me from the corner of his eye. “I can probably walk faster than you can run,” he taunts.
“I highly doubt it,” I murmur. I take a quick swig of my water and place the earphone back into my ear. Lately, I’ve been a little obsessed with La Breve Vita after Jake took me to their gig.
“I bet I can beat you back to the house,” Tyler says, his eyes narrowed playfully as he swings his gym bag from his fingers. His tone is challenging. “Are you game?”
I snort. “I’m totally game.”
Before he can say anything else, I cheat and burst into a sprint the moment the words leave my lips, my breath regained again from the short rest, and I feel fit and healthy and strong as my feet hit the concrete, the sun against my face, the breeze cooling my legs. I feel confident in myself for the first time in a long while. And it feels nice.
“Sucker,” Tyler calls as he races past me, but I only laugh and speed up until my pace matches his. And then our silly race seems to get forgotten about as we slow ourselves back down to a gentle jog.
“You sure do run a hell of a lot,” he says between breaths as we cross over an intersection, tracing a route back to Deidre Avenue. “Do you do cross-country or something?”
“No,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on the road ahead. “I just like running. It’s the best way to work out.”
“Personally, I prefer lifting,” he comments. I glance over and catch him casting his eyes in the direction of his arms. It’s ridiculous how cocky he can be sometimes, but I’m getting used to it. “Alright,” he says, and then throws up a hand as he brings himself to a stop. “I give up. I’m not a runner.” He exhales a few times and presses his palm to the brick wall of a building as he tries to catch his breath. “You win.”
Triumph washes over me. A wide grin captures my lips as I cock my head, studying him. “You’re damn right I won.”