Collin had noticed my withdrawn appearance and attitude the whole way home, and tried to pry into my life further. I knew I should reassure him, because I didn’t want him to grow suspicious. On the other hand, I was exhausted from pretending. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up.
In the past, I had started to find solace in running. It allowed me to process my thoughts and feelings, while physically helping to tire me and strengthen me.
I looked through my drawers and found a tank top to pull on and a pair of yoga pants. I looked through my closet and found a pair of sneakers. They were bright pink. I hated pink. It was an aversion I had passed on to my sister. Further confirmation that this wasn’t my life. I didn’t belong here. I would have never purchased, or let anyone purchase, pink for me.
I left the bedroom to find Collin sitting on the couch, talking to someone in hushed tones. He stopped abruptly when I walked into the room.
“Hey, babe,” he said, giving me a fake smile. “Where are you headed?”
“I need to go for a run,” I said brightly. “Today was so overwhelming. New school, new people, harder classes,” I lied. “Running helps me.”
He gave me a concerned look, before it quickly disappeared. “I didn’t know you liked running. You hated gym class in high school.”
I grabbed my head. “Maybe we should go to the hospital,” I frowned up at him. “If you said I hated to run, why do I want to run now?”
He let out an uneasy laugh. “Babe, that isn’t necessary. I’m sure you’re fine. Did you feel extra tired today, nauseous, did you throw up?”
I looked down, trying to hide my eyes. “No,” I said as meekly as possible.
“There ya go,” he said enthusiastically. “Why don’t you go for your run?”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “If you think I should, with this headache. What exactly happened?” I probed him.
He had his answer ready and said smoothly, “I’m not sure, babe. We went out drinking with some friends of mine, and one minute you were there, and the next you weren’t. We found you out by the car. You kept complaining about hitting your head, but I didn’t see any bleeding or felt any lumps, so we thought you were fine.”
“Hmm okay,” I shrugged. “Well I’m going out for that run.” I turned to leave the apartment. It felt like the walls were closing in on me the longer I spent with him.
“Blake,” he called suddenly as my hand went to turn the handle.
“Yeah?” I called back over my shoulder.
“Do you have your cell phone? If you get lost, I want you to be able to call me.”
I closed my eyes in frustration. “Okay,” I said with forced cheerfulness. “Good idea.”
I went back to my room, feeling his eyes on me the whole time as I left the apartment.
l felt exhausted, winded, and disheartened after only one mile. I wanted to give up and turn back, but I knew I would be cheating myself. I needed to get back in shape. I needed to take back something they had taken away from me.
I found my feet running north. I had traveled this way many times. If I stayed on this road for another five or so miles, I would see the imposing gates that led up to the Bell estates. You couldn’t see the house from the road, but the gates were daunting enough to deter any trespassers. The only way you were getting in was through the key pad, the pin number only known by the residents, otherwise you would have to be buzzed in.
My mind wanted to run all the way there, prove to them I knew them, but if I couldn’t convince Gavin, how was I supposed to convince the whole family? I could show them my mark, but the guys had tattooed over them long ago to allay any suspicions. Anyone who knew the family intimately knew that the guys all sported the η on them. No one realized, except for the guys, that it was a connections mark. After all, they were an anomaly. We were an anomaly.
My legs and lungs couldn’t push past the two-mile mark, so I turned back around and started my long trek back. I used to run over 6 miles and it came easily. Not anymore. I found my eyes wanting to tear up once more.
Once upon a time, I was considered almost cold, aloof. After years of abuse, I had built walls to protect my heart, protect my mind. In little less than two months of knowing the guys and becoming a somewhat dysfunctional family, those walls had slowly but surely tumbled. I became more sensitive and emotional. It was easier having a frozen heart, because the thought of being separated from them was tearing me apart.
I barely made it back to the apartment complex. My legs hurt, and my lungs were on fire. I cooled down by walking the moment I got to the parking lot. I breathed heavily, raising my hands above my head, clasping them. I tried to inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, but my breathing came out jagged. I could feel rivulets of sweat pouring down my face, my back, my legs. I was thankful for the nip in the air right now. The cool breeze danced across my overheated skin.
When I got to the steps leading up to the apartment, I gripped the handrail in my hands to get my balance momentarily before grabbing my toes with one hand and pulling my ankle up to my rear, stretching my quad. After counting silently to thirty, I grabbed the opposite foot and did the same movement on the opposite side. I did this once more on both sides, before I bent over from my waist and touched my palms to the sidewalk, my knees together, stretching out my hamstrings.
“With flexibility like that, you must be a dancer or gymnast,” a familiar voice said from behind me.
I let out a startled yelp, before turning around. 5 feet from me was my Noah, I mean Noah, I thought ruefully. He looked as handsome as he ever did, with his wavy auburn hair and laughing hazel eyes. Today they were more on the greyish, green, gold side. His eyes were known to change from day to day, depending on his mood and what he was wearing. The freckles that sprinkled his nose and cheeks could almost be considered boyish if it wasn’t for his strong masculine features.
I felt a sharp pang when I noticed he looked a lot like he had when I first met him. Healthy, robust, normal. His eyes weren’t blood shot from imbibing in one too many drinks. They danced with an inner light that had been unique to him. His skin tone was no longer wan and pale, but the tan of summer still clung to him. I fought the urge to hug him, tell him I missed us, the us we were before things got complicated.
Instead, I put a self-conscious hand to my hair, knowing my hair had begun to tumble down from the high messy bun I had put it in. My tank top clung to me like a second skin because of the sweat that was still running down my body. I was almost positive my face was bright red. Some girls glistened and looked attractive when they worked out—I looked like a hot mess.