See You at the Finish Line (Run, Love, Repeat #1)

20. Adam

“Who do you like?”

Julien’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

“What? I don’t like anybody,” I tell him hurriedly, peeling my eyes away from Paige.

I couldn’t tell whether she had read my email about the race when she walked in the Monday after I sent it. And then no mention of it the rest of the month. A whole month and nothing.

I’m assuming she saw it—who doesn’t check their email for a whole month? She doesn’t seem bothered by it though since she hasn’t said anything to me about it.

Not that that’s a good thing. She’s not bothered by my presence, so why would this? I wasn’t necessarily expecting it to bother her, but maybe excite her? A race is a good excuse to get back into running.

Maybe I was hoping she’d thank me. Or punch me. Something more than this pleasant, easygoing Paige.

“You don’t like any of the new recruits?” Julien asks, surprised.

“What? ”

“The massage recruits. You don’t like any of them?”

“Oh, that. I don’t enjoy massages, so they haven’t worked on me.”

“Fair enough.”

“Who do you like?” I ask him hesitantly. Do I want him to say Paige? Do I not?

“I like Paige.” Ever a man of few words.

My heart. I make a noncommittal sound, hoping that ends the conversation.

“Her hands are great. Looking at her, you wouldn’t think she’d be that strong, but she gets the right amount of pressure. And it’s as if she can sense what your body needs.”

I take it back. I liked it better when he barely spoke.

Julien and I have become close since I started working here. Since, as a goalie, he has his own training staff, we’re free to be friends outside the rink without a conflict of interest.

He’s quiet with people he doesn’t know, and it takes a lot to crack his hard exterior. But once he opened up, it was easier for him to be himself.

“I mean, isn’t that kind of her job?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the image of her hands on Julien.

“Yeah, but some massage therapists only go through the motions. She doesn’t. She feels what your body needs and then works with it. She has magic hands.”

Ugh.

“That’s good. ”

“Connor is great too,” he says like he can sense I don’t want to talk about Paige anymore. I haven’t told him, haven’t told anyone at work besides Mateo. But Julien can be perceptive.

“What do you like about Connor?” I jump on the change in subject from Paige and her magic hands. Hands that I have repeatedly thought about in intimate moments with myself and other, less appropriate, times.

My cock twitches.

“He’s great. Strong, capable. He’s less relaxing, but it feels more clinical, which is what some of the players like about him.”

“And what about the other one?”

“Don’t tell anyone ...” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Maxim plans on firing two of them once he decides which one he wants to hire. He’ll give them the remainder of their pay and then they’ll be let go.”

“Isn’t that against the probationary contract they signed?” I ask, suddenly grateful Paige is doing so well.

“No, it’s not. The contract says something like ‘three months’ pay’ and not three months of work.”

“That’s gross.”

“Yup. That’s Maxim.” Julien sighs and Paige looks up from her conversation, her eyes flitting to me first before she smiles at Julien.

“She’s beautiful,” Julien whispers when Paige looks away. He doesn’t say it like he’s attracted to her, more like stating a fact. At least, that’s what I think his tone means.

“Can’t argue there,” I say under my breath, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling that’s settled in my stomach .

“You want to grab a drink tomorrow?” I ask Julien. He knows what I mean. The season is starting, and Coach likes the staff to go dry with the team. It makes it easier for them to cut alcohol out of their lives for eight months of the year.

“Sure,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder and heading to his next session with his trainer.

I make my way to my office, nearly crashing into Paige when I turn around.

I grab her by the arms as she stumbles back from me. “Sorry.”

When I realize what I’ve done, I drop my hands quickly. They tingle from the feel of her skin, and I have to flex them to release the excess energy.

“That’s okay. You’re actually who I want to talk to,” she says.

Don’t get excited, don’t get excited . This is just the first time I’m having a proper conversation with her, not a big deal. It’s probably work related.

“Oh yeah? What’s up?” There, that sounded good. Smooth.

“Can we go somewhere private?”

Stay calm. “Sure.”

I lead her back to my office, trying not to seem too eager or make her uncomfortable. I got lucky—the person I replaced had one of the only offices with real walls rather than glass. I love everyone here—with a few exceptions—but I like my privacy.

I walk into the room first and perch on the edge of my desk facing her, sticking my hands in my pockets to try to seem casual. She takes in the room, and I look at it from her eyes, trying to piece together what she’s thinking .

There’s really nothing personal in my office. I haven’t had the chance to hang my framed jersey my mom got me for Christmas. But there is a picture of me and my siblings on the bookshelf. The walls are blue on top and grey on the bottom, and the desk I’m leaning on is covered with paper and manuals, my computer hums at the side.

The fluorescent office lights should make the room bright, but two of the bulbs are out, so the room is darker than it needs to be. It strains my eyes sometimes.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, taking in the small space, as if regretting her choice to follow me here.

She closes the door behind her as she steps in, and it feels like all the air is swiftly sucked out of the room. It becomes deadly quiet, with very little of the muffled sound of the staff working outside penetrating the walls.

Her dark brown hair is down today, out of its usual ponytail, and it falls in loose waves around her face and shoulders. She looks like she’s wearing a bit more makeup. Not that she needs it, but it’s nice—her eyelashes are dark and long, her lips tinted a soft muted colour.

She’s stunning.

“I wanted to talk to you about the race,” she starts.

I repress the urge to visibly exhale in relief. “Okay, what about it?”

“Your email said it was mandatory. Is that even allowed?” She narrows her eyes at me. Her beautiful brown eyes .

“Yes, when you signed your contract, you signed up for mandatory staff bonding activities. This is the first of many if you stay on here.” I don’t actually know if I can enforce it.

“Is it always a running race?”

I look at her hard, trying to figure out what she’s thinking, but I can’t read her face. She’s so guarded. She’s changed over the last few years—hardened. She leaves me with one choice: I need to be straightforward.

“I’m sorry, Paige, but I have to ask, why is this a problem? You can run 5k backwards in your sleep.”

She laughs, but there’s no soul in it. “Not anymore.”

I expect her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. I take a big swing.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tonight to talk about it?” I manage to keep the desperate hope out of my voice. She looks surprised but doesn’t respond right away.

“I can’t.”

She can’t. Not won’t.

“Another night?”

“That depends on how tonight goes,” she says, confusing me even more.

“What’s tonight?”

She stares me straight in the face and says, “I have a date.”

“A date.” I think my brain freezes.

“That’s what I said.”

“So you can’t go out with me if tonight’s date goes well?”

She looks like she wants to say something but keeps her mouth shut. Her beautiful, perfect mouth .

“Does that mean it’s getting serious?”

“Why do you care?”

Is she probing? Why am I probing?

“I don’t.” A lie. “I’m just having a conversation.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “So would I be able to get excused from the race?”

“Unless you have a doctor’s note, I expect you to participate. Same goes for everyone else.”

Finally, there it is. There’s the fire in her eyes.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll forget who I am over the next month and won’t notice if I don’t show up.”

She whirls around, whipping the door open and slamming it behind her on her way out. I do not hold back the grin that spreads across my face.

My forgetting her name did bother her.