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

24. Adam

I’m sitting on my unfinished, very unlevel deck, watching people dot the bay. They are indistinguishable blobs, but I love watching them run around as I eat lunch and obsessively check my phone for any emails from Paige.

She didn’t answer my last one, and I’m getting anxious. Did I push her too far?

I’m distracted by my thoughts when one of the figures comes close enough that my mouth drops. She stands looking at the city and then drops to her knees, her face lifting towards the sky.

Paige.

I freeze mid-chew. I’m not sure how I know it’s her—I can’t see her features, but it’s like I can feel her presence. I sense I may be intruding on something private, but I’m suspended in this moment, much like she seems to be.

What’s she doing? Is she okay? Then I notice the shoes she’s placed on the sand and my heart lurches. The blue ones from the ultra. She was out running .

A grin spreads over my face and I turn to go back inside, giving her peace. Not for long, though, because I don’t have that much self-control.

I keep peeking out the window, watching as she eventually gets up and makes her way back to the city, disappearing into the horizon.

She’s going through something, that much has been obvious. I wish she’d confide in me, but it’s not like we’re friends.

Time to change that.

I consider getting my gear on and running out to “accidentally” bump into her, but that feels a bit too contrived for my liking—I don’t want to force anything. I’ll wait until tomorrow at work and see if I can’t get her bantering with me in person, as opposed to over email.

As luck would have it, the universe rewards me for my patience when I’m out for dinner with Mateo. A familiar brunette ponytail is sitting at the table across from me. How I could have ever thought Grace’s hair was the same as Paige’s, I’ll never know.

“Paige is here,” I mutter under my breath.

Like the stealthy charging bull Mateo is, he jolts in his chair and whips his head around to survey the restaurant.

“Subtle,” I whisper.

He spots her and his grin turns wicked.

“Paige?” he calls .

I groan inwardly. I should’ve expected that. I’m off my game.

Her head turns at her name and her friend looks too, narrowing her eyes as she takes us in. She whispers something to Paige and Paige whispers back. Her friend’s eyes light up before gathering her food and walking over to us.

“Can we join you?” she asks.

Paige follows her, very much not bringing her food with her.

“I’m sorry, we don’t want to intrude,” Paige hisses, glaring at her friend. But like any good friend, she ignores Paige.

“Please, join us,” Mateo says when I don’t speak.

I’m still picturing Paige kneeling in the bay. God, she’s stunning. Her eyes look brighter today and her cheeks are flushed. She reluctantly gets her food as her friend sits beside Mateo, forcing Paige to take the seat beside me.

Her friend introduces herself first. “I’m Shay.”

“Mateo, Adam,” Mateo says, pointing to us.

“Oh, I know.” Shay grins at Paige, who rolls her eyes.

Paige must have talked about me and that thought thrills me. I am giddy inside, absolutely, downright giddy. Until it hits me that she probably hasn’t said very nice things.

“I knew the first friend I made here would turn out to be an evil supervillain,” Paige mutters, shaking her head.

“How’d you two meet?” I ask Paige.

She looks me dead in the eye. “Hot yoga.”

I cough a little at the thought of Paige bent over, sweat rolling down her back. The image is sudden and immediate, and I think she may see it on my face because she smirks. In my mind, though, she’s naked.

Maybe I should tell her to wear clothes to class next time, but I think that may be overstepping.

“I’ve always wanted to do one of those. Maybe next time we can join you,” Mateo says, and I don’t miss the use of the word “we.” Apparently, he’s volunteering to help me suffer. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Sure. It’s every Sunday at 6:00 a.m. at the studio just down the street from here,” Shay says before Paige can comment. “Ow!” Shay glares at Paige. Based on Paige’s scowl, she must have kicked her under the table. Shay and Mateo should have a competition to see who can be the least subtle.

“Perfect. We’ll be there next week,” Mateo answers for us.

“Oh really? Hot yoga, Mateo?” I ask him.

“Sure, why not?”

“You hate the heat,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Paige gasps and holds her heart. “How dare you, you take that back!” she says in mock offence. I don’t love that she’s joking with Mateo and not me.

“Is it really hot?” Mateo asks, a little unsure now.

“When you first go in you feel like you’re suffocating. You lie on your mat for a few minutes. Your body adjusts,” Shay says with a shrug.

“The heat wraps around you inside and out and it feels amazing,” Paige says, and there’s something in her voice. I turn to her.

“Does it make you miss home?” I ask .

She looks at me, startled. “Yes,” she says after a moment. “But the best part is coming out of class and inhaling that first breath of fresh air. You feel like you’ve left everything negative behind and can breathe again.”

I see it in her face. She’s saying more than she intended, alluding to her struggles. I wish Shay and Mateo would leave so I could talk to her. I need to tell her—

“Paige?” A male voice interrupts my thoughts.

She looks away from me and I feel the loss of her gaze. Following her line of sight, I want to growl.

Nate.

“Oh, hey Nate,” she says, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh, you’re Nate!” Shay says helpfully, a knowing smile written all over her face. She takes him in from his head to his feet and chuckles to herself. Nate doesn’t acknowledge her. He’s staring hard at Paige.

He’s here with a woman, and I want to rejoice and punch him at the same time. I don’t want Paige with him, but I also don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t think I made the conscious decision, but I swiftly move closer to Paige, extending my arm across the booth behind her.

I could be stretching, or I could be sending a signal that she’s not alone either.

Nate doesn’t miss the gesture and Paige turns to furrow her brows at me. I am the picture of innocence, not taking my eyes off Nate.

“Go get a table, I’ll be there in a minute,” he snaps at his date. When she leaves, he turns back to Paige .

“I thought we had fun the other night,” he says, his voice low.

“We did,” Paige agrees.

“You didn’t answer my call yesterday, or call me back,” Nate says.

“I was busy. Don’t you think you should get back to your date?” Paige answers.

“That’s my sister.” It’s clearly a lie. I know for a fact that Nate is an only child.

Did Paige just breathe a sigh of relief? Nate’s eyes flick back to me.

“Coach,” he says, finally acknowledging me.

“Nate,” I say, voice hard.

When no one else says anything, Nate deflates a little.

“I guess I’ll call you later?” he asks Paige.

“Okay,” she says and watches him leave.

“You’re right, he does have a nice ass. Pity.” Shay sighs and Paige glares at her for a moment before turning to me. I get an elbow in my side.

Reflexively, I reach to stop her, and my fingers burn as they brush over the skin on the inside of her arm. She lets out a little breath and I’m done for.

She recovers before I do. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid.”

“He’s not a good guy,” I say, forgetting we’re in a public place and our friends are sitting across from us.

“He’s one of your players.”

“Doesn’t mean I like the guy. ”

“And why does it matter if you like him or not?”

“You deserve someone who treats you better. Also, he has no sisters.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shay interjects. “The sex was terrible.”

“What?” Mateo and I both blurt out. She continues eating like she didn’t just spill her friend’s secret.

Paige whips around, glaring at her friend. “Shay!”

“What?” Shay shrugs and Paige gapes back at her.

She shifts around, creating some space between us and turning the full force of her anger on me.

“You know what, Adam, you don’t get to talk about what I deserve.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She huffs. “You know exactly what that means. How do you even know about Nate? Who I date is none of your business.”

Date. She’s dating him.

“He’s a famous hockey player. There are pictures of you all over the internet. Or there were.” I checked this morning and they were long gone, just like I predicted.

Paige shakes her head. “Are you stalking me for real now?”

“You’re the one who moved to my city,” I spit back, feeling the anger—and other emotions—rise in my chest as she leans in, her face full of indignation.

“I did not move here for you.” She says it so plainly that it hurts a little. If she sees it on my face, she doesn’t react.

“I know that. I don’t want to see you get hurt,” I say, unsure where to take it from here .

She stands to leave and I follow suit, but she glares at me. The tension visibly rolls off her shoulders. When she steps so close that I can smell her, the memories hit me like a truck.

Though she’s not covered in a film of dirt and sweat, her scent is the same, like coconut and fresh air. My mouth waters, my lips aching with the need to touch her and taste her.

She smells like home.

She’s still glaring at me, and when my eyes accidentally flick down to her lips, she grins like she won a battle.

Paige leans in and it takes everything in me not to grab her and pin her against the wall. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you were so quick to forget about me,” she hisses.

She throws some money down on the table and storms out with Shay. I stand there like an idiot, stunned.

“Still haven’t cleared that up yet, eh?” Mateo says, enjoying my discomfort.

“I haven’t had the chance.” A lie. He knows it and snorts into his food. “What do I do with this?”

“Do better?”

“Funny.” I shake my head. “Seriously though, what do I do?”

“Honestly? Stop being a dick to her. That’d probably be a good start.”

“I don’t do it on purpose.”

“You can’t help yourself.”

“She started all of this.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t hope. I got hard just watching you two fight. I bet the sex wouldn’t be terrible. ”

“Don’t be gross.”

I know it wouldn’t. I know how her body feels against mine fully clothed, filthy, and exhausted. I know how her mouth moves—I’ve committed it to memory. Nothing with her would be terrible.

She could live in my house and it would become our home. She could go out into the bay whenever she wanted. I bet Q would love it. I could tell her every day how not a minute went by where I didn’t think of her.

Now how do I tell her this without sounding like a stalker?