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When Astrid doesn’t answer, I ask again, thinking that maybe she didn’t hear me. “What’s the pace goal?” I think seven minutes is mine, but she’s nearly a foot shorter.
She looks uncomfortable, shifting back and forth, her gaze avoiding mine. “I don’t really have a goal… I just kind of play the songs and run as many in a row as I can.” She holds out her phone in one hand and her headphones in the other as evidence.
I grab them out of her hands and set them on the island with mine. “No more headphones. We’re running together.”
“Together?” She looks put out by the suggestion. Her eyebrows knit together; her mouth is open in disbelief.
It’s too late for me to change my mind now. I’m already awake. So she’s going to get used to it. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” I imagine fun might persuade her. It could be fun. I think.
But Astrid doesn’t say anything.
I fight back the scowl I feel bringing down my attempt at a friendly smile. Is she really turning me down? This is why it’s stupid to try. I drag my fingers through my hair.
“You’re too fast for me,” she says eventually, shaking her head.
I seize on that. “That’s why I’m running with you. I’ll make you faster.” No other reason.
Astrid looks past me at the phones stacked on the island, as if considering her ability to get around me and out of the house before I could catch her. She must decide that’s not possible because she sighs, resigned, and says, “fine.”
“I’ll let you set the pace at first,” I explain to her, setting my watch. “We can run walk, so walk whenever you need. And then the next run we’ll increase the pace a little bit. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I’m surprised to find myself smiling for the first few yards. I don’t like running, necessarily. But I don’t mind training her. I take it easy the first few minutes. Her legs are so much shorter than mine that her light jog could be my walk, but I rethink telling her that. I like getting a rise out of her. But I don’t want to piss her off to the point that she won’t run with me anymore.
“Alright, good job,” I say as we take a turn out of my neighborhood. “Let’s pick up the pace just a bit.”
“Ugh,” she groans, shooting me a hateful look, but her little feet pad faster beside me.
Adorable.
The air is cooler this early in the morning, a sign that fall is close. The sky is slowly turning from a deep indigo to soft pinks and yellows. The early sun sets a warm glow against Astrid’s face that I try to ignore, but I find myself stealing glances at her anyway. This pace lets me watch her. Her pretty face is determined, her gaze steady on the sidewalk in front of us.
She looks comfortable. I decide to challenge her.
“Think you can go faster?” I jog slightly ahead so that I can turn around to face her.
She rolls her eyes, I imagine annoyed that I can run backwards as fast as her normal jogging pace.
“Fine,” she grumbles.
I smirk, and I push the pace. I make a point to talk to her throughout, making sure it’s not too fast, using her breathing as my benchmark for when to walk and when to jog. We alternate, using the breaks to set new goals, and the jogging sections as an opportunity to test her speed.
Astrid’s initial resistance to speeding up turns into a steady rhythm of footsteps against the ground. Her stride is strong. Her arms are tight to her sides. She’s got decent form for someone who claims to not really run. A few more weeks and a little confidence and she’ll be knocking minutes off her mile time.
I think I can commit to that.
The neighborhood transitions as we go. The route we’re taking will pass Connor’s house, and then loops around out of The Glades and into the little neighborhood next to us, and then back again. So we’re going to pass the place we met. I’m not sure why that makes me smile, but it does. And I find myself slowing down to make it our walking section.
She gives me a meaningful look.
“Thinking about how happy you are that I saved you?” I tease, not quite sure what to make of her wide eyes or the way she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.
She laughs, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue. “I was perfectly fine, thank you.” She says it playfully.
My instinct to tease her back feels so natural that for a moment, I forget that this isn’t my normal. I blink, trying to remember the last time I spent time with someone so… carefree? No, that’s not the right word. She has quite a lot of responsibility, actually. But it is a similar disposition. Like she’s sunshine or joy. Something light. It seems to shine the most when I’m around. Or maybe it’s just that I’m dark, making her appear brighter.
“Still,” I say, realizing that I’m staring at her, and her cheeks are more flushed than I remember a few seconds ago. “I like to think I saved the day.”
