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“Distraction helps too.”
She hummed softly.
“When you feel that tension creeping in, focus on your breath and your stride.”
“Right,” she said.
Luke could think of other forms of distraction that relieved tension. Things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about, because this partnership was strictly professional between them now. But as he studied Lydia’s profile, the way she suddenly wouldn’t meet his eye, the way her shoulders were creeping up again, he started to wonder if maybe she was also thinking about some alternative forms of distraction. “If you’re feeling okay, I think we should start running again,” he said, glancing down at his watch like he wasn’t thinking about last night at all.
“Yep,” Lydia said, setting off. “Totally relaxed.”
But as she ran past him, her body coiled like a snake about to strike, Luke knew it was going to be a long four miles...for them both.
Nine
Lydia
Lydia had already drunk two coffees with an unmentionable amount of sugar before she even arrived at the gym. Her morning had started with hazy blueprint-like shapes after bolting awake from a dream, and she’d stumbled from her bed to her desk in search of paper and a pencil to capture the thoughts. She’d made good headway on her submission for the Manhattan Youth Center competition in the weeks since she’d visited with Luke, and if she wasn’t busy dreaming up additions to her preliminary sketch, then she was writing up the benefits of an eco-friendly design to go along with the proposal. She was still so grateful that Luke had invited her back to the youth center to meet the kids, though she tried not to dwell on that invitation too much or else her thoughts went spinning in very nonwork-related directions.
Dammit, she thought, shaking images of naked Luke from her mind as she tugged the gym door open. She’d been doing so well lately, too. That first run after sleeping together had been harder than she’d expected. An awkward tension had crept into her muscles—one that had begged her to look at him, to reach for him—and she’d practically sprinted through the last four miles if only to bring an end to her torture. But the tension had eased since then, and they’d found themselves back in a comfortable routine where he kept her on track for the marathon and she complained about the number of burpees in her cross-training. It felt right. It worked for them. She wasn’t about to mess that up now.
“You’re early,” Luke called, coming down the hall from his office.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “Weird dreams.”
“Oh?”
“Just work stuff,” she added.
“Well, I can’t help you there. But I can help you get these three miles down. Give me a second to grab my watch.”
While Luke gathered his things, Lydia went to stuff her bag in a locker. She usually went right to work from the gym after her short runs, so she had to bring everything she needed to shower. Today was a short recovery run, which Lydia found herself craving if only to clear her head. Luke met her at the door, and they slipped outside into the morning heat. The sun was barely peeking between the buildings, the streets still bathed in shadow, but she could feel the heavy weight of the summer humidity already pressing down from above.
They stretched in comfortable silence, Luke leading her through the steps she’d had memorized for weeks now. Then he started his watch timer and they set off, falling into step on the sidewalk. They ran in comfortable silence for the first mile.
When they were forced to stop for a traffic light, Luke said cautiously, “So, weird dreams? Good? Bad? Or do I not want to know?”
“They’re not sex dreams,” she assured him, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the way his entire body tensed for a beat. She was glad they were getting back to a place where they could make jokes again. They started running.
“Good. ’Cause we’re definitely not talking aboutthat. What are your weird, nonsexual work dreams?”
“Well, today I dreamed that I handed in my proposal for the Youth Center design competition and it was only half done. But even after I realized it, the leadership team wouldn’t let me finish it. I woke up with all these ideas and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“So it turned out to be a good dream then, because it gave you ideas?”
“No, it was terrifying! My heart was literally racing when I crawled out of bed.”
He laughed as they ran through a crosswalk. “I think you and I have different definitions of terrifying.”
“Oh, come on, you said you were working on a business plan. Imagine handing that in to the bank and forgetting half the plan!”
“Okay, fair point,” he said. “But is your proposal only half done?”
She shrugged. “It’s definitely further along than that.”
“So this isn’t even a valid fear. What are you really worried about?”
“I don’t know,” Lydia said. Maybe that was a lie. Or maybe she really didn’t know what the root of her fear was. Could it be the stack of previous proposal rejections? The ongoing lack of feedback from the leadership team? Was she worried she might literally forget half the proposal on the printer when she went to hand it in? “I need one of those books that decodes dreams.”
