Page 32 of Ruled By Rivalry

“Give up.”

Elliot still had enough energy to throw his head back in a laugh—but it cost him precious seconds. He trailed behind me now. “So, this is a competition.”

“Always has been.”

“Maeve Peterson,” he tutted between breaths, and I finally saw it. Exhaustion. Defeat. Victory, so close I could taste it. His next words confirmed it. “On three?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

“On three.”

I let him catch up to me just as we approached Bow Bridge and waited for his sign to finally put an end to this. A tie was better than a loss, and my ego wasn’t bigger than my need to breathe.

“One, two . . .” he started counting down. We both slowed.

“Three!” My legs stopped all on their own. I had no control over how my feet screeched to a halt, and I slumped over, hands on my knees, breathing heavily. I paused the workout on my watch, and the roaring in my ears was so loud, it took me a second to realize it.

Elliot wasn’t beside me. That bastard had fucking tricked me.

My head shot up as I watched him skid to a stop several feet away. He had gained at least ten seconds on me, and the smirk on his face told me he wouldn’t let that go easily. With sweat clinging to his brows and hairline, cheeks flushed, and his shirt soaked, he was reveling in his win.

I’d be madder if I weren’t so preoccupied getting my breathing back under control.

“Come on, Maeve.” He snickered, walking the few feet back over. “I’m surprised you didn’t keep on running another mile just to beat me.”

“Some of us want to win fair and square,” I muttered.

Slowly, steadily, I caught my breath. Maybe I just stood in his eyeline, and he was actually watching the ducks swimming a few feet below us, not me. Maybe I just happened to look at him whenever he happened to look at me, and any other second, he was admiring the iconic buildings of the Upper East Side in the distance as well.

“Can you see your penthouse from here?” My question just slipped out, surprising us both.

“Nope.” He nodded ahead of us, urging me to follow him farther onto the bridge. Surrounded by the green crowns of trees, the dirty water below us, and the brown brick buildings at the edge of Central Park, we were alone. Or as alone as one could be in New York City; with a few runners passing by and ducks below us quacking, it felt weirdly calm.

At odds with our usual dynamic too, which was loud and combative and anything but peaceful. Then again, we’d just expended all our energy on a race neither of us had announced.

Elliot pointed toward the Upper East Side. “You can’t see it through the trees in the summer, but it’s back there.” I followed his gaze, imagined the building he’d grown up in and what growing up in a building like that might do to a person.

I couldn’t really blame him for his arrogance, entitlement, and whatever else happened when you grew up with everything you’d ever wanted at your fingertips. But I blamed God and the universe for putting him in my way regardless.

“High up?” I asked to distract from the jealousy trickling down my back. From thoughts of how tight my budget had always had to be, and how he’d probably never even bought his own groceries before.

“Very.”

One of us should’ve moved by now—should’ve suggested heading back home. It was almost seven, and we still needed to get to work on time. I didn’t know why we were still here.

Out of nowhere, Elliot asked, “Do you miss them?” I had no idea who he meant until he added, “Your grandparents, I mean.”

An oddly intimate question with an easy answer. “Every day. Why?”

He shook his head, like he’d wanted to say something and changed course last second. Like he wasn’t sure whether he should tell me at all.

He decided to wave me off, and it was probably for the better. “Nothing.” He shrugged, leaned his forearms onto the balustrade. “I just wonder what that’s like, you know? To feel something other than anxiety or annoyance when I hear his name.”

The way he said it was casual, a throwaway comment he didn’t think about further—but there was more below it. A confession, a plea. For what, I wasn’t sure.

“It’s just this interview later,” he added quickly, while I was still searching for the right words. “They’ll ask me about Hunter, and I’ll need to play the loving grandson he never had.”

“Or what?”