Page 30 of The Clinch
I dig deeper, ribs protesting from the fight two nights ago. She holds the burst for a full block before easing into a jog like she didn’t just set my whole morning on fire.
I reel her in beside me and lose whatever script I thought I had.
She doesn’t acknowledge me. Not with her eyes. Not with a smile.
“Thought you were going to stay at my pace.”
“I am,” I manage.
She smirks, just barely. “Right.”
We run side by side for a few minutes, faster now. She keeps an even rhythm. My lungs fall in with hers.
Everything in me screams “mine”again. My brain doesn’t even bother arguing this time.
And the worst part?
Thirty minutes ago she looked me in the face and told me we weren’t doing what we were about to do two nights ago.
No follow-through.
No sex.
No release.
Just a fake relationship and a polite boundary.
Then she does it again.
This sprint is shorter, maybe a hundred meters, but it’s sharper. I push harder this time. My ribs remind me I just fought two nights ago. It’s not enough. She gets ahead—less distance, but enough to land the hit.
Frustration hits fast and mean. I catch her again.
I slow because I have to, not because my body wants to.
“Warming up?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Old habit.”
“What habit?”
She lets the question sit there, unanswered, the river noise filling the gap. We turn at the end of the park and loop back. The morning brightens, heat settling in early. Liz wipes sweat from her throat with the back of her hand and keeps going, faster than before.
I fall into stride beside her. Close. Closer than I need to be.
I’m running off the high of chasing her, and now I’m close enough to smell the coconut in her hair mixing with jasmine on her skin, hear the shift of her movement.
It’s wrecking me.
Another burst. Short and controlled.
This one doesn’t surprise me—I’ve learned her tells already—but it still lights me up.
It’s not about pace anymore. It’s about watching her body move and knowing I can’t touch it.
We finish the loop near the river railing. She slows to a walk, hands on her hips, breathing deep and even.
I stop beside her, trying not to look like I’m recalibrating my entire nervous system.
