Page 4 of Walk With Me
They both needed a little time to adjust, but by the end of the following month, everything was back to normal. They’ve been relatively cool about meeting my girlfriends over the past two years. There was Hilton, who lasted sixweeks. She was all about appearance and being a power couple. Not me at all, even though I’m sure a few of my classmates would find that hilarious. After all, my dad really does own most of the town.
Then there was Josie. Three months we stuck together, but the spark just wasn’t there, and by that point I’d spotted Eden. Since Josie there’s only been a couple of hook-ups, and by that I mean messy makeout sessions after a party. My status as a virgin is well and truly in place. Not by choice, I might add. I was too young when I first started dating and nowhere near ready to have sex. That feeling changed over the past summer. I watched a lot of sapphic content online and it flipped a switch in me. Now I’m constantly horny.
Admittedly, the first person I think of when doing it for the first time is Eden. She’s always been the one I can see myself with, but maybe that’s reaching too far. I’ve got one year left and I’m only just in the position to get to know her. She might not be interested in me at all. I only know she’s a lesbian because her best friend Pia tried to set her up with Reid Mason, the butch metal worker who shares most of their art classes. Eden declined apparently. That’s all the information I was able to gather.
Now I have to find a way to get Eden into fitness, therefore extending our time together so I can figure out if she could like me.
“Walking!” Becca states as we drive home. “She spends all class walking on the treadmill, so start there.”
“I think Porter wants a little more than that,” I reply, skimming through TikTok for inspiration.
Becca laughs. “Of course he does, but you gotta be realistic Sloane. The girl looks one deep breath away from passing out. You can’t shock her system like that.”
I grin because she’s not wrong. Eden might be a talented artist—and she is because I snuck into the art room to look—but she’s no athlete.
“Oh, hey, we could do this Couch to 5K thing.”
“What does it entail?”
I read the guidelines of the website I’ve come across. “Simply put, we start by walking and then hope to get up to a run that covers five kilometers. It was a big thing in the UK a few years back.”
Becca bobs her head. “Yeah, that could work. There are plenty of places you could take her with nice, romantic scenery.”
Colorado is scenic. I wonder how much Eden has seen of it. My gut feeling says not a lot. I can imagine hersquirreled away in her room, drawing and painting for days on end without ever popping her head outside.
This could work.
I spend the rest of the journey home checking out easy trails and nice places to eat. Becca drops me off with a promise to talk later. We have a game over the weekend and need to discuss the squad. I’m not happy with some of the girls, and plan to make some changes. Becca is my second in command and always gives me her honest opinion. I want this team to be the best cheer squad Holcroft has ever seen.
“Hey, honey,” my mom calls as soon as I step through the door. She’s cooking up a storm, which means there’s a charity function on the horizon.
Bethany Bishop is a force to be reckoned with. She’s my idol. Pregnant at sixteen with me, she and my father worked tirelessly to make something of themselves, and boy did they ever. Most people think I was born into wealth, but it came off the back of my parents’ relentless pursuit of proving themselves.
“Hi, Mom, need any help?”
“Sure, baby. Could you put a salad together? Your dad plans on grilling again with the promise he eats something green.”
Laughing, I shed my school bag, wash my hands, and begin prepping the veggies. My dad loves red meat a little too much. The doctor has told him to cut back, so my mom is on a mission to get as many vegetables in his diet as possible.
“How was school?”
“The usual, although I have a new gym buddy.”
Mom stops chopping and looks at me. Her smile tells me she already knows who it is. Did I mention I’m terrible at keeping things from her? Mom has known about my crush on Eden since the beginning.
“By the way your cheeks have gone red, I’m going to guess it’s a certain young woman with a name beginning with E.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh. “You’re a dork, and yes it’s Eden.”
She claps and does a weird little shimmy dance, which makes me laugh. “So, you’re finally going to ask her out then?”
“Whoa. I spoke to her for like five minutes today, and that was awkward. She’s not happy about it at all.”
“Well, she wouldn’t be, would she? A stiff breeze could outrun that girl.”
My laugh echoes around the kitchen. “Very true. She’s going to pout so hard.”
We chuckle together. I’m talking like I know Eden way better than I do, but I’ve observed her for years. Not in a creepy way. I know some of her character, and how she responds to certain things. Her arguments with Mr. Porter are widely known, and she makes her dislike for gym abundantly clear in every class. It’s not a stretch when I say she’ll pout. I envision our first few classes together will be like pulling teeth, but I’m persistent.
