Page 71 of Run To You
“Was that as weird for you as it was for me?” I pant.
“Maybe weirder,” says Sloane. “It kind of feels…over now. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” I say, and it does. My body hurts, but the rest of me is flying high. I think that really was the last hurdle we needed to overcome.
On the last third of the run, everything lost—minutes of sleep and acrobatic sex I’ve shared with Sloane recently—catches up with me. My body is wrecked. I lose feeling in my right toe and weirdly my nose. Every muscle in my legs is seizing up, and I have sweat pouring from places it has no business coming from. I’m not the only one suffering though because Becca sprains her ankle, yet insists on hopping the rest of the way.
Bella’s playlist somehow syncs with the stadium’s, and the final stretch is a full-on shitshow of queers trying to party to Bella’s weird arse music. Sloane is the only one who looks semi-okay. Finally, we all cross the finish line, giving each other half-arsed high-fives.
For a few minutes, we just stand there heaving in oxygen, bent in half. Bella pushes cups of mystery sports drink into our hands, which look like car windshield fluid. It tastes like it too.
“We fucking slayed,” she shouts with a beaming smile. Sometimes I miss the quiet snarky girl from high school. Damn Becca for bringing her out of her shell.
Even Alex comes over, hands on her hips, winded but smiling, and offers a fist bump. I fist her.
…Poor choice of words.
Then, out of nowhere, Sloane hugs me. Not a polite, quick, “thanks for running with me” kind of hug, but a full-body, don’t-let-go bear hug that makes everyone around us hoot.
“I love you,” she says, right there, in front of everybody. And it’s not even a question. Not even a thing to be nervous about.
“I love you back,” I say, and my voice cracks, but I don’t care. It’s taken way too long to get back to my happy place, and I’m so fucking happy I’m finally here.
On the walk back to the car, Sloane’s hand is in mine the whole time. Becca limps ahead, and Bella dances like a feral toddler. I’m going to put her down for a nap when we get home. Maybe confiscate her work laptop for a while so she actually sleeps through the night.
We drive home with the windows down, music blaring, and the worry from this morning already seems like ancient history. And yeah, I’m still tired.
24
Sloane
Let’s get one thing straight: I am not a masochist. I don’t seek out the people who would’ve liked to have been my ex, such as Kiera…or Alex. And I certainly don’t volunteer for events that include them.
The gods must have a sick sense of humor, but even they’re running out of new ways to test my coping skills at the moment. Why can’t the past stay where it belongs? I mean, it’s not like I should feel anything about seeing Kiera again, but my brain likes to kick up the dust and remind me of how awful Kiera was to Eden and how over the top she was with me. It also reminds me of how I pushed Edenaway in senior year when things were getting stressful, just like I did in college. It just wasn’t as extreme back then.
Alex’s “I’m running in the same charity race” meet-up, which turned out to not be as horrendous as I first thought, was the start. Alex clearly saw Eden and I were together again and didn’t make the situation worse by declaring her undying love for me or anything, which really helped my anxiety levels. I got a nice text from her a couple of days after the race, where she reiterated her happiness for me and Eden and said I looked really good. There’s a chance we could be friends again.
Kiera is next. And not just Kiera, but Kiera plus Jenna, which is apparently the hot new item on the friendship menu. I got the news last night at 10:37 p.m., when Jenna banged on my door, brimming with the kind of energy that only people under twenty or Labrador retrievers possess.
“It’s official!” she’d squealed, and I nearly dropped my phone in surprise.
“What is?”
“Me and Kiera. We’re, like,togethertogether. You know, capital D dating.“ Jenna did a little hop, barefoot, which led me to wonder where her shoes were.
“Congratulations?” I said,though it came out as a question. Jenna grinned so hard I was afraid she’d break her cheekbones.
So that’s how I found out that my closest friend and the girl who used to like me are now together. It’s not scandalous. This is, after all, Eden’s circle. It’s just…statistically improbable. Like flipping a coin and having it land on its edge. Twice.
Today’s event is billed as a “family reunion-slash-barbecue,” hosted by Eden’s parents, who have the exact same sense of drama as their daughter, and, as rumor has it, a fridge full of imported prosecco. The house is ten minutes away, but I leave twenty just in case I need to circle the block for emergency self-pep talks.
When I pull up, the driveway is full. Eden’s parents’ Volvo, a powder blue Mini Cooper that screams “Jenna,” and, parked with ruthless precision, a new SUV that can only be Kiera’s. I would know if I’d taken Eden up on her offer to stay over with her last night, but I had a morning mentoring session and needed to be well rested.
I hover in the car, scrolling through my socials and pretending to check for urgent texts. Nothing. Not even a meme from Becca, who once texted me “help” from Eden’s living room because she was trapped in a two-hourconversation with Eden’s dad about Brexit and “the decline of European civilization.” Apparently, I’m on my own. I can’t understand why this is affecting me so much.
When I finally get out, the air is heavy with the sort of humidity that coats your skin before you even make it to the porch. The side gate is open, and I can already hear Eden’s laugh above the chattering throng. I take a breath and slip through the gate, head down, sunglasses on. I really need to sort my shit out.
The backyard is peak suburban bliss. String lights zigzag above a collection of folding tables covered in red gingham. There’s a homemade cornhole set, at least three kinds of chips, and Eden’s dad manning the grill like he’s auditioning for a Food Network show. Eden is front and center, arms flailing as she tells some story to a rapt audience of three: her mom, gran and…Kiera.
