6. Seth
Gabby stands up at the end of class and shrugs into her backpack. “I walked across campus wearing a shirt with your name on it,” she says quietly. “It’s all my fault that people think we banged.” She shrugs. “Sorry.”
“If that’s the worst thing that happens today, it’s still a pretty fantastic day.”
Her left eyebrow shoots up. “Even with the pepper spray?”
“Well, you’re talking to me now. It’s probably because you feel bad about spraying me, but I’ll take it.” I grin at her.
I hear the click of a camera on a phone behind us. “Is someone taking a picture of us?” she whispers.
“I think so,” I whisper back.
“Am I going to have, like, hundreds of girls mad at me because they think we hooked up?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not hundreds. Maybe tens.”
“Tens?” She tilts her head, and it’s so damn cute that I can barely think.
“You know… Ones… Tens… Hundreds…”
“So, tens?” she asks. “That’s manageable.” She tilts her head the other way. “How many tens are we talking about?”
I love that she’s teasing me, and I don’t know why. I shrug. “No idea.”
“Guess I’ll just have to wait and see,” she says as she turns to walk around. “I put my big girl panties on. It’ll be just fine,” she whispers back at me with a grin.
I laugh out loud, which makes everyone who’s still in the room look over. “Where are you going now?” I ask as I follow her out.
“I’m going to get that run in that I missed this morning because if I don’t, I’ll be crabby by tonight.”
“Are you running alone?”
“It’s broad daylight, and I can take care of myself.” She harrumphs.
“Well, that’s obvious, but the thing is, I missed my workout this morning because someone sprayed me in the face with mace, so I could use a good run, too.” I lift my brow at her.
She gestures from me to her and back. “You want to run? With me?” She gestures again.
I wipe my nose. “Well, I guess I could find someone else to run with.” I pretend not to be interested.
“Fine,” she says, as she rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to talk to you, though.”
“Why not?” I ask. What did I do now?”
“Because I’ll be running.” I can hear the implied “fool” at the end of the sentence.
“Okay. I can deal with that. How far are we running?”
She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Afraid you can’t keep up?”
I fake a gasp. “How dare you insult my running?”
She laughs. “I’ll meet you at the mouth of the trail in fifteen minutes,” she says. “If you show up, we’ll run.”
“I’ll show up,” I reply.
“Sure you will.” She shakes her head and keeps walking, leaving me behind.
I return to my apartment, drop off my book-bag, drink a glass of water, and head for the trail, where I find her stretching. She glances at her watch. “You’re late.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
She pulls her earbuds out and puts them in her ears.
“What are you listening to?” I ask.
She hands me her phone, and I see a list of oldies my grandpa might have listened to. “The fuck is this?” I ask as I scroll through her list.
“Pop turned me on to this stuff.” Her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink.
She has Frankie Valli, the Beatles, Aretha Franklin, and a few more on a list called “My Running Mix.” “Can I connect?” I ask.
She takes the phone back. “You want to listen? To this?” She gestures toward her phone.
“Well, yeah.”
She searches for my earbuds, and I hook up to her audio sharing. “It’s loud!” I say over the beat of the music.
She grins and takes off toward the trail. I follow for a moment, and then I pull up next to her, and we run in absolutely the noisiest silence I have ever encountered. By the time we get back to the trailhead, I am out of breath, my calves are screaming, and she looks rejuvenated. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and she’s breathing hard enough that it’s difficult to talk.
She turns the music off, and I take my earbuds out and shove them in my pocket. She starts to stretch, her leggings pulling across her knee as she bends. “You need to stretch,” she warns.
Leave it to the physical therapy major to promote stretching. “Yes, ma’am,” I say as I copy her motions. Finally, she shakes her arms loose and stretches up tall—so tall that I can see an inch of her abs as her shirt rises—and then relaxes.
“Thanks for going with me,” she says.
Two people walk by us on the trail. They’re women, and they look really familiar to me, but I have no idea what their names are.
“Hey, Seth,” they say in tandem, sing-songy.
I wave at them as they go by. They giggle and keep walking.
“Who was that?” she asks.
I shrug. “No idea.”
“They knew you.”
I shrug again.
She shakes her head.
“Are you busy tonight?” I suddenly ask, not ready for my time with her to be over.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On why you want to know.”
“Dinner? With me?” I suggest.
“Like a friends-meeting-for-dinner kind of thing? Or like a date?”
“Which would you say yes to?”
She grins. “Neither.” She pats my chest, walks past me, and calls toward me without looking back, “Thanks for the run, Seth!”
“Any time!” I call back.
I watch her walk away, and for some reason, I feel like everything I ever wanted is walking in the other direction, farther and farther out of my reach.
I don’t like it, not even a little.