Keeping The Pace
alyssa
I was helping Simone prep dinner, taking my frustration out on innocent vegetables, when Julian walked through her door.
“Julian!” Simone called from beside me. “Perfect timing. Stay for dinner?”
I looked up from the cutting board, knife paused mid-chop. Of course he was here. Probably couldn't let our argument end without getting the last word.
I sucked my teeth at him as he walked into the kitchen. “Come to make sure I didn't badmouth you to your sister?”
“If complaining that I helped get you into a beautiful condo counts as badmouthing, have at it.” he deadpanned.
I glared at him. He grinned and settled against the counter, “Actually, I came because our conversation got cut short.”
“I assumed we were finished when you ripped up my check.” I rolled my eyes.
“You’re gonna give yourself a headache with all that eye rolling.” He grinned again. “That was you trying to pay me back. This is me trying to figure you out.”
Figure me out? What was I, some puzzle for him to solve? I could feel Simone watching us like we were her personal entertainment. She grabbed her drink, probably sensing the tension. “I'm gonna go check on the kids.”
Once we were alone, I set down my knife and faced him fully. Here we go. “Figure me out how?”
“Most people don’t call me out like that.” He said like it genuinely puzzled him. “To my face.”
“Maybe most people want your money.”
He laughed, and I fought a smile.
“You always this direct?”
“You always used to getting your way?” I retorted.
“Usually,” he said. “Look, you needed a place. You got it, and instead of being happy, you come to my office ready to go to war. I’m trying to find the part where I did something wrong.”
“That’s it, though.” I leaned on the island. “You’re thrown off because you’re not used to hearing no. You make a decision, the room agrees, life moves on. Must be nice.”
“It is nice. Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s fine… in your office. With people who work for you.” I held his eyes. “You don’t get a say over my life, Julian. No title gives you one. You overstepped.”
He went quiet. I could see him actually taking in what I’d said. “You know what’s interesting to me?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“You've caught me off guard three times now. I don't get caught off guard.”
“Three times?”
“Football field. The wedding. Today.” He counted them on his fingers. “I saw something that I could help with, so I handled it. That's all that was.”
“You tore up my check. I came to pay you back, Julian. To settle it. And you ripped it up like it was nothing.”
“It was nothing.”
“Not to me. I don't take handouts. I don't get carried. I can dig myself out of my own holes. I don’t need you to come along and wave it away like it doesn't cost me anything to be in your debt.”
He tilted his head. “You know… most people would’ve just said thank you.”
“Most people, or most women?” I let that sit. “I imagine that’s the usual story, huh? Woman wants a thing, you’re the man who hands it to her, everybody’s happy.”
His eyebrows went up. “Are you saying I'm used to gold diggers?”
“You said it. I didn't.”
He studied my face. “Is that why you got upset? You think that I think you're a gold digger?”
“No. I’m saying whatever dynamic you are used to with women, this isn't that. I'm not looking to get anything off you, and I'm definitely not auditioning for anything.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “I didn't think you were.”
“Good. Then we understand each other.” I let a breath out. “Listen, I am… grateful. I really am. But there's a difference between grateful and indebted, and I needed you to know I know it.”
“Noted.” He pushed off the counter, quieter now. “For the record, there is no debt, Alyssa. I don’t keep a ledger. I saw somebody carrying a lot on their own and I had the means to make one piece of it lighter. That was the beginning and the end of it.”
“That's the part that's hard for me,” I admitted. “The on-my-own part is load-bearing. You start pulling pieces out and then I don't know how I'm standing.”
“Fair enough.” He paused. “My intentions were good. If they came out like something else, that’s on me, and I’m sorry for it. You’re… family now. I don’t want to leave it with you mad and it being tense between us. ”
“I’m not mad at you, Julian. Annoyed, yes. I’ll get over it.”
The fight went out of both of us at the same time. The tension changed temperature, less two people squaring off, more two people who'd caught each other being honest.
I let myself really look at him. He was confident, without arrogance stapled to it. Sharp-eyed when he listened, like he was actually hearing me and not just waiting for his turn to talk. Beyond handsome. I wasn't blind. But the part that threw me was that he was genuine.
He'd helped me and asked for nothing. When he'd told me in his office that he didn't pity me but admired me, I'd seen in his eyes that he meant it. He wasn't looking at me like I was broken or needed saving.
And the rent thing. The “corporate housing arrangement”, that WadeHouse budgeted.
I'd thought about that one over and over.
A company covering housing for a lawyer who didn't work for it, in a building its CEO happened to live in, arranged the same week he told my realtor to call him.
If a witness handed me a story that tidy, I'd have taken them apart on the stand asking less than two questions.
I hadn't asked Julian one. Because the truth was that whether it came off WadeHouse's books, or out of Julian Wade's pocket, the effect was identical.
My rent was paid and I hadn't paid it. The only thing the framing of it changed was whether I could live with it.
And a business expense I could live with.
Impersonal as a parking validation. Owing a company was an invoice. Owing a man was a debt.
So for once, I didn't go looking for the catch. I filed it away and decided not to open that drawer again.
“You know what? Despite my frustrations with you, you have already been a pretty good friend.”
Up went the eyebrow. The smirk came with it. “Was that appreciation, Alyssa? A hint of gratitude?”
“Don't push it.”
He laughed. “So we're friends now? That means I can stop bracing to get cussed out every time I see you?”
“I'm really never gonna live that down, am I?”
“After today? No. You definitely proved the first time wasn't a fluke.” He smiled. “So… am I safe now?”
“That depends. You gonna stop bulldozing through my life without asking?”
“I’ll try.”
“Try harder, or you'll probably get cussed out occasionally.”
“I can live with that. Occasionally.”
“Friends,” I said, holding out my hand across the island.
He looked at my extended hand, then met my eyes.
I was suddenly conscious of how we probably looked, the two of us alone in the dim kitchen, leaning toward each other across the counter.
His hand was warm when he took mine, his grip firm.
I tried to match it, both of us looking each other dead in the eye.
“Friends,” he repeated, holding my stare longer than necessary.
A little jolt ran up my arm at the contact, and I told myself it was just surprise at the calluses on his palm, probably from working out.
I pulled my hand back. “Okay, well, as your friend,” I said, trying to get back on steady ground, “since we've established friends look out for one another… when's the last time you did something fun?”
“Why do you assume I don't have fun?”
“Do you?”
He started to answer and I held up a hand. “And if you say running again, I swear to God...”
He smiled, and I felt a little surge of victory. “Alright. Point taken.”
“So? When's the last time you went to a movie?”
“A movie?”
“You know, big screen, popcorn, sitting in the dark for two hours.”
He actually had to think about it. “Probably well over a decade. Could be two.”
My mouth fell open. “Stop lying.”
“I'm not lying.”
“You don't watch movies?”
“I watch movies at home sometimes. While I work. As background noise.”
“That doesn't count, Julian.” I shook my head, genuinely appalled. “Okay, well, you can't be too busy for your new friend. There's a new thriller I've been wanting to see. Wanna check out a Saturday afternoon showing with me?”
“You asking me on a movie date?”
“I'm asking you to be a normal human being for two hours.” I grinned. “And don't wear a suit.”
“What is it with you and my suits? I haven't been living under a rock, Alyssa. I know how to dress for a movie theater.”
“So is that a yes?”
“Alright.”
“Good, and I'm paying.”
He shook his head. “You really can't let this go, can you?”
“Nope.”
“I'll pay. You can buy the popcorn since you want to spend your money so bad.”
I nodded. “Fine.”
“You know… I run most mornings. Five AM. You said you run too?”
“I do, but five in the morning though? That's not fun, that's torture.”
“It's peaceful. No one else around, just you and the road.”
“And you want company for this peaceful torture?”
“I want to see if you can actually keep up.”
My competitive instincts flared immediately. “Oh, I can keep up.”
“We'll see then. Tuesday morning, I’ll meet you here. Be ready out front.”
“Five AM?”
“Five AM.”
“Ok. But if I die, I'm haunting you.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
As I watched him head toward the door, I realized something had fundamentally shifted between us. A few hours ago, I'd wanted to throttle him. Now I was making plans to spend more time with him. Go figure.
julian
Five in the morning, and most of Lennox Falls was still knocked out. I didn’t do running partners. Running was my reset, my time to outrun noise, people, and demands.
So when I invited Alyssa, I halfway expected her to roll over in bed and forget the whole thing.
But there she was, standing in Simone’s driveway, stretching in the dawn.
Black leggings and a cropped tank that rode up when she reached overhead.
Long limbs, lean muscle, and a flat plane of waist I had not been prepared to see.
I almost stopped mid-stride but kept my face flat as I slowed to a walk.
“Morning.”
She looked at me like she was calling a bluff. “Wasn’t sure you were serious.”
“I'm always serious.”
My eyes had already gone where they had no business going. I pulled them back before she caught it.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Lead the way.”
We ran. By mile two, I figured she’d ease back. By mile four, I was waiting for the heavy breathing and the stumble. Instead, she matched me step for step, like it was routine for her.
I kept stealing glances. Not obvious, but enough to clock the focus on her face.
She ran quietly like I did. No forced chatter or trying to fill the air with pointless words.
Just the sound of our feet hitting pavement in sync.
Strangely, it wasn’t awkward. Most silences had weight. This one didn’t.
At mile six, I picked the pace up. She narrowed her eyes and came right with me. Stubborn.
“You really do run,” I said finally, more impressed than I meant to sound.
She smirked. “Didn’t think I could?”
I grunted. Which was my way of admitting she’d proved me wrong.
“Guess I’m not most people,” she shot back, eyes ahead.
We slowed when we hit Simone’s block. My lungs weren’t even close to tapped, but I could feel the sheen of sweat cooling on my skin. She’d matched my stride all the way in.
I leaned down, bracing my hands on my thighs for a stretch, and stole another glance. Slender frame, sure. But the kind of slender that carried curves. Hips that flared just right and an ass that didn’t quit. Damn.
She took a long pull from her water bottle, then side-eyed me. “I know you were holding back. Next time, maybe pick up the pace. I can handle it.”
I huffed out a laugh. “If I really picked up the pace, you’d be eating dust. But…” I straightened, meeting her look head-on. “You kept up with what I set. Even at that clip. A lot of men can’t even do that. So… I stand corrected. You’re not the jog-around-the-block type.”
“You set me up,” she said between breaths. “You thought I was going to quit on mile two.”
“Maybe.” I rolled my shoulders. “But you didn’t. How long you been running?”
Her smile flickered. “Started after my husband was killed. Everything that fell apart after. Some days it was the only way I could breathe: lace up, hit the road, go until my legs burned worse than the rest of me. About five years now.”
She glanced over. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hand you all that before six a.m.”
“You didn’t hand me anything. You ran through what you went through. I get it.”
Her eyes came to mine, checking whether I was just saying the thing you say. I held it, then I made myself look at the road.
“There’s a marathon in the spring,” she said. “I’ve been thinking it’s time I finally went the full distance. I’ve run two half marathons. Never the whole thing.”
“Which one?”
“Through the mountains, somewhere, I forget the name of the town. There's another one a few weeks after that. Starts and ends in Lennox Falls.”
“I’ve run six marathons. When you’re ready to train for one for real, I could help get you there.” I hadn’t decided to offer it; it was just out.
She looked at me sideways, like she was deciding whether I meant it. I let her wonder. I wasn’t sure myself.
“I should shower,” I said. “Get into my day.”
“Right.” She tipped the water bottle at me. “Well. If you ever want to run again, let me know. I’ll try not to crowd your quiet.”
I nodded, already jogging backward a few steps. “We’ll see.”
Then I turned and ran for my place, faster than the cooldown called for, putting road between us and trying not to think too hard about why her face wouldn’t get out of my head.
I told her we’ll see. Then I showed up at five the next time, and the time after that.
It started as a couple of mornings a week, whenever Micah's schedule left her a window.
Then I caught myself building a second run into the week, easy evening miles, so there'd be a time that worked even when her mornings didn't.
A few weeks later it had a shape. Two mornings during the weekday if she could make it, one evening run, and Saturdays at seven.
Long enough that I stopped having to think about my stride beside hers.
Half a length back when the road narrowed, even with her when it opened up, never ahead, never fully behind.
We were running ten miles two or three times a week, and neither of us ever called it anything.
Her goal of running a marathon turned into a plan. I built it out for her over with mileage goals and charts, a long run climbing toward twenty six miles, strength training, rest days. She rolled her eyes at the spreadsheet but followed every line of it.
She tried to give me an out once. Said she was disrupting too many of my mornings.
That I could be chasing my own times instead of pacing hers.
I told her I wanted to. She started to argue, and I said it again, and she let it go.
The truth was, I enjoyed her company. Running used to be how I got away from everybody.
Somewhere along the way that had started to shift, and I liked it.