Chapter 5 Jaime #2
I looked away, jaw tightening. “I didn’t say that,” I repeated, but it sounded weak even to my own ears.
Chris grinned like he’d caught me red-handed. Which, technically, he had.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” I added quickly.
“Too late,” he said, cheerful and a little breathless. “I’m absolutely letting it go straight to my ego. You can’t stop me.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was a flutter of something traitorous in my chest.
“We’re wasting time,” I said, trying to shove my thoughts elsewhere. “I want to get a test run in.”
I grabbed the stopwatch off the equipment cart and tossed it to him. “Here. You time us.”
I clipped Pampi’s leash off and jogged her to the starting line. She bounced on her paws, tail up, eyes bright.
“Ready, girl?” I knelt beside her. “Just a warm-up. Don’t overdo it.”
Chris raised the stopwatch. “Say when.”
“Go.”
We shot forward. Pampi surged ahead of me, weaving clean and low. I took the jumps alongside her, matching pace, guiding her with hand signals and short commands.
Her rhythm was not what it used to be, back when she trained for shows regularly, but considering she’d barely had any practice, she still had it.
Her landing angles were still sharp, her tunnel entry clean.
Her exit had that little hop she always did when she was excited. Her weave pole timing was a touch rusty but smooth enough that I felt a swell of pride kick hard in my chest.
We hit the finish line together, adrenaline humming.
Chris clicked the stopwatch and whistled. “Twenty-three point one.”
“Not bad,” I panted, rubbing Pampi’s neck. “Not bad at all.”
She looked up at me, waiting, tail swishing hopefully. I laughed under my breath and pulled a treat from my pocket. She took it gently, like always.
“Good girl,” I murmured. “Really good.”
But even as I praised her, something in me tightened. The worry. The what-ifs. What if the course was tampered with again? What if she landed wrong once? What if I missed something?
I must’ve gone quiet, because Chris stepped closer.
“She’s doing fine,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
My shoulders stiffened. “I’m just worried. I can’t help it.”
“I know.” His voice didn’t push. “Still. She’s doing great.”
I nodded once, eyes still on Pampi. The words sat uncomfortably in my chest because they were true. And for some reason, the truth was harder to swallow.
The silence stretched for a beat. Chris rocked back on his heels, glancing toward the starting line again.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, brightening. “Let me try it.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The course,” he said, like it was obvious. “Let me run it once.”
I stared at him. “You? Why?”
He shrugged, grinning. “You make it look fun.”
“You’ll trip over your own feet,” I said, smirking.
“Probably,” he said cheerfully. “But I still want to try.”
I scoffed. Loudly. Because that felt safer than acknowledging the truth: His confidence was stupidly… cute. Or annoying. Or both.
Chris stepped toward the starting line, bouncing lightly on his toes, the excitement rolling off him in warm sparks that hit me harder than they should’ve.
“Come on,” he said.
I snorted. “Absolutely not.”
Chris stretched his arms over his head. “You know what? Bet I can outrun you.”
I stared at him. “…Why would you voluntarily embarrass yourself like that?”
“If I win,” he went on like I hadn’t said anything, “you let me run with Pampi during the heats.”
That made me blink. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
He shrugged, annoyingly casual. “Pampi runs faster when something fast’s ahead of her, right? Like a chase instinct? Same deal.”
That actually wasn’t a terrible point. Better times meant a better chance of getting through the heats. A faster runner to follow could help Pampi instinctively pick up speed.
But the second I caught sight of Chris’ grin, eyes crinkling with mischief, as if he already knew I’d cave, I dropped the idea straight into a trash can.
“You wouldn’t last five seconds,” I told him.
“We’ll see.”
I sighed, but somehow I was already walking toward the marked starting point on the mat. Behind me, I could hear Chris doing some kind of elaborate stretch. I rolled my eyes.
We took our positions, me settling into a runner’s stance, Chris standing loose. Pampi plopped down beside us, bored as ever.
“Ready?” Chris asked.
I rolled my shoulders. “Try not to eat dirt.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m winning,” he said.
I snorted, and then he shouted, “Go!”
I pushed off the ground hard. The thudding rhythm of my feet settled into something steady.
Chris’ laughter rang out beside me, bright and ridiculously loud, and for some reason it pulled a smile from me before I could stop it. My chest warmed, a little from the effort, a little from him being so close.
Pampi barked behind us, suddenly invested now that we were actually doing something.
We hit the curve. I leaned into it, angling my weight just right. I always nailed corners, one of the few times I didn’t second-guess myself.
Beside me, Chris skidded a bit, cursing under his breath before pushing harder, so close I could feel the heat from his shoulder brush past mine.
The finish line came up fast. I dug deep, legs burning, chest tightening in that good way. I crossed first.
Chris slowed to a jog behind me, panting. “Damn.”
I bent over, hands braced on my thighs, laughing through my own breaths. “Told you.”
He shot me a mock glare, which only made me laugh harder. For a long beat, we just stood there, panting, the sound of our breathing loud in the quiet.
I lifted my head and saw Chris staring at me hard. His eyes were glowing faintly gold at the edges. His wolf bleeding through. I swallowed hard. I knew mine looked the same.
Heat prickled under my skin, and I could feel my wolf pushing closer, restless and impatient, wanting to run. Wanting out.
Chris’s chest rose and fell, sweat tracking down his throat and sliding over the curve of his collarbone. I had to drag my gaze back up before I stared too long, but he definitely noticed.
The corner of his mouth lifted like he enjoyed the attention way too much. Then he leaned in just slightly, voice low enough to curl right through me.
“Let’s run for real.”
It was short and simple and shouldn’t have been anything. But it hit stupidly hot.
“Here?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“No one’s around,” he said, eyes still glowing faintly. “Unless you’re scared.”
I scoffed. “Please.”
“So?” he asked. “You game?”
“This is stupid,” I muttered.
And yeah, it was. I wasn’t the kind of person who shifted without a reason. Chris just had this way of making me do things I normally wouldn’t. Things I shouldn’t. And yet, somehow, I couldn’t say no.
“If you get hurt, I’m telling Cooper it’s your fault,” I warned.
Chris laughed, clearly pleased, and then he grabbed the hem of his ratty shirt and pulled it off.
And I instantly regretted looking. Lean lines of muscle carved down his ribs, sweat making every shape and hard line stand out more.
I snapped my gaze away, heat crawling up my neck. “Shut up,” I muttered, flipping him off when he chuckled.
I turned fully away. My heart wouldn't calm down. My wolf shoved at my skin, eager, like it had been waiting for an excuse to break loose.
I didn’t know how the hell we ended up here. Didn’t know why I wasn’t stopping any of this. But I still took a breath, braced myself, and let the shift start rolling through me. Just this once.
We padded back to the starting line, our clothes in a heap to the side. The mat was cold under my paws. Beside me, Chris’s wolf trotted into position, tail high, eyes bright gold in the low hall lights.
I drew in one steadying breath. Then another. On the third, we launched forward.
The ground shot beneath us in a blur. I stretched out, claws digging for traction, wind slicing past my ears. Chris bumped my shoulder, playful and deliberate.
Show-off.
I snapped my jaws near his fur in warning, but he only bounded ahead with that cocky, rolling stride. So I pushed harder out of pure pride, legs churning faster.
We wove around the low jumps and the tunnel barrels, skirting the obstacles like it was our own private game. At one curve, Chris swung too close on purpose, brushing against my flank.
I clipped him back with a shove of my shoulder and bolted ahead. His playful growl chased me.
Pampi barked from the sidelines, sharp, bossy, absolutely delighted. The thrill hit me hard then, thick and wild. It made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.
Every time Chris drew close, heat flared under my fur, urging me to run faster, chase harder, push him, and let him push me back.
We hit the final stretch side by side. We skidded to a halt, chests heaving. I collapsed first, dropping into the mat with a heavy thud. Chris flopped beside me a heartbeat later.
For a moment, all I heard was panting and Pampi’s distant excitement.
Chris shifted first with a ripple of fur and bone, that familiar shimmer of heat crawling over the air. He shook his hair out and walked over, tossing my clothes toward me with a smirk.
“Here,” he said, voice rough from the shift.
I shifted back, body reshaping, skin prickling with leftover energy. We got dressed quickly and sat on the floor again, shoulder to shoulder, legs stretched out in front of us.
My heartbeat still felt too loud in my ears. My wolf hadn’t fully settled. It paced just under the surface, restless, wanting more.
Chris broke the quiet first. “So… you gonna let me run with her in the heats?”
I barked a laugh. Smart of him not to ask who won. Bold enough to go straight for what he wanted.
“Fine,” I said, trying to sound composed, but my voice came out a little rough. “One run. Don’t make me regret it.”
He grinned at me, that impossible, teasing curve of his lips making my pulse stutter. Heat prickled up my neck and across my chest, and I tried to tell myself it was from the race.
Before I could look away, Pampi nudged her head between us, insisting on attention with a loud, smug snort.
Chris let out a laugh that was half exasperated, half amused. “Your dog is bullying me.”
“She learned from the best,” I muttered, scratching behind her ears, stealing a quick glance at him while I did.
Chris looked up at me through his messy hair, grin widening. “You saying I’m a good influence?”
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t deny it.