Chapter 13
Ihate running.
Hate the way my chest heaves as if I haven’t ran around this neighborhood every day for the past week. Hate the burning ache in my legs for the remainder of the day and the next few following that, but it’s the only way I can clear my head without feeling restless after. I like the feeling of my body being spent after it has worked to its max capacity. It reminds me that I’m still here—still alive—and to keep pushing.
Like I’ve done the past few years.
As I smile at people in passing, I can’t recall the last time I truly felt alive. I don’t even know what the word means, but I think about it a lot.
Am I living, or am I just alive?
Another reason I hate running is that it forces me to take a better look at myself, and that’s a hard pill to swallow nowadays. I don’t hate myself or my choices, but I regret wasting time on causes that didn’t need it and giving myself to the wrong people. It’s led to a boring life, one I don’t have much to show for. I mainly think I’m okay with that, but it does get lonely.
Before I moved back to Boston, I thought I had everything I could ever want. A home with a woman I loved despite the obstacles that came along with our relationship—her insecurities, fuck–even my own, a nice house in a neighborhood I loved, great friends, and a stable job. I don’t ever think I was truly happy even though I presented like I was.
The truth is, I checked out of the relationship with Yasmin long before she cheated on me.
Our relationship wasn’t all bad, all the time. We dated on and off since our sophomore year of college, and I fell fast and hard. Yasmin was everything I wanted in a woman at the time—driven, passionate, devoted. Somebody with similar life goals as mine, yet could be her own person outside of the relationship, which she was. I proposed right before I started my Master’s program at one of our favorite places to hike in Connecticut, and shortly after was our demise. She became codependent not long after we announced our engagement to family and friends to the point that if I were gone longer than the anticipated time I said I’d be back by, she’d call everybody under the sun looking for me. Looking back on it, I think she always had codependent issues, but they weren’t noticeable until closer to the end of our relationship. Or maybe I hadn”t paid much attention to Yasmin”s constant worry that I was out cheating when I”d take trips back home and the overbearing need to check-in if I went longer than five minutes without responding to text messages, simply because I stopped caring. One minute I was happy, and then I wasn”t. I wish I could say when that switch happened, but it just did.
I know I’ve said that I don’t want to be with somebody else because I don’t have the time to commit, but that’s not true. An image of a pretty girl with soft, caramel skin and bright brown eyes pop into my head and I can’t help the smile that tugs on my mouth. Although Daisy is reserved around me, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to offer friendship to her. Based on her overall apprehension, it was clear she was unsure whether that was something she wanted, but the words came out before I could stop them. I haven’t been able to figure out entirely what it is about Daisy that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, but I can’t help it. I want to be near her, to learn everything that she’s too afraid to say to others.
Daisy makes me realize that for the right person, I’m willing to commit. That her guardedness can be her shield until she feels safe enough to let me in.
I crave providing for my woman and showing her in more ways than one how much I love and appreciate her. Women don’t get told or shown that enough, and it blows my mind that men don’t value and cherish the ones in their lives and do whatever is necessary to keep them content. I took my last relationship for granted, and I know now that things wouldn’t be the same if there’s another woman out there for me.
That pretty girl who refuses to be my friend stays in my mind.
My phone vibrating in my gym shorts cuts the distant sounds of “Out of My League” by Fitz and The Tantrums from my headphones, Naomi’s name blasting through Siri instead. I smile briefly when I tune into the song choice before slowly my pace to pull my phone from my pocket. I swipe the answer button.
“Sup, Nay?”
“You didn’t forget about me, did you?” she says sharply, which causes me to stop walking altogether and glance around.
“No?” I say cautiously. “Did we have plans right now?”
She sighs dramatically on the line, always with a lightness to her tone even when she’s fake angry with me. “We agreed to get coffee at ten thirty, remember?”
I tap my phone screen to look at the time.
“Shit,” I whisper. “Uhhhhh…”
“Did you forget about me?!” she exclaims, followed by a groan. “Tanner!”
“I didn’t forget!” I say, quickly turning around to start jogging to the coffee shop. “Give me ten, and I’ll be there.”
“Hurry up!” she laughs, ending the call.
By the time I make it to the coffee shop I’m nearly out of breath, and my legs are shaking uncontrollably. Glancing around, I see Naomi tucked into our usual spot in the corner. She waves and I head over to her, sliding into the seat across from her.
“Sorry,” I pant at the same time she says, “I can’t believe you forgot about me.”
I roll my eyes jokingly. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Her eyes narrow, but a small smile is on her lips. “You better.”
Naomi and I have been coming to The Coffee Hut since high school. We had a few classes together, so we studied here at the last minute to prepare for exams and ended up making it our hangout spot. Declan usually joins us for our weekly coffee get-together but had to cancel at the last minute because he was unable to get out of bed.
Translation: a girl wouldn’t leave his bed.
“Hey, isn’t that the girl from last night?” Naomi asks, nodding her head towards the front door. I turn in my chair, the smile appearing instantaneously as Daisy looks up at the menu, a pair of headphones connected to her phone plugged into her ears. I can’t help the once-over I give her from here, a pair of black sweatpants that are too baggy for her small frame paired with a tan zip-up hoodie hanging off one shoulder that’s two sizes too big. Her hair is pulled back from her face in a bandana, and a backpack drapes over her shoulder. My dick twitches in my shorts, surprising me but also not. I’m starting to notice that Daisy looks beautiful in everything she wears, whether she’s trying or not. It’s a talent, truly.
“Yeah,” I say without taking my eyes off her. “It is. I’m gonna order my coffee now. Do you want anything?”
“Already have mine,” Naomi says with amusement in her voice. I face my friend and she nods towards the coffee bar expectantly. “Go! I need to know how this plays out.”
She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I slide out of my seat and start walking over to the counter, quickly fixing my hair, although there isn’t a mirror I can look in to make sure I’m somewhat presentable. I already know I’m not based on my attire alone, but to be fair, I was on a run. If I knew she’d be here I would’ve looked more presentable, but I wasn’t expect to run into Daisy again so soon. I assumed we’d see each other at work Monday.
I quickly stand in line behind her, the anticipation bubbling in my chest. Something about this girl makes me excited. For what? I’m unsure, but I need to know. There aren’t many people that excite me, and something about her “give zero fucks,” attitude is a turn-on.
I wait quietly while she orders, biting my lip to avoid talking until she starts pulling out her wallet. I already know she’s going to be pissed, but I want to see the defiance light up in her eyes.
“I’ve got her,” I say, causing Daisy to startle.
“Oh, no, that’s okay—“ she turns around, eyes wide when she meets my gaze.
The smirk appears almost too easily for the moment, but I like seeing her caught off guard.
“Daisy,” I say, causing her mouth to part slightly. “We have to stop meeting like this.”