Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Laney
Jumping into the Arms of Rejection
I know it was risky and dangerous but I don’t actually regret wearing a bad wet suit. I have woken up in a full body flush every day since remembering the way he held me to him. The feel of his hands on my bare back, my hips, my thighs.
When we took our bike ride I didn’t expect any physical contact but my pussy wept when his hand landed on the back of my neck and then trailed down my spine. I wanted to curl into him and beg for more of his touch.
The memory of his skin against mine, the heat he produced, sends shivers down my spine even now, a few days later, as I stand outside my apartment waiting for him.
No way am I letting Miguel upstairs.
His tall, firm, cinnamon and pepper scented body cannot be in my space again.
I barely survived the first time.
I can only thank my hypothermic haze for keeping me just loopy enough not to fall prey to his proximity.
And his cooking.
The food he made me was delicious and I had to basically fight Dee off with a stick so she wouldn’t eat it too.
She made lots of comments about how she should get a girlfriend to cook for her and I had to remind her Miguel was my coach not my boyfriend.
She’d just hum like she didn’t believe me.
Dee having the opportunity to say something inappropriate is another reason to not let Miguel upstairs today.
Plus, I think I need to keep Miguel in a box. Or, maybe I should call it a container. When we’re training, when he’s barking paces and countdowns at me, I am wholly focused on the workout. And, dedicating myself to the effort will be what gets me my pro card, which is my only goal.
I have to do it for my dad.
It should be my only focus.
I shouldn’t let myself get distracted by a boy.
"Why are you outside?" A brusk voice calls out from the corner. I watch as Miguel approaches guiding his bike by the seat down the sidewalk.
"Well, hello to you too." I sass back and it’s starting to feel like my usual greeting. My head has to tilt back to keep eye contact with him as he comes to stand in front of me and my body remembers the feel of his and each cell of my skin tries to reach for him.
"Laney," his voice softens but only a touch, "it's early in the morning and there's no one else out here to help if something goes wrong."
"What could go wrong? You're the only one out here, should I be afraid of you?" Afraid of how attracted I am to him maybe. He clearly bristles at the notion he could be a threat.
"No." He answers my question firmly. Any follow up gets caught in my throat as I watch Miguel's eyes rake over my body. With an approving nod, he says, "Let's go."
"Yes sir." I say under my breath as Miguel swings a leg over his bike and gets situated in the saddle.
His bristly attitude this morning is more like Bike Rack Miguel from the first day I met him or Laney Is Just A Little Late For Our Training Miguel from a few days ago. Not Beach Miguel, Bath Tub Miguel, or Coffee Shop Miguel who touched me freely and authoritatively.
I want that Miguel back.
Maybe it takes endorphins for him to turn all mushy and attentive.
"So what's the plan, Coach?" I ask as we pedal leisurely towards the bike path. Our apartment might be old but it is close to the lakefront trail and all the training areas I use for free.
"We're going up and back for a total of 30 miles. And then we'll lock up our bikes and brick a 10 mile run. Again, a five mile out and back so we end up where we started." He says flatly.
"And are you always this cheerful in the morning?" I tease.
A fraction of a smile cracks but he catches it. "I don't like you standing out on the street alone."
"You know I've been taking care of myself for a while right? And I've done fine."
"But what would have happened at the beach if I wasn’t there, Laney?" He asks as he stops at a red light. I expected him to roll through it so I brake quickly, and walk my bike back to him at the corner.
"I would have figured it out."
"But how?" He asks and he reaches a hand out to cover mine. "Jesus even now your hands are cold."
"I'll warm up as we go." I say. "C'mon." I nod to the road and we both clip in and head for the lake.
"Holy crap!" I giggle as we stomp to a stop after our run. I feel good, the pace was a challenge but not brutal. Miguel taps a few things on his fancy GPS watch.
"Laney, you just crushed a brick and did it at a faster pace than we'd targeted." He says with huffed breaths as he checks his watch.
"What?"
"Yeah, you finished at 6 minutes and 44 seconds per mile. I think if we get another VO2 in-oof!"
Miguel's training plan is cut short when I jump into his arms. Or rather, jump onto him and he reacts quickly enough to catch me.
"6:44?" I ask as a smile spreads wide across my face. This is the fastest I've ever run this distance.
"Yeah baby, 6:44." Miguel says with a returning smile that would make my knees weak if they weren't currently wrapped tightly around him.
His eyes move from mine and I track their path to my mouth, my neck, and then I feel his fingers splay wider against my ribcage where his arms have encircled me.
The brush is light but I feel it everywhere.
I’m tired of fighting this.
I need him.
"Miguel?" He brings his eyes back to mine at the sound of his name. "Please kiss me."
"Laney," my name on his lips is laced with pain. "That's not a good idea." He whispers back as he stares at my mouth.
His hold on me loosens ever so slightly and I untangle my limbs from around his body. Cold immediately burns every spot where his hands had been on me. "Laney." He calls quietly as I dip my chin and turn away from him.
"It's fine. Just swept up in the excitement of the moment. No biggie. I'm cool. So cool." I mumble as I fasten the strap of my helmet under my chin. "I'll see you next time. Just text me where to meet and what to wear."
Miguel steps closer and I realize what I said.
"For like training, for whatever training we're going to do, no other outfit notes needed." I laugh nervously as I struggle with my bike lock.
"Laney, I'm sorry." He runs his hands through his hair and few strands fall from where his it’s pulled back. "Fuck, I want to, you have no idea, but I'm not good for you."
"Sure, yeah, no problem." I swing my leg over the saddle and sit back.
"You're doing so well. Your results are amazing. I have no doubt you'll get your pro card this season."
"Mhmm, yep. Thanks." I mutter back through my mortification. I whisper a goodbye as I roll away.
The entire ride home I'm conflicted. I am so proud of myself for hitting the 6:44 average mile. And I know I wouldn't have done that without Miguel's guidance.
The pride is quickly checked by the embarrassment of rejection.
I flat out asked him to kiss me.
I’m such an idiot.
I guess I read his signals all wrong.
Each time he’s called me "baby," or given me his touch, plays in a loop as I cross the city blocks back to my apartment.
I can’t believe I got so swept up in him. I’ve been pushing myself so hard for the last two and half years. I’ve given everything I have left to this sport.
And even still, I haven’t been able to achieve what my dad asked me to.
I romanticized the idea of not doing it alone.
How wonderful would it be to find a partner who understands the demands of the sport? Who not only wants me to succeed, but wants to help me do it?
Would Dad have achieved his goals if Mom supported him like Miguel is supporting me?
But I don’t actually have him as a partner do I?
Dreaming of making Miguel my boyfriend is a distraction from my goal.
Or maybe a new, shinier challenge has presented itself.
One that feels harder to attain because it isn’t just me standing in the way.
For some reason I’m not enough for him.
Or, maybe it’s that he’s not letting himself have what he wants.
Have me.
When all I want to do is give myself to him.