Ashlei
It’s been a while since I’ve gone for a long run, and I forgot just how calming it can be.
The constant movement, leg muscles engaged, core tight, arms pumping. The rhythm of sneakers hitting pavement. The steady inhale and exhale, my lungs contracting and filling, sweat dripping from my hairline.
Since the competition, I’ve been indulging myself in some different kinds of cardio and strength training — yoga, high-intensity interval training, kickboxing, and now, running. It’s nice to switch it up, to give my body something new.
Besides, running gives me plenty of time to think.
I’m one of the weirdos who prefers not to run with headphones. With the running path winding along the beach and bayside park, it’s nice to just listen to the waves, the conversation, the laughter, and even the distant sound of cars passing on A1A.
Work has been picking up ever since the launch event.
Celeste wanted us to make our presence known, and boy did we do just that.
Our phones have been ringing off the hooks with requests for potential client meetings, as well as collaborations with other agencies.
Just like that, Ball & Pen went from new kid on the block to one of the most desired agencies in the city.
We showed what we could do.
And now, the clients are rolling in faster than we can take them.
Good business means I’m busy — not just with my own clients and events, but with hiring a bigger team to manage the new workload. We even had to buy out the office next to ours to expand. It’s a good problem to have, but exhausting, nonetheless.
And to think, if I were still in college, I’d be getting ready for Spring Break right now.
I smile a little at that, remembering how fun it was to shop for new swimsuits with the girls, plan out our outfits, make custom mugs and t-shirts, and just be ridiculous whenever possible.
Of course, I’ve had Spring Breaks that weren’t so fun…
like the one where Bo and I were caught having a threesome on tape.
Even still, a big part of me misses it, that carefree time when my biggest concern was finding the perfect swimsuit and packing enough booze for the trip.
I’m lost in memory lane when I round an oak tree at the corner of the path, and when I do, I nearly slam into another runner.
“Oh, shit!” I exclaim, pressing my hands into the man’s chest when we nearly collide. I’m not sure if I did it to keep him steady, me steady, or if it’s just an automatic reaction. I’m already laughing when I look up at the almost-victim. “God, sorry. I wasn’t paying att—”
My voice cuts off mid-sentence, because under the shadow of a damp gray hoodie, I find Brandon’s dark, menacing eyes staring back at me.
I can feel how stupid I look standing there with my jaw all slack, hands still against his chest as I take in the sight of him.
He’s dressed in long, black basketball shorts, and a gray zipper hoodie.
The zipper is halfway undone, revealing his slick, bare chest underneath and a cross hanging from a silver chain.
I remember that necklace. It was a gift from Darnell, the young man who got him out of foster care. Brandon almost never takes it off.
I suddenly realize I still have my hands pressed against his chest, and I rip them away, putting a few feet between us and crossing my arms over my chest. “Uh, hi. Sorry about…” I wave my hand between us.
Brandon doesn’t smile or say it’s okay, he just nods, and then side steps around me, ready to continue on his jog.
“Wait!” I say before he can take more than a few steps.
He stops short, and I see it in the swell of his back that he has to take a deep breath before he turns to face me again.
“Is this really what it’s going to be like?” I ask. “Awkwardly avoiding each other at work events, not even able to be friendly when we run into each other?”
Brandon sniffs, throwing his hood off his head and hanging his hands on his hips as his eyes wash over the beach. “I don’t know what you want from me, Ashlei.”
“Look at me,” I almost whisper. “That’s a start.”
He presses his tongue into his cheek, but then slowly, he pulls his gaze to me.
I can still see it, the pain behind those dark eyes. But more so, I see the anger, the resentment, the disgust.
I shiver.
“Exchanging pleasantries is a waste of time,” he says definitively. “I’ll be cordial at work events, but past that? I don’t see any reason for us to pretend like we’re friends.”
I scoff past the knife those words send right through my heart. “Cool. Got it.” I make an okay sign with my fingers and click my tongue. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
His nostrils flare, and it’s in that moment that I can see it — the hunger in his eyes.
I felt it that first time he touched me on his jet.
I felt it every time after, when he’d watch me in the office and I knew he couldn’t wait to get me alone, or when we’d go out for a night on the town, and I knew all he wanted was to get me back to his place.
My heart kicks up a notch.
He still wants me.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re so upset, anyway,” he says after a moment, his brows bending together. “From what I saw at the Ball & Pen launch event, you’ve moved on just fine, haven’t you?”
I cock my head to the side in confusion for just a moment before I remember the little show I put on, the hot guy at the bar whom I let guide me outside just because I knew Brandon was watching me.
Of course, nothing happened with that guy, other than him giving me his card and me promising to call about working together.
But Brandon doesn’t know that.
And he doesn’t need to.
“Whether I’ve moved on or not is none of your business, since you so decidedly cut me out of your life.”
Something of a laugh comes from Brandon’s nose, and he looks out at the ocean again before his eyes are back on mine. “You’re right.”
With that, he pulls his hoodie back up and turns, jogging away from me as I stand there and watch him go.
I stay until he’s completely out of sight.
Then, I jog another four miles and think about all the ways I can make him want me back.