41. What You Cant Outrun
forty-one
What You Can't Outrun
T he rain streams across my face. My shoes are soaked and it just keeps coming down harder. I don’t care. I pour every ounce of my hurt and rage and frustration into my run.
Forget him. Forget him. Forget him.
The mantra jars against my aching heart with each step. I force myself to remember every time Jacob did something that hurt me–all the times he made me feel too young or too stupid, or just not good enough.
Why did I waste so much time on him?
“You must be pretty pissed about something.”
I jump sideways and jerk one earbud out of my ear.
I thought I was alone on the trail. No one else is crazy enough to be out running on a day like this, but Brad is beside me, like some soaking wet specter of a relationship that won't go away. He’s been in the rain at least as long as I have.
I was so much in my head that I didn’t hear him coming.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“Running,” he says. “I’m still allowed to do that, right?”
“Sure.” I take a breath and move to put my earbuds back in. Brad is the last person I want to talk to right now.
He puts his hand on my wrist to stop me. “So, who’s the lucky guy on the other end of your rage this time? Soulja boy again?”
“What makes you think I’m mad at someone?” I demand. It’s a stupid question, considering the level of my voice.
“The look on your face, the music you’re listening to,” he indicates the hard rock pouring out of the earbud in my hand, “and, well, the fact that it took me about ten minutes to catch up with you. I know you Jess. You only run that way when you’re pissed.”
“I’m fine.”
He grins. “I know what that ‘fine’ means too.” I glare at him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it that way. You are fine and you will be fine. And obviously this guy is a complete asshole or an idiot, probably both. Like I was.”
“Are you finished?”
“I am if you want me to be. But if you want to talk,” he indicates the trail in front of us. “We’re heading the same direction.”
“I came here because I wanted to be alone.”
He steps back, hands up in surrender. “Whatever. I’m just saying. You might feel better if you talk things out. I always felt better after we ran together and talked." His voice softens. "It might be the thing I miss the most, being able to talk to you.”
I look at him, incredulous. “You miss talking to me?”
“Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of short on friends these days. Lexie made sure everyone at school hates me.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me. But I came out here for the same reason you did—to be alone and to clear my head.”
I shouldn’t talk to him. I should put my other earbud in and keep running, maybe even turn around and go the opposite direction. Instead, I leave it out and find myself matching his stride as we both start off again.
Finally I ask, “What’s going on with you? Why do you need a run?”
“Nothing big. I just thought senior year would be different. More fun, more...I don’t know. Instead it’s a bunch of stress. A bunch of pressure to get the right grades, win the game, bust your butt to get the right scholarship.”
“I heard you got it...the right scholarship. Congratulations,” I say it without an ounce of enthusiasm, but he doesn’t catch the hint.
“I did,” a smile breaks across his face. “Full ride with a few other perks. Except...”
“Except?” I know I shouldn’t let myself be drawn in, but I am.
“Except,” he hesitates, “I’m not sure I want to be that far away from home and from my friends.”
“Didn’t you just say you don’t have any friends?”
“Yeah,” he keeps running, “but I’ll miss my family and maybe a few other people.” He gives me a look that I assume is supposed to be meaningful. “What about you?”
“I’m going to WSU.”
“I bet you have a ton of scholarships.”
“No idea yet. I’m still waiting to hear about the ones I applied for.”
“You’ll get them, all of them. No one is smarter or works harder than you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. You never give up. I’ve always admired that about you. I don’t have your drive.”
“A full-ride football scholarship isn’t exactly easy to come by.”
He gets serious. “I guess you’re right. Maybe that’s our problem.”
“Our problem?”
“When we want something, neither of us knows when to quit, even if it’s out of our reach. Even if the reaching is killing us.”
He’s right.
My insides are churning with thoughts of how much I’ve fixated on Jacob; how much it hurts to know that I don’t mean anything to him; how stupid I’ve been.
And now Brad is throwing it in my face. I pour on the speed, leaving him behind, letting the world blur around me.
My breathing gets ragged and my vision blurs.
I trip, sprawling on the trail, bits of gravel tearing into my knees and then my palms.
“Jess!” Brad yells. He runs to me and then drops on one knee beside me. “Are you okay?”
Tears spring to my eyes, but I bite them back. “Fine!” I yell at him.
“Let me see.” He bends over to examine my scraped knees and my bleeding hands.
“I said I’m fine.”
“There’s that word again.”
I grit my teeth, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
He catches my eye. “That is a really good question."
He sits beside me on the muddy trail. A fat drop of blood slides down the side of my leg.
Brad reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wet and crumpled tissue.
He dabs at the worst of the scrapes. “I don’t know why I can’t leave you alone, Jess.
You’re always there–at school, at the gym, in my head.
If I was smart I’d just stay away from you, but I can’t. ”
The only sound between us is our still-heavy breathing and the rain falling on the trees around us. After a few minutes he looks up at me. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t just come for a run. I followed you here, because I was worried about you.”
I look at him, incredulous. “You followed me, because you were worried?”
“Yeah. You’ve seemed so tired and stressed and hurt this whole week–longer than that actually. It kills me to see you like that. I thought about trying to talk to you at school, but...” he shakes his head, “I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”
“We’re talking now,” I point out.
“I know. Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans closer.
“I’ve missed talking like this, and running with you, and holding your hand in the halls.
I've really missed you.” The look of tenderness in his eyes brings up a slew of forgotten emotions, not all of them bad.
When he pushes a piece of wet hair off my forehead I don’t move away.
“Sometimes I watch you at school and think about how things might be different now if Lexie hadn’t screwed things up between us. ”
“It wasn’t just Lexie,” I point out.
“I know.” He looks down at the wet tissue, soaked with rain and my blood.
“I did my share of screwing things up too. If I knew how to fix it...” He shifts his weight so his face is inches from mine.
His hand covers mine. I don’t know what I feel.
My heart is broken and tired and pounding in my ears, my hands and knees are torn and bleeding, All I can think of is how good it is to feel wanted.
When his lips touch mine I lean in and kiss him back.