Three Strikes - 13. Run here often?

I knew I wasn’t going to see Shane on Saturday or Sunday since we hadn’t made plans and he didn’t have my phone number. That was the gamble when playing hard-to-get. Sometimes you’re actually hard to get. Sure, there was a part of me that hoped he’d get my number from Drew and call me, but he didn’t.

We’d probably see each other Monday between practices, and make arrangements to hang out…it’d be wonderful. My plan was to wake up a few minutes earlier on Monday morning so I could spend the extra time primping. I’d have to go straight to the ballpark after work so I wouldn’t have time to do much more than change clothes after I got off.

That meant I needed to prep my best baseball clothes and take them to work with me. I had a couple of options, but I was leaning toward wearing my game pants to practice since they were nice and tight and showed off my best ass-ets.

Of course, it all went to shit. The one day I wanted to wake up early, I accidentally set my alarm for five in the afternoon instead of five in the morning so, although it was a miracle I barely woke up before my shift started, I didn’t have time for even a shower before I had to run out of the door.

The chaos didn’t end there. I barely had time to eat lunch, much less run home, at any point, for a shower. As a last resort, I called Allé and had him run to the house to grab my hair products and the baseball clothes I’d set out.

The minute my shift ended, I grabbed the bag Allé had dropped off and hustled to get ready but as soon as I opened it, I wanted to cry. He grabbed the baseball stuff I was going to drop off at the Salvation Army, not the clothes that would’ve made me look like a wetdream. No shower, no fresh hair, no smelling good, and no cute baseball clothes…fucking fabulous!

I tried to gracefully walk to the ballpark—as graceful as I could wearing ratty clothes that were probably going to be rejected from Salvation Army. I literally looked like a homeless person with a nice haircut. Who was I kidding. I wasn’t graceful at all. I was stomping and pouting as I hustled down the steps to the field.

“Allen Swift!” I shouted when I spotted the asshole.

Allé was talking to a few teammates when he turned to see who was calling him. I pointed at my Raggedy Andy outfit.

“What the fuck is this?”

Not quite understanding my emotional distress, he slowly and hesitantly offered his best explination, “Baseball clothes?”

I threw my hands up in defeat. “When have you ever seen me wear these? These are trash! So thanks to you, now I look like trash.”

Allé started laughing as he left the people he was talking to and gently approached me.

“What’s wrong? It’s only practice. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He rubbed my shoulder to comfort me. I knew I overreacted, but the weekend was long and the day had been overly stressful. I wanted to go to practice feeling confident and flirty, but instead, I felt emotionally overwhelmed and physically...underwhelmed.

“Shane.”

I stated the obvious reason for my misplaced frustration and Allé barked in surprise.

He gingerly cupped my face in his hands. “Do you think he’s going to care? He thought you looked good in a romper and that horrid Hollister outfit you wore on Friday. No offense, but I don’t think it takes much to impress him. In fact, I think he’s more impressed by how you play than how you look.” He looked at me strangely, then added, “And since when do you care about what that dick says?”

I frowned and looked down at my terribly oversized clothes. They definitely didn’t highlight any of my best features—or any features for that matter.

“Since I realized he has a big dick, but isn’t a big dick, or at least not as big of one as I thought he was. Aaron and Drew promised me he was cool, so I told Shane he could ask me out.” I started raising my voice, again, “Which is why I’m freaking out right now! He’s going to ask me out and this is how I look.”

While Allé tried to convince me I didn’t look that bad, Shane’s team was finishing up their practice. Drew, Aaron, and Kurt came over to say hello and we made small talk while Shane talked to a few of his teammates before leaving the dugout to join us.

It was strange how quickly things had changed. A week ago, I dreaded his presence. Now I was sweating like a whore in church because I couldn’t wait to be around him. In my head, I wanted to scream at everyone to disperse so Shane and I could have a private moment, but instead, I continued talking to Drew about...fuck if I remember! Shane was walking toward me, casually—too cool for school. I braced myself for a well deserved verbal assault about how trashy I looked, but it never came.

Instead, he smiled at me. It was a casual smile but there was a underlying brightness that I found adorable.

“Hey, Donovan.”

His dark eyes sparkled as though he was actually happy to be talking to me. I smiled back because I was definitely happy he wasn’t calling me names. Also, I was strangely happy to be around him.

I gave him a slight nod, “Shane.”

A head nod? Just ‘Shane’? I could’ve hit myself. What was I even doing?

“Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t do much, you know, just hung around. You?”

Which was a total lie because I’d been swamped all weekend with work and thinking about how dumb I was for playing hard-to-get instead of swapping digits with him Friday night, but I wasn’t gonna let him know any of that.

“Yard work mostly, nothing special. Anyway, I’ll let you get to practice. See you around,” he waved and walked off with the rest of the DAKS in tow.

‘See you around’?

What was that again?

‘See you around’?!

My mouth was agape as he walked away and I wondered if I’d just been brushed off. Fucking plot twist. The author of my life was a cruel and confusing mistress. Since when was I being weird over Shane? One decent conversation and suddenly I’ve lost myself? Head nods...fucking HEAD NODS, and being brushed off? That was not my life.

Allé wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Well, we could stare at him all night or go practice? I vote on practice. Come on D.”

Allé escorted me to the dugout. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it there without him since I was so overwhelmed with shock. I actually thought Shane was going to ask me out, but instead, I got…friend zoned?

“Thanks a lot for bringing me these damn Salvation Army donations!” I cursed Allé as broke from his plague of an embrace, only to hear him chuckle at my annoyance.

Saboteur!

*** *** *** ***

After work on Tuesday, I decided to hit the gym. I definitely needed to burn off some energy, a little frustration, and a lot of negative thoughts. None of that would happen by sitting around my house. My schedules for work and baseball probably didn’t help, either. They conflicted with almost all of the classes the gym had offered, so I wasn’t getting my normal amount of activity and diversity. I almost thought about a solo HIIT workout or kickboxing, but I wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted to listen to music and sweat.

I didn’t get off of work until six that evening so, by the time I arrived at the gym, most of the five o’clock crowd was leaving. It was great because it meant a fairly quiet and private workout for me. I was almost finished entering my information into the treadmill when I felt a presence on the treadmill next to me.

“Do you run here often?”

I smiled at the pun and pressed enter to begin my workout. As the belt started moving, I chanced a glance to my right and hoped I wouldn’t lose my balance and end up on a YouTube montage of treadmill fails.

I didn’t remember much about the time a retired FBI detective came and spoke to the entire school, he rambled on about a lot of things, but I do remember him explaining the importance of surveying your surroundings. He explained that how to train yourself to remember details of those around you, should you ever need to identify someone to authorities—tattoos, height, weight, hair color, eye color, identifying markers, etc. That was my goal, to embrace my inner FBI agent; Special Agent Donovan.

I tried to take in as much of the shirtless beauty as I could with a quick glance. Yes, a week ago I’d seen and felt him naked, but I didn’t get to savor it at the time, I didn’t really want to.

He looked good, of course—tall and hunky as always. Seeing his bare skin caused memories to stir from our encounter a week earlier, and that wasn’t good. I was wearing my usual running attire; a tiny pair of compression shorts, topped by a tiny pair of running shorts. It didn’t leave a lot of room for imagination.

“Sometimes. Either here or in the park. Depends on my mood,” I answered.

“What’s your mood, now?”

I looked at him with a playful smile and slid my hands over the treadmill to remind him I was, in fact, on a treadmill and not outside. His belt started moving so we were running side by side.

“Okay, smartass,” he shyly laughed.

It appeared he wanted to say more but he didn’t, so I elaborated. “Actually, there's not a specific reason I’m inside versus outside today. I think it's mostly the convenience factor.”

“Do you want to?”

I didn’t have a preference so I shrugged indifferently. He nodded, lightly smiled, and returned his focus to the screen on his machine. I felt like an idiot. Was that his way of seeing if I wanted to run outside with him?

“Are you asking if I want to run outside with you? Because, if you are, I’d definitely prefer that over this,” I pointed at the machine.

He smiled and pressed the emergency stop button, which brought his machine to a halt.

“Well, I wasn’t asking as much as I was feeling out what your response would be.”

I pressed my emergency stop button and looked at him, straight on, “My response would be, yes.”

I held his gaze for a moment and hoped he understood the double entendre—the run and/or a date, or whatever else he wanted to ask me to do. So, maybe a triple entendre?

His smile was crooked and adorable as we got off of the machines to leave. As we approached the door to leave the cardio room, we did the no-you-first dance, and I won. My prize? Walking behind a shirtless Shane and having an unobstructed moment to really check him out. He was as yummy as I’d remembered, if not more.

I loved the fact he wasn’t ripped. He was incredibly strong and there was no denying he was solid muscle, but he wasn’t cut like someone who spent four hours a day at the gym. I bet he was an even bigger hottie back in highschool. To me he was the perfect balance of strength, health, and snugglebility—and it was as sexy as hell. As I walked behind him I wanted to squeeze his thick, muscular waist and run my hands across his solid, yet squeezable stomach.

I tried not to look at his ass, too much. I was already straining to hold back the effects of Shane’s nakedness and his boo-tay wasn’t going to help do anything except make a bigger fool of myself. When Shane started to turn around to look at me, I snapped my head to the side and pretended as though I’d been looking outside. I thought I saw him smile, so it’s likely I didn’t fool anyone.

There was a park near the gym, not as big or grand as Benson Park, but it was nice nonetheless. As we neared the running path, I asked.

“You’re not one of those freaks who likes to talk while they run, are you?”

“Sure, if I’m doing a slow trot. If I’m actually running, then no, I’m not in that good of shape.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, he looked like he was in really good shape. I suspected he was downplaying his fitness level.

“Good, because I’ll die.”

Shane laughed and motioned for us to start, so we did. We’d been running for a few minutes when I started to worry. Was the pace too fast or too slow? How long did he usually run? Who was going to stop first? Could I hold out long enough?

I hoped he didn’t think I was an avid runner simply because I ran seven miles that one time he was on the treadmill next to me. That was an anomaly and a tribute to the power of sheer will power when up against the spawn of Satan.

The beautiful park and I enjoyed gazing at its lively inhabitants—while secretly catching glimpses of Shane whenever possible. Yep, he looked as good as expected. After ten minutes he was starting to glisten with perspiration. His beautiful skin was flushed from the cardio blast.

By the thirty minute mark I was dying inside but decided to push myself, and hopefully him along with me, simply to be a bitch. I discreetly increased my stride length and speed, which put me in front of him (for a moment) before he realized what was happening. He easily caught up—and then some. We went back and forth until we were both running close to our max speed.

“Where’s your favorite places to run?”

The bastard was trying to talk to me while running? The nerve! And despite our near Olympic speed, his words were barely winded. How was that possible?

“Here,” I panted out the quickest, one syllable word I could think of.

His pace picked up enough to make me struggle more than I already had been.

“Yeah? I can see why. What do you love most about this park?”

I could barely think, let alone verbalize a complete sentence. He was trying to kill me, I was sure of it. As we reached a full out racing sprint to an undisclosed finish line that I was secretly hoping we’d already passed, I mustered two words.

“Everything. Beautiful.”

“Sure, but what, specifically?”

I looked at him, completely flabbergasted that he was trying to have a full conversation while sprinting. My body had reached top speed and was about to redline. Despite the fact he could speak full sentences, he didn’t look much better than I as his face was bright red and covered with sweat. He must’ve sensed I was looking because he caught my eye and winked. The punk!

“Fuck you,” I laughed.

I immediately stopped running since there was no point trying to prove anything. He essentially kicked my ass. He ran a few paces ahead and stopped once he realized I was no longer with him and came back.

“Are we done already? I thought we were just getting started.”

He was panting hard, but not as hard as I was. No, I was curled over and trying my best not to throw up. I couldn’t respond so I flipped him off. I thought I conveyed my feelings in a calm and mature manner, but he thought it was funny and laughed as he pulled me upright from my position of defeat and agony.

“Let’s walk. You need to keep moving.”

If I hadn’t been embarrassed before, I definitely was when he started treating me like a child. He watched me with concern as we walked through the park. He was probably nervous I was going to keel over and die, which in all honesty, was at a probable all-time high. I paused for a second as I tried to slow my heart rate and keep the stress-induced vomit down. He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Are you good?” he asked with a very genuine and concerned tone.

“Totally, but I had a lot of pasta today. You know how it is, they say you need to load up on carbs before a good run. What they don’t tell you, is that it shouldn’t be immediately before the run,” I hoped he knew I was joking, I’m not that dumb. I heard him chuckle in the background and it made me smile.

I was finally recovering as we continued to walk in the direction of the gym. It turned out that with all of the twists and turns we’d made while running kept us surprising close to the gym. It was only a matter of minutes before we stepped out of the park and onto the gym parking lot.

We grabbed our stuff from the gym and walked back to the parking lot where we would part ways. I was frustrated because it had taken me such a long time to regain my composure after my near death experience, which meant we barely talked the whole time.

We were standing next to my car since his was parked further way. It was one of those awkward moments where the logical thing to do was leave, but you also wanted to hangout longer, but no one wanted to admit it so you stand around hoping the other person will, but nobody does. Pre-dating standoff.

“Well, I guess I’ll go. I’ll see you around, Donovan,” he smiled, albeit an awkward one, and gave me a cute wave.

Oh for crying out loud, you’ve got to be kidding me! I thought to myself as I watched him walk away. He wasn’t going to ask me out, again? For a big guy, he sure had a small pair of balls. Actually, his balls were quite nice. But the balls that held his courage were retracting into his body.

With a crooked smile, I challenged him. “Oh, yeah? When?”

His eyes widened ever so slightly as he took in the meaning of my words. He didn’t say anything, so I continued.

“You were planning on asking me out at some point, yeah? I pretty much gave you the green light but maybe you’re terrible at more than just staying in the lines.”

I winked to let him know I was teasing him and I had no hard feelings, although I would’ve if he didn’t ask me out soon.

“Okay, well, yeah. I wasn’t sure, though. You were drunk and I didn’t want to make assumptions, again.”

“Am I drunk now?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I don’t suppose you are. Saturday morning?”

I nodded.

“Ten thirty at The Endless Brunch?” he asked with a smile.

“That sounds good to me.”

I started to open the door to my car and realized we should swap phone numbers. I turned and yelled for Shane and was met with the full attention of his deep-brown eyes.

“Do you want to swap numbers?”

His face was hesitant. “Why, are you already planning to cancel?”

“No, I thought it’d be nice to have each other’s contact since Saturday is four days away.”

“Nah. I’d be too tempted to talk and text and then what would we have left to talk about on Saturday? I want to get to know you in person.” His smile was…cute. It was shy, sympathetic, wholesome, and teasing. His words were the fucking cutest thing I’d ever heard.

“Well, maybe something unexpected will happen and I’ll need to call and cancel or something.”

“I’ll wait for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. If you’re not there by then, I’ll leave and I won’t hold it against you.”

“What if I have a flat tire or my car breaks down?”

“Call AAA or Drew. I don’t know much about cars.”

“What if I’m getting mugged?”

“Call the police or…”

He fidgeted with his keys for a second then tossed something into the air. “Pepper spray.”

I caught it and laughed. He wasn’t going to budge and I wondered if he could see my heart doing flips.

“Fine, but when I get mugged after having a flat tire on my way to tell you I’m cancelling—”

“I know, I know. You’ll cut me.”

He winked and closed the door behind him before driving out of the parking lot.

That was the new and much improved side of Shane. Maybe Drew and Aaron were right and Shane really wasn’t King Douche of Doucheville.

The drive home was spent thinking about how very sweet his reason was for not wanting to swap numbers. Of course, I also thought about the possibility that he was in a committed relationship and the whole bit was a line he used to keep out of boiling water. But Drew, Aaron, or Kurt would have mentioned that, right? They wouldn’t have encouraged me last weekend to give Shane a chance if it wasn’t worth it, I knew that for sure.