Play With Me

too early
to do sports. Seriously. The normally bright facades of the houses lining our
street all appeared in a monotone bluish-gray now.
    “So your parents
got angry because you didn’t get home last night?” he said with perfectly even
breathing after the first quarter mile.
    Did he really
expect me to jog and talk? My breathing was erratic, but I managed to
say, “No. My parents thought I crashed at Tony’s. Which is fine with them.”
    “You do that
often?”
    “You sound like
you disapprove.”
    He only cut me a
sharp sideways glance. Heck, what was that? Did he really care?
    “So why the
grounding?” he asked as we passed a crossroads and neared the ocean. The sound
of waves crushing on the beach drifted to us, breaking the silence of the
morning.
    “My mom saw my
red eyes and figured I’d been drinking. Crap—” I panted. Sweat trailed down my
neck, my back, and between my breasts. “I forgot your sunglasses.”
    “No worries. You
can give me them tomorrow before training.”
    How did he do
this? Run so far and still speak to me like he was lounging on the sofa. Gasping
for air, I only nodded. The beach came into sight, and relief filled me. A few
more meters I told myself and pushed harder. Then my feet hit sand.
    And I collapsed.
    Dropping to the
beach like a sack of flour, I rolled onto my back and gazed at the soft pink
sky.
    Ryan stood over
me. “What are you doing?”
    “Dying.”
    “No, you’re not.
Get up, we’re not done.”
    “ I am.”
My breaths sounded like those of a rasping woman on her deathbed. “But don’t
mind me. You just go on. I’m sure in a few hours someone will come and scrape
me off the pavement…dig me out of the sand…whatever.”
    Amazing how the
sound of his laughter made me wish for the strength to stand up and continue
running just to be near him again. Luck was on my side today. A moment later,
he lowered to the sand, too.
    Hunkered by my
feet, he…untied my shoe?
    “Hey, what the
heck—!” I pulled my leg away. “You don’t steal from a dying person.”
    He lifted his
palms in defense. “Fine, then take them off yourself.”
    “What? Why?” Shocked
and a little curious, I propped on my elbows and watched as he untied his
laces. Hope filled me. “We’re going to take a swim now to cool off after the
training?”
    “Nope. The
little run was only warm-up. The training begins here.”
    “You can’t be
serious.” What was it with him and warm-up all the time? I was heated enough
when we left my street.
    His eyebrow arched
up. “What are you willing to bet on it?”
    Shit. He was serious. Ready to slump back and bawl, I clamped on my teeth instead and
gathered what little dignity I had left then sat up. I slipped out of my
trainers and hid them with Ryan’s close to the rocks and out of temptation from
by-passers.
    If I thought
running to the beach was exhausting, then I sure didn’t know what it was like
to jog barefoot in the sand. The muscles in my calves took on a burn that
became unbearable after only a couple hundred meters.
    I shot him a look
filled with loathing as I struggled to keep pace with him. He smiled, making me
gnash my teeth.
    “Do your parents
know about this sadistic side of yours?”
    He playfully
tugged at my ponytail. “What can I say? You bring out my best side.”
    “Ah, great. I
feel so special now.” Each step became increasingly heavier as if my limbs were
weighed down with stones. “How far are we going?”
    “I never ran
this route before, but I guess it’s about a half-mile. You know the houses at
Misty Beach?”
    I nodded.
Everyone knew them. It was place for the rich and wealthy. “Your parents own a
house down there?”
    “Yep.”
    I wasn’t
surprised. After seeing the palace he lived in last night, it was accepted the
Hunter’s would have another beach house here. But funny, after the last two
days, Ryan didn’t seem at like with the insufferable rich snob I thought him to
be whenever I passed him in the school corridors. He was quite likable. Nice,
even.
    Just not right
now. I scowled. He made me eat sand when I didn’t think I could drag myself
another couple of steps. The fine sand sunk under my feet and it felt like
running on pudding. Every exposed square inch of me glistened with sweat, my
drenched top clung to my skin.
    When Misty Beach
came into view, his fingers curled around my upper arm, and he was already
dragging me. I stumbled along next to him, crying for water. “I swear