Black Diaries

08. Only us two

Over the next few days, my thoughts returned to Chuck with alarming regularity for someone who, after all, was just a friend. I thought less and less about Matt, and began to be slightly worried about that. Shouldn't I be more depressed? Shouldn't I be weeping and wallowing in misery? After all, I had lost the love of my life. That had to leave some deep emotional scarring. It damn well had to!

I was out in the park late one evening, trying to think all this through while trying not to a) look like a serial killer and b) think about Chuck, when I suddenly heard a voice from behind me.

"Hey, Cassy! Cassy, is that you?"

I slowed down and started to turn around, but before I had turned my head even so much as 1.5 degrees, he was beside me, and had to screech to a halt to not shoot past me. The moment I had heard his voice, of course, I had known who it was.

"Hi, Chuck! Fancy running into you."

Did my voice always sound that high when I talked to one of my friends? Probably not.

Damn!

"Yeah." He wasn't even out of breath, even though he had obviously been moving quite a bit faster than me. He was dressed in running shorts and a tight-fitting top that left little to the imagination. With all my power, I tried to drag my hungry eyes away from his body. But that just meant I had to look at his handsome face and the broad smile that told me how happy he was to see me.

I felt an instinctive smile pop up on my face in response.

"Hey," he suddenly said. "Did you change your hair?"

It wasn't so much the fact that he had noticed—plenty of people I knew in New York had noticed. No, it was the fact that he had noticed and he was a man. The most I ever got as a comment out of my male acquaintances, after insistent prodding, was, "Err... yeah. Looks good, I guess."

"Yeah, you definitely changed it," Chuck decided, restoring my faith in the cognitive power of the male species. "It's shorter now."

Self-consciously, I tried to tuck a strand behind my ear. It popped out again right away, and before I knew what was happening, Chuck had reached up to tuck it behind my ear again.

My stomach did a little flip-flop.

"Yeah, um... I thought it was time for a change."

"I like it," he told me. "It's a killer style."

Uttering a groan, I covered my eyes with my hand. "Crap! Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Um... did I say something wrong?"

When I lowered my hand, there was an adorably sheepish grin on his face.

"No, no," I assured him. "It's just me, forget it." I hurriedly combed my mind for a change of subject. "So, what are you doing here this late?"

"I always go for runs in the evening. Don't you remember? That's how I had the pleasure of meeting you."

"Oh, right."

I felt my ears heat. Of course he was running! What else would he be wearing running shorts for? Breakdancing? I wanted to smack myself. But he probably would have thought me crazier than he believed me to be already if I suddenly started slapping myself in front of him. So instead, I grasped around for something to say.

"Um... do you mind if I come with you?"

"On my run, you mean?" His eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why not? I've never been on an evening run before. I could use a bit of company, and besides, it sounds like a fun thing to do."

Roughly five minutes later, I had radically changed my opinion on that subject.