Breaking The Rules: Book 2

Chapter 5: Old Buddies

𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟿𝚝𝚑
Griffin POV

Sharp, abrupt breaths burst from my mouth with every other running stride. Tight matching cramps start to climb up my calves as I adjust to running on the sand.

Seagulls squawk overhead as they circle lazily, non-discreetly keeping their beady eyes trained on the tourists starting to flock to the beachside. I huff as I change course to move around a family struggling to get their tent set up.

I thought coming out to Thornton beach at eight in the morning would be early enough to escape all of the people, but it's obviously not. This crowd looks like the type that spends thousands of dollars on a rental beach house for one weekend, and they'll be damned if they don't milk out every single second of being on the west coast.

"Shit, why don't we have guys like this in Arkansas?" A girl says to her friend as they lay out towels, both of their necks turning to watch me run past.

It's easy to ignore them. All of the girls who vacation here are the same, anyway.

Sweat begins to drip down my face. Lifting my wrist, I pant like a dog as the watch lights up. I have to slow down my pace to read the stats.

53:20:17
166bpm
8.09 miles

"Thank god," I groan and slow down, grains of sand slipping away from underneath my feet. Ten years of vigorous training drives me to rest my hands on top of my head, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I catch my breath.

Dad would be excited if he saw that information because that's the fastest I've ever run eight miles. Six months of hardcore, soul-crushing training and a lifetime of spite must've given me an extra edge this morning. That recruitment camp won't know what hit them when I arrive next month.

When Parker and I arrive. They'll be shocked to see both of us for two totally different reasons.

I spit in the sand at the thought of Parker as I spin around and walk toward the ocean, letting the waves lick at my ankles. Thinking about him spurs me into a sprint again. This time, I feel the burn of the movement in my knees as my soles slap against wet sand. The water feels good against the creeping heat of the morning.

With each foot that strikes the earth, I hear two words in cadence. Fuck. Him. Fuck. Him.

It's the motivation that I need to keep racing toward the parking lot where my car, shoes, shirt, and water bottle are waiting.

Another group of older women that are already starting to day drink whistle at me as I pass. I don't acknowledge them because I can't hear them over the sound of yesterday's conversation with Parker replaying in my head.

It's funny how he even bothered to argue against me when he knew for a fact that I was right. Fucking hysterical. I wonder what he tells himself every single day to have that confidence. There is one thing that he said that I keep coming back to.

Maybe losing him is what it took for me to wake up and realize that all this superficial shit isn't important anymore.

A chuckle comes out of my mouth in between controlled breaths. Seriously, I've never heard such a stupid sentence in my life. And believe me when I say that I've heard some stupid shit.