Situationship [Complete]

12 | Love

My breath is quick, heart rate is up. The treadmill's belt whips beneath my feet. I keep up with no problem. I'm killing it today.

"Damn, Heath. Are you trying to make me look bad?" Brett looks at my screen. His pace is half of mine.

I lower my speed back to my normal jog and smile. "I have . . . a lot of . . . energy today," I pant.

"Yeah, I can see that. What's up with you?"

I laugh. As if I could tell him anything.

My energy is coming from everywhere right now. My need to get out the frustration, anger, rage, whatever you want to call it, is higher than it has been in a while. Talking gets nothing out. I need to work out and fuck.

My time with Teagan last night was too short. I got what I wanted—what I needed—to clear my head of what happened right before. My stress and anxiety faded the second I tasted her. Nothing else is on my mind when I'm inside her, but fucking her against that door was everything. Making Teagan, the bossy control freak, bend to my will . . . Just thinking about it makes my blood rush downward.

I should have stayed for a second round, but after seeing her look at me like I was some kind of sex god, my ego was exploding. I'll let her have her little quip at the end if it means I get to use it against her next time. The hours can't pass quickly enough.

"Nothing's up," I dodge Brett's question.

"Nothing's up?" He gives me a suspicious look. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open when it clicks. "You're getting laid?!"

Ugh. "Try to sound a bit less surprised."

"Sorry," he laughs. "This is big news! I didn't think you were still dating that girl from the party."

"I'm not." When he gives me a confused look, I add, "We're not dating. It's just sex. Like . . . great sex, bro."

Brett laughs. "No shit? Who is this girl?"

I smile. "No one you need to know. Stop asking."

Our machines beep to signal our twenty minutes is up. Three and a half miles. I haven't done that in a while. We slow to a cool-down pace, and as I catch my breath, I see Brett still staring at me.

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm not gonna tell you shit."

"Why not?"

"Uh, because it's not your fucking business?"

"Come on," he whines. "This chick has you buzzing. You like her! Bring her out on the boat and let us meet her."

Just imagining how that would blow over makes me cackle. "Absolutely the fuck not." He looks down at his screen with a pout. Against my better judgment, I acknowledge it. "What?" I huff.