This isn't weird.

Running Buddy

Standing at the end of the trail, where the trees thinned and the paved path that wound through the park began, Ben checked his watch. It was a little past six-thirty, and he'd already watched three other early morning runners pass by. If his estimation was correct, he had at least another fifteen minutes to cool off and catch his breath, and he was glad for every second of it. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he stepped off of the pavement and sat down on the grass. It was half-dead, brittle and itchy against his calves.

Summer had peaked with a vengeance. It was still dark and already the temperature was over eighty. For the thousandth time that morning, he thought of Millie and her unnervingly waifish figure. It's taken her a bit of time to adjust to the heat. Temperatures have been in the triple digits there. Maybe he shouldn't be complaining.

Leaning forward, Ben stretched his fingertips toward his toes with a groan. He was exhausted. Four miles before sunrise—not bad, especially considering that this time last year, the idea of running any miles at any time a day was what he considered the stuff of nightmares. But the doctors had stressed to no end that regular cardio was critical to his ongoing recovery, and Indigo had paid those doctors far too much for Ben to ignore their instructions now. He was always out walking, anyway, so graduating up to running was the obvious option.

The long walks had never been planned; they were a purely reactive form of coping, undertaken in the spur of the moment and spent in heavy rumination. Running was something else entirely. It took intention and follow-through, and when he was running, there was no thinking at all. He was just mass in motion, experiencing a purely physical world. Rushing air over tickling sweat, burning cold lungs, pounding heartbeat pulsing through his ears. All feeling and no emotion. The endorphins that followed could keep his anxieties at bay for hours.

Lessons had been learned from his last ill-fated attempt—this time around, he'd started small and worked his way up slowly, a mile at a time, and he was careful to stay mindful of his body's limits. It had taken all of his willpower at first, but it got easier with each passing week. Sometimes, he even caught himself looking forward to it.

The tricky part was ensuring that he never bumped into Tess. All year, Ben had made a point to steer clear of any trails he'd ever heard her mention. Though he wasn't exactly sure what he was afraid of, crossing paths seemed like a needlessly unpleasant experience for the both of them. But today was different. Today, he ran the river path that he knew to be her favorite, the one she had once so gleefully chosen to torture him. It was Saturday morning, and he had made a point to be there extra, extra early. Assuming her routine hadn't changed, an encounter was all but guaranteed. Now all there was to do was to catch his breath and wait.

Twenty minutes passed before he finally caught sight of her approaching the trail's end. She wasn't alone. The man keeping pace with her was absurdly fit, and vaguely familiar. Ben squinted. What was his name again? Oh, right—Keith.

Perfect.

Ben jumped to his feet and waved at the pair with his biggest, friendliest grin. When Tess saw him, she stopped in her tracks. Her face morphed from confused to horrified to furious in the space of a second. Keith didn't notice. He smiled and waved right back.

"Hey, Brian!" he greeted Ben as he jogged over. Tess followed behind him, wearing a forced smile.

"It's Ben, actually."

"Oh, sorry. Ben! My memory is shit."

"Don't feel bad. Tess has a hard time remembering, too—right, Tess?"

"Right," she muttered with a fake laugh.

"Glad to see you stuck with it," Keith said, looking Ben up and down. "You look great."