You are waiting. You didn't go to the Durrell challenge, even though Henry asked you to over and over. You hadn't trained for it, and you just weren't ready for a 13K run. And then, in a public social setting for the first time was something you weren't ready for. You couldn't tell him that for some reason. People had seen you around town, but not necessarily together. You went shopped with Stella, even hit the pub once with her:
"Who's your friend?" a man asked Stella one weeknight. When Stella shook her head, he turned to you. "What's your name?"
"Piss off, Lars," Stuart warns.
"Ah, come on, a name, if only to say hello?"
You glance at the good looking man, noting his size and good looks, but say, "Taken." You turn back to your drink.
"Ah, like your friend, Hannah?" he asks, looking at you both. "Mentally dating Henry Cavill or something?" He laughs. "Hey, Archer! This one says her name is Taken."
"She truly is," Archer nods, his arm curling around Hannah. Her eyes harden at you, but you are grateful that neither tell more than they should.
"If Archer can't be a nice consolation, why can't I, love?"
You sigh. You pull out your phone and start paying attention to it. You check messages. You expect none from Henry; he was probably fast asleep. You feel like this is a mistake now. You went out with two couples and even though Stuart and Stella assured you wouldn't, you feel like fifth wheel.
You look around Henry's home: You bought a mat to go in front of the fireplace. You have lavender lotion at the ready. You bought Egyptian cotton sheets for his bed, determined to make up for your disappointing him for not coming to the Durrell Challenge run. Your phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?"
You recognize Stella's voice. "Stella?"
"Everyone knows that Henry's going to a pub at the end of his race," Stella whispers. "It looks like every girl in the town is here!"
Your breath hitches. "There can't be many—"
"Does there have to be?"
The line clicks off, and you feel a panic. You trust Henry right now, but is it too early in the relationship to when he has so many options? He went out with an actress for twelve days once. You more than beat that record, but...?
You tense...right now, you shake your head at your own thoughts. You should be there to show support of what he believes in. You realize your needing more time to adjust to a public eye, even a small one like a town near the movie set, might be unrealistic and selfish. There will be more eyes from here on out, you deduce. This is as good as a springboard as any. This could mark the sunrise of your time as Henry's lady friend, and let's face it, you wanted to stay private so that when he tired of you, your heartbreak could be the same as it set.
What if it doesn't? What if it does because of this decision?
You take a breath. If he was any other guy, you knew you'd meet him at the finish. Chastising yourself for your mistake, you run to the mirror. Ugh, not like this!
You look into your backpack and the athletic bag left at Henry's, biting your lip as you pull together an outfit: A teal sports bra top, black leggings and a black form-fitting jacket that accents your curves. You do your facial treatment, determined not to wear makeup, looking fresh faced, and then apply mascara and lip gloss for good measure. Eyes and lips matter on stage, and everywhere else for that matter. After pulling your ponytail through the back of your baseball cap, you walk outside and grab your mountain bike, looking at Henry's. He bought one, saying he would ride with you one day, but not as of yet.
You load your leg pack, fill and put on a Camelback pack and take off. This is an ten mile ride. He's running and then stopping at the pub miles from there. You have to move it! You put your earpiece in. "Call Stella."
"Calling Stella."
You wait as the line rings.
"Hey!"
"Where is he?"
"I hear he is less than halfway," she says in a low voice. She listens to your breathing. "Where are you?"
"On my way," you pant softly.
"You're biking, aren't you?"
"Yep."
"You brought your headlights, right?"
"It's broad daylight, but yes, Stella, I did." You steer to the right, letting cars go by. "Don't tell him I'm coming, alright?"
"Alright."
You click off, and increase speed.
An small SUV goes by and you swerve, going off the road and purposely falling into the bushes to avoid rolling and falling into trees below at the bottom of a small ravine. You have cycled in snow and rain and wind and it pays off, only feeling a little bumped, maybe bruised. You try to see the license plate as you walk your bike back on the road but it is gone by the time you think to even do it, a bit unsettled by the near accident. Time passes and you see the town square opening up to you. It's not very big, but big enough. You see quite a few SUVs parked, and they all look the same. It dawns on you that these are rentals and probably from the movie set. Could someone have tried to hit you?
You see Henry's truck parked and go to it. You hitch your bike to a sign post and walk to the pub door. You take a deep breath and try to smooth yourself over. You can't look all that together after a ten to twelve mile ride, but you made it. You nod respectfully to the man at the door who opens it and step inside.
You scan the place. He's not there! You hear your name called and see Stella waving you over frantically. You speed over to her.
"He's running at a park near here," Stella says softly. "Cindy says his finish line is not in town, but four miles away." She holds her phone and shows you where it is. "He met others here and they all drove to the start. You might not make it—"
You aren't listening. You're gone.
You hop on your bike, put the name of the place in your phone and hit the road again, this time putting the rubber drinking tube in your mouth to get water from your pack since you didn't drink anything at the bar. You are solidly counting on Cindy's information and the Google Map God. You take a cleansing breath and push on. You put on music as you listen to the English Siri tell you what to do.
You bike a trail in the natural park as you reach it, and your memory sparks at what you see before you in Instagram photos. You are in the right place, and this fuels you. Now that you know, the posts and the trail map are your best friends. Deductive reasoning tells you which paths to take, as there are a few turns, but you are making it.
Finally you reach a clearing, and you see Henry and security as well as a few people from work all laughing and smiling, drinking water in the distance. You stop short, watching him. You said you weren't going and now you're here?! How will he take that?! You use your time to catch your breath, unsure what to do, and insanely contemplating turning around.
Henry calls your name. You stand still, gripping your handlebars and smile, but your stomach is doing flip flops while your heart is in your throat. What a time to reconsider—
"You came?!" His is grinning. "Oh my God, you came!" He starts toward you with Kal trailing behind and you guide your bicycle to meet him. "You biked here?"
"Knee injury, don't run anymore, I told you," you pant. "but I wanted to be here to support you, being by yourself, but you're not by yourself—" He smiles and you feel heat creep up your cheeks. "I just wanted to be there for you." That sounded stupid, all of a sudden. The man is fully confident and able to do whatever he wants whenever he pleases. "That sounds crazy, doesn't—" He shuts you up with a kiss and you feel his arms encircle you.
"Thanks for wanting to support me," he says softly, his voice taking on that purr that just makes your knees go weak. His hand cradles your face as his thumb caresses your cheekbone. He looks down again. "You biked here?!"
"Yeah!" you laugh happily. "I used to bike all the time back home, good way to integrate exercise into the day.
"On these roads?!" He frowns. "That's not easy."
"It's not that hard," You retort, knowing you'd do it again for the warmth you're feeling from him now.
He takes your bike and steers it with one hand, holding yours with the other and guides you toward his running party.
"So did you do this on purpose?" he asks. "Surprise me, I mean."
"Actually, no," you shrug. "I was setting up a nice spa night at your place—"
"Spa?!" he repeats with a raise of his eyebrow. "Spa? Like massage and bath?"
"I was about to make you something to eat when I changed my mind," You say apologetically. "but it can wait, I can make—"
"We'll have a drink and some supper," he says quickly. "then head back."
"I thought—"
"Now I'm the one who can't wait," his says softly, his blue eyes changing to a shade that takes your breath away. He makes introductions to people you have seen and were never introduced to, his arm going around you as a warming symbol of his affection and protection. Everyone seems friendly enough and you wonder what you were worrying about.