Page 9

I feel like the world's worst boyfriend as soon as I step inside the pristine visual arts center I didn't even know existed. Because most of my time would be spent at the advanced sports and wellness facility, I didn't bother to remember anything about the rest of campus after accepting the residency.

When the sports director walked me through the area, rattling off facts and telling stories about certain buildings, I feigned interest. My focus was on the job. Anything else didn't matter.

But shame fills me when I realize the exhibition will be absolutely nothing like an elementary art show. Brightly colored paintings shine dramatically against the open lobby's clinical white walls and flooring. While the polished exterior and clean design presents a professional aesthetic, the space is inviting, casual, and warm.

A steady stream of students and faculty members filters through the lobby. Animated conversations and gestures and even the soft tap of shoes against the glossy linoleum flooring hum with excitement. Volunteers eagerly hand out pamphlets before greeting well-dressed guests.

A sigh of relief escapes my chest after noticing I'm not the only one in business casual attire. I may be wearing my best pair of dark jeans, but at least I threw on a nice black sweater. My first choice was a hoodie with the school name written across the chest.

Why the hell did I think Juni and her peers were just capable of crayon—and maybe color pencils—drawings when I know she's capable of so much more? When I've seen her previous work? Do I really think so little about art? Maybe I'm not as cultured as I thought.

God, I really am a selfish asshole.

I really need to see a therapist because Juni deserves better than me.

Technically, I'm not her boyfriend since we haven't had that mature, adult conversation about our feelings and stuff. I haven't spent the night at her place all week since she's been preoccupied with opening night.

Even without the flirty texts and the cute banter at practices, I know everything is good between us. The last thing Juni needs in her busy life is a guy whining for her attention. But I can be there for her when she wants to vent or voice her concerns over other projects.

That's what good boyfriends do. Right? Because I feel like one tonight. What's surprising is I don't mind the unofficial label or voluntarily looking at art. If my presence makes Juni happy, then I'll spend the entire evening here. Okay, maybe not all night. Unless alcohol is involved, but that's highly unlikely since this is an academic event.

I take a deep breath before stepping forward and accepting a glossy pamphlet from a student volunteer.

"Are you here for a specific exhibit?" she asks, straightening her composure before tossing her long golden locks over her slim shoulders.

I wonder if she's one of the mean girls Juni occasionally complained about.

"Uh, yeah," I answer awkwardly, curling the paper in my hand. "Juniper Mitchell? I'm with her."

The way her eyes light up and her lips curl into a wide smile suggests she's a friend or fan of Juni. Or she could be one of the mean girls, and she's a superb actress.

"Just follow the crowd over there." She tilts her head toward a specific hallway. "It will lead you to her exhibit."

"Thanks," I murmur with a nod as I fall behind a group of students meandering that way.

My gaze follows a line of framed black-and-white pictures hanging on the white walls. Each photo highlights the normalcy of life on campus, from students studying in the library to working on a group project. The theme may be simple, but the photographers captured more than a range of emotions.

I really need to do better, I chide myself, impressed with the high level of aptitude.

I enter a spacious area where a multitude of colors brighten the white walls. A line of people standing shoulder to shoulder partially blocks my view of the far wall. When my gaze lands on shades of blue streaking across the surface, I know it's the beginning of Juni's work.

She's shown me rough sketches and a few work-in-progress snapshots, so I have an idea what to expect. But when part of the crowd breaks off, leaving me with a clear view, a small gasp filters through my lips at the magnificent creature before me.

A gorgeous sculpted dark teal octopus floats effortlessly against the deep blue sea. Its tentacles, detailed with rows of suckers, stretch over the width of the surface and seem to sway both innocently and protectively. The slim, dark eyes carry a sharp, predatory gaze.

Beauty in the unexpected.

How did Tabby pick the perfect name? I wonder, feeling a tinge of jealousy that she and the others watched the progression.

Perry was never meant to be an accurate replica, considering the teal color palette with a dusting of gold. Instead, the entire work of art not only demands attention but offers a touch of idealization.

"I should've gone with flowers," a familiar voice teases as I feel a small hand looping around my arm.

I smile and turn to find Juni glowing with happiness. As she should because the night is hers.

She looks exceptionally radiant in an embroidered floral mini skirt that hugs her hips and thighs and a simple green sweater. Thigh-high gray boots, which add an inch or two to her height, complete the look. Her raven tresses usually pulled back into a ponytail cascade over her shoulders.

"You should never go with flowers," I reply jokingly as my hand reaches over to cover hers.

"You sure?" Her dark eyes hold a flicker of self doubt that surprises me.

Even as a crowd surrounds her work and their observations and reviews shine with praise, she continues to second guess herself. But that's who she is; she works hard only to wonder if she deserves the acclaim that comes achieving greatness.

The countless hours she put in don't matter to her because she would've happily spent another week or month until she was satisfied.

"It's beautiful, Juni," I reassure her, pulling my arm from her grasp to wrap it around her shoulder and pull her close. "Trust your instincts."

"Yeah, maybe," she concedes uncertainly, resting her head against my shoulder. "Perry is beautiful."

We stand silently, staring at the stunning sea creature, for a few moments before some guests shyly approach Juni.

I stick close, half studying the smallest of details and half watching Juni explain her thought process.

Her enthusiasm and love for art captivate anyone listening, drawing them into her world. The night belongs to her, but it doesn't stop her from engaging and encouraging others to share their insights.

Curious to feel even an ounce of Juni's extraordinary talent, my fingers ghost over a tentacle when I hear, "Don't touch that!"

A high-pitched shriek escapes me as I drop the offending hand to my side. I turn to find Juni grinning wickedly.

Little minx.

"Other people are touching Perry!" I whine, pointing to a few guests with sticky fingers.

Juni rolls her eyes before giving me a nod of approval. "It's been sealed so many times with a ton of different sealers that no one can really ruin it. Except with fingerprints."

"I seriously cannot believe you created this masterpiece," I breathe in awe, my finger tracing over the bumps and ridges of the suckers on a tentacle.

As a physical therapist, I marvel at the complexities of the human body. How everything is connected. The way the body heals, moves, and responds. But to create a piece of art from a concept? Using every day resources? That's simply another level of amazement.

"So, how do you keep Perry?" I ask, realizing she can't walk out of the building with an entire wall under her arm.

"I don't," Juni answer with a casual shrug. "He'll remain here for the rest of the school year, but then he'll get torn down."

A mix of outrage, confusion, and sadness drifts inside me. Why create something so magnificent for a short period? Perry deserves to live on the wall for more than a year.

"Really? That's kinda sad."

"Yeah, it is," she agrees ruefully. "But I also understand. Even beautiful things don't last forever."

Something inside me breaks, as my heart picks up speed for no good reason. The idea of someone swinging a sledgehammer at her labor of love sounds cruel, but she accepts Perry's fate without a second thought. Or without a fight.

Am I even talking about Perry at this point? I don't know.

"Dash?" Her soft voice pulls me from my spiral, and I see the concern in her eyes.

I want to tell her I'm fine. To shake off the odd feeling twisting viciously inside me. But I can't. Not with the room closing in and the air alarmingly hot and dry.

I want to stay with her. Support her. But my instincts tell me to run.

“Even beautiful things don't last forever.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, gently pressing my lips to her cheek. “But I gotta go.”

I don't give her a chance to respond before turning and walking away.

I sit on a wooden bench somewhere in a botanical garden I didn't even know existed on campus. Feels right to drown myself in shame and regret.

My sisters routinely called me an "arrogant jackass" during arguments when we were younger. I always believed they threw out those words to be mean, thinking they hurt my feelings. I never thought they actually meant it.

But I really am an arrogant jackass.

The chill of the evening and the fresh air make me breathe easier, but the sad ache in my chest remains.

The narrow cobblestone path weaving through the garden must be a shortcut as the sound of occasional footsteps tells me I'm not alone. I appreciate passersby leaving me alone in my pathetic state. My legs cocked open. My forearms resting on my knees. My head hanging with too many emotions to count.

That's why I love running so much. I felt absolutely nothing once my feet hit the ground. The world sort of faded. I couldn't hear my parents screaming at each other. Or my sisters crying in fear. My struggles in school didn't matter. Or my girlfriend's delusions of our futures.

Of course, all those issues patiently waited for me at the finish line, but for a brief time, I was happy to escape. To lose myself. To sweat under the blazing sun. To battle the unbroken winds. I was happy to run until I couldn't.

“Even beautiful things don't last forever.”

Even with all the other floral scents surrounding me, I immediately recognize hers. A soft and simple mix of jasmine and sweet lemon.

I don't lift my head when a pair of gray boots drops into view. She stands silently, gently weaving her fingers through my hair.

I sigh softly, wrapping my arms around her waist and burying my face in the softness of her belly.

How did she become my anchor? The one who soothes my soul?

"How did you find me?" I mumble, leaning into her soothing touch.

"Um, uh, Eden might have followed you here after you left," Juni answers nervously.

"To make sure I didn't do anything stupid?"

Somehow, their actions don't surprise me because I've learned the team members are givers. They take care of each other. And, apparently, an arrogant assistant coach.

"Uh, no. Just in case the girls needed to murder you," she explains with a light laugh. "Keeping eyes on you is much easier than hunting you down."

With a small frown, I lift my head to meet her tender gaze. "Murder me?"

Her shoulders cave slightly in defeat. "Well, you know, for hurting me or breaking my heart. Something like that."

Despair sinks further because I didn't mean to hurt her. I never want to hurt her again.

"Did I?" I swallow the lump in my throat. "Did I break you heart?"

She gives me a sweet smile and shakes her head, her raven locks falling forward. "No."

I should feel relieved, but why does my heart ache? Is this why we haven't discussed our feelings? Because she doesn't want more than a few nights of fun? She doesn't care I like her and want more?

My hold on her loosens as I lower my head again.

“Hey,” Juni says softly, sliding two fingers under my chin and lifting it gently. "You didn't break my heart, but I'm trusting you not to."

My eyes don't leave hers as my mind replays her words.

"Really?" I rasp.

She nods, slipping her from my chin and running toward the base of my neck. "My heart is yours."

Pure happiness waltzes through me at her confession, making me realize how much I mean to her. How much I needed to hear her share her feelings.

"I think I love you," I breathe out, sitting straighter and sweeping her into my lap.

Juni squeals, throwing her arms around my neck for balance and resting her feet on the bench. With my arms around her, I tenderly capture her lips with mine. When a sexy little moan filters into the night, my cock stiffens in response. I reluctantly pull away before the moment becomes steamier.

The back of her hand softly caresses my neatly trimmed scruff as her dark eyes search mine.

"I think I love you, too," Juni whispers shyly.

I bury my face in the curve of her neck and tighten my hold, memorizing everything around us. The distant chatter and laughter. The buzz of lamp posts. The rich combination of floral fragrances.

"You were right," she admits, resting her forehead against mine.

"Mmmm. About what?"

"About not pushing myself harder when I run. I dedicated years to being the best, and I wasn't sure if I could just run for fun. I convinced myself to set my expectations super low so I wouldn't feel like a failure if I didn't win."

"I don't think you could fail even if you tried," I tell her, tugging her closer when I feel her shiver.

Juni laughs shortly. "I failed as a teammate. I thought I was being open and honest, but really, I gave the team an excuse to not rely on me. I gave myself permission to use them for my personal benefit. Just because I don't want to win doesn't mean my teammates don't want to win either. Wait… that sounds weird. Doesn't mean… don't want… that's a double negative, right?"

I chuckle at her confusion, even though I understand her message.

"I understand what you're trying to say," I reveal, running the tip of my nose along the soft curves of her neck. "By the way, I thought of a new incentive for your last race."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Win the race, and I'll let you peg me."

I feel her lips curve into a smile before she whispers in my ear, "Game fuckin' on."