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SYDNEY

I am not in love with Koa Mahina anymore.

He has no effect on my life.

I am moving on.

I repeat my daily mantra as I rip the tags off my brand new pair of purple leggings a little more aggressively than I should. I bought them at the beginning of the year when Charlie had the terrible idea to start taking advantage of the exercise classes available on campus.

After another failed relationship, I thought what the hell. I will need something to do to fill my time and keep me from thinking about a certain someone. Why not work on myself in the process? New year. New me. Blah blah blah.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I begin to stuff myself into the lycra fabric. As sweat begins to form around my hairline, I wonder if this counts as a warmup.

“What is taking you so long in there? We’re going to be late,” Charlie calls out to me through my bedroom door.

“I’m coming. Give me a minute,” I yell back at her in between grunts as I yank harder on the leggings I’m struggling to put on .

I don’t know how I let Charlie talk me into doing things like this. When I said yes to working out more at the beginning of the year, I meant yoga or maybe jazzercise.

Not joining a running club.

Who loves running enough to join a club for it?

A book club I can get behind. A club where you are required to bring a snack and beverage of choice sounds like a much better idea than one that is guaranteed to make me sweat and my muscles cramp.

I look longingly at the stack of books piled on my nightstand and on the floor by my bed. I think I would prefer to exercise my brain and stay home to read instead.

Bending my knees and swiveling my hips, I let out a deep breath when I finally get the pants on and positioned in the right place. I push my hair out of my face, and take a look at myself in my full length mirror. Not too bad. Working up a sweat to squeeze myself into these pants was worth it because my ass looks incredible. “You weren’t kidding about these leggings,” I shout.

The troublemaker in me wants to snap a photo and send it to Koa to irritate him. He always has something negative to say about where I work or what I’m wearing. It wasn’t always like this.

I remember when my parents let me have my own phone. I would send him silly pictures and random updates on my day. That all stopped when I found out how he really felt about me. Now I text him to make sure he has information to report back to my brother and because I like to poke the bear.

If I was being honest with myself, I’m hoping that one day the bear might poke back. But not today. Because today I am not in love with him, I repeat over and over as I leave my bedroom.

“I told you. Now, let’s go.” She claps her hands. “We don’t want to miss them warming up.” Her smile stretches from ear to ear.

“What are you talking about? Who is them?” I ask, grabbing my water bottle and keys off the kitchen counter.

“You’ll see,” she says with a conspiratorial grin.

“You’re up to something. I know it.” I eye her over my shoulder as I lock the door to my dorm.

“This is all for my class project. I’m not up to anything,” she says nonchalantly, leading the way out of our residence hall. This is a red flag. Nothing about Charlie is nonchalant. “If I am putting together a charity fun run, we need to actually be able to hold our own and run during the thing. Right?”

We use the paths behind our building to cut across campus toward the tracks and open soccer fields that are available to all students, not just student athletes. It would be faster to drive versus trudging along the paths on foot but Charlie claims it would look bad pulling up to running club in a car.

“I guess,” I answer before taking a gulp of my water.

“If anyone knows how to make running fun, it’s the members of this club.” She hops like a bunny a few times while squealing. I’ve never seen Charlie this enthusiastic about exercising.

We’ve been going to Pilates classes when we can fit them into our schedule. They usually end with us in the last row lying flat on our backs counting down the minutes until we can reward ourselves with a sweet treat from the bakery.

Seemingly out of nowhere she’s been going to boxing and jump rope classes and now she’s springing a running club on me. It’s odd behavior even for her. There has to be an ulterior motive somewhere because I’m not convinced she’s jump roping for her cardiovascular health.

As I fight to get fresh air into my lungs walking up the hill, the muscles in my thighs burning with each step, I start to wonder if this is how I die. My brother Nash must have inherited all the athletic genes in the family because I am not cut out for this kind of life.

“Almost there. Come on babe. If you think your heart rate is pumping now, you are in for a surprise.”

“You’re really starting to scare me now. I know you do not like exercising this much.” Yep, she definitely has something up her sleeve.

“It’s not the running that I’m looking forward to. Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise you will be in good hands.”

I follow Charlie as she giggles down the path until it connects to the sidewalk that leads to the student gym. We head left, passing the gym, and continue toward the track and field.

Charlie stops and applies two layers of pink lip gloss. “Here.” She passes me the tube that is definitely not my color.

“I don’t need this. We’re going to workout. My hair is going to get stuck to my lips. It will be a mess,” I explain. I mentally add ‘ develop a formula for a lip gloss with shine but isn’t sticky ’ to my product creation to do list.

She huffs in annoyance. “Fine. Just remember I offered.”

As we get closer to our destination, I hold out my hand and silently ask for the lip gloss. Had I known running club equates to over thirty guys milling around either shirtless or in tank tops showing off well defined biceps and abdominal muscles I would have signed up months ago.

“Now you know why I told you to wear the good leggings,” she says, tightening her high ponytail and smoothing down any stray hairs.

“I will never question you again.” I’m glad I took the time to throw my hair into Dutch braids this morning. I can already tell the humidity is trying to mess with my curls. “What’s our plan?” I ask as we get closer.

I’ve become Charlie’s wingwoman as of late. I don’t know if I’m helping her get a man or if this is her way of helping me.

I’m not convinced anything will help me but I keep trying my best. Because I am not in love with Koa Mahina anymore. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

“I’ll talk to Trevor.” She nods towards a tall, slender, but muscular guy with dark, wavy hair. “He’s the genius who started this whole thing. Bless him .” She presses her palms together and bows her head. “We’ll introduce ourselves and see if there is anyone who wants to teach us a few things.”

“About running? Isn’t that obvious? You’re walking but much faster.”

“But there is technique and proper breathing,” she says with a dramatic eye roll. “Just follow my lead.”

Charlie sashays toward Trevor where he’s standing with a few of his running buddies and I reluctantly follow. I do clock a few guys hanging on the fringe I wouldn’t mind teaching me a proper stretch or two.

This is what I continue to tell myself at least. It's part of my process to retrain my brain and heart. What is it people say about the power of words? If you repeat them over and over, eventually they will become your truth.

That’s what I’m hoping at least. I have been for years. If I keep saying I want someone different, eventually it will become a reality.

Maybe I should switch to reading more nonfiction books about women empowerment instead of filling my head with romantic fantasies. Yeah, no. That won’t be happening, I think, laughing at myself.

“Hi there.” Charlie beams at Trevor, flashing a flirty smile. “I’m Charlie and this is my friend Sydney.” She grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the semicircle of men that surround us. I bump into her shoulder, which causes me to stumble over my feet.

My roommate, Lauren, would get a kick out of this. I understand how awkward she must have felt when I introduced her to all my friends when we went to The Warehouse at the beginning of the school year. I wanted her to come out of her shell a little but putting her on the spot might have been a bad call. This is awful.

Four sets of eyes roam over our bodies checking us out. One of the guys offers a shy smile. I grin back with a shrug and slight roll of my eyes over Charlie’s enthusiastic introductions, making him snort a quiet laugh.

“Charlie, you're just in time. We’re doing some stretching to warm up before we start our five mile run,” Trevor informs us.

Five miles? That’s a joke, right? He doesn’t expect us to actually run around this track twenty times, does he?

“Don’t worry,” the guy with the shy smile from earlier says. “You can bail at any time. A lot of people don’t get to all five miles before tapping out. I’m Joe,” he says, stretching out a hand in my direction.

“Sydney,” I reply, placing my sweaty palm in his. His grip is gentle and soft. Not at all what I expected.

“Come on. You need to get your muscles warmed up or you’re going to get cramps.” He gestures toward an open space on the grass where we'll have more room to spread out.

I glance over at Charlie. She gives me a wink before bending over at the waist to touch her toes with an attentive Trevor behind her. I guess she'll be fine on her own.

I ease myself onto the grass opposite Joe and begin to mimic his movements. Sitting with my right foot touching my inner thigh, I stretch my arms out to reach my left foot. I should have participated more in the Pilates classes we took. This would be a lot easier if I had.

“Flexibility isn’t my forte,” I explain, as I struggle with the simple act of touching my toes.

His eyes glide down the length of my leg making me feel exposed in my thin leggings. “What is your forte?”

“I excel at couch rotting,” I joke.

“Couch rotting? I’m intrigued. What is that exactly?” he asks, pushing a lock of his brown hair off his forehead, revealing a pair of green eyes.

“It involves me, a cozy blanket, some snacks, and a good book while laying on the couch all day.” Something I wish I was doing right now instead of straining muscles I didn’t know I had. My mind drifts back to the brand new stack of books piled on my nightstand and I sigh.

He changes positions and begins to stretch his other leg. I do the same even though I’m not convinced my left leg is fully prepared for what’s about to happen.

“And what qualifies as a good book?” The small lift of his lip lends me to believe he already knows the type of books I enjoy reading. I would blush but I’m not ashamed of the genres I read.

“Lately fantasy and science fiction have been my first choice but I’m not selective. I will try anything once.”

“Fantasy,” he muses over the word. “Are we talking wizards and schools of witchcraft or wolves, vampires, and fae?” he asks, leaning back on the palm of his hands .

I arch an eyebrow. “I like all things mythical and magical. How do you know so much about this genre?”

“I may have read a few books about fae princes and lords. The world building is incredible.”

“Right. The world building,” I joke.

He lets out a deep chuckle before standing. He offers me his hands, helping me get to my feet. “You don’t agree?”

I swipe at the grass on my pants. “Oh, no, I agree with you. The world building is supreme. I’m a little surprised you’re into it.”

We walk toward the track that borders the field. All of the club members have started to gather for the start of the run. I make eye contact with Charlie in the crowd. She grimaces and gives me a thumbs up.

“It isn’t my first choice but it’s a nice break from medical journals and textbooks,” he replies.

“Do we have a future doctor in our midst?”

“Athletic trainer. Hopefully . What about you?” he asks, guiding me to the back of the crowd.

“Chemist,” I say. His eyes widen momentarily before he does a quick sweep of my body again.

“Beauty and brains,” he mumbles more to himself.

Trevor blows a whistle garnering everyone’s attention and prevents me from responding to Joe’s comment, which is probably best. Knowing me I would have said something like ‘ thanks, you too. ’

After a quick announcement about how many laps we need to make around the track—about ten too many—and running safely in large groups, he blows his whistle again signaling everyone can take off running.

“Walk and talk with me?” Joe asks. While others speed past us we begin to stroll around the track side by side. “Tell me more about being a chemist.”

“It’s not as noble as it sounds. I want to be a cosmetic chemist and eventually start my own line of beauty products.”

“Ambitious too,” he says as if he’s keeping a running list of my qualities to refer back to later. The thought makes me blush, and I can’t recall the last time a man made that happen.

Oh, wait, it was at the club with Lauren when her neighbor Emilio whispered something about tying me to his bed. I honestly can’t remember exactly what he said but it was filthy. And very hot.

“More along the lines of being tired of not finding what I need for my skin tone and type in stores.” It was depressing going to the store and only seeing one or two shades of foundation for darker complexions. I started mixing my own foundation and other beauty concoctions when I was a teenager. I drove my mom crazy with all of my jars of homemade lotions and oils all over the bathroom.

“I’m not one who follows beauty and fashion trends,” he says with a sheepish smile, brushing the hair out of his face again.

“What? Really? I never would have guessed with your choice of running attire,” I joke. He’s wearing a white Newhouse Athletics Department tank top and matching black shorts.

“Hey, I’ll have you know all the cool kids wear Newhouse Athletics gear.” He runs a hand down his chest.

“Those kids aren’t as cool as you think,” I grumble thinking of my brother and his roommates.

Good looking? Yes.

Popular? Also yes.

Cool? Up for debate.

“Oh yeah? Do you have first hand experience with the athletes at this school? Ex-boyfriend maybe?” he asks. Then with slight hesitation he adds, “Current boyfriend?”

“Do you think I would date someone who wasn’t cool?” I joke.

“No, I don’t. Lucky guy whoever he is.”

A few runners pass, having already lapped us on the track. I glance around, quickly spotting Charlie jogging on the opposite side of the field. Her smile is forced and she is favoring her right leg. The lengths she will go for a date knows no boundaries.

“My brother, Nash Pierce, he’s the one who isn’t as cool as he appears. Not my boyfriend. I mean I don’t have a boyfriend.” The words fly out of my mouth as I correct my statement.

“You’re Nash’s sister?” he asks, with wide eyes and slack jaw. “He talks about his sister all the time but has never given many details. Now I know why. ”

“He talks about me? What does he say?” Having second thoughts, I raise my hand to stop him from speaking. “Actually, I don’t want to know what he says about me.”

We haven’t always gotten along growing up. Being fifteen months apart kept us close but also at each other’s throats periodically.

“Like I said he never gave many details. He would mention you being out at The Armory, a party, or wherever and warn the guys to keep their hands to themselves if they see you there.”

“Ahh, yes. The threat of losing a limb if you touch me. I’m sorry about that. He’s overprotective for some reason. They’re empty threats. I promise. I’ve been touched many times and as far as I know those guys still have their hands attached.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. What did I say that was so amusing? Oh…oh no.

“Not that many guys,” I reassure him. “A small amount really. Not even a full hand.” I lift my hand to show how small the number is before grasping it behind my back to keep myself from doing it again.

“Regardless of the number because it doesn’t matter if it was a lot, I’m a single woman free to do what I want with whoever I want. But for reassurance purposes, all of their appendages are still fully intact as far as I know.” I let out a breath and risk a glance in his direction .

He is grinning from ear to ear staring at me with amusement. I’ve got to get out of here before I dig myself a bigger hole of embarrassment.

“Oh look. There’s Charlie. It was nice to meet you. I’m just going to…” My voice trails off as I point a finger at a group of runners in front of us. I don’t know if Charlie is with them. I don’t really care.

I walk swift enough my thighs could start a fire with the amount of friction they’re producing. I cannot believe I said all of that to him. Maybe this is the real reason why I’m single.

It has nothing to do with him . It's me and my ability to make things weird in less than ten minutes of meeting someone.

“Sydney! Wait up,” Joe shouts from behind me. I stare at the trees pretending I don’t hear him.

Maybe I should start running. I could probably make it to the gym without having to stop and rest my legs. I could hide in the bathroom for a few hours. A humorless laugh escapes me. “With my luck I would trip or gas out halfway there,” I mumble.

All thoughts of escaping vanish when a soft hand grips my elbow. “You’re quick when you want to be,” Joe teases with an appeasing smile.

“I wanted to get the full running club experience while saving what’s left of my dignity.” With his hand still holding onto my elbow, Joe continues our walk around the track.

“Your dignity is still intact,” he says, dropping his hand. I’m not convinced. The urge to Usain Bolt my ass out of here is still very strong .

“What I was going to say before you ran off is that Nash didn’t give me any warnings about you. Even if he did, it wouldn’t stop me from talking to you,” he says. His eyes deliver the ‘ or touching’ part of the conversation.

My heart however gets stuck on the ‘ it wouldn’t stop me.’ I’ve been waiting a long time to hear someone say that exact phrase to me. Too bad it’s coming from the wrong guy. Or maybe Joe is the right one and my heart needs to get with the program. We are over him, remember?

I school my face in an attempt to hide all the damage Koa left behind. He was a tsunami on my heart. I don’t think he fully grasps the destruction he left in his wake. It’s been four years and I’m still sifting through the wreckage.

“Oh yeah? Even after all of my rambling?” I ask in a half hearted attempt to be flirty.

“Your rambling is adorable. I liked it. It was enlightening,” he says. I snort a laugh. I would usually be embarrassed but I’m already past caring at this point. We are running full speed ahead.

“I’m glad I could educate you on the inner workings of my brain.”

As we make our way around the track we chat more about classes, books, music, and my love for British television. He is easy to talk to. It doesn’t feel like we’ve just met. I don’t know if it’s him trying to be likable or if we actually have a lot in common.

“Should we call it?” he asks, watching all the other runners finishing their five miles and gathering for some sort of post run debrief.

“Probably.” I massage my thighs that are currently throbbing with every step. It seems a little cruel that my muscles are aching from a forty five minute stroll.

A group of runners a few feet away shout at Joe to let him know they’re ready to leave. He holds up a finger signaling them to give him a minute.

“What are the chances you’re free for dinner later?” he asks. “I want to know more about the fae underworld you were telling me about. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but you’ll have to wait until another day to satisfy your curiosity or read the book for yourself. I have to work tonight.”

“Another time then?” The hope in his voice is endearing.

“Definitely. Do you have your phone?” I ask. He hands it over before I even finish my question, making me laugh. “Text me.”

“I will. And I’m going to look into that book forum you told me about too. Maybe I’ll see you online.”

“Maybe.” I rake my teeth over my bottom lip.

“It was nice to meet you, Sydney Pierce,” he says, walking backwards toward his friends.

“Nice to meet you, too, Joe…”

“Clark,” he says, answering my unasked question .

I wait until he is a speck in the distance before I hunt down Charlie. I find her laid out in the grassy field still catching her breath.

“Am I dead?” she asks between staggered breaths.

I lay down beside her. It feels good to be off my feet. “I’m not going to be able to get up,” I tell her.

“I can’t feel my legs. It’s fine. Did you give him your number?”

“I did. How did it go with Trevor?” I lay my forearm over my eyes to block out the sun.

“Not good. Connor on the other hand has potential. Are you going to go out with Joe?”

I lift a shoulder even though she can’t see me. “Maybe.”

“You should. He’s cute.”

“He looks like the sixth member of a boyband,” I joke.

“I see no problem with that. Give him a chance.”

I’ve been giving other guys a chance for the last four years. I don’t know what would make Joe any different than the others. Which is exactly why I should stay focused on myself.

“He has my number. We’ll see what happens,” I say, standing up. “I need to get ready for work.” By get ready I mean, spend the next few hours doing nothing while I mentally prepare myself to be around people again.

“Help me,” she says, holding up her arms. “Is he going to show up again ya think?” Charlie stumbles a little as she finds her legs.

“I would be less surprised if he wasn’t there at this point.”

I always wonder if Koa showing up at the bar where I work is another errand Nash has sent him on or if he is choosing to do it on his own. And why does it make a difference to me?

He’s been popping up at most of my shifts since the day I started working at Ray’s. He never says hello. He barely acknowledges me. He sits in the back of the bar like a ghost haunting me. I’m not allowed to touch him. Sometimes I can’t even see him. I can only feel him. And I feel him everywhere.