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A swear word coming out of the little toddler’s mouth takes me by surprise. The only word he said the other day was mama, and I haven’t heard him say anything else today.

So when each sound of the word “shit” was pronounced to perfection, including an imitation of his mom’s inflection, I can’t help but laugh.

I have to wipe a tear from my eye because it was so damn funny. Leah regards me warily, making my smile falter, and the feeling of self-consciousness creeps up the sides of my neck.

“Are you blushing?” she asks, eyes going wide.

“N-No.”

“Liar.” The word has no bite to it, so I don’t take it personally like I would have if she was serious.

There’s a lightness in her face that wasn’t there a moment ago. I’m not sure where it came from—probably her son swearing—but I like it. Almost as much as I’ve come to enjoy her anger. I want to make a comment about the night of the engagement party, when she told me to watch my language in front of her kid. But I have common sense, and I know that probably wouldn’t go over well.

There’s a bit of a pause before we begin our slow run. I don’t know what to say. I failed so miserably last time, and I don’t want to make things worse.

“You don’t have to run with me,” she says, breaking the silence.

“I know.”

We last three minutes before she needs to stop. She’s making great progress. I should tell her that.

“You lasted three minutes,” I tell her. Was that kind enough?

“Probably longer than you’d last,” she mutters.

Did she ... Did she just make a sex joke? My cock certainly thinks she did. Thinking about how long I would last if I were to—no. I stop the train of thought from totally derailing. This woman doesn’t like me. I’ve been an asshole.

And even though I think she’s beautiful and her temper is easily becoming my favourite thing about her, I haven’t spent enough time with her to say whether I like her. After so many women abandoning me and my dad, I’m extra cautious when it comes to forming opinions about them, giving them time to show me their true colours.

Though there’s something that draws me to Leah, I don’t know her. Certainly not well enough to justify these dirty thoughts of her. In the shower in my own home is one thing, but not while she’s right beside me, with her kid.

I don’t realize I haven’t been watching where I’m going until a shout comes from right in front of me. Looking up, I’m about two seconds from crashing into a cyclist. I quickly swerve and place myself behind Leah to get out of the way.

That’s the wrong place to be, though, because damn. Her ass in those tight black pants. My cock wants to press against those full cheeks, sliding over and—fuck. I have to pull myself together.

Leah turns around at the wrong moment because I’m still staring at her ass. She scoffs and the sound breaks through my fog. When I meet her gaze, her brows are raised and she seems a little pissed.

Her attitude doesn’t deter me, because now I’m imagining her looking over her shoulder while I’m behind her, and she’s wearing that same expression because I’m edging her—nope. I need to chill.

I pray to god she doesn’t look down. I’m hard as a rock, and it’s physically painful.

My blush deepens at being caught thinking the most delicious things. The safest place for me to be right now is at her side. Or far away from her.

I don’t even know if she realizes she hasn’t taken a walking break in a while. According to my watch, it’s been five minutes. The cyclists have passed, so I step back to her side.

“What was that?” she asks, glancing from me to the cyclists.

“W-What?” I ask as though I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about. I feel her staring, but I don’t want to get distracted again and possibly hurt someone.

“You know what. You almost crashed into the biker. It would’ve felt like getting hit by a dump truck.”

“A dump truck?”

“Come on, you have to know how big you are. ”

Inhaling deeply through my nose—that comment does nothing to help the situation between my legs. She has no idea how big I am.

“Yes, I know.”

“You have to be more careful. First you run into Levi and me at the party, and now you almost take out a cyclist!”

I hope she can’t tell how much her words sting me.

“I t-try.”

I don’t know what she heard in my voice, but she looks at me again, and this time I can’t resist the pull to meet her eyes. Her gaze has softened. This is the one thing I’m shit at hiding my feelings about.

My sore spot.

I’m all too aware of the consequences of being too big everywhere I go. I don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could shrink. It’s why Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was my favourite book as a child. It seemed so easy—eat a cookie and shrink to fit in.

“I’m sorry,” Leah whispers. I’m not sure why she whispered it. It could be that she’s out of breath.

We’ve been running this whole time, and I still don’t think she’s noticed. We may be moving at a snail’s pace, but we’re moving forward, and that’s what counts. She’s running.

I grimace in response, uncomfortable with the vulnerability of this conversation. Sneaking a quick glance when she’s looking ahead, I watch with fascination as a muscle tics in her jaw. I desperately want to know what she’s thinking.

But if she’s thinking about this conversation, I want to steer her thoughts into safer territory .

“Your kid swears,” I point out.

“Yeah, I guess he does.”

“Any more colourful words?”

She laughs, but there’s tension in it. I thought it was a light comment, but she seems weighted down.

“No, just the one.” The defeat in her tone is so confusing.

“What’s wrong?” I ask the question without thinking, wanting to smooth the crease that’s formed between her brows as she slows to a walk.

“How long was that?” she asks, trying to change the subject. I know how it feels to not want to talk, so I let it go and check my watch.

“Leah, that was twelve minutes.” Her name feels musical as it dances off my tongue, unbidden. Leah stops dead in her tracks and looks at me.

“Are you serious?” Gone is the weight of the previous conversation, joy filling her face.

“Always.” I don’t lie to people. To myself? Yes. But not to others.

“Oh my god, I’m going to be able to do it,” she says, almost to herself.

“Of course.”

She whips her head towards me. “Why did you say ‘of course’? Two weeks ago I couldn’t even run for a minute. I had no idea I’d be able to get this far.”

I shrug. “In two weeks, you’ll be able to run twenty minutes.”

There’s a long pause where we merely look at each other. I can see the wheels turning in her head, the joy still lighting her eyes. She genuinely thought she wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Thank you,” she blurts out.

“What?”

She clears her throat. “I ran that long today because of you.”

“You did it yourself.” She’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished speaking.

“No, it’s because you were here.”

“I’m a distraction.” Why can’t I take her praise? I should be greedy for it, but there’s something about her I feel could benefit from a little less self-doubt.

“Yes, you are,” she says quietly.

I have no idea what she means by that.

“You weren’t focusing on the running,” I say, redirecting the conversation.

“I guess I wasn’t. Huh. Why did that make it easier?” She appears genuinely surprised when she realizes it, probably tracing her thoughts back.

“Running is a mental sport.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your sister runs ultras, and yes, she’s fit, but it’s not enough. She’s trained her mental strength, pushing through the limits we automatically put on ourselves. You thought you couldn’t run more than a minute at first, so you didn’t. It’s all about proving to your mind, to yourself, you’re capable of more.” She has the oddest expression on her face. “What? ”

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you speak.”

Heat climbs up the back of my neck. “I d-don’t like talking.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“You have?” I kick myself for sounding too eager.

“Yes.”

I’ve noticed the way her hair turns golden brown as the sun rises, the green in her eyes shimmering like fucking emeralds in the light. I’ve noticed the freckles peppering her nose and how the way she moves accentuates her curves without her even trying. I’ve noticed she overthinks and is overprotective of her sister. I’ve noticed how smart she is.

I’ve noticed her.