Page 12 of I Would Stay Forever (Parkhurst Prep #2)

ten

I woke up with a rock on my chest. At least that’s what it felt like. It took a second for my eyes to adjust enough that I could see my bedroom—mint green duvet, fairy lights strung up along the ceiling, photos sticky tacked to the wall beside my bed.

I need to get out of here.

I fell out of the bed more than stepped out of it, my knees scraping against the rug, but I was back on my feet in seconds.

I didn’t waste time worrying about what I was wearing, if I had my phone, or anything else I would have cared about at any other moment.

I sprinted down the stairs, pulled on the first shoes I could find, and stumbled my way outside.

The first time the panic hit was the day after we’d gotten home from staying with the Graham’s.

That time, I didn’t have to go far before it subsided–by the time I reached the end of our street, I was breathing easier and I’d slowed to a walk, only lapping the block before returning home.

The next time it happened, I had to run three blocks and I didn’t slow to a walk at all.

Every time since then, the run had lasted longer.

The need to get far away took too long to subside.

I would run and run and run until I wasn’t sure whether it was the panic or the exercise that made it hard to breathe.

I would run until my legs burned and there was a stitch in my side and I felt like I must have been in another city or how long I’d been going for.

And even still, it only lessened the pain because nothing could get rid of it entirely.

This morning, the sun was rising as I ran.

It shone between the trees lining the street, almost blinding me as I ran, and I distantly wished I’d brought my sunglasses.

It was that thought that began to bring me back to reality—the pajamas I was wearing, the street I was on, and the large building looming in front of me.

I’d been so out of it that I’d run all the way to the school.

I slowed to a walk, putting my hands on my hips and dropping my chin as I gasped for breath.

I probably should have turned around. It was going to take me twice as long to get home if I wasn’t running, and I would probably barely have enough time to get ready before I had to leave for school.

But I heard something coming from up ahead near the fields, and my curiosity won out over my worry about getting to school late.

Besides, I had to share a bathroom with Ainsley and Imogen who both took eons to do their hair every morning, so it wouldn’t hurt for me to get home a little later anyway.

As I got closer, I realized the sound was coming from the football field.

A classic rock song I vaguely recognized played across the field, barely covering the thudding footfalls of someone jogging.

It wasn’t until I was stepping in front of the bleachers that I saw who was there, but I intuitively knew who it was before I even saw his face.

There was something about Dean Graham that always drew my eye in, but that was especially true when he was running shirtless.

Even though he was running toward me, he didn’t seem to notice that I was here.

His head was ducked and he seemed more focused on counting his steps than being aware of his surroundings.

The music I’d heard was coming from a speaker he had placed in the middle of the field.

I absentmindedly played with the hem of my faded and bleach-stained T-shirt as I watched him run. His dark hair glistened in the sun. The muscles in his legs became extra apparent with every step. The even rise and fall of his chest as he moved.

I wondered what he was doing here so early in the morning.

I couldn’t imagine that he also ran out of bed in a panic at early o’clock this morning.

Was he at school early for football practice?

If he was, I didn’t know why he would go for a run by himself first. But why else would he come here an hour before everyone else?

I was so focused on him that I almost forgot he would actually be able to see me as he came closer.

I felt like I was a ghost, there to see but not be seen.

But of course, that feeling was entirely in my head and he could see me.

Confusion crossed his face as he slowed to a stop in front of me.

I noticed that even though I’d stopped running long before him, I was still gasping for air while he was breathing as easily as if he were just going for a stroll.

I didn’t think I was that out of shape, what with being on the volleyball team and running for ridiculous amounts of time throughout the summer, so he must have been superhuman.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His gaze dragged over my body and for a moment, I thought he was checking me out.

My thoughts warred between being flattered and wanting to tell him to keep his eyes to himself.

But then he pulled his gaze back up to meet mine and said, “And what the hell are you wearing?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and cringed inwardly, as if that would somehow undo him seeing me in public, wearing pajamas, and undoubtedly sweaty from my run. Great. t had only taken me three days into the school year to completely embarrass myself in front of the school’s favorite football player.

As if I hadn’t done that enough by sobbing in front of him in the summer.

“I’ve got to go,” I said.

I started to back away from him, but tripped over the curb running alongside the track.

I stumbled backward, throwing an arm out to catch myself—despite knowing that was exactly how I’d broken my wrist in the fifth grade—but I never hit the ground.

Dean grabbed my outstretched hand, pulling me up and, I realized in a breathless moment, into him.

I had too much momentum as he pulled me forward.

I tipped forward instead of backward, falling straight against his chest.

His shirtless chest.

His very hard, shirtless chest.

This would definitely be going in my list of top ten most embarrassing moments of my life. Moments with Dean were becoming uncomfortably common on that list.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. His voice was deeper and more gruff than usual. I quickly pushed myself away from him, almost falling over again. He reached out like he was planning to catch me a second time and I stumbled further away as quickly as I could.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, although my heart was beating so hard that I was sure he could hear it. “I’ve really got to go.”

I was pretty sure he said something but I was too busy sprinting away to hear him. And as it turned out, I made it home so quickly that I didn’t even have to fight my sisters to get the shower first.