Page 21 of In the Long Run

KNOX

The week passes at a glacial pace. Each day feels longer than the one before, which gives me plenty of time to replay how badly I fucked things up with Gen. You’d think that as someone who’s spent a lot of their life feeling unwanted, I’d know how to make sure no one else ever feels that way.

Instead, I’d frozen. Become a human-shaped block of ice with a heartbeat and an overactive mind caught in the corridor of indecision. Stuck between what I wanted so badly and what I was too scared to admit.

I’ve been kicking myself all week, hoping she’ll reply to my texts or answer her door, but it’s not Gen’s responsibility to make me feel better about my mistake. That’s on me.

My text message asking if she’d like to walk over to run club together has gone unanswered, and I linger outside the front of the building for as long as I can without risking being late.

A heavy fog hangs between the trees, making everything bleak and grey and mimicking my mood.

Gen brings so much colour to my life – with her bright smile, her gentle laugh, the adorable innuendoes she always blames me for.

The week without her has been miserable.

I trudge down the path towards the beach, trailing my hand over the rough trunks of the Norfolk pines that stand like sentinels. My breath appears in front of me and cold seeps into my bones. My thoughts are the only thing keeping me company on the fifteen-minute walk.

I can tell immediately that something’s different. A wariness hangs around the group, and my gut says it’s not because we’re going up to twenty-eight kilometres in distance today.

‘Hey. We have a problem,’ Gen says, not standing as close to me as she used to. Her tone is hushed, serious. Two other things I’d like to change today.

‘What’s up?’

‘There’s a reporter here. Anneke recognised him from a sports influencer thing she and her sisters did last year. Maybe he’s a runner, but …’

‘Why is that a problem? Isn’t this what we wanted?’

Gen pulls a pair of gloves out of the side pocket of her running tights and starts putting them on. ‘Only if he’s going to say good things.’

‘Do you think he won’t? Which one is he?’ I ask.

‘The guy in the red running jacket with the orange beanie. Over by the playground. He’s been asking people questions.’

I step closer to Gen, savouring the familiar orange blossom of her shampoo, even if this isn’t the conversation I want to be having with her. ‘Questions like what?’

‘How long they’ve been running. What their opinion is on the new hook-up culture run clubs are becoming known for. If it’s ruining them. He’s not exactly subtle. Do you remember Pete?’

I nod. Pete’s run a marathon every year for the last twenty-five years. He’s also been quite vocal about how run clubs are supposed to be about running.

‘I caught the tail end of what sounded like a rant from him as I arrived. He said that if everything doesn’t calm down, he’s going to start his own run club. A lot of people were nodding. We might’ve pushed this too far.’

I check my watch. Five minutes before we’re supposed to start. Today’s group is a lot smaller than previous weeks. Then I remember something. ‘I was watching TikToks last night—’

‘Really?’ A more genuine smile blossoms on Gen’s face.

Ha – Gen-uine. Jesus. I should show myself out.

But who am I kidding? While she’s been avoiding me this week, I’ve been looking for her everywhere.

Around the bend of every run, in each of the classes I’ve attended at Get Fit, Get Strom and while I read to Eugene in the afternoons in the courtyard.

Gen raises her eyebrows and I blink back to the present.

‘A Sydney club posted about the same thing,’ I say.

‘Well, kind of. Their running focus is more social, but it could still work for us. They split their group into two sections. One for those who want to flirt or make connections’—I rub my chest when Gen’s gaze shifts away from me—‘and another for people who really want to push themselves, et cetera.’

Gen chews on her bottom lip. ‘It’s hard because we don’t want to imply that people who come to socialise aren’t real runners.’

‘True.’

‘I guess we can figure it out as we go?’

If only that was true for other things too.

‘Maybe we should put some distance between us for a bit? Stop running together.’

Hold on. Figuring it out is true for other things. I can figure things out on the fly. I’ve been trained to look at situations critically and assess all the potential outcomes. But I don’t have to do a huge analysis for everything. I could just trust myself. I could try.

‘About the other day,’ I start, needing to clear the air. To find a way back to the place we were before I hurt Gen’s feelings. I can’t stand the idea that I made her question herself.

Gen pales. ‘We don’t have to revisit that conversation.’

The fact that she knows immediately which one I’m referring to spurs me forward, reinforcing that we do have to. I take a deep breath. ‘I’m not good with my words—’

‘Knox. I swear, it’s fine.’

‘—but I wanted to explain—’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’ Her runners scuff through the dewy grass under our feet.

‘I don’t want to kiss you—’

‘Oh my God, Knox, please stop. This is mortifying.’ Gen’s shoulders curl forward and she wraps her arms around her torso like she’s holding herself together, protecting herself from me. It kills me.

‘I don’t want to kiss you and have it be just for public consumption.’ I finally get the whole sentence out and swallow. ‘I’d want it to mean something.’

Her eyes snap to mine, widening as her mouth opens the tiniest bit.

‘I’d like to kiss you, Gen.’ It’s the easiest confession I’ve ever made.

‘Oh.’

Looks like it’s my turn to render her speechless. ‘You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.’

‘That’s …’ Gen bites her bottom lip. ‘I thought … you …’

‘I should’ve said that last week,’ I reply softly, ‘and I’m very sorry I hurt your feelings.’

Her gaze searches my face, the moment between us suspended, but this time it feels good. Like we’re both on the same page.

‘Hey!’ Pete calls and the moment shatters. ‘We running or what?’

‘We should, um …’ Gen points to the cluster of people waiting for us.

‘Of course, yeah.’

Twenty-eight kilometres was always going to feel long, but today? It feels endless.