Page 31 of In the Long Run

KNOX

It’s a fancy-ass bed.

It’s made from solid, dark wood with intricately carved corner posts that reach towards the vaulted ceiling of the cottage.

Gauzy curtains stretch between the posts, forming a canopy that spills down each side.

The ones at the front are tied with elaborate pink velvet bows, giving us a clear view of the rose petals scattered across the crisp white bedding.

There’s even one of those trays with legs in the middle of the bed holding a platter of various cheeses, breads and meats.

Bright, colourful bursts of fruit – grapes, strawberries, two mangos in the shape of roses – are mixed among the savoury treats.

An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two flutes with silver stems stands next to it, condensation dripping down the sides.

When Yeti bailed on us, I thought it might be a bit awkward, but two people in a three-bedroom cabin? No problem.

This is DEFCON-1 levels of awkward. We’ve only kissed a couple of times and I’d hoped to share a few more this weekend, but there was no pressure for anything more. This feels like a lot of pressure.

‘Um,’ Gen mutters before turning to me but because we’re still in the doorway, all that does is bring us closer together. Her breast brushes against my bicep, and I suck in a deep breath.

I clear my throat. ‘I can ask if they have something else.’

We both know that’s a pointless exercise.

The receptionist literally said this was the only cabin left.

Bright and Porepunkah are booked out because of the Rail Trail Fun Run.

Really it was a miracle that Yeti had snagged a cancellation here in the first place.

Most of our Army runners brought their swags and are camping at the caravan park.

‘It’s fine,’ Gen says.

‘Are you su—’ I clamp my mouth shut, spotting the spa bath in the corner of the room.

Inexplicably, it’s full of bubbles and steam rises steadily, curling through the air like it doesn’t have a care in the world.

Which it probably doesn’t, because it’s not a sentient being and it’s not being presented with the challenge of spending two nights alone with the woman it can’t stop dreaming about.

Who it kissed and asked out. Who’s spent the last hour in my lap while I tried not to get hard.

The only thing that separates the bath from the main room is a large glass wall, which is just fucking great considering glass is so well known for promoting privacy .

‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ I offer even though the bed’s so big we’ll practically be in separate suburbs. ‘I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. And I’ve got plenty of experience sleeping on the ground.’

There’s my military training coming in clutch.

‘You don’t have to do that. It’s two nights. We’re both adults.’ She’s saying the right things, but the uncertainty in her tone knocks me even further off balance.

‘Right?’ Why does my response come out like a question? Maybe it’s because all I can think about is how we could do a whole lot of adult things in this space. Every time Gen’s given me a little bit of herself, I’ve wanted more.

Gen’s arms hang at her sides as she surveys the rest of the cabin.

There’s a door near the bath, presumably for a toilet.

And a small kitchenette occupies the opposite corner.

Everything’s done in beige and neutral tones bar the brushed gold taps and door handles.

It’s nice and clean, and that benchtop’s definitely big enough for Gen to sit on. Be about the right height too.

Ahem.

It’s important to remember that we need to run thirty-five kilometres tomorrow. An all-night sex fest hasn’t appeared on any of the race prep checklists that I’ve seen. And there’s no way once will be enough with Gen.

‘Knox?’ Gen slides her bottom lip between her teeth, and I want to kick myself. She’s putting on a brave face but she’s nervous. This is a lot.

‘What if we agree not to make it weird?’ You know, because that always works.

Gen arches her eyebrows at me. ‘And how do we do that?’

Kissing her now would be a bad idea. ‘We hang out. No pressure. No expectations.’

‘Yeah?’

The jagged edge of the room key bites into my palm. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. We can do that.’

So we do.

We spend the rest of the afternoon ignoring the bed-and-bath-shaped elephants in the room.

Like always, spending time with Gen is fun, but there’s an undercurrent of tension that grows bigger and bigger as night falls around our little cabin.

We share pizzas and the charcuterie board as we watch more running documentaries.

I couldn’t tell you a single thing about them, though.

Everything we need in the morning is ready and prepped. Hydration vests, shoes, energy gels and clothes with our bibs already attached via safety pins.

All that’s left is to go to bed.

Together.

Not together, together.

But kind of together.

Gen sweeps the rose petals off the doona while I start moving all the pillows stacked against the headboard.

She fidgets with the top of her pyjamas.

The grey fabric matches her eyes and it’s so damn fluffy that it’s an effort not to touch it.

Her cheeks are still red from the five minutes she spent outside while I showered.

When I’d told her she didn’t have to go out into the cold, just because I did when she showered, she mumbled something that sounded a lot like she didn’t trust herself not to peek.

I’d enjoyed hearing that so much I’d had to have a cold shower.

‘Which side do you want?’ she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I normally sleep on the left,’ she says.

I step away from the bed and when Gen walks past me, she leaves a trail of her orange blossom body wash behind her.

She stares at the bed but doesn’t move.

‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ I say again.

‘It’s not that.’ She twists her still damp hair into a bun but doesn’t secure it with a hair tie so it flops back over her shoulders. ‘I have a tendency to move around. I don’t want to disturb you.’

Consider me very happily disturbed.

She taps her chin. ‘Maybe I should sleep on the floor.’

That’s not happening.

One of the cushions I stacked next to the bed falls off the pillow mountain. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ I say. Thanks to the Army, I’m no stranger to making a sandbag wall. The only difference is that tonight I’ll be using pillows. Their structural integrity leaves a lot to be desired, but needs must.

‘What are you doing?’ Gen asks as I start arranging the biggest pillows into a line down the middle of the bed.

‘Reinforcing our boundaries.’ I stack more pillows on top.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gen says.

‘For what?’ The next line is made up of the decorative pillows that some people love but I can’t see the point of. You literally move them from the bed to the floor. Forever.

‘For being silly.’

I abandon my task, ignoring that the pillow wall’s already falling apart. If this was actually meant to keep someone out, the battle would be over in zero-point-two seconds. ‘It’s fine, Gen. This is a lot. I’m well aware.’

‘I’m not used to this, you know,’ she says softly as she pulls the covers loose and switches on the bedside lamp.

She’s delaying getting into bed. I’m about to offer to sleep on the floor again – I’ll sleep in the car if that’s what it takes for her to be comfortable – when she speaks again. ‘No one’s been this nice to me before.’

And hell no. This won’t do. I should be pleased that she appreciates what I’m trying to do, but my chest hurts.

She deserves so much more than she’s been offered in the past. I want to kiss her goodnight and tell her to start demanding more from the people she shares her life with, but I don’t want to spook her, so I don’t.

‘Okay, let’s go to bed,’ she says. ‘I’m making this more awkward than it needs to be.’

I turn off the main light and climb in on my side. The sheets are cool against my arms, the mattress firm underneath me. I open my Kindle, turn the brightness down and search for something to match my mood.

Gen makes a tsk -ing frustrated sound before something thumps against the mattress.

‘What’s going on over there?’ I ask.

‘I forgot to charge my Kindle. It’s fine. I’ll just go to sleep.’ She shuts off her bedside lamp and the pillow wall shakes as Gen tosses and turns. She sighs loudly.

‘Gen?’

‘I can’t get comfortable.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘Not from over there.’ Her words are delivered softly but they burn into my skin.

If I had it my way, pillows would be scattered all over the floor and our bodies would be pressed up against each other.

And we certainly wouldn’t be spending the morning running.

I can’t help the groan that slips past my lips.

My hand slides underneath the pillow wall and I freeze when my fingers brush against hers. She snatches her hand away.

‘I’m sorry. I’m having trouble focusing on anything other than the fact that you’re right next to me. It’s making it hard to get to sleep but it’s fine. I’m fine.’

Pot, kettle. Also, it’s making other things hard too.

I bite the inside of my cheeks. Gen shifts around and more of the top pillows fall.

‘Knox,’ she whispers after what feels like an eternity but is probably not even a minute. ‘Permission to breach the pillow wall?’

I’m throwing pillows off the bed before she’s even finished speaking.

Gen laughs and I tuck the sound away into my memories, knowing I’m going to want to revisit it over and over.

Moonlight spills through the skylight over the kitchen, mixing with the dim glow of my Kindle.

All her features are softer. She’s already all rumpled and dishevelled.

The urge to kiss her rises again but I’d be lying if I said it had ever gone away.

‘There you are,’ she says.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to reply, ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ but that’s cheesier than the pizza we had for dinner. Besides, I’ve never been the guy who could get away with saying shit like that. But the way Gen looks at me makes me want to try.

‘Do you think, maybe, you could read to me?’ Her foot brushes against my calf and I shift my legs, trapping it there. Not touching each other this afternoon has been torture.

‘I could do that.’

After all, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that I’ll do anything for Gen. Any nerves or traces of the tension that lingered before disappear when I glance over a few minutes later and see that she’s already asleep. My pride makes it easy to drift off to sleep smiling.