Page 10 of Meet Me in a Mile

Ten

Luke

“I think my lung collapsed. That’s a real thing, right? Because I’m pretty sure it’s happening right now. Either that or I’m dying.”

“You’d be in a lot more pain if your lung collapsed,” Luke said.

“That’s not very reassuring.” Lydia slowed and held her arm up, reaching around with her other hand to press against her ribs. “Right here.”

Luke slowed, jogging backward down the sidewalk. It was early in the day, but the late-July sun already baked overhead, and he’d done his best to keep them in the shade for most of the ten-mile run. “Think you can push through it?”

Lydia groaned, and Luke tried not to think about how that sound made him think about other things, other sounds . “When you ask like that it makes me feel like I need to try harder.”

She started jogging. He kept the pace deliberately slow until she fell in step beside him. “Don’t hold your breath. Remember what we always talk about? Inhale through your nose and mouth at the same time.”

“I’m sucking in air like a vacuum, Luke. The air’s not the problem.”

“Okay, okay ,” he said. “I’ll only worry if you start turning blue.”

She wrinkled her nose but kept moving.

They’d run just over eight miles. They were in the home stretch now, on their way back to the gym, but he could tell she was struggling with these last two miles. Luke looked down at his watch. Maybe he’d cut the run short today. Part of being a good trainer was knowing when to push your client and when to pull back. Lydia was allowed to have an off day.

He glanced over at her, studying her shortened stride, her flaring nostrils, the clenched fists as she tried to shake off the cramp. “Did you drink enough water this morning? Or is your blood purely caffeine?”

“Of course I drank water,” she grumbled. “I’ve been drinking so much water lately that I’ve sprouted gills.”

“The rent’s probably cheaper in a fishbowl.”

She muttered under her breath at him, which normally would have made him laugh, but she was clearly uncomfortable and he didn’t want to push it. Instead, he came to a full stop. “All right, arms up,” he said, catching her elbow. He took her hands and directed them over her head. “We’ll stretch it out.”

“How close are we?”

“Close enough. You did good.”

“Doesn’t feel good.” She groaned. “Does this mean I’ve failed training?”

Luke smiled softly at her. “You can’t fail training.”

“But I didn’t finish the run.”

“Only by like a mile and a half.”

“That feels worse than if I’d just flaked out at the beginning.”

“Part of these early training sessions is getting used to listening to your body, figuring out what it needs in the moment. By the time you get to the marathon, you’ll know how to run through the cramp. Right now, you’re learning. Not everything has to go perfectly. We’ll crush it another day.” Lydia frowned as he guided her until she was leaning to the side. “Hold this position for thirty seconds.”

Lydia did. When she righted herself, she was still wincing.

“Show me where it hurts again.”

Lydia pushed on a spot near the bottom of her rib cage. Luke laid his hand over hers, doing everything in his power to avoid meeting her eye. They’d done so well at keeping things professional, he didn’t want to ruin it with a heated look. This is all business , he told himself as he applied gentle pressure. “Take a deep breath.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

“I mean a proper, slow inhale. None of that shallow stuff you’ve been doing for the last half mile.”

“If you could tell I was breathing wrong, why didn’t you say anything?”

“These are things you’ll have to be able to notice during the marathon. Twenty-six point two miles is a lot. The occasional cramp is the least of what you can expect on race day.”

Lydia made a disgruntled face but to his surprise, didn’t complain any further. She clearly understood the concept of situational learning. “Any better?” he asked.

She nodded. “A little.”

“Okay, let’s start walking. We’ll get the blood pumping again and hop on the subway.”

Lydia kept her hand on her side, massaging away the lingering ache. “Where are we?”

“We veered off course a little,” Luke said, checking his phone. The route he’d originally planned had been interrupted by construction. “Actually...” he began. “Can I show you something?”

“If it involves the word massage , then yes.”

Luke waved her toward an alley.

Lydia followed, somewhat reluctantly. “I think this is how murder documentaries start.”

“Yours or mine?” he asked, wrangling keys from his pocket. He unlocked a door on the side of a warehouse.

“True,” she said, catching up. “I could take you.”

Luke grinned, then inclined his head, and Lydia followed him inside.

“What is this place?”

“It used to be a shoe factory back in the day.”

“And now?” Lydia asked as they passed through a hall and entered the old factory floor. The machines were long gone, leaving the space empty and echoey.

Luke didn’t answer, just let Lydia do her little spin and take everything in. If anyone else could appreciate the space, it was her.

“Oh, Luke!” she gasped, and he could tell she’d finally put it together. Her head tipped back to take in the pearly sunbeams cascading down through the skylights. “This place is fantastic.”

“This is where I want my gym. If I can make it happen. It’s owned by an old friend of my father’s. He’s agreed to a great deal on the rent as long as I sort out the business loan to pay for staff and the equipment.”

“Wow.”

He could see her mind running a mile a minute, planning and designing. He appreciated how enthusiastic she was. He hadn’t even bothered to show his family yet. He knew neither of his siblings would get this excited over an empty building the way Lydia did. But this was more than that. This space represented his future, and that’s the part he was excited about.

“Are you going to show me around?” Lydia snagged him by the hand, tugging in a way that made his heart race unexpectedly.

“Um...” He glanced left and right. “This is sort of it. I mean, it’s gonna be empty until I can afford to turn it into an actual gym.”

She made a noise in the back of her throat like she was exasperated with him. “I know it’s empty now , but what do you envision right here?” She waved her hands toward the wall.

Luke realized this was one of the things he liked most about Lydia—her ability to dream, to imagine. She didn’t see an empty warehouse. She already saw his gym, fully functional, people sweating, hearts pounding, exercise classes in full swing.

He pointed to the floor. “I want a circular reception desk here.”

“In the middle?”

He nodded. “I want potential clients to have to walk through the space, get a feel for it, see people working out. That way by the time they get to the desk, they’re already imagining themselves as a member. And over there,” he said, gesturing to the wall she’d originally pointed out, “I’m thinking mirrors.”

“Gotta have those for the gym selfies.”

Luke laughed, turning as his floor plan came to life. He walked Lydia through the space, pointing out invisible exercise machines. He opened doors to dusty, unused rooms and called them spin studios and lockers. “This hall,” he continued, “will probably house staff offices, maybe a lunchroom.”

“And your office?” she asked.

He turned and pointed to a set of stairs. It led to an office on the second floor with a window that looked out over the entire hypothetical gym. “Up there.” Saying it all out loud made it feel real. Too real. Luke caught himself grinning from ear to ear, and quickly reeled in the smile.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I just don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“If you want to make this a reality, then you have to put it out into the universe.”

He tipped his head in her direction. “What if the universe says no?”

“What if the universe is saying ask and you shall receive?”

Luke didn’t believe in manifesting his dreams, but he did believe in hard work. He believed in all the late nights he’d spent working on his business plan, creating spreadsheets with hypothetical budgets and employees and equipment breakdowns. He believed in talking with Mrs. Amisfield over the phone, asking her questions and clarifying his concerns. These were the things that would lead him to success. Not simply...wishing for it. If he could wish things into existence, he would have asked for someone to finish his market research. That was the last hurdle he had to tackle before he’d be ready to present his plan to Mrs. Amisfield for submission.

“Just try it,” Lydia said. “Close your eyes.”

“And then what?”

“Close them.” She chuckled at his resistance, taking up both his hands. Her thumbs grazed his knuckles and a fiery chill shot through him. It was warm and cold all at once, kindling a fire low in his belly. “Good,” she whispered. “Now picture your gym.”

Luke was having trouble thinking of anything other than her hands against his skin. He had to fight with himself to pull his thoughts away from other memories of her hands ghosting over his body. Gyms. He was supposed to be thinking of gyms. And equipment. Dumbbells and rowing machines and resistance bands and benches.

“Can you see it?” Lydia whispered.

“Yep,” he said, like there was nothing but treadmills dancing in his head. Because that’s what they’d agreed on.

“What’s your biggest goal for the gym?”

Her question caught him off guard. But what shocked him most was how quickly he was ready to answer. “I want to partner with the youth center to offer classes and programs.”

“That’s an amazing idea.”

Luke’s eyes popped open, finding Lydia’s vibrant green ones staring back at him. Her hands suddenly fell away from his, and he missed her touch. “Yeah?”

“It’s unique, and I think unique sells when it comes to businesses.”

“It’s not about making money,” he said.

“I didn’t think it was.” Lydia’s answering smile was soft and reassuring, and for a second Luke thought he might do something ridiculous like kiss her.

This reminded him of that night in the pub, when he’d first confided in her about the gym and she’d been so supportive. She hadn’t even hesitated to tell him he’d be a great business owner, and he’d believed her. Just like he believed her now. The longer he looked at her, the harder his heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to reach for her. To be the one to make the first move this time. But this was a boundary they couldn’t cross. Not again. They’d promised. To stop himself from acting on his tumbling thoughts, he stepped away, digging the warehouse key out of his pocket. “We should probably head out. Do a proper cooldown.”

Something in Lydia’s soft stare sharpened, and she darted forward, snagging the key from his hand. “I thought we were done for today,” she said, dangling the key like bait. “You said I did good.”

He tried to grab it but she slipped away, glaring at him playfully. That did nothing to help the sensations he was trying to keep at bay. “Lydia—”

“You said we should listen to my body.”

Luke groaned, wishing she wouldn’t take his words out of context.

“My body says no to your cooldown.”

From where Luke was standing they both needed a cooldown, because everything inside him was on fire.

“You can’t just break your own rules.”

He surged forward and caught her by the wrist. She laughed, leaning back against the wall, tugging him closer. Luke realized the position he’d put them in, but suddenly nothing in the world was strong enough to pull him away. His hand tangled with hers, around the key, but she didn’t let go and neither did he. “I don’t mean to break my rules,” he whispered. They were standing too close for anything else.

“Then what do you mean to do?” she asked. Was she thinking about the same thing? Was she remembering the night they’d stumbled into his apartment?

His eyes drifted down to her lips. Don’t ask me that , he should say. But when he found her gaze again, hot and daring, it was all too much and they both closed the distance desperately. Luke wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and Lydia fisted her hand in his shirt, her lips searing against his. He savored the sensation, the risk, until his heart felt like it would pound out of his chest. Lydia tilted her head so he could run his lips along her jaw and down her neck. She moaned in a way that had his blood boiling, and it was suddenly too hot to do anything but chase relief from the heat. He leaned against her, pressing his leg between hers, and she moved against his thigh.

Lydia made a desperate noise, the sound rubbing against him like a caress, and suddenly Luke was bumping up against the wall, his hands scrambling to find purchase at her waist as their lips connected again and again. It felt like something inside him had been set free, and he was terrified that it would be locked away again.

Lydia let her hands roam up and down his chest. The sensation of her fingers dipping over his muscles drove him wild. So much so that he knew he was in danger of getting lost in this. Of making excuses like he had the night after the pub. How easy would it be to say just once more? Lydia was a tidal wave that had crashed into his self-control and despite their having agreed to boundaries, he was barely treading water around her. What does this mean? he wanted to ask. How had they ended up in this position again?

Something rattled in the warehouse, the sound echoing over the beat of his heart, and they both jumped. Luke forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at her. Lydia was already staring at him, the sound having startled them both back to reality.

“Pigeons,” he said breathlessly.

“What?”

“They get in...” He gestured upward. “Through the skylight sometimes. There’s a shattered pane of glass or something.”

They both looked up for a beat, and when they looked back down, their eyes connecting again, Lydia jumped back as if his touch scalded her. He immediately missed the weight of her in his arms.

“Shit,” she said, touching her fingers to her lips. She lifted her other hand and pointed at him. “Sorry. We can take it back. Five-second rule. It doesn’t count.”

“That’s about dropping food on the floor.” He wisely chose not to mention that their kiss had dragged on for a lot longer than five seconds.

“We’re not doing anything,” she said. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled free. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve watched me undress in your apartment.”

“I have,” he pointed out.

“No!” She whirled around and marched toward the door. “It doesn’t count!” she yelled over her shoulder. “It was just a slip. A mistake! I’m taking it back.”

“Okay,” he agreed, waiting for his heart to stop racing.

“Good. Wipe it from your memory. I’ll see you on Monday!” She shoved her way out the warehouse door and was gone.

“See you Monday,” Luke muttered, dropping his head back against the wall. What the hell just happened?