Page 3

Silence plagued him. His perfect eyebrows and nose and mouth and lips contorted.

“I apologize, but I don–”

“Good morning,” I rushed out.

My nerves took a beating. Every part of me grew sensitive. And, while everything around us quieted, I could hear the hammering of my heart.

Around.

Around.

And, around .

Counter-clockwise .

I rubbed circles on my chest. Still, my adrenaline pumped furiously. In a desperate attempt to quiet my thoughts and settle my system, I resumed my stretches.

“Your first time?”

My AirPods weren’t the only pieces of mine in his possession. I doubted he had any idea how long he’d had my heart, although he was simply a figment of my imagination.

“Hm?” I asked for clarification while rotating my shoulders.

“Here. Is this your first time here?”

With a nod, I responded, “It is.”

“You look square business.”

“Excuse me?”

I wasn’t sure if his questions and statements were confusing or if my rattled nervous system had retired my comprehension skills.

Chuckling, he stared down at me from his long frame. I was an even six feet tall on a really good day that was accompanied by a really good pair of running sneakers. He towered over me with ease, putting his height beyond the six-foot-four-inch mark.

Six, six . Maybe .

“This is my first time, too, and from afar, you look like you know what the hell you’re doing. I figured you’d be a damn good accountability partner. Keep me from running my Black ass home. I don’t live very far.”

“Square business. Is that what it means? A good accountability partner?”

“In this case, it does.”

“In other cases,” I inquired.

“Serious. Focused. Knowledgeable. Prepared. It can mean several things.”

I nodded, finally having a clear understanding.

“How will it benefit me?”

“Being square business?”

A chuckle slipped from my lips. I leaned forward, placing my hands on my hips. That wasn’t my intention. Nothing he’d said required that response, yet I had absolutely no control over my actions or my words. I responded naturally. Organically. Unprogrammed. Unfiltered.

The fear of saying the wrong thing wasn’t enough to keep my words bound. My body wouldn’t allow it. Regaining control didn’t feel plausible. My lips and limbs were loose.

“No,” I countered. “Being your accountability partner, because since you appeared, I’ve lost more than I’ve gained.”

And, I’ve suffered.

I’ve suffered tremendously at your hands .

“What have you lost?” He asked, stepping closer as if he had the right.

He does. And, I assumed he knew it.

“An AirPod,” I reminded him, tilting my head toward his closed fist.

“True. True.”

“Now, what will I gain?”

“Selfish, huh?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

His body widened. His limbs stiffened. His irises halted at mine, drawing me in from the water I’d been submerged in since his appearance. Finally, I was on the surface again, able to regulate my system and the emotions it evoked.

“It seems as if you are. You stopped my music, stole my AirPod, kept me from hearing the instructions the guy up front is giving, insisted I have a conversation before sunrise, and you want me to be your accountability partner because I look square business . Again, I’ve lost much more than I’ve gained and you’ve only been standing here for one minute and twelve seconds. ”

“You have a timer in your head or som–”

“I do. Involuntarily. And, it begins each time my nervous system is shattered.”

“Impressive.”

So are you .

“Benefits–”

“Okay. Benefits.”

He nodded, unfolding his arms and joining his palms. My AirPod was now at the tips of his index finger and thumb.

“After we’re both out of breath with stomachs touching our backs, I’m going to help you into my truck and then take you to the breakfast spot of your choosing or mine .

Whatever you’re most comfortable with. Then, I’ll return your AirPod and make sure you get home safely.

The world is a dangerous place for pretty women like yourself. ”

Gnawing the inside of my bottom lip, I chuckled. “Oh, is it?”

“It is. Do you watch the news? It’s a warzone out there,” he emphasized, being overly dramatic.

His lips twitched as his eyes glistened. He couldn’t keep a straight face as he exaggerated the dangers of Clarke. Suburbia Clarke, more specifically. The crime rate almost didn’t exist in the mountains of the city.

“And, the AirPod, it’s a hostage now?”

“It is. It’s collateral.”

“For?”

“Your company. I don’t want to dine alone this morning. I want to hear more about this internal stopwatch and why your nervous system is ever shattered. Somehow, I’m wondering if I can calm whatever parts of you are in an uproar.”

I pushed the lump down my throat. Soundlessness wasn’t my intention. A rebuttal was. Yet, I didn’t have one. I had nothing.

Prrrrrrt .

The sound of the whistle jarred my memory. We were here to run, and that’s exactly what I’d do. The runners started in the opposite direction, urging me to do the same.

“Keep quiet. Keep up. Do not slow me down. Do not try to talk while running. Reserve your energy and mine.”

Without waiting, I took off behind the crowd of Black professionals who had come together to make Mt. Clarke Run Club a reality.

“Yes, ma’am,” the familiar stranger yelled behind me.

Instinctively, I turned and found him behind me, pushing my AirPod into his ear. Brown skin covered every inch of his frame. While he was born to a Black parent, there was something more in the blood he bled. His sun-kissed skin, sandy waves, and amber eyes were my evidence.

Saving my soul while I still had the chance, I faced forward and retrieved my cell. Without unlocking the screen, I pushed the play button, resuming my playlist.

Sade.

SZA.

Cleo Sol.

Frank Ocean.

dvsn.

6lack.

Sevyn Streeter.

Pip Millett.

Snoh Aalegra.

Khamari.

Though short, the list of artists was solid. Quality sounds were released from the small device lodged in both of our ears. Slowly, I pieced myself together after being completely destroyed by the man of my dreams. Literally and figuratively.

He closed the gap between us, taking his place beside me.

The heat from his pensive gaze increased my body temperature.

Curiosity wouldn’t allow me to keep my focus.

It was divided against my will. I peered in his direction, meeting his eyes while simultaneously inviting him to steal something else of mine.

My heart. You can have it. It’s been yours in every lifetime. It belongs to you in this one as well. Have it.

His thumb lifted from his fist. It flipped almost instantly as his lips retracted, nearly touching his nose as if he’d smelled something foul. Something inhumane. Something downright awful.

Bullshit , he mouthed.

His disapproval of the first track made it clear he wouldn’t be keen on the rest. However, he was borrowing my property. His opinion didn’t matter. Not when it came to my music selection.

Still, I couldn’t stop the earthquake in my chest before it happened. Medium brown, toned legs were placed one in front of the other. The torn shirt revealed his thick, muscular arms. His skin was free of tattoos or blemishes, just like in my dreams.

His nostrils were wide. His lips were the perfect size. His ears were large. His eyes were slightly overwhelmed by the width of his eyebrows. They were to die for. Large. Bold. Thick. Shapely.

God, help me .

Laughter felt so freeing. My chest rose and fell as it escaped me. I rolled my eyes as my shoulders lifted.

Whatever . I mouthed. Run!

He picked up his pace, leaving me behind. I wasn’t worried about him going far. The music would cut off, and he’d return. I was worried about his pace and him tiring out long before the hour run concluded.

Twelve minutes into our run, the sun’s beauty graced the sky. The reddish–orange hues nearly stopped me in my tracks. It was a sight to behold as it kissed the land beneath it. Every home. Every building. Every street. Every vehicle. Everything .

At the thirty-minute mark, the burn began. I had been waiting for the tingling underneath my skin and the overheating of my frame. I was ready to break a sweat. As soon as the first bead began to form on my forehead, the whistle sounded again.

Prrrrt .

Like a pack of wild animals encountering an enemy, everyone halted. While their legs grew still, one by one, I lifted and lowered mine. Slowing down or stopping wasn’t on my agenda, but I respected the rules of the run. So, in place, I jogged, waiting for the two-minute break to conclude.

“Alright, we’re halfway through the run. Congratulations. We’re going to head back to our starting point after one hundred and twenty seconds. Drink your water, take a seat, stretch your body, or whatever you need to do in the next two minutes. When th–”

“You can stop now, happy feet.”

Every piece of hair on my body stood tall. Hadn’t the hair on the mound of my vagina been lasered, it would be standing at attention too. I could feel it trying its hardest to sprout, but there was no use.

He rounded me, taking me in as if I was a meal on his plate. I caved a hundred times within the four seconds of silence. However, my legs never stopped moving. I needed a distraction of some kind to keep me from jumping this man’s bones.

I’d never been sexually involved with a man, but somehow, my pot of honey had awakened for this man . It was no surprise to me. I knew him. We knew him. My body and I. My insides and I. My heart and I.

We understood his position. We understood his nature.

We understood his intentions. And, we all knew that he wasn’t here to harm.

He was here to honor, respect, court, and completely consume when our time came.

Because of that bit of wisdom, I was eager to feel him near me. Inside of me. Engulfed in me.

“Rest.”

There was something in his tone. His stance. The sincerity in his eyes as he stood in front of me with his arm extended, demanding I drink from the bottle he’d retrieved from the weighted backpack he wore.