Page 3 of Someone Like You
After completing the testing task of putting the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaning up the counter, his autopilot led him back upstairs, where he diligently brushed his teeth, made the bed, and folded his pyjamas.
His will to exist had almost entirely evaporated by the time he finally opened the wardrobe.
Nonetheless, he was proud of himself for sticking to his promise long enough to get to this point, and that gave him a little extra motivation to grind on.
Finding his running clothes was no easy feat: he vaguely remembered shoving them into some drawer while unpacking the suitcases, but also piling more useful stuff on top of them — useful like the formal suits he was supposed to be wearing for his seminars at Glasgow University, if he ever found the guts to pencil one in.
When he finally managed to dig up a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, he slipped them on and placed himself in front of the mirror, trying and failing to understand how he’d allowed himself to become the raggedy loser staring back at him.
He was still handsome, despite the swollen bags under his eyes and the greying beard.
His body wasn’t as fit as it used to be before the burnout and he doubted it’d ever get back to that impeccable shape, but if he started running again there would surely be an improvement.
His feet felt like lead. He dragged them across the brand new hardwood floor Abby’s parents had replaced before moving to Italy after their retirement just a couple of years back. Phil wasn’t a fan of the choice, but one couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Outside the day was warm and rainy. Autumn was around the corner and Phil still hadn’t ventured too far around the city. The only part he knew was the portion of the West End closest to the apartment and Kelvingrove Park, which was where he was headed for his lazy jog.
It wasn’t half as bad as he’d feared: after the first couple of challenging miles, his muscles warmed up and his legs began feeling less heavy.
He was surprised to discover he still had some stamina left in himself and enough breath to speed up a little when he felt his body was ready.
The familiar burn of exertion put a satisfied grin on his face.
He threw his head back, relishing the drizzle on his sweaty skin, and realised he was feeling somewhat close to good for the first time since…
He couldn’t even remember when it’d been the last time he hadn’t felt like a useless lump of decaying meat.
He owed Abby a big thank you for persuading him to do this.
He skirted along the River Kelvin, startling a group of ducks napping by the path, and sprinted past the skatepark towards the old fountain. As he circled around it, he checked his heart rate on his smartwatch: 150. Not bad, considering he’d been an utter slug for months.
He grinned to himself, a rush of adrenaline pumping through his body.
He looked up to decide which direction to take, when suddenly everything went black.
Next thing he knew he was lying on his back with a throbbing pain radiating from his tailbone.
He had to blink a couple of times to gather his bearings: the fountain was looming above him, as grey as the sky, and a massive dark figure advanced in his visual field.
“You alright, mate?”
Phil groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows. Before he had a chance to even think about standing up, an iron grip seized him by one arm and effortlessly put him back on his feet.
“Are you alright?” he was asked one more time by a voice so deep that he felt it in his chest.
“Been better,” he grumbled, flexing his back experimentally to make sure that everything worked properly.
“Not every day you run into a human brick wall.” He glanced up grouchily at the unreasonably tall stranger.
“Thank fuck.” His voice quivered a little as he processed the guy’s appearance: a six-foot-five mountain in shorts and an unzipped sleeveless hoodie under which a wet tank top clung obscenely to an array of rippling muscles.
It was a miracle Phil had just bounced off all of that without breaking anything .
As if reading his mind, a thick, dark eyebrow rose on the guy’s sweaty face.
“You sure nothing’s broken there?” Bright blue eyes shone in the pale sunlight, framed by jet black hair tied back in a thick ponytail.
There was a twinkle in them, something Phil couldn’t define, unless he was ready to describe a guy’s eyes as charming , which he definitely wasn’t.
“Yeah, pretty sure.” Bruised ego aside, Phil was more or less unscathed, save for a slightly dry mouth that couldn’t have any correlation with the fall. He’d better bring a bottle of water on his next run. “Didn’t see you coming.”
“Aye, no harm done.” A conciliating smile spread in the middle of the guy’s dark beard, and, between that and the pain in his arse, Phil was ready to start a fight, even more so when the guy added: “You don’t see many senior runners around here.”
“I’m forty-five, jackass!” Phil spat, feeling a flare of heat around his ears.
His rage didn’t seem to affect the stranger’s defiant grin. “Nice to meet you, Forty-Five. I’m Ian.”
“For fuck’s sake…” Phil turned away to make sure Ian couldn’t catch the glimpse of unwitting amusement through his annoyance. He wasn’t going to laugh at a stupid dad joke from a guy who’d carelessly knocked him to the ground.
A low chortle shook Ian’s hefty chest. “Not big on humour, eh? Let’s start over, shall we?” He stretched out a huge hand to Phil. “Ian Galloway.”
Phil almost snorted, but then his look trailed up Ian’s bare arm, finding a good-natured expression on his face, and despite himself ended up ruefully shaking the man’s hand.
“Phil Hanson.”
A corner of Ian’s mouth curled. “Handsome indeed.”
“ Hanson ,” Phil spelled out more clearly, his ears flaring hot again.
“Ach.” Ian’s absolutely not charming eyes sparkled with mischief. “You new round here?”
“You know every single person in Glasgow?”
“You look lost. ”
Phil blinked at the oddly accurate remark. Not that he was actually lost . Not spatially, anyway.
“Kinda new, I guess.” He gave a lacklustre shrug and finally let go of Ian’s hand, which was about as hot as Phil’s ears felt. “Is two months in the country considered new?”
“Practically just landed.”
“That’s how it feels.”
Ian’s watch bleeped, a high-pitched, repetitive sound that irritated Phil right away. Ian tapped the watch and the bleeping stopped. “That should’ve been my finish time. You owe me.”
“Excuse me?”
“For runnin' into me.”
Phil’s eagerness to start a fight came back, even stronger than before. He wasn’t going to be patronised by the person who had factually caused the incident.
“ You ran into me! ” he grunted, nostrils dilating. “ You owe me! ”
Ian chuckled, thoroughly unimpressed. Something about it caused an odd tingle at the nape of Phil’s neck. “Alright, big man. What about a coffee?”
Phil’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, nor did he know what he’d intended to say. The situation had abruptly taken an unexpected twist and, unprepared to respond to an invitation , he somehow found himself jogging with Ian towards an Italian café just around the corner.
All the way there he couldn’t shake off an inexplicable impression that he’d just fallen for some kind of scam.