Page 11 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius hesitated for a second, not expecting the question. He considered deflecting, but Jamie’s curious expression nudged something loose. “Honestly? I don’t have a ton of time for fun. Running has always been my thing, though. Not just for races, but to, you know… clear my head. Find some peace.”

Jamie tilted his head, suddenly serious. “Yeah, I get that. Dance is kind of like that for me. It’s the one time everything else fades away, and I can just… exist.”

Darius nodded, surprised by how much he liked this quieter side of Jamie. “Exactly. It’s like…” he struggled for the right words, “the world narrows down to just the next step. Nothing else matters.”

“Right? And then when you’re done, all the noise comes rushing back, but it doesn’t matter as much.” Jamie’s voice softened, his eyes meeting Darius’s.

The air between them shifted, the banter giving way to something deeper. Darius felt his chest tighten, caught off guard by how easily Jamie had put into words something he’d always felt but never said.

“Do you ever feel like that noise is just… too much sometimes?” Jamie asked, something haunted in his voice.

Darius’s usual defences wavered. He thought about all the times he’d run until his legs burned, trying to outrun the weight of expectations, of always having to be the best. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter than before. “Sometimes it’s easier to keep moving than to stop and think about it.”

Jamie smiled, the light returning to his eyes. “Well, if it ever gets too loud, you could try, you know, playing actual games like—would you rather… dance on stage, or sing on stage?”

Darius laughed softly, grateful for the levity Jamie brought back into the moment. “Dear Lord, neither.”

Jamie grinned. “I could always teach you to dance, you know, if that would make you more comfortable, but you may have to slow down before I collapse, or that will never happen.”

Darius rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile. Jamie was disarming in so many ways. It was easy to forget they weren’t alone, but Darius was snapped back to reality by the complaints of one of the other runners in his group as they approached the sixth mile.

“How are you two arseholes talking so damn much?” gasped Mark, a doctor who had told Darius he was running his third marathon and aiming for a 3:15 finish. Which, if true, meant he should definitely have been able to keep up.

Darius checked his pace on his watch and noticed he was going a bit faster than was probably fair. He actively slowed down, making Jamie’s laughter echo through the quiet park as they ran on.

As they approached the final couple of miles, Jamie started to look like he was genuinely struggling.

Darius noticed he hadn’t been refuelling at all, and offered him a gel, birthday cake flavour, because it was by far the best one.

No matter how much Jackson had taken the piss out of him for the ‘childish’ choice, as if there was a more grown-up type of carbohydrate slime to choke down while running.

Jamie didn’t seem to understand the gesture, eyeing the gel with a mix of disgust, confusion, and the tiniest bit of desperation for anything that would help him carry on.

“It’ll help, I promise.” Darius urged Jamie to take the gel. “We all use them.”

“Is it drugs?” Jamie asked, eyeing the small packet with distrust.

“No,” Darius grinned, “just carbs and sugar. It’ll keep you going, and you should start figuring out your marathon nutrition now. You don’t want to bonk on race day.”

Jamie arched his perfectly groomed, pierced brow at Darius. “Oh no, that sounds very much like something I’d like.”

Darius rolled his eyes despite the surge of desire that shot through him. “It means to run out of glycogen stores,” he mumbled.

He ripped the packet open and shoved it at Jamie, sticky gel squishing out a bit over both their hands in the process.

Finishing the packet, Jamie licked his fingers seductively, maintaining intense eye contact with Darius that almost caused him to stumble.

Darius couldn’t help but laugh. “Like it then?”

“Mmm, so much.” Jamie grinned back.

Darius pulled a wet wipe out of the pocket of his shorts. “As much as I enjoyed the show, that stuff is vile if it dries on your hand.”

Jamie took it gratefully. “Thank God, it was already giving me such an ick.”

Darius checked his pace and realised they’d slowed a bit.

“Okay, Group A, time to pick it up a bit, final mile,” he shouted to the surrounding runners. Jamie let out a disappointed groan.

“C’mon, Jamie, you’ve got this,” Darius encouraged.

“I definitely don’t,” Jamie replied.

“Yes, you do. Now come on, let’s see what you can do when you’re actually trying.”

“Actually trying,” Jamie gasped, matching Darius’s pace.

“Oh, so he can keep up,” Darius teased. “C’mon, no more chatter. Let’s dig in.”

“I appreciate you pretending you need to dig in as well,” Jamie said, his speech slow and separated by breaths.

They ran the final mile back to the base in silence, nothing but the sounds of their own group’s footsteps and distant noises of the city around them.

“Hewitt, you’re back too early. What part of zone 2 is so difficult for you to understand?” They hadn’t even started stretching before Anders was barking at Darius.

Jamie mumbled something under his breath. “Probably the bit about zones, nobody knows what the fuck you’re talking about, arsehole.”

The woman he was stretching next to muffled a giggle, and Darius shot them both a pleading look.

It was nice to have the group on his side somewhat, but that kind of talk was not going to endear him further to Anders.

Although that seemed like a bit of a lost cause with the way he was looking at Darius as though he were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew what his family really thinks of people like us,” Anders stated.

Of course. No matter what Darius did, it always came back to that.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and as much as he wanted to ignore it, the first selection would be announced any day now.

He knew what he would find before he even opened the message from Ellison.

Coach

Still 2 spots, don’t panic.

Two seconds of searching showed him the first spot had gone to Jackson.

Darius’s stomach gave a weird lurch. He was happy for Jackson; this would change everything for him.

The Olympics meant more sponsors, and he knew Jackson needed the money, despite how reticent he always was about even mentioning his financial situation around Darius.

Besides, Jackson deserved to be on the team. He was a great runner.

Despite his happiness for Jax, Darius was fucking devastated because it should have been him.

It should have.

“It’s bullshit, really, their just trying to look woke at the expense of medals. Inclusion gone too far. We shouldn’t be penalising people just because they can afford the right gear.”

“Shut up, Mark,” the group chorused.

Mark threw his hands in the air. “What? I’m on Hewitt’s side here. I thought we liked him again,” he glanced around, looking for confirmation from the others. “Look, I’m not prejudiced or anything, but…”

Jamie came up behind Mark and covered his mouth with his hand. “Believe me when I say this is for your own good, Mark.”

Jamie jogged past Mark to take his place next to Darius, making absolutely no effort not to be overheard. He turned to Darius. “Sorry about him.”

“Can’t be helped sometimes,” Darius replied.

Anders had made his way back over to them. “You likely won’t see Hewitt again next week,” he announced to the group.

Darius did a double-take. “I’m sorry, are you kicking me out?”

Anders let out a deep, bitter chuckle. “No, I just know how you noble-type s deal with rejection, and it wouldn’t be fair to let down these good people because of your ego.”

“ My ego?“ Darius countered.

The other runners exchanged uneasy glances, the silence punctuated only by the sound of someone clearing their throat awkwardly. Jackson, whose group had arrived just in time to witness Anders’s shot at Darius, stepped forward.

“Coach,” Jackson began, his tone calm but firm. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?”

Anders turned to him sharply, his frustration evident.

“I’m trying to make sure this clinic runs smoothly, trying to give people what they need,” he snapped, turning back to Darius.

“But some people think they can use it as an in for the Olympic team. There is no place for your brand of elitism and bigotry in the sport, thinking you can just glide through on your name and purchased talent without putting in the real work.”

Darius took a deep breath. He tried to maintain his calm exterior, but inside, he was crumbling. There was no reason to carry on with this farce. His earlier joy hardened into something colder. “I’m not fucking homophobic or elitist,” Darius muttered.

Anders scoffed. “I know your father, Hewitt. I know what you’re like.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Darius challenged, stepping closer.

“Of course I do,” Anders shot back, his voice rising. “You’ve been handed every advantage. Raised in the heart of prejudiced, traditionalist bullshit. You think you’re different to the rest of them? Or that clocking a few fast times makes you one of us? It doesn’t. It never will.”

The words hit like a slap, but Darius refused to let it show. He crossed his arms, tilting his head as if studying Anders. “I’ve worked just as hard as anyone else.”

Anders laughed bitterly. “Hard? You don’t even know the meaning of the word.

You’ve never had to fight for anything in your life.

All you care about is your family legacy , and who cares who you have to step on to keep it.

You don’t belong here, and it isn’t fair to anyone that you continue taking up space. ”

Jackson stepped in then, his voice cutting through the tension. “That’s enough, Coach. I don’t know why—“

“You want me to spell it out, Jennings? Christ, I’d think you, of all people, would be happy with the outcome,” Anders said. “Fine. Well, let me make it very clear, no team of mine will ever have a Hewitt running on it.”

The tension was electric.

“Right. Well, it’s a good thing it’s not just your decision then, isn’t it?” Darius replied coldly. “I guess we’re done here. Congrats, Jax,” he choked out, before turning on his heel.

The last two groups of runners arrived back from their run to a group standing in stunned silence as Darius left the park without a further word to anyone.