Page 14 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

“I hate to say it, but Mark could win,” Darius sighed.

Jamie smiled. “Nah, my money’s on Claire.”

“Really?” Darius asked.

“Really,” he replied. “Want to make this interesting?”

“What did you have in mind?” Darius asked, obvious trepidation in his voice.

Jamie hummed. “If you win, I’ll go to physio tomorrow.”

“You should do that anyway.”

Ignoring him, Jamie continued. “And if I win, you give a hundred quid to my charity.”

“Fine,” Darius glared. It was obvious the sum meant nothing to him, but Jamie couldn’t bring himself to ask for more.

“You should probably worry, I was practically raised on the Grand National, I know how to pick a winner.”

Darius turned his attention back to the group as they were rounding the final bend.

“This is the time to leave it all on the line,” Darius shouted. “Give it a strong finishing kick, you’ve got this!”

Okay, he was pretty motivating when he wanted to be.

There was something incredibly exciting about watching everyone kick into a higher gear. They came barrelling down the track towards Darius and Jamie. Chi was in the lead, followed closely by Mark and Adam, with Claire bringing up the rear. Jamie cheered her on. He knew she could do it.

Honestly, he thought they all looked incredibly fast in that moment, though he wondered what Darius thought. This must be nothing to him.

“What’s your 5k time?” he asked. Then, realising the question came out of absolutely nowhere, he flushed.

“My PR’s 12:58, it’s really not my best event,” Darius replied.

His eyes never left the track as Claire started to make her move.

She passed Mark and Adam, the latter grinning at her back as he tried to match her speed.

She couldn’t quite catch Chi, though, who had picked up their pace as well and flew past Jamie and Darius before slowing to a jog.

“Guess all bets are off,” Darius said quietly before turning to Chi with a wide grin.

“18:51,” he announced. “Nice one, Chi.” He turned back to his stopwatch, clicking it for each of them as they finished.

“Thank you, Mr Hewitt, sir,” Chi replied enthusiastically. Jamie saw Darius wince and was ready to jump to defend Chi about whatever imagined slight they’d made in Darius’s eyes.

Darius just clapped them on the back, though, and said, “Just Darius, mate, please.”

“Thank you, Darius,” Chi beamed.

“So, what do I owe you?” Darius asked. “And who are you fundraising for?”

“Childhood Cancer Research,” Chi replied. “And I need twelve fifty to hit my goal.”

Mark let out a low whistle. “One thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds? Bloody hell, Chi, have you raised anything yet?”

Jamie shot Mark a glare, but Chi just looked confused. Darius already had his phone out, likely ready to transfer the money across, despite the absurdly high figure.

“No? ￡12.50,” Chi replied.

Darius lowered his phone as the rest of the group gaped at Chi.

“You ran that hard for ￡12.50?” Adam asked.

Chi shrugged. “I like to win.”

Darius threw his head back as he laughed. “I like you, Chi,” he said. “Looking forward to seeing what you do on race day. If you need a pacer, I’ll be there with a 3:30 flag.”

And look, it was nothing. An offhand comment, and Jamie liked Chi, too. They were cool. But he didn’t like the way Darius could laugh and joke with them, the way his eyes crinkled with that pleased smile as they talked. Meanwhile, every conversation with Jamie devolved into a heated row.

“And what are we, chopped liver?” Mark muttered under his breath.

It took Jamie’s brain a second to catch up with the rest of Darius’s comment, stuck as he was on I like you . “Pacing?” he asked. “Thought you’d be out in front with the elite runners.”

Darius ran a hand awkwardly over his short hair. “Yeah, you know. Trying to give back.”

Something rang false in the way he said it. “This is about that arsehole from the clinics, isn’t it?”

“What? I’m not allowed to do something out of the goodness of my heart?”

“No, not really,” Jamie replied. Altruism didn’t exist as far as Jamie was concerned. Everyone had a motive, and this was just like Jamie running the bloody marathon to get attention from the gatekeepers of his industry. He just didn’t understand Darius’s angle here.

“Some of us care about more than being famous,” Darius shot back.

Dickhead. “That’s rich, coming from you, at least my career serves a fucking purpose.”

“Oh, and what purpose is that?”

“Seriously? Theatre entertains. Educates. Gives people space to dream and feel seen and connected.” Even as he said it, Jamie realised he was idealising.

Theatre hadn’t given him any of that for a long time.

“You, though? Your entire raison d’être seems to be making sure everyone knows you’re the fastest of them all.

Couldn’t have picked a more selfish career if you’d tried. Not exactly saving lives out there.”

An unhappy look darkened Darius’s face. Probably just embarrassed that Chi and the others had seen him lose his stoic facade, even just a little.

“Whatever. I’ve got a class to get to,” Jamie muttered. His dramatic exit was hampered by his slow hobble towards the gate and Mark’s incessant grouching about how unfair it all was.

“Physio, Jamie!” Darius shouted at his back, which he waved off.

He’d be fine by next week. He’d bounced back from worse before.