Page 20 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius

H aving Jamie in his house was doing strange things to Darius’s brain. Darius had never liked having other people in his space. He guarded his privacy fiercely, and only his closest friends like Jackson and Sebastien ever entered his home, even then—small doses only.

The strange thing about having Jamie there was that it didn’t feel strange at all.

Darius rested his head on his folded hands as Sebastien sorted out his calves, content to just think quietly while the two of them discussed the various ups and downs of physio as a profession.

That was interesting. He’d written Jamie off initially as a shallow wannabe star, but that hadn’t been fair, not at all.

Their conversations lately had shown him just how deeply Jamie cared about, well, everything.

Darius didn’t think he’d ever had such long, intimate conversations with anyone before, not even his closest confidantes, and he loved listening to Jamie’s quick accent, strong opinions, and dry humour.

He’d always been too quick to judge. It was a side effect of a childhood spent wondering what people’s motives were for getting close to his family, and with Jamie, he’d completely missed the mark.

When Sebastien finished up, Darius sat up on the table. Sebastien started busying himself packing up his things.

“So, ideally, I’d like to see you weekly until the marathon, Jamie. Just to make sure things stay on track. I know your schedule’s probably pretty full, but…”

Jamie interjected, sounding uncomfortable. “I, I don’t think I can afford that. I don’t have insurance right now, and…”

Sebastien’s puzzled look would have made Darius laugh if he hadn’t known the misunderstanding was completely his fault.

“I won’t charge you, obviously,” Sebastien replied, confusion evident in his voice.

Jamie’s jaw took on a stubborn set. “I don’t expect freebies, and I don’t want Darius to pay for me.”

“But he’s not really paying,” Sebastien replied.

Jamie turned to Darius. “ You don’t pay for physio? Seriously? That’s so miserly .”

Darius felt his cheeks heat. “It’s not like that!”

“God, Darius, what did you expect him to think if you don’t bloody tell anyone anything?” Seb interjected.

“Yeah, I get it, thanks, I’m selfish, closed-off and out-of-touch.”

Darius saw Jamie wince at the reference to their earlier conversations.

Sebastien ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not that.

Bit of an arsehole maybe, sure. But you’re just…

still learning to trust people.” He turned to Jamie.

“Darius is my business partner. Well, silent partner, I guess. We co-own the clinic, and he funded the programme I run, helping people get back into exercise after serious injuries and illnesses.”

Jamie was silent, a series of expressions passed over his face, but no words came out until he seemed to settle on a softly spoken ‘oh.’

After a short moment to gather his thoughts, he turned back to Darius. “You know this is exactly what you should talk about to sway the selection committee in your favour, and get public opinion onside?”

This was exactly what Darius didn’t want.

Sebastien was making him look all altruistic when he’d only backed the clinic and the programme because he hadn’t wanted to lose Sebastien as a friend when they’d broken up after university.

He liked helping his mates succeed, and the fact that success for Sebastien looked like saving the world one pulled hamstring at a time just made it easier to justify the funding.

Darius was starting to enjoy Jamie’s company, but he didn’t want him getting the wrong idea about him.

He was grumpy and irritable and only cared about like five people and, of course, running.

Darius sighed. “I don’t care about public opinion. I just need the selection committee.”

Jamie huffed. “Same thing, you should talk more about this kind of stuff.”

Darius shrugged it off, unsure what he could even say, or how he could explain that it would feel false to do that. Even more so than parading a fake relationship around. Because, really, none of his attraction to Jamie had to be faked at all.

Sebastien had started to cart his things out the door to his small car, which he’d parked on the kerb, but Jamie lingered. “Do you have a minute?” he asked Darius.

Darius nodded, waving to Sebastien as he drove off.

“Of course.”

Jamie shifted uncomfortably. The sun reflected off his eyes as he leaned against the opposite side of the open doorway, their feet nearly touching on the threshold. “I wanted to apologise for jumping to conclusions back there.”

Darius smiled. “It’s fine, Jamie. We’ve been doing that a lot with each other, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, for the record. I don’t think you’re miserly, or even an arsehole, like.”

“I kind of am, you can admit it.”

Jamie laughed. “Okay, fine, but only when it’s deserved.”

“Like when someone ruins my favourite jumper?”

“Oh my god, it was an accident.”

Darius looked into his shining blue eyes. “I know.”

“Darius, I…”

Their bodies gravitated closer, and Darius leaned in. The air between them crackled with electricity as he felt Jamie’s breath ghost over his face. A horn sounded from the street, startling them apart. Sebastien was leaning out of the car window. “Forgot my phone on your table, mate.”

Darius nodded curtly and ran in to fetch it. Whatever had been building between him and Jamie dissipated in the wind. When he returned and saw Sebastien off yet again, Jamie had his jacket on.

“I’ve got to get going, it’s a trek back to Mile End.”

Darius bit his lip. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course, yeah.”

“Make sure you rest—“

“And ice, elevate, stretch—I got it, Darius,” Jamie laughed. “Thank you.”

Jamie hesitated for a moment before arching up and kissing Darius softly on the cheek.

Darius watched as he walked down the street towards the tube station, his eyes trained on him until he rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Closing the door, Darius leaned heavily against it, tracing the spot on his cheek Jamie’s lips had brushed.

God, Jamie was incredible. Incredibly bloody distracting.

They hadn’t even put their bloody fake dating plan into action yet, and Darius was already wondering how much of this he could handle. He knew he was in too deep, but he also didn’t have it in him to call it off.

The next day, Darius had a couple of free hours before the training he’d scheduled with the group and decided to use them to get his own tempo session done.

He laced up his trainers and set off straight from his front door at a punishing pace on the hard, uneven pavement.

The burn felt great; it was exactly what he needed to get his thoughts in order.

Running had been Darius’s everything since he was a kid.

His father had been passionate about it, likely encouraged by his Ethiopian mother’s interest—an old framed photo of famed runner Abebe Bikila hung in the Duke’s study beside his Oxford memorabilia, the only reference to his mother’s homeland in the house.

As a teen, Darius had sought out any way to connect with his father, the growing distance between his parents and the mounting pressures he felt to conform to the archaic traditions of the peerage creating a gulf between them.

Running had been an activity his father approved of, was even proud of him for.

He may not have been emotionally available, but His Grace had attended every cross-country meet.

Darius ran faster as he carried himself through Battersea Park, his father’s voice echoing in his head.

Are you trying hard enough?

Was he? Was he doing enough? Or even the right things?

He knew none of the things he’d put in motion would be enough on their own, but maybe between charity work, his relationship, and pacing the marathon, he’d at least start to cast some doubt on the media accusations.

It just felt like there was nothing he could do to change people’s minds about him. Like it was all too late.

He ran harder. There was a state you could reach sometimes, if you pushed your body close enough to its limits, a state where everything went completely silent.

Darius was chasing that feeling now, but he wasn’t getting there.

His thoughts were racing faster than his feet ever could—until they caught on a moment.

That first run with Jamie. His first time meeting the group that had started to feel like a little family. Even Mark, who was still a total dickhead, had become an integral part of his life.

Jamie had challenged him right from the start, right from the moment he’d crashed into him. Now that he’d seen more of him. He liked it. He liked him .

Realising he needed to call this run and get home if he was going to make it on time to meet the group, Darius changed course. His stride relaxed into a steady rhythm as his thoughts meandered over the curl of Jamie’s lips and the way his nose scrunched when he laughed.

The warmth of the water from the rainfall shower washed over him, and Darius’s muscles eased.

He stood still in the stream, enjoying the peace for a moment before lathering himself up with the eucalyptus body wash that was one of his major self-care indulgences.

Money might be no object to him in a figurative sense, but no soap should cost what Fortnum’s were charging for this stuff.

Tipping his head back, he let his thoughts wander, and wander they did.

Right back to where they’d landed during the tail end of his run.

As the water streamed down, Darius closed his eyes and let the tension in his shoulders completely melt away. The faint, calming scent of eucalyptus filled the small space, and he inhaled deeply, trying to ground himself in the moment.