Page 23 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius

D arius adjusted the strap of Jamie’s bag over his shoulder as they stood outside the modest brick building.

There were progress flags in the windows and a sign painted in soft, fading colours that read Haven LGBTQ+ Youth Centre over the door.

The early spring wind bit at his neck, but he barely felt it.

Jamie was quiet beside him, his gaze fixed on the centre’s entrance like it might open up and swallow him whole. Darius had learned to recognise that look over the past few weeks.

“You good?” Darius asked, nudging him lightly with an elbow.

Jamie nodded, lips twitching into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… this place is important. You know?”

He did. And not just because they were here to sell the image of a cause-driven couple, but because—beneath all the pretending—Jamie cared.

Really cared about so many things: the environment, human rights, these kids.

And Darius couldn’t help but admire that, even if he wasn’t sure where the lines between pretending, admiring, and wanting had blurred for him.

“I, when I signed up to run for them, I was just trying to impress someone, but…”

Something in Darius reared back at that, a flame of jealousy igniting in him. “Who were you trying to impress?”

“Just another dickhead producer that left me on pencil for weeks before going another way,” Jamie replied with a sigh.

The fire burning in Darius settled at the knowledge that it was a work thing.

They made their way inside. The centre had a lived-in feel with hand-painted walls, threadbare furniture that had survived more than its share of teen drama, and a pulse of energy that made the place feel alive. A woman behind the front desk stood as they entered, smiling warmly.

“You must be Jamie,” she said, stepping around the desk. “And you’re Darius.”

“That’s us,” Jamie said, his hand brushing briefly against Darius’s as he reached to shake hers. The contact sparked something stupid in Darius’s chest.

“Jade,” the woman introduced herself. “Thanks for coming in together. It’s nice to see you in person.”

Darius kept his expression polite, nodding like this was totally normal and that he had no ulterior motive for being here.

Jade led them through the centre, room by room, explaining the programmes, introducing staff, pointing out where kids gathered to play board games or where private spaces were reserved for therapy.

Jamie asked thoughtful questions, and Darius tried not to get distracted by the way Jamie’s eyes lit up every time Jade mentioned something about their performing arts initiatives.

When they reached the mural-covered art room, with its makeshift stage, Jamie let out a breath like he’d been holding it since they walked in.

“This is amazing,” he said softly.

Jade smiled. “We do what we can. But it’s always a battle for funding. That’s why what you’re doing matters so much.”

“I’m just running a marathon,” Jamie said, voice quiet.

“You’re showing up,” Jade replied. “For them. That’s huge.”

As they walked back towards the common room, the buzz of conversation grew louder. A group of teens had gathered, some tossing glances towards them. One of them, a kid with bright green hair and piercings that looked DIY, pointed in their direction.

“Hey, you’re the marathon guys, right?” the kid called out to them.

Darius blinked. “Oh. Yes, that’s us.”

“That’s cool,” the teen said. “Jade showed us some videos. I hate running, way too much work, but like, good for you.”

Jamie laughed, and Darius couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. It was nice to interact with people who didn’t care about who his father was.

Then Jade clapped for attention. “Alright, everyone—quick intro. This is Darius. Professional runner, Olympic hopeful, and his partner Jamie, who is raising money for the centre as part of his first ever marathon. Over to you, boys.” She winked at them, and Darius forced a smile, feeling his ears warm.

“Hello,” he said, giving the room a small wave. Jamie followed suit next to him. “Thanks for having us. We’re glad to be here.”

It was met with silence. Darius wasn’t surprised. Teenagers were hard to impress on the best day, and he wasn’t exactly feeling motivational lately.

“Why don’t you tell them how you got into running?” Jade prompted gently.

Darius cleared his throat. “Right. So… I started when I was a bit younger than you all. It was a way to clear my head, mostly. Things were kind of a mess back then, and running gave me something solid to hold on to. Eventually, I realised I was good at it.”

One girl raised her hand. “Which one of you is faster?”

He chuckled, casting a helpless look towards Jamie. “I hope me?”

“Darius has been running his whole life,” Jamie offered. “I started like eight weeks ago, if I’m faster then I’d be very concerned for my boyfriend’s career.”

“You should have seen this guy’s first club run,” Darius added. “Collapsed on the grass, gasping for air after like ten kilometres.”

“And I only have to run four times that in April, piece of piss, that. Don’t know why you train so hard. Running’s dead easy,” Jamie said with a wry grin.

Laughter rippled through the room. The ice broke.

“What do you do then?” A boy near the back directed his question to Jamie. “If running is his job, what’s yours?”

“I work in Musical Theatre, I’m a dancer,” Jamie replied.

Darius smiled at the ripple of excitement that went through the room. “Like in the West End?” a girl asked.

“Yeah,” Jamie replied.

The teens were starting to engage more, and Darius smiled as he watched Jamie’s ease with them.

His passion for dance came through in everything he said, his eyes sparkling as he talked about his first dance classes as a child.

Eventually, the questions shifted back over to running, and Darius had to snap himself out of his Jamie-induced stupor to respond when someone directed a question at him specifically. “Do you ever feel like quitting?”

Darius nodded slowly, giving himself a chance to gather his thoughts. “Sometimes. Especially during training, there’s always a point where I want to throw in the towel. But then I think about the people I care about. Why I started. That keeps me going.”

He didn’t look at Jamie when he said it. But he felt the shift in the air and knew Jamie had picked up on it.

More questions followed—some goofy, some thoughtful—and Darius settled into a rhythm. He even told them about the time he ran the wrong direction in a school sports day and locked himself in a porta-loo to cry. That got a good laugh.

When the session ended, Darius felt lighter than he had in weeks.

“You were great,” Jade said as she handed him a stack of leaflets.

“Thanks.” He glanced at Jamie, who offered a small, genuine smile. “It was… nice.”

But the moment of ease shattered when a voice called out, too loud and too practised.

“Darius Hewitt—got a moment?”

He turned to see a man holding a mic, a camera operator beside him. Instantly, every muscle in his body tensed. This was what they had hoped for, but after being here and speaking to the kids, it just felt disrespectful.

“We’re with Runner’s Life . Mind answering a few questions?”

Jade stepped in. “This is a safe space. You can’t just barge in.”

“We’re on public property,” the reporter said coolly. “And I think people deserve to hear more about Hewitt’s views; especially given the location, Lord Hewitt,” he said with barely concealed disdain.

Jamie moved fast—he was suddenly between Darius and the reporter, posture sharp as if he could read Darius’s change of heart about the publicity they’d come for. “You need to leave. This isn’t the place.”

The reporter ignored him. “What about the allegations? We’re hearing Eric Anders didn’t want you on the team because of your treatment of LGBTQ competitors. Don’t these kids deserve the truth?”

Darius’s hands curled into fists. His instinct had been right. This wasn’t fair to the centre. Jamie wrapped his arms around him, settling his anger.

“That sounds like you’ve got your sources twisted a bit.” He took Darius’s hand and looked up at him, the question obvious in his eyes.

Darius nodded.

“My boyfriend’s hardly going to be the one to take issue with queer athletes,” Jamie stated.

The reporter’s eyes lit up like he’d just been handed the scoop of the century, but with Jamie’s steadying hand in his, Darius found the will to cut him off.

His voice, when it came, was low and firm.

“I’m here because I care about these kids.

Places like this matter, and I want to do what I can to support them.

You want a good story? Write about how underfunded charities like this one are, and how the running community can help. ”

Jade escorted the reporter out the door with a honeyed, “I’d be happy to send you some statistics for your article.” When the door finally shut, Darius let out a long breath and pressed a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Not your fault, and all press is good press in the fundraising game,” Jade said.

He wasn’t sure he believed that. But then he caught the look one of the teens gave him—soft, grateful. Like maybe he’d done something good.

Jamie stepped beside him, not saying anything for a moment. Then quietly, “You handled that well.”

Darius glanced at him. Jamie was close—close enough that Darius’s brain short-circuited, and he stepped in to give him a soft kiss. Jamie kissed him back gently, an appropriate kiss for the audience they had. The audience that was the only reason he got to kiss Jamie at all.

Because it wasn’t real.

He broke the kiss. “Thanks. You too.”

Jamie nodded, and they stood there for a beat too long, not quite touching. It was exactly what they had come for, but Darius wanted it to be so much more.