Page 28 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius

J ackson and Darius were leaning against the breakfast bar in the kitchen of Darius’s townhouse, snacking on trail mix as they caught up properly for the first time in weeks. It would be their only chance before Jackson left for altitude camp with Anders and Owens.

Anders wasn’t even being subtle about his plan to select Owens for the Olympics in the next round, including him in all the same training sessions as Jackson. Darius was decidedly avoiding selection committee talk, but doing so meant talking about Jamie.

“God, you don’t do things by halves, do you? Big public coming out, all loved up with your dancer boyfriend,” Jackson teased. “I called it, didn’t I?”

Darius gaped at him. “I am not all loved up, and he’s not really my boyfriend,” he stuttered out.

Jackson glossed over Darius’s interjection. “Not really your boyfriend?“ he laughed. “Ok, what are you calling it then? A situationship? Either way, way to go after what you want. Gotta say, I’m a bit jealous though, damn.”

“You keep away, you charming bastard. I’ve seen enough people leave relationships for you,” Darius said petulantly.

“Ooh, so it’s a relationship , is it?”

Darius’s heart skipped a beat; it wasn’t, but he bloody well wanted it to be.

And wasn’t that a revelation? Darius hadn’t been in a relationship since he and Sebastien had parted ways, fairly amicably, after uni.

Now that Jackson had given voice to his desire, though, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

Jackson nudged his shoulder. “Interesting how you assume it’s you I’m jealous of. He’s cute, yeah, obviously, but come on, Darius, nobody’s ever managed to lock you in.”

Darius flushed. “As if anyone would want to,” he muttered, heat crawling up his neck.

He’d never been good at relationships. His last, and only attempt, had drifted into nothing when his focus on his career had become too much.

If he hadn’t bankrolled Sebastien’s dream business, he doubted they would even still be on speaking terms. No one stuck around for him, not really.

They stayed for what he could offer—money, connections, a title. Just like his father had always said.

“Jamie clearly wants to,” Jackson replied.

“It isn’t real, Jax,” Darius said again. “Seriously.”

He explained the whole ridiculous affair from Jamie’s proposition to his wildly inconvenient feelings. Everything poured out of him as Jackson listened wide-eyed and silent, for once in his life.

“So, it’s not real?” Jackson summarised. “But you want it to be.”

Darius deflated. “Yeah.”

“Have you considered like, telling him?”

“I can’t,” Darius sighed. “Jamie needs this to work. It would feel too much like I was giving him an ultimatum—like ‘love me back, or else.’”

“Love?” Jackson started. “Darius, you need to…”

“You don’t understand, we both need this to work. I can’t complicate it for him. The publicity will help his career, and I know he needs that right now. Real feelings just make things messy.”

“Yeah,” Jackson agreed, surprisingly subdued. “Is that why you didn’t tell me about this? You didn’t want it to get messy?”

Darius sighed. He was grateful to move on from talking about his feelings for Jamie, but felt like he had just landed on another conversational landmine. “It’s just been a bit… off lately with us, hasn’t it? I mean, since the selection, but even before that.”

It was hard to believe that just a month earlier, they had been living in each other’s pockets. Darius had barely seen Jackson since the selection announcement.

Jackson hesitated for a second before responding.

“Training sucks now. Anders is ridiculously intense, and Owens is basically acting like he’s the one who was named for the team.

I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Jackson started, his voice low.

“I don’t think I ever considered that it would be me, not you. ”

Darius’s head snapped up, his dark eyes narrowing. “Don’t pretend to be all broken up about it, Jax. It’s patronising.”

Jackson flinched but stepped closer. “You think I’m happy about this? About how Anders treated you? About any of it?”

Darius snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Jackson. You didn’t exactly leap to my defence when Anders and then the press called me an elitist, homophobic prick. Or was that too much of a risk with Owen’s breathing down your neck?”

“That’s not fair, I apologised for the article. You said we were fine,” Jackson shot back, his voice rising. “Do you know how blindsided I was by all of this? Then suddenly fucking Anders is asking me if I’d ever felt unworthy because of you, Darius, and I, I spiralled.”

Darius was taken aback. Jackson’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he exhaled sharply. “You make me feel unworthy all the damn time, Darius. Being your friend, being your teammate, it’s like this constant need to prove I’m good enough to be anywhere near you.”

Darius’s glare faltered, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You never said.”

“Yeah,” Jackson admitted quietly, scrunching a hand up in his hair like he always did when he was nervous about something. “I know you don’t try to, but you just have this way of making everyone around you feel kind of small.”

Darius turned to Jackson. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to lose you, we were like, a thing… and then we weren’t, and I thought if I made things difficult, well. You’re still my best mate, and I think… look, you can’t help the way you were raised any more than I can.”

It always came back to that, didn’t it? The world Darius had grown up in was one of pomp and circumstance.

He didn’t know how to wear his heart on his sleeve the way his friend did.

He’d have been eaten alive as a teenager at boarding school if he had ever shown even a flicker of the emotions he truly felt, especially with the tabloids circling after his parents’ dramatic split.

“And then lately, you shut me out, Darius. After the selectors made their decision, all I got from you were like, one-word texts.”

Darius swallowed hard. “Right, so it’s my fault, then. What was I supposed to say? That I’m thrilled I got replaced by my best friend?”

“That’s just it, I’m meant to be your best friend, and I found out about your relationship in the tabloids.”

“I should have told you about Jamie. I get that. But come on, you’re the one who got everything you ever wanted, Jax.”

“Don’t,” Jackson said sharply. “It’s fucking politics, and yeah, maybe I benefited from that. But it wasn’t my choice, Darius.”

Darius looked away, his throat tight. “I’m sorry.”

Jackson hesitated, then sat down beside him. “You deserved a spot on the team, Darius, we all know it.”

“It doesn’t matter now, I’m happy for you. It just, this whole thing has been stressful as hell. Now, everything with Jamie is messing with my head too, and if it doesn’t work, well…”

Jackson nodded. “I have no idea what’s going on with the selection committee this year. Anders shouldn’t hold this much sway over them. It feels like it’s all just about image and politics and who’s sucking whose dick, metaphorically, obviously.”

Darius let out a bitter laugh. “It feels like everything changed and I missed the memo and now I’m just a broken has-been who should probably think about retiring, but I can’t.”

Jackson reached out, his hand brushing against Darius’s arm. “No. You’re not broken. You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But don’t fucking talk about retiring.”

Darius looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time in weeks, the walls between them seemed to crack. “So, has training with Anders really been that bad?”

Jackson sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not awful, he really does know his stuff, innovative and all that, but…”

Darius’s stomach tightened. “But what?”

“He’s like, weirdly obsessed with you. Asks me about you constantly. Between him and Owens, I’m going spare,” Jackson ranted.

Darius arched a brow. “Owens is as bad as we thought then?”

Jackson flushed. “Worse. Swanning around like he thinks he’s the UK’s answer to Kipchoge.”

“Well, the way things are looking, he’ll be at the Olympics, and I won’t, so maybe he’s not totally wrong,” Darius groused.

“Sorry. I’m being a selfish dick again, aren’t I?

Maybe it wasn’t the wrong call at all, maybe Anders saw something I didn’t.

I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t belong, Jax. You have to know I don’t think that.”

“I know. I do know that,” Jackson said. “Just, you know, emotions, hate the bloody things. I’m sorry, mate.” Jackson slung an arm around Darius’s shoulders.

Darius slumped. “Not your fault.”

“Listen, you’re my best mate,” Jackson said simply.

“And I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want us to hide things from each other.

” He gained confidence as he continued, “I hate that we let this come between us. I hate that we aren’t training for this together.

And I hate that you’re hurting because of it. ”

Darius sighed, the weight on his chest easing just slightly. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I want you on that fucking start line with me in August,” Jackson said firmly. “Just tell me what you need. And for what it’s worth, I think you should give this thing with Jamie a real shot—tell him how you feel. If he’s as great as you think, then it’s worth it.”

Darius nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.” He wasn’t sure if he would do anything about Jamie, but he wasn’t giving up on the Olympics, not yet. The spark of determination returned deep inside him.

“We both need to do better at this whole friendship thing,” Darius sighed.

“We’ll get there.” Jackson shrugged. “You and Jamie going to bring your little splinter group back to the Tuesday sessions next week? Could be fun to see Anders’ face if nothing else.”

“You are an actual chaos demon, aren’t you?”