Page 3 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)
Logically , he should absolutely call Reggie and try to diagnose whatever the problem was with his running.
He just couldn’t stand the idea of anyone he knew knowing he had failed at something, and the last thing he needed was this getting back to his parents.
They worried about him enough as it was.
So instead, he turned to his trusty research partner, TikTok.
After several hours of scrolling through multiple running-related posts, and, as per usual, stumbling on a few things that he couldn’t unsee.
Jamie had been reliably informed—thanks to TikTok—that he needed new trainers.
His bank account was looking a bit sad. He really hadn’t managed to save as much during his last show as he’d intended, but that’s what credit cards were for, wasn’t it?
Jamie cracked a beer and settled in to watch reruns of Dancing with Celebs.
The show was like a comforting blanket that reminded him of everything he loved about dance, even when the industry itself was getting him down.
He watched absentmindedly as he scrolled through various online shops selling shoes and running equipment.
It was… a bit overwhelming.
There were cushioned shoes, zero-drop shoes, super shoes—some of which were even illegal ? He read through about a hundred different websites telling him which pair were the best for a first-time marathoner—all of which completely contradicted each other.
He ended up settling on a pair of trainers with a decent amount of cushion—though not an illegal amount, he’d checked—in white and baby blue.
He mostly chose them because he liked the colour, but they were also made from recycled ocean plastic, which was very much something Jamie could get behind.
Besides, the internet seemed to collectively think they were decent.
A lot was riding on these shoes. He was confident today’s attempt had just been a fluke; it was because he had the wrong shoes.
He was going to be great at running.
He was truly a disaster at running.
Jamie knew he looked fantastic in his new running outfit.
His blue trainers and cheap and cheerful high street running gear certainly made him look the part.
His second running attempt, though, had proven only marginally less pathetic than his first. He’d made it halfway through his planned eight miles, which was admittedly better than his first run, but nowhere near what he was going to have to do for a marathon.
Halfway through the run, though, right in the middle of Hyde Park, he’d essentially collapsed. And not even in a sexy, Oh, I can’t go on, please save me, kind of way.
No, he just collapsed in a heap on the damp, cold grass in Hyde Park, amidst the swans and the gawking tourists. He must have lain there, spread-eagled, for about fifteen minutes before getting up and taking the long, disappointing journey back to Mile End.
It was immensely frustrating. He’d just come off months of six shows a week, where he’d been dancing and belting out non-stop show tunes; he should be able to handle this.
His lungs seemed to disagree with his assessment, though, feeling like they were going to give out at any moment.
As he made his way to the tube, his phone buzzed, his agent, Jonathan’s name, lighting up the screen.
“I might have something for you, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you in anywhere, Jamie. You need to get your shit together.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jamie asked, his hackles rising at Jonathan’s tone.
“You haven’t been yourself lately, you know you need to work harder now to stay relevant. Make sure people remember you.”
Jamie winced. Jonathan would never say it out right, but he loved to hint at what Jamie should be doing to keep people sweet on him.
“Don’t sweat it, Jonathan. I can be very memorable,” he said, smiling to try to convince himself that Jonathan’s lack of faith in him didn’t offend him.
Their relationship had deteriorated in recent months, once the work started drying up, really.
Maybe since Jonathan realised Jamie was no longer giving it his all .
Jonathan did love a euphemism.
Jamie wasn’t sure where he stood with Jonathan anymore.
Once upon a time, he’d thought there might have been something between them, but he’d tried not to shit where he ate—an edict he should’ve applied across the board, probably.
Jonathan’s indifferent attitude of late said a lot about where that might’ve ended up, so Jamie had probably dodged a bullet there.
“This marathon better work, Jamie, because nobody’s biting anymore. You know how people talk, and with word getting around, well… leaving the way you did, didn’t do you any favours.”
Jamie shut down completely at the mention of the disastrous tour that had upended his life.
“You just need something to get people’s attention, and if this is all you’ve got, then you need to give it your all.”
“I am, Jonathan, I swear. I was just out training. I ran eight miles.” It was only a slight stretch of the truth, but Jamie needed Jonathan to see he was taking this seriously, that he took everything seriously.
The fallout from his last tour, from his less-secretive-than-it-should-have-been relationship with Stephen, had nearly cost him his career, and he was lucky to still have an agent at all.
“Do you even know how far a marathon is?” Jonathan asked, his voice taking on a condescending tone.
“Like ten miles?” Jamie joked.
The sarcasm clearly fell flat for Jonathan. “Try 26.2. God, Jamie! And you can’t flake on it now.”
“I’m not going to flake on it, Jonathan.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
Jamie wanted to scream. That was a low fucking blow.
This had been a constant battle over the past few months. When Jamie had bailed mid-tour last year, he was sure Jonathan was going to drop him. He hadn’t, though. What he had done was constantly remind Jamie how everyone saw him: flaky, pathetic, unserious.
As if you could become a professional dancer without a lifetime of fucking single-minded dedication, as if he hadn’t given everything and more to this industry just to have it rip his heart out of his chest and stomp all over it.
Fuck.
Jamie knew Jonathan was right, though, in a way. He’d been a loose cannon lately and needed to get back on track. Otherwise, he really would find himself without an agent and with no other skills to fall back on. Without a new contract, he’d be struggling to make rent by the marathon date.
Finally getting Jonathan off the phone, he made the journey home.
Legs still wobbly, he clung to the railing on the way up out of the tube station.
Then he hobbled back to his front door. Despite his horror at having to share his plight with anyone he knew, Jamie realised he needed to bite the bullet and finally call Reggie.
He didn’t even wait for Reggie to get through the perfunctory greetings of friends who hadn’t seen each other in months. He just launched straight in. “I have a situation.”
“Hi Jamie, nice to hear from you! How’s the family?” Reggie replied, the sarcasm lacing his voice making Jamie laugh despite his panic.
“Haha, you’re a real comedian,” Jamie replied. “Meet me for breakfast? It’s on me.”
Reggie snorted. “Well, if it’s on you, this must be an actual emergency. The usual in half an hour?”
Jamie agreed. Their usual spot was a greasy spoon diner just a short walk from his flat, so it gave him a solid twenty minutes to shower and then lie on his bed in pain, feeling sorry for himself.
He hadn’t been there in months, but everything looked exactly the same when he walked in. Same brown tile floor and hard metal chairs, same overpowering smell of bacon wafting through the place.
“OK, help me understand the problem here?” Reggie asked after Jamie had explained the situation over bacon butties and milky tea.
Jamie had already been through this, but Reggie wasn’t in the business.
He didn’t understand how you had to submit to the whims of producers, casting directors, directors—everyone was higher on the totem pole than the talent.
Didn’t understand that Jonathan’s cutting remarks were hitting a little too close to home this time.
“Why are you raging at Jonathan?” Reg asked. “This isn’t anything he hasn’t said before. I mean, hate that fucking guy. But honestly it sounds like he was just making sure you’re up for the challenge.”
“No, he didn’t think I could do it—it was more than that, Reg, it was an affront, a threat to my career, like,” Jamie replied.
Reggie rolled his eyes at his overly dramatic friend. “Right, it was definitely none of that.”
Jamie sighed deeply, putting his head in his hands. “It doesn’t matter what it was, cause I’ve spent so much money on gear. I literally can’t afford to drop out.”
“OK, it’s fine. We’ll find you a decent training group and you’ll be ready for the race, you’ve got time,” Reggie said. “I’m made up to see you getting into this. It’ll be good for you to have a hobby. All you do is work.”
Jamie waggled his eyebrows at him. “It’s not all I do.”
“Oh, right proper Casanova, are you? When was your last date?”
“Define date,” challenged Jamie.
“C’mon, La’, you know what I mean. Wouldn’t it be nice to meet someone, like? Loads of people meet their partners through run clubs, you know?”
“Oh yeah, got experience with that, have you?” Jamie grumbled.
He knew it wasn’t fair. Reg had been in a long-term relationship since high school.
In Jamie’s professional opinion, his best friend was way too good for the wannabe corporate mean girl he’d ended up with.
Jamie truly hoped that someday he would be rid of her, but, of course, Reggie didn’t see it that way.
He thought she was the love of his life and that theirs was a love story for the ages—even though she hated his friends, even though she took every opportunity to undermine him and belittle him.
Jamie was categorically not a fan.