Page 47 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)
Jamie
Post-London Marathon
T he tube was crowded. Jamie stood near the door, still feeling the aftershocks of the marathon.
His body ached, but the exhaustion was mixed with a sense of satisfaction.
His knee protested as the tube lurched. He’d been distracted in the aftermath, in the best possible way, but now that he had a moment alone, or as alone as anyone can be crammed into an overcrowded tube carriage, he realised that he was proud of himself.
He’d accomplished something no one thought he’d be able to do.
Something he, himself, hadn’t thought he’d be able to do, and sure, he had been slow as fuck and almost given up a hundred times, but he had still finished.
As the train rumbled beneath him, his thoughts kept drifting back to the race. To Darius.
The way Darius had looked at him. How easily they seemed to fit together.
He held his phone in his hand, wondering if they could actually make this work, for real.
A notification popped up. A text from Reggie. Jamie hesitated for only a second before opening it.
Reggie
How did the marathon go? You survive?
Jamie grinned. The Jamie who had started running in Greenwich felt like a completely different person from the one he was now. It had been just over six hours since he stood at the starting line, but it felt as if the world had shifted beneath his feet.
Jamie
Yeah, I finished! Pretty drained though, but I did it!
He paused again, waiting for Reggie to reply.
Reggie
You know only 0.01% of people ever run a marathon. Gotta commemorate that.
Reggie’s response caught Jamie completely off-guard, and he laughed despite himself.
Jamie
So you’ve said.
Reggie
I’ve booked you in with Elle tomorrow.
Elle was Jamie’s favourite tattoo artist, but she was always booked up months in advance. It made a little bubble of happiness grow in Jamie to know that Reggie had enough faith in him finishing the marathon to have already booked him an appointment.
The train started to slow as it approached his stop, but Jamie’s mind was still racing, trying to figure out what to make of the Darius of it all. They’d both made mistakes, but it felt right to be with him, and he believed they would do better now.
Jamie
I got back together with Darius.
Best to rip the bandage off. His phone buzzed immediately with Reggie’s reply.
Reg
Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’ve been a mess.
Jamie
I was wrong about a lot of things.
Reading back his own message, he felt a little foolish. He had been so quick to accuse Darius of judging him, but he’d been the judgmental one all along, hadn’t he?
Reggie responded quickly.
Reg
Ok, you need anything?
Jamie
No, I’m good. I’m better than good actually Reg… I’m really fucking happy.
Reg
Catch up tomorrow? 11am @ Elle’s
Reg
I knew you’d find a way. Love is like a marathon, right?
Jamie
Thanks for the motivational quote. Get that off a poster in the Asda?
Reg
Nah, mate, thought of it myself. I’m a right poet.
Jamie leaned back against the tube door, his eyes closed for a moment as it rumbled back towards his flat.
Love .
Reggie had been joking around, but despite the heightened emotions the marathon seemed to have brought about, Darius hadn’t actually said the words.
And Jamie wasn’t going to be the one to say them first. He’d already told Darius his feelings once and had them thrown back in his face.
This time, he was going to guard his heart as best he could.
When he finally got out, he had a message from Darius.
Darius
Free next weekend? I’ve been working on something and I’d really love for you to be there when we launch it.
Saturday? Did he not want to see him until Saturday?
Jamie
Of course, what is it?
Darius wouldn’t reveal the secret, though. He insisted Jamie would just have to wait until Saturday to see.
Reggie was practically bouncing with excitement in front of the tattoo parlour on Brick Lane the next morning, two bagels in hand.
Jamie could see him from way off. The cobbled streets were fairly deserted, other than the snaking queue at the bagel shop.
Colourful graffiti murals covered walls and closed shop shutters around him, as a handful of early commuters rushed past Jamie on their way to a trendy coworking space nearby.
Jamie walked towards Reggie, surprised by the lack of pain in his legs.
He’d expected to be hobbling around for days, but was only a little slower than usual today.
“Why are you so much more excited than me for this?” Jamie laughed.
Reggie replied, “Probably ’cause I’m not going to be the one getting stabbed with a needle thousands and thousands of times.”
Jamie grimaced. “It’s not that bad,” he said, then grinned. “Maybe YOU should get a tattoo today.”
Reggie ignored Jamie, breezing past him into the shop. “I’m sure they don’t have the time for that. This place books up months in advance, Jamie.”
“He’s not wrong,” a voice interrupted from the front desk.
Jamie turned to see Elle, one of the first friends he’d made after moving to London and his long-time tattoo artist, smirking at him from behind the counter. Her electric-blue hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her tattooed arms rested on the desk as she flipped through an appointment book.
“Except when it’s you,” she added, pointing a pen at Jamie. “I couldn’t resist squeezing you in. Besides, I’ve been dying to hear how the marathon went.”
Jamie beamed. “You’re the best, Elle. Seriously.”
She waved him off, motioning for him to follow her to her station. “Flattery will get you nowhere. C’mon, let’s get this design sorted. Reg said you want a little 26.2?”
“Yep,” Jamie confirmed, lifting the hem of his shirt slightly to indicate his hip. “Right here. Something subtle, but meaningful. You know, classy.”
Elle raised an eyebrow. “Subtle and classy? On you? Alright, miracle worker mode activated.” She flipped open her sketchpad, revealing a few clean, minimalist designs. “Take a look. Any of these catch your eye?”
Jamie studied the sketches, his fingers tapping against his thigh. One design, in particular, caught his attention, the number 26.2 styled in a sleek, sans-serif font, with a faint line underneath, like the curve of a path— styled so it could almost be mistaken for a love heart.
“This one,” he said, pointing to it. “It’s perfect.”
“Good choice,” Elle said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Alright, hop up on the table and let’s get started.”
Jamie lay back on the padded table, pulling his waistband down to expose his hip. Reggie perched on a stool nearby, watching with barely contained glee.
“You know,” Reggie said, his voice teasing, “you’re officially That Guy now. The one who gets a marathon tattoo. Might as well start signing emails with ‘Sent from a marathon finisher.’”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “It was your idea, dickhead. But you just wait, I’ll be coming for you in those ridiculous 100-mile mountain runs next.
How’s training going anyway? Or any progress on the other thing you mentioned?
” Jamie asked, trying to hint at Reggie’s proposal plan without actually saying it.
Reggie’s smile faded, but he was saved from responding as Elle interrupted their banter. “Alright, Jamie, hold still. Deep breath in.”
The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the room, and Jamie clenched his teeth as the needle pressed into his skin. The pain was sharp but manageable, familiar.
“You’re doing great,” Elle said without looking up. “Most people find this placement pretty painful.”
“I’m not most people,” Jamie quipped, though his grip on the edge of the table betrayed his bravado.
“Damn right,” Reggie said. “Most people can’t run 26.2 miles.”
“So you’ve said,” Jamie replied with fond exasperation.
The session passed quickly, Elle working with practised precision while Jamie and Reggie kept up their playful banter. When Elle finally sat back and wiped down the fresh ink, she smiled.
“All done. Take a look.”
The tattoo was perfect: clean, simple, and exactly what he’d envisioned.
Once it was bandaged, Jamie swung his legs over the side of the table. He traced his fingers lightly over the bandaged skin and grinned.
“I love it,” he said. “Thanks, Elle. You’re a genius.”
“Damn right I am,” she replied, handing him aftercare instructions. “Now don’t mess it up. No swimming, no sunbathing, and for the love of God, don’t let anything rub against it too much.”
“Or anyone,” Reggie teased.
“Ooh, Jamie, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Elle asked.
“Hardly,” Jamie replied, his thoughts very much shifting to just who he’d like to be rubbing up against.
“Come on, Jamie,” Reg egged him on. “We’re all friends here.”
Jamie let out a long-suffering sigh before explaining with as few details as possible that he was back with Darius, for real this time.
“So, does that make you like a Countess or something?” Elle asked.
Jamie let out a groan. “Don’t objectify my boyfriend for his title,” he replied. “Besides, the partner of a Marquess is called a Marchioness, not that I…I mean, not that I’d be that, obviously.”
Ellen snorted. “Ooh, someone’s an expert.”
“I just thought I should read up on things,” Jamie replied.
After his conversation with Darius during the marathon, he’d known he needed to look up the Hewitts properly.
He’d been tired of being on the back foot every time someone mentioned something about Darius’s family, so he’d done some post-marathon reading after he crashed into his bed.
Reggie and Elle exchanged a look that Jamie felt was a little unfairly judgmental.
“So are you seeing him today?”
“No, I don’t want to seem desperate. We’ve got plans on Saturday,” Jamie whinged.
“But you are desperate.”