Page 50 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

J amie stretched out on the plush sofa in Darius’s—no, their townhouse, an envelope resting on his lap.

It was still strange, thinking of this space as home, but he’d moved in for real, leaving behind the mouldy flat in Mile End.

The walls were lined with photos now—some of Darius with his sister Selena, and a few Jamie had taken of them together.

On the shelves, tucked between Darius’s running memorabilia and self-help books, were textbooks Sebastien had carted over to help Jamie prepare for his new career.

He looked around the room, marvelling at how much everything had changed in just a few months.

Things hadn’t been perfect for them right away.

They’d had a lot of distrust to work through, and the media had been relentless.

But they’d dealt with it together, just like they’d promised to, and now they were more solid than Jamie could have ever thought possible.

Moving in had been daunting at first. Jamie hadn’t wanted to feel like he was intruding. The timing had been perfect, though. Jamie had finally been able to get out of the terrible lease he’d been stuck with for the past year, and Darius had insisted.

“It’s not just my space—it’s ours,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to Jamie’s temple. So just before Darius’s pre-Olympic altitude camp, Jamie had made the move.

The front door clicked open, and Jamie sat up, the envelope slipping to the floor. Darius walked in, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his shirt damp with sweat. His expression was tired, but the moment he saw Jamie, his face lit up.

“Hey,” Darius said, dropping his bag by the door and making his way to the couch. He leaned down, kissing Jamie’s forehead, and Jamie couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, yourself,” Jamie replied, pulling Darius down to sit beside him.

Darius flopped onto the sofa with a groan, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Coach is trying to kill us,” he said, running a hand over his head. “Tempo runs, hill sprints, and he’s got us doing weights tomorrow morning. I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up sore for the next week.”

Jamie smirked, nudging him with his elbow. “That’s what you get for being an Olympian. No rest for the World’s best.”

Darius gave a half-laugh, half-grumble, tilting his head to rest against the back of the couch. “I can’t bloody wait to taper, two blissfully Anders-free weeks before the Olympics.”

Jamie’s smile widened as he leaned down to grab the envelope from the floor. He held it up between them, watching Darius’s tired eyes sharpen with curiosity.

“What’s that?” Darius asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Jamie’s heart thudded in his chest as he handed it over. “It’s from the university.”

Darius blinked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! Why haven’t you opened it?”

“Envelope seems pretty thin,” Jamie said, laughing nervously. “So either it’s a rejection or just some kind of confirmation of application.”

Darius gave him a look. “You’re not serious. Open it.”

Jamie hesitated, then tore the envelope open. He unfolded the letter and scanned it quickly, his breath catching when he saw the words accepted into the physiotherapy programme.

“I’m in,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, with a grin splitting his face, “I’m in!”

Darius let out a loud whoop, pulling Jamie into a tight hug. “I knew it! I told you, didn’t I?”

Jamie laughed, burying his face in Darius’s chest. The familiar scent of his boyfriend grounded him as he let the moment sink in. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “I’m going back to school.”

“You’re going to do great,” Darius said, his voice brimming with pride. “You’ll be the best physio that ever walked through those doors.”

Jamie tilted his head back to look up at him, his cheeks aching from smiling so much. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Darius said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Later that evening, dinner turned into a celebration when the townhouse was flooded with people. Darius had called them after Jamie’s acceptance letter, insisting everyone come over to celebrate.

Jackson arrived first, arms laden with a cake box and a bottle of champagne. “Don’t worry! The party has arrived,” he declared.

“We can’t have any of that, Jackson. Come on.” Darius rolled his eyes.

Jackson shrugged. “Jamie can.”

Selena walked in shortly after, just a few days away from her own flight off to America. “You know, Darius, you’ve been hoarding Jamie all to yourself,” she teased, shooting Jamie a wink. “I need him for sibling-in-law bonding time.”

Jamie blushed furiously but laughed. “Sibling-in-law? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“She’s always ahead of herself,” Darius muttered fondly.

Cressida perched herself near the piano, eventually convincing Jamie to sing a couple of duets with her while Darius played along, missing notes as he distractedly watched Jamie, completely entranced.

The townhouse had never been so full of life. Sebastien and his husband Nathan chatted to Adam and Claire, while Chi somehow seemed to have drawn Mark into an animated conversation about god knows what.

As the evening unfolded, the group’s laughter filled the townhouse. Jackson teased Jamie mercilessly about his marathon training progress—or lack thereof.

Reggie’s presence seemed quieter than usual, his jokes softer and less frequent. Jamie noticed but didn’t bring it up until later, when the two of them were left alone for a moment in the kitchen.

“You okay, Reg?” Jamie asked, leaning against the counter.

Reggie hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just thinking about some stuff.” He gave Jamie a crooked smile. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“I know. Thank you,” Jamie said softly.

He returned to the sitting room where the others had migrated and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, as he watched their friends enjoying themselves and let himself daydream about his future.

A future that felt not just possible, but like he could count on it.

Just like he knew he could count on Darius.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as he ran towards the finish.

This had been by far the most perfect race Darius had run in his entire life, and he couldn’t have picked a better day to have it, but he still wasn’t in medal position.

He could see the runners ahead of him, it was mostly the usual suspects; veterans of the sport.

He was friendly enough with the Kenyan’s David and Kibet who were directly in front of him, but today they were between him and an Olympic medal.

If he could just push a little harder, he knew he could overtake at least one of them.

The week in the Olympic village had been a special kind of hell.

It was exciting, sure, but it was also a bit like what he’d imagined going back into university residence would be like as an adult—loud, busy, a bit gross.

He could have done without the team drama as well.

He’d been immensely grateful to have Jackson there with him, but he also couldn’t quiet the bit of his heart that longed to curl up on the sofa with Jamie after a long training session.

Jamie hadn’t been able to make the trip. He was picking up as much work as he could to try to build up his savings before starting university. No matter how much Darius told him he’d cover his expenses, he just refused to accept it.

Thinking of Jamie always brought a smile to his face, and instead of pushing away those thoughts to focus on the feel of the pavement, on his stride and his competitors, he leaned into them.

He thought of the determination on Jamie’s face in his first-ever marathon.

He thought of him pushing through the pain in his knee to keep running.

He thought of the unbridled joy on his face when he’d crossed the finish line.

The crowd fell away from Darius’s consciousness as he allowed his thoughts to wander.

The finish line was in sight, but no one had crossed it yet.

He wanted to bring home a medal for Jamie, to make all the pain, the time apart, and the stress worth it.

His changeover quickened almost instinctively, and before he knew it, only three runners remained ahead of him.

Darius was pretty certain that nobody had actually expected him to medal today.

He was good—for a Brit, but he hadn’t been expected to be real competition.

When he surged past Kibet, the idea barely registered that he had done it.

He was going to be on the podium. Then, right at the line, he surprised himself by overtaking the French runner Julien to take the silver medal.

The adrenaline Darius had been running on left his body all at once, and he felt his legs collapse beneath him.

Suddenly, someone was wrapping a foil blanket around him and gently cradling his head.

He opened his eyes and was sure he was hallucinating because it was Jamie, there with him at the finish line.

“Thought you were in London,” he gasped, pushing himself up to a seated position.

“As if I’d miss this,” Jamie scoffed. “Now go get your silver medal, Olympian .”

After hydrating and recovering, Darius accepted a congratulatory hug from his sister, a pat on the back from Coach Anders, and a surprisingly warm embrace from his father.

Then, he made his way to the podium to accept his medal, barely able to hold back the tears of utter joy as he shook hands with his fellow Olympians.

Though nervous of the reception he might receive, Darius thought back to Coach Ellison’s words all those months ago about his grandmother and seized the chance to try out some of the Oromo he and his father had only recently begun studying together.

He offered his congratulations to the gold medallist, Taye Mekonnen—one of the Ethiopian runners and a celebrated veteran of the marathon— in Ethiopia’s most widely spoken language, hoping it wasn’t a misstep.

Taye smiled at him, praised the attempt, and then gently corrected his pronunciation—in flawless English, naturally.

Later that night, as they shared cocktails, snacks and a charcuterie board in Jamie’s hotel, Darius hung the medal around Jamie’s neck and asked, “So how much clout will it get you to be dating an Olympic medallist?”

Jamie laughed. “Ugh, well, it’s not a gold medal,” he groused.

Darius flicked him on the nose, and Jamie kissed his boyfriend thoroughly before giving the medal itself a quick peck that had them both descending into laughter.

Darius felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude in that moment. They’d faced their share of challenges, but they’d come through stronger. Together.

“You know,” Jamie said, nudging Darius with his shoulder. “You’re not so bad at this relationship thing.”

Darius smiled, his heart full. “I’ve had a good coach.”

Jamie grinned at him. “It’s almost like love is a marathon, not a sprint.”

Darius chucked a handful of popcorn at him. “Absolutely not, straight to jail, that was a ridiculous cliché.”

“Clichés exist for a reason.” Jamie laughed, then kissed him.