“Thanks, guys,” I finished sincerely. “I know you’re looking out for me. I appreciate it.”
They finally let me go then, all waiting until I was in my Subaru, with the doors locked and the engine running. The tank read below empty, a dangerous place for the red needle to be. Thankfully dad had pitched in for the tank and I wouldn’t be surviving on fumes for the next week.
But it was the only time I would let him give me money again. Nights like tonight could not continue to happen otherwise I would lose my mind.
Chapter Seven
A cold mist still settled over the track, as I stretched out on the red, gravelly ground. Britte and I tried to run together three times a week. We were vigilantly fighting the extra pounds that came packaged with the first years of college, plus trying to stay in shape. In high school, I did well in track, running the mile, the two mile and a few hurdle relays. Britte had been some kind of volleyball super star. We both missed the regular routine of athletics, but it was hard to find time with our heavy schedules.
We used to run in the evenings on days we didn’t have to work, but now with Fin demanding much of my time, we switched our schedule to the morning. The early morning. I wasn’t even sure if my legs would work this early. I felt stiff and sluggish, but I stretched out anyway, preparing to at least trip around the track until I hit a mile. Usually Britte and I strode for three, but we decided to take it easy this morning and see if we could finish one mile without either taking a nap or causing accidental but serious bodily harm.
“How did the fam dinner go the other night?” Britte asked through a yawn.
“Fine,” I yawned back. What sucked the most was that we couldn’t even have coffee before this. Well, we could have, but probably that wouldn’t be wise.
“Fine?” she asked, unbelieving.
“Ask me again in two hours when I can remember it.” I stood up and then bent down to touch my toes. This felt kind of comfortable so I stood there hanging for thirty sEconds longer than I needed to.
“Did you tell them about Tara the twa-“
“B! Cuss jar!” Gah. There was nothing I hated more than bad words for girly parts.
“Sorry,” she laughed.
“Well, they found out. But it was Beckett that told them, not me. Stupid brothers. I cannot figure out how I got sucked back into a world where my family is everywhere! I must have been out of my mind to transfer.”
“Hey, you still have me! And you would not have had me if you wouldn’t have transferred. The good outweighs the bad here, Els,” she admonished, looking a little hurt.
“You’re right,” I sighed. “I do have you. And a rumored relationship with Fin.”
“What?” She gasped while doing some high knees and then some calf stretches.
“They are convinced I’m dating Fin. Apparently there are some rumors around campus that have us together, acting like a couple.”
“Are the rumors true?” Britte asked with a knowing look.
“We’ve been together twice on campus, Britte. And you were there for one of those times, so you tell me.” Ugh, I hated that these rumors might not be unfounded. He did kiss my neck in front of a lot of people the other day.
“I was there when he kissed you, and when he visited you at your place of work. I think he’s into you, Ellie. Your brothers might actually have something to worry about,” she smirked at me, and then waggled her eyebrows.
“Whatever,” I laughed. “Don’t forget I owe him a ton of money! He’s just micromanaging his investment. Plus, I’m not his type.”
Britte started off in a slow jog and I followed suit. We both hated to talk while we ran; we believed if we weren’t out of breath than obviously we weren’t trying hard enough. But this conversation needed to be wrapped up.
“What makes you say that?” Britte asked in a tone that made me feel stupid for thinking I wasn’t every single guy’s type on the entire planet. She was such a good friend.
“I have full access to his Facebook account, I see the girls that message him all the time. They’re fan-club girls. And I lack the va-va-va-voom to even be considered for membership. As much as Beckett can’t stand Fin, they do share the same type.” I hated how desperately pathetic my voice sounded.
Britte didn’t seem to notice though, “Beckett has terrible taste in girls. What is his problem?” She sounded so worked up about it I raised my eyebrows at her, but she just waved me on and picked up the pace.
Soon my leg muscles were burning and my abs stretched tight. Sweat dripped down from my temples and the back of my neck and my arms pumped with the will to finish out our workout. We eventually woke up and were able to push ourselves past one mile, and then two and we were closing in on the third and final. The only sound between us was heavy breathing and the slap of our feet against the track.
The morning was still frigidly cold, and my lungs burned with every breath. But it all felt good and necessary. There wasn’t much I loved more than losing myself in a strong run. The concentrated effort but how my mind could just drift at the same time, the way every muscle burned and stretched with each step forward, the way my arms pumped at my sides and the slick feeling of sweat as it coated my body. This was a good feeling, a feeling necessary for my happiness.
By the time we slowed our pace to a cool-down jog, the track was filling up with other students. It stayed busy during the days and evenings in the spring and summer months when the weather permitted the use of outdoors. I knew Beckett would be out here this morning, since he made running the track a regular morning routine.
Britte and I finally crossed our finish line at the exact same time and then immediately broke out into more stretching. We were both still panting, wiping sweat from our eyes and neck with the bottoms of our t-shirt. We brought water bottles, but they were sitting over with our things on the bleachers and neither one of us was ready to make that walk.
“Don’t look now,” Britte panted out. “But your fake boyfriend is here.”
“What?” I asked in a breathy puff of air. Not able to help myself I followed her chin nod and looked over my shoulder while strategically stretching my arm. “Oh no,” I sighed when I caught Fin’s gaze from twenty feet away. “Is it just me or is he everywhere now?”
“Maybe,” she said slowly. “But technically I think this time we are in his space.”
I grunted, hating that she was right. I took a few moments to admire Fin from this distance. His hair was tussled and a little wild from sleep, his eyes were still tired-looking, but heavy lidded and sexy as hell. He was wearing a long sleeved Under Armor shirt and running shorts. His well-muscled but slender legs were tanned and perfectly shaped from knee to ankle. Ugh, he was gorgeous. Fin’s lips slowly curved into a smile as if he was just realizing we were in his space too and that I was ogling him. I waved my outstretched hand at him in a goofy wave and then turned around so I could stretch my other arm. Also so I would stop staring at him before I started drooling.
“Well, let’s get out of here,” I whispered. “Beckett runs in the mornings too and I don’t want to run into him while Fin is just over there.”
“Not just over there anymore,” Britte grinned.
“Ellie,” Fin called out from behind me in greeting.
“Fin,” I mumbled into my stretch.
“Just finish a run?” Fin asked with a gruff morning voice.
“Yep,” I answered, sticking to the one syllable words.
“I thought you usually ran in the evenings?” Fin pressed, coming to a stop next to me. He was flanked by two of his friends, guys I recognized from the restaurant the other night.
“Oh my gosh, stop stalking me!” I cried with real exasperation.
Britte broke into laughter behind me.
“I don’t think we’ve had a chance to meet,” Fin addressed Britte with a charming smile. She stopped laughing and grinned back. Traitor.
“Britte Nichols,” she reached out her hand and shook Fin’s with mock professionalism. “Ellie’s bff.”
“Nice to meet you, Britte Nichols. This is Jameson McKay and Charlie Ryan.”
“We are Fin’s bff’s,” Charlie, who was taller than even Fin and had even unrulier, wild light brown hair, smiled. He was extremely tanned, and well built. I knew he ran track with Fin, just from the t-shirt advertising the win at Regionals last year. If I had to guess, I thought maybe a jumper? His legs were insanely toned under his athletic shorts, and he was so freakishly tall. He wasn’t as hot as Fin, but he was still good looking. His best feature had to be his eyes, a light mossy color of green with a dark rim of black around the edges.
“Good for you,” Britte laughed lightly. She was flirting. And I didn’t really blame her.
“We’ve seen you a lot recently but we haven’t met you either, Ellie,” Jameson reached out his hand to me. He was about Fin’s height, lighter skinned with reddish brown hair. His eyes a startling blue, his physique just as toned as his friends. Even though his skin color was pale, it was clear and nice. His cheeks were reddened just a little bit from the wind and the look was overwhelmingly attractive on him.
I stuck out my hand, letting him shake it, but I didn’t really know what to say. It wasn’t exactly nice to meet them. They came prepackaged with Fin, and somehow acknowledging them as friends made me feel like I would never get rid of Fin.
Noticing my standoffish attitude, Charlie jumped in with, “We’re obviously the better half of Hunter though. We promise we don’t usually stalk females like criminals.”
“Usually?” I asked, reluctantly letting go of a small smile.
“Well, we did help him with you,” Charlie admitted and I lost my smile immediately.
“He’s lying!” Fin cut in, shooting Charlie a scathing glare. “Don’t be a prick.”
This got snickers out of Jameson, Charlie and for some reason Britte. But Charlie held his hands up in surrender.
“I’m just messing with you,” Charlie laughed. “And him.” he jerked his thumb at Fin.
“So what year are you?” Jameson asked Britte which launched them into the five-standard get to know you questions of college students across the world. There was a universal conversation that happened between all single college-aged students: What’s your name? What’s year are you? What’s your major? What do you want to do with that? How can I get you back to my place? How much alcohol will it take to get you nak*d? Or something along those lines… It might have different faces, but essentially every get to know you game was the same.
While Charlie, Britte and Jameson launched into a round of that, Fin tugged my arm so that we were back away from the group a little bit.
“You still haven’t texted me back,” he whispered in an unpleased voice. “Did you give me a fake number?”
A snort of laughter came forward before I could stop myself. I hadn’t guessed he would assume that. “No, I got your texts.”
“Oh,” he sounded put out, almost like he hoped I had given him the wrong number. “So, you just weren’t going to get back to me?”