feet were hitting the pavement.
Once I crossed
the five mile marker, I stopped and held my knees. I heard Jonathan slightly
panting next to me.
“Most women I
know can’t run one mile without stopping, let alone five...” He sounded
impressed. “Have you always been a runner?”
“Hell no.” I
sank down to the ground and stretched my legs. “I used to hate running...I’ve
only been doing it for the past four years. How long have you been running?”
“All my life.”
He slid his shirt over his head, revealing a sweaty set of washboard abs. He
sat down next to me. “It’s one of the few things I’m very good at.”
There seemed to
be a double meaning behind his words, and a part of me wanted to ask him to
explain it, but I remembered the speech I’d given myself earlier. I didn’t need
to pry into his personal life because I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
I cleared my
throat. “Oh...Well that sounds very—”
“How old are
your daughters, Claire? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Sixteen.”
“They’re twins ?” He raised his eyebrow. “Are they identical?”
I nodded. “Yeah,
I couldn’t really tell them apart until they were three. That’s when they
started developing their own little personalities and—”
Whoa. Overshare.
Stick to basic information...
“You plan on
ever finishing that sentence?” He smiled.
I didn’t
respond. Between the beads of sweat that were trickling down his sculpted
chest, his gorgeous eyes, and that ‘I-know-damn-well-you-want-me’ smile, I was
trapped.
I slowly stood
up and dusted the dirt off the back of my pants. “Um...we should probably head
back now. I think we should run again.”
“So you won’t
have to talk to me?”
Yes.
“No, that’s not
it. I’m sure you have a million other things you could be doing right now so—”
“Not at all. I
cleared my whole morning for you.”
Damnit...
“That was...” I
looked away from him. “That was very nice of you, but I only have time for a
run so—”
“Claire, you
told me you were free last night, and I’m pretty sure nothing has changed
between two a.m. and now. You and I are on a date , which means that
since we’re not getting lunch or dinner, we are going to walk back together .
Then our “miserable” date that I apparently forced you to come on will
end, and you can pretend like you actually have some work to do.”
I tried not to
smile, but I couldn’t help it. “As long as we’re done by noon. I do have
some things I have to do today.”
“Like what?”
“I have to sort
through some more s Phone blue ideas for the upcoming campaign. Mr.
Barnes wants us to pick a favorite by Monday and that’s going to take a
miracle...”
“Speaking of
which, why do you hate your job?”
“Telling the
CEO why I hate my job? I don’t think so.”
“I won’t take it
personal.” He motioned for me to start walking beside him. “I really want to
know.”
“No you don’t.”
I laughed.
“Tell me.”
I sighed. “In a
nutshell: the employee benefits suck, cars should never be towed off the lot, directors
should be allowed at least fifteen hours overtime a month, and working two
years just to be eligible for one week of vacation? That’s ridiculous. Oh, and
what’s the point in offering free coffee if there’s hardly ever any, and when
there is, it tastes like shit? Just don’t offer any and save your money. And
don’t get me started on that motivational idiot who made us put beanbags in our
offices and gave us “Zen” journals. I could’ve given you a much better way to
spend two million dollars.”
Jonathan stopped
walking and looked down at me, right into my eyes. He was quiet for a long
time, and then he burst into laughter. “Are you always this blunt?”
“You asked for
the truth.”
“I think I’ve
learned my lesson.” He smiled and started walking again.
I thought he
would ask me more questions, or that I would feel compelled to
Once I crossed
the five mile marker, I stopped and held my knees. I heard Jonathan slightly
panting next to me.
“Most women I
know can’t run one mile without stopping, let alone five...” He sounded
impressed. “Have you always been a runner?”
“Hell no.” I
sank down to the ground and stretched my legs. “I used to hate running...I’ve
only been doing it for the past four years. How long have you been running?”
“All my life.”
He slid his shirt over his head, revealing a sweaty set of washboard abs. He
sat down next to me. “It’s one of the few things I’m very good at.”
There seemed to
be a double meaning behind his words, and a part of me wanted to ask him to
explain it, but I remembered the speech I’d given myself earlier. I didn’t need
to pry into his personal life because I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
I cleared my
throat. “Oh...Well that sounds very—”
“How old are
your daughters, Claire? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Sixteen.”
“They’re twins ?” He raised his eyebrow. “Are they identical?”
I nodded. “Yeah,
I couldn’t really tell them apart until they were three. That’s when they
started developing their own little personalities and—”
Whoa. Overshare.
Stick to basic information...
“You plan on
ever finishing that sentence?” He smiled.
I didn’t
respond. Between the beads of sweat that were trickling down his sculpted
chest, his gorgeous eyes, and that ‘I-know-damn-well-you-want-me’ smile, I was
trapped.
I slowly stood
up and dusted the dirt off the back of my pants. “Um...we should probably head
back now. I think we should run again.”
“So you won’t
have to talk to me?”
Yes.
“No, that’s not
it. I’m sure you have a million other things you could be doing right now so—”
“Not at all. I
cleared my whole morning for you.”
Damnit...
“That was...” I
looked away from him. “That was very nice of you, but I only have time for a
run so—”
“Claire, you
told me you were free last night, and I’m pretty sure nothing has changed
between two a.m. and now. You and I are on a date , which means that
since we’re not getting lunch or dinner, we are going to walk back together .
Then our “miserable” date that I apparently forced you to come on will
end, and you can pretend like you actually have some work to do.”
I tried not to
smile, but I couldn’t help it. “As long as we’re done by noon. I do have
some things I have to do today.”
“Like what?”
“I have to sort
through some more s Phone blue ideas for the upcoming campaign. Mr.
Barnes wants us to pick a favorite by Monday and that’s going to take a
miracle...”
“Speaking of
which, why do you hate your job?”
“Telling the
CEO why I hate my job? I don’t think so.”
“I won’t take it
personal.” He motioned for me to start walking beside him. “I really want to
know.”
“No you don’t.”
I laughed.
“Tell me.”
I sighed. “In a
nutshell: the employee benefits suck, cars should never be towed off the lot, directors
should be allowed at least fifteen hours overtime a month, and working two
years just to be eligible for one week of vacation? That’s ridiculous. Oh, and
what’s the point in offering free coffee if there’s hardly ever any, and when
there is, it tastes like shit? Just don’t offer any and save your money. And
don’t get me started on that motivational idiot who made us put beanbags in our
offices and gave us “Zen” journals. I could’ve given you a much better way to
spend two million dollars.”
Jonathan stopped
walking and looked down at me, right into my eyes. He was quiet for a long
time, and then he burst into laughter. “Are you always this blunt?”
“You asked for
the truth.”
“I think I’ve
learned my lesson.” He smiled and started walking again.
I thought he
would ask me more questions, or that I would feel compelled to
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