Free Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin by Mariana Zapata

I decided… that was it. I couldn’t keep going without dying.
    “Hey, hey,” I wheezed as I came to a stop.
    It took a second for him to slow down and turn around. His face was pink, perspiration dotting along his temples. “Are you all right?” he asked sounding just slightly out of breath.
    I was sucking in air through my nose raggedly as I nodded, pressing a hand flat to the part of my stomach that was the most deprived of air. “I can’t… I need to stop.”
    Those gray-blue eyes swept over me for a second as I stood there, one hand on my hip, the other over my belly button. My loose shorts were clinging to my legs and my shirt was definitely plastered to me. Then there were the pit stains. I didn’t even want to think about the pit stains and the damp spots on my shorts. Whatever. Who cared. Sacha saw me after the show was over every night when my mascara was runny and I smelled like week-old socks. Plus, it wasn’t like I was trying to get a boyfriend or anything.
    “I don’t… run… for distance,” I panted.
    He took a big visible inhale through his nose and nodded. “That’s okay.”
    “You… can keep…” I didn’t think I was out of shape but apparently, I was. “You can keep going,” I rushed out. “I can get back by myself.”
    Sacha shot me a look as he moved closer to the side of the building to get out of pedestrian traffic. “No. I’ll walk back with you.”
    “Walk back?” That came out sounding as panicked as it was meant to. “The entire way?”
    “Yeah.”
    All I could do was stare at him. Did he not know I was on the cusp of death?
    The sheer terror on my face earned me a laugh from the tall man. “I’m fucking with you. Let’s walk a little, and then we’ll catch a ride back.”
    “If… I… wasn’t so…”
    He grinned, cutting my threat off. “Let’s go. Are you hungry?”
    I nodded.
    “Want to get something to eat?”
    I managed to nod again.
    We walked for almost twenty minutes in silence, taking our time. I was still too out of breath to talk so I focused on calming down. Eventually Sacha hailed a cab and we both climbed in.
    It was the choked laugh from the other side of the backseat that had me turning my attention toward him. He was sitting with his back to the corner, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna live?”
    “Barely.”
    His eyebrows went up as he smiled even wider. “You went a lot further than I thought you would.”
    Wait a second.
    “Julian and I usually only do five miles,” he explained.
    I stared at him; there could be no other way to describe what I did besides maybe referring to it as a glare. I sat there with my chest expanding and retracting while still trying to recuperate, processing what the hell had just come out of his mouth. “Are you joking?”
    He shook his head.
    I kept my gaze on him for a brief second longer, extended my middle finger against my thigh in plain view and turned to face out the window.
    Sacha laughed.
    Okay, I smiled. A little but not much.
    Neither one of us said a word until he instructed the driver to drop us off at the end of a block that didn’t look particularly familiar. “This place is pretty good,” he noted pointing at a decorated glass door as we climbed out of the cab after fighting over how to pay the fee.
    I still wasn’t on speaking terms with him, though I’d caught my breath and followed him inside the restaurant, which wasn’t as cool as I would have liked. The smell of roasted chicken made my stomach growl.
    He raised his eyebrows at me from the other side of the table after a waitress brought two glasses of water over. “Still mad at me?” he asked.
    I narrowed my eyes at him as I took a sip, taking in how he still looked relatively put together and not at all like he’d tackled eight miles half an hour ago. “You run marathons, don’t you?”
    “Nah.” He put the glass to his lips, but I could still catch a glimpse of the corners of his mouth.