Free After the Kiss by Lauren Layne

featuring an image of herwith a sweat-stained crotch.
    Just when she was about to cry, she saw Mitchell just a few feet ahead. Well, it
looked
like a few feet. It felt more like a mile or five.
    She told her body to kick into high gear for those last steps with her head held high, but who was she kidding? If there had been a wagon nearby, she’d have fallen into it and begged a homeless man to push her to the nearest hospital.
    Julie finally reached him in all of his shiny, reflective gear and slumped onto the bench beside him. He handed her a water bottle and a hot dog.
    She took several long swallows of the icy water before ripping open the foil and digging into the dog. He’d put relish on it, which she hated, but at this point he could have put maple syrup on the damned thing and she’d have eaten it.
    “Nothing has ever tasted this good. Never,” she said with a full mouth. “How many calories do you think I burned? Two thousand?”
    Mitchell nodded toward an elderly couple sitting on the bench across from them. “Seeing as they passed you about a half mile back, I’d say you burned around fifty.”
    She guffawed, not caring that the tiniest bit of hot dog bun flew out. She was long past being her best around Mitchell Forbes. “They did not. That woman has a walker.”
    “Well, maybe we should get you one of those,” he said, patting her knee. “Or perhaps we could get you a big dog and Rollerblades and you can hitch a ride that way.”
    She swallowed the last bite of her hot dog and eyed his remaining half greedily. He caught her glance and deliberately took a huge bite.
    Julie sighed and settled for the water. Her breathing had slowed slightly, although now she felt vaguely sick. Come to think of it, none of her fitness magazines had ever suggested that scarfing down a hot dog within seconds of almost dying of heatstroke was a good idea.
    “You’re not wearing your glasses,” she said, noticing for the first time.
    He shook his head and dusted hot dog bun crumbs off his fingers. “I don’t like to run with them on.”
    “So you run blind? Surely we could find you a nice pair of goggles to go with the rest of your spacesuit.”
    “I have contacts.”
    “Why don’t you wear them all the time?”
    He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I find the ladies like the glasses.”
    “It’s not the glasses they like,” she replied distractedly. “It’s the eyes.”
    His smile faltered, and she blushed as she realized what she’d said. “Don’t get too excited. It’s about the only thing you have going for you.”
    He grinned and looked away.
    “So,” Mitchell said, crumpling up his foil and plucking hers out of her hand, “wanna do it again next weekend? I was thinking that we could start a little earlier and get a long run in.”
    A
long
run? What the hell did he think they’d just endured?
    “You know what
I
think?” she purred. “I think you should run with someone more your own speed. Maybe the U.S. Olympic track team.”
    “Oh, come on. You didn’t enjoy it even a little bit? All this fresh air, the burn, and the endorphins?”
    Julie rolled her eyes for his benefit, but to tell the truth, now that she was halfway convinced she wasn’t going to die, she did feel … good. And the park was beautiful—no matter how many times she came up to Central Park, which wasn’t often enough, she never failed to marvel at the peaceful green oasis in the middle of the hectic city. Of course, usually she preferred
walking
through it.
    “So you and Evelyn,” she heard herself saying. “You guys did the whole Sunday jog-and-hot-dog routine too?”
    Mitchell snorted. “Evvy wouldn’t touch a hot dog. But we did run together every weekend. Although she wouldn’t be sitting here afterward. Said she didn’t like lounging in her own sweat.”
    Julie sat up slightly. She hadn’t given a thought to how awful she must look right now. Her once perky ponytail was now completely damp with sweat, and she