Free Hardcore: Volume 1 by Staci Hart Page A

hot he achieved was effortless.
    “You gonna be good in jeans and boots?”
    I pulled the denim on my thigh and let it go. It popped back into place with a snap. “High Lycra content. And I’ve run in those boots more times than I can count.”
    “All right. Let’s hit it.”
    I followed him through his living room, and my eyes found the painting, reminding me what had brought me there. I split off and stopped in front of it. It was nearly as tall as I was with display lights shining down on it from the ceiling.  
    “This looks like a Rothko.”
    Van stopped and walked back to me. “That’s because it is.”
    My heart sank with the realization I’d been hoping it was fake or copycat. “These are worth millions, Van.”
    He stepped behind me, so close that I could feel him, even though he didn’t touch me. “My accountant called it an investment, but I just saw it as an excuse to own a Rothko. I don’t know what it is about his paintings, exactly. It’s not complicated, shows no great artistic skill, at least not to most people. But the skill is in how it makes you feel. When I look at this, I know what Rothko felt when he painted it. Like he somehow put a piece of himself into this, his pain and joy, and it’s made him immortal.”
    Everything I felt washed over me like black water. I tried to tamp down my emotions before I was swept away, but there was nothing to hold on to. I took a deep breath.
    “It’s beautiful.”
    He kissed my hair and grabbed my hand. “Come on.” He towed me out the front door, carefree and easy, and I was grateful to be behind him where he couldn’t see my face while I struggled to keep it together.  
    I followed him to the stairwell, and he glanced back at me, flashing a smile before he took off running up the stairs. I mimicked as he vaulted over the handrail at each turn, taking the steps two at a time until we broke out onto the roof. He didn’t stop, just ran for the end of the building and jumped, disappearing over the edge.
    I didn’t hesitate when I reached the ledge, just jumped at the same angle he did, spotting the roof on the way down. I rolled when I hit the ground and found my feet. He was up ahead of me, running backwards with a smile, and he sprang into a backflip with a whoop when I realized I’d jumped without thinking, trusted his skill enough that I could take a leap of faith. It wasn’t even conscious.
    What the fuck is happening to me?  
    I pushed it all down and concentrated on my body, feeling my muscles expand and contract as I vaulted over a duct, then slid under another. As I skidded, I flipped and switched back to vault the ducts again, tricking, holding poses over each one before landing with a soft thump and veered to follow Van. He hung off the side of an adjacent building by one hand with his bicep and lat stretched out like a wing, his body propped by his feet as he watched me with an air of appreciation. I found holds easily as I climbed to meet him, and he took off again, hauling himself over the edge of the roof.  
    I chased him across a series of bare rooftops with my mind racing. As separate as I’d been for my entire life, Van was connected. He knew what he wanted, what made him happy, and he filled his life with it. I didn’t know if I’d ever really been that free. I thought I understood what life was, but Van … Van was living in a way I didn’t know existed in the context of real life. He was a hot match in a cold, dark room. Being near him was like being able to see for the first time.
    Erin was wrong. I couldn’t get him out of my system in a night. I didn’t want to go back into the dark alone. Not yet.

    I hauled myself over the stone ledge panting, feeling my pulse in my neck, fingers, legs as I sucked in air with burning lungs. I hadn’t run so hard since the night on the roof, and even that was different, no tricking, just straight up running. Both nights brought me to the same conclusion.
    Van was incredible.
    He