Free In Her Eyes by Wesley Banks

their back while the trainer pushed their straightened leg towards them. She had to admit, they were unbelievably flexible.
    Several more minutes went by and the field was quickly emptying. Two student managers were stacking orange cones and picking up small orange disks off the ground, but there was only one group of runners still at practice, and Ben wasn’t one of them.
    One of the female trainers walked off the field with a runner towards the glass doors that led to the training facility. The girl waved at Casey as she passed and Casey waved back. The girl’s name was Megan and she was one of Nikki’s friends. She looked down at her phone again: 7:03 p.m.
    The sun was starting to quickly fall below the bleachers on the east side of the field, directly across from where she sat. Casey stood up and stuffed her phone back into the small pouch on the outside of her purse. This was a bad idea anyways, she thought.
    She was already halfway down the bleacher steps when a group of runners entered the stadium from the back side, caddy corner to where she was now. They were too far away to see their faces, but she was sure the runner in the front left was Ben. She couldn’t describe how she knew, she just knew.
    They crossed over the track in a matter of seconds and stopped in the dead center of the infield. The glass doors behind Casey opened again and a young girl came walking out with a green six-bottle carrier in each hand. The orange and white Gatorade logo was etched across all of them.
    When she looked back towards the field, most of the guys were walking around with their hands tucked behind their heads. They were likely told their entire running lives that doing this expands their lungs so they can breathe easier. The problem with that line of reasoning is that it really isn’t getting the oxygen in that is the problem. Heavy breathing during running is more of a function of getting the carbon dioxide out.
    One point for doctors, zero points for runners, Casey thought with a smile.
    Her smile quickly faded when she looked to the left of that group to two guys standing upright, one of which was pointing directly at her. It was Ben and Parker.
    Why am I nervous? I came to see him, not the other way around.
    Ben started jogging towards her and she realized again that she had no clue what she was going to say.
    He pulled up about ten feet from her and started walking. He was wearing blue nylon shorts with a short runners slit on the side, matching Nike shoes that looked about two sizes too small, and no shirt.
    He wasn’t drenched, but a sheen of sweat covered his body. The muscles in his legs flexed as he took each step. She knew his body was likely experiencing active hyperemia, an increase in organ blood flow during increased metabolic activity. Casey tried to shut off the doctor part of her brain, but she couldn’t.
    She could easily make out his vastus medialis, vastus lateralis, and rectus femoris as he moved. Her eyes moved up towards his stomach, and his shorts were pulled just slightly below his waist and she could see the tightness in his illiopsoas. Finally the girl in her took over and what it all boiled down to is he had an unbelievably gorgeous body.
    Casey hadn’t moved from a row about halfway down the bleacher steps, so when Ben stopped, he was a couple feet below her. He rested his arms on the mid-rail and looked up at her.
    Instead of her eyes meeting his, they moved down towards his lips, and a tingling sensation shot up her body. She could still feel the duality of the warmth and coolness from his lips that night he kissed her.
    “I’m sorry, but there’s no visitors allowed at practice,” Ben said completely expressionless.
    Casey suddenly felt incredibly stupid. I can’t believe I let Candy talk me into this. Without saying anything, she turned and started walking down the stairs. She should have known by the fact that no one else was standing around watching that visitors weren’t allowed.