Free Of Love by Sean Michael Page A

him. He simply breathed and pushed himself through the pain, through the fatigue, his legs pumping harder, moving him faster.
    His muscles were burning, his lungs on fucking fire, but he just kept pushing and pushing. He was aware of the first person he passed, but after that, there was nothing in front of him but the finish line. Then he was crossing it, just flying by it.
    He heard loud cheering, someone chanting his name and then other people joining in. He raised his arms up, pumping the air before he started going down—he’d left everything on the racetrack.
    A bottle of water was pressed into his hand, a towel wrapped around his shoulders.
    “I’ve got you, Dex. You did so well.”
    He tried to open the bottle twice before he realized the cap was already off. Tilting the bottle, he poured the water down his throat and let Kent support him.
    His legs were like jelly. “Yeah?”
    “You amaze me.”
    Dex tried to give Kent a smile. He didn’t feel very amazing just at the moment. Kent stroked his back, touching him, petting him. He wanted to collapse, but he knew he needed to walk it out, to cool down. For his heart, for his muscles. It felt amazing, having Kent there for him.
    “How’d I place?” he asked.
    “I have no idea. I didn’t see a single person that wasn’t you.”
    He laughed breathlessly at that. “Hard one today.”
    “You did great, though. Perfect.”
    “Thanks, sweet. I’m glad you think so.” He’d worry about his time and placement later, when he had his breath back and he didn’t feel like collapsing in a heap. He knew the importance of keeping moving.
    “How can I help?” Kent asked.
    “This is great.” He was leaning on Kent as they walked, and for now that was keeping him upright. “Just gotta keep moving.”
    “You got it. Great job, by the way. You’re totally upright and moving.”
    He laughed again. “God, you make me happy, Kent.” It was the truth, the man did.
    Kent kissed his cheek, the touch featherlight. He was too tired, not to mention stinky, to return the kiss or turn it into more, but it made him smile and put a little extra into his walk. He was still a little wobbly-legged, but it was getting better.
    “More water, honey?” Kent asked.
    “Is there Gatorade?” He’d brought some, he thought.
    “Totally. You okay for me to run to the cooler?”
    “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can stand on my own now.” He was still exhausted, but his legs were going to hold him.
    “Cool. Give me two shakes.”
    He grabbed Kent’s hand and shook twice.
    “Butthead.” Kent was laughing, though, smiling at him.
    He grinned back, holding the blanket closed around him as he kept slowly moving.
    Kent brought him a drink, opened it for him. He took down about half of it in one go. He felt it hit his belly and knew it would help his recovery, even if he hated the flavor.
    “Better?” Kent was right there, supporting his shaky ass.
    “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll live.”
    “Well, good. If you died in my car, you’d start to smell.”
    Dex laughed again. “That would suck. And I’d miss out on a fancy dinner with you.”
    “See? Fancy dinner, lots of candlelight and laughing.”
    “Sounds perfect.” And give him an hour and a shower and he would enjoy it.
    “Do you need to keep walking?”
    “Yeah, and I should pick up my end-of-race packet. Then we can go back to the hotel and I’ll shower.”
    “Sounds perfect. I’ll get the cooler loaded up,” Kent offered.
    “You rock.” Dex headed for the participants’ desk, moving better already.
    One of the young men behind the desk clapped for him. “Great job, Dex. You were looking good.”
    “Thanks, Jim.”
    The young volunteer was at most of the local and semilocal runs. “Do you happen to know where I placed?”
    “You came in at 3:35. Not bad.”
    No, but not good. Dex sighed. His head had not been where it should have been for days. Honestly, he needed to get over himself. Kent had his own life and was doing