(Scout)
Holy.
Shit.
My heart is beating so hard and so fast I have some genuine concern that it may explode. I don't know where that came from. The argument. My admission. The attraction. It all came out of nowhere and even though Gustov's gone back outside, I'm still reeling. I can still feel the heat of his body against mine. I can still see the passion in his eyes. I can still feel the need tingling through me. The heat spreading. I've never experienced anything like that before. It was undeniable and irrational lust.
I need to go for a run and clear my head.
Friday, August 11
(Gus)
There's a sticky note on my door when I wake up. Marathon is tomorrow. Audrey and I are leaving at 7:00AM if you want to come.
That's an unexpected invitation. I know it must have taken a lot for her to write that note, especially after our encounter last weekend.
And if she's willing to invite me, I guess I'm willing to accept.
Besides, I need to get out of the house.
Saturday, August 12
(Scout)
I ran my first marathon today. I wasn't fast, but I feel a sense of accomplishment that I don't think I've ever felt before. I pushed myself preparing for it. Running started as a nothing more than a way to cope with everything this past spring. It was an escape, a distraction, a way to block out life. But it turned into a way to prove a point to myself that I was strong.
I am strong. Physically, I'm strong.
Mentally, well, that's another story.
But today during the race, every time I was struggling and I felt like I was ready to give up, Audrey and Gustov would pop up along the route and cheer me on. No one's ever cheered me on like that. So enthusiastically. Not for anything. It was the encouragement I needed for the mental part of this game to keep up with the physical game.
I don't know if I'll ever run another marathon. I feel like I've gained so much perspective today. I'll never stop running, but this goal has been conquered. Now I can continue running, for me. Just for me. Because it reminds me that I'm strong. In every way, I'm strong and getting stronger.
I thanked Audrey before heading to bed.
I tried to thank Gustov, but his bedroom door was shut. I know he was inside because I could hear music playing—the blues, something bone deep sad and emotional. I didn't want to knock, so I left a sticky note instead. Thanks for coming today. I don't think I would've finished without you guys. I feel like a barrier is slowly lifting between us. Even when our interaction isn't so positive, there's always something to gain as far as insight into how he ticks. There's a struggle deep within both of us, but after today, everything feels a little lighter. I saw him grin more today than I've ever seen. It's a small step, but it was real.
Saturday, August 19
(Gus)
The doorbell is ringing. It's been ringing for a couple of minutes. Jesus, can no one else in this house answer the door? I'm tired and I'm hungover. I don't want to get out of bed. I shoot a peek at the clock on my nightstand. Nine-fifty. Guess I should get up. The doorbell rings again, as if to second the motion.
After I put on some shorts, I head for the front door. The shades are drawn and the whole house is dark. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with the heel of my hand, I open the door. I'm met with blinding sunlight and it's way too damn bright for my current state. I squint my eyes and hold my hand up to shield my eyes from the glare that's taunting my receding state of drunkenness. I blink my eyes, adjusting to the brightness, and realize that whoever is standing before me hasn't said a word. I slowly draw my hand away from my face to reveal a man standing before me. I squint again to take him in. He's manicured and styled in that I'm-a-douchebag-rich-fuck kind of way: expensive suit, matching tie, shiny shoes, perfect hair, and glistening white teeth straight out of a toothpaste commercial. He still hasn't spoken a word, but his ego precedes him. He projects it out in front of him like a warning. Or an accolade. I'm tempted to shut the door in his face. Instead, I talk to him. "What can I do you for, buddy?" I ask, laying on the sarcasm. Truth be told, I couldn't care less who he is.
He clears his throat and the self-important voice that always accompanies a cocky douchebag answers. "I'm looking for Scout MacKenzie."
I eye him hard. I don't know who he is, but I'm not getting a good vibe from him. "What do you want with her?"
He smirks and if it's possible I dislike him even more for his bold, pretentious manner. "Scout and I are old friends. I was in town and wanted to say hi."
For two seconds I consider shutting the door on him again, but then I question him instead. "She know you're stopping by?"
He shakes his head and the smirk slips before it's replaced by a wolfish grin. "No. I thought I would surprise her."
I don't like this guy and for some reason I don't want him looking for Impatient. I don't want her to want him looking for her. I need to go back to bed and start this day over. I sigh. "Hold on. I don't know if she's home. Lemme go check," I shut the door on him and finish my sentence. "Dick."
Just then Impatient walks into the room. She's dressed for her morning run. I motion over my shoulder. "Door's for you."
Her eyebrows knit together. "For me?"
I nod and sidestep her so she can answer the door this time and I can remove myself from the situation. But I don't leave the room. I know I should give her privacy, but with the alarms this guy's already set off, I'm not leaving her alone with him. I stand out of sight, but within earshot.
When she opens the door she gasps. It's not fear. It's shock. "Michael?"
Fucking Michael. Ex-boyfriend-call-out-his-name-when-she's-on-the-verge-of-an-orgasm fucking Michael.
"Hi, angel." His salutation is smarmy and way too smooth, like it's been rehearsed. She isn't buying this, is she?
"Hi." She doesn't return his enthusiasm.
One point to Scout. Zero points to fucking Michael.
"How'd you find me?"
I instinctively take one step closer. I didn't like the sound of that at all.