Running from Love: A Story for Runners and Lovers (27 page)

“What did you say?” she asked, realizing Jude had asked her something. The deep blue of his eyes had distracted her. Along with the deep manliness of the rest of him. She shifted, crossing one thigh over the other under the table.

“I said, are you seeing someone?”

“I—am I—am I what?” she stammered, feeling her face go red.

“I was just wondering if you cut me loose because of the Big Guy remark or if there’s someone in the picture I should be worrying about?”

“I—um—there’s, well there’s—it’s not that. It’s just—”

“Okay, so there
is
someone in the picture.”

“How do you know that?” She hadn’t expected him to ask such a question.

“Let’s just say a little bird told me someone else has been giving you flowers recently.”

“I can’t prevent someone from giving me flowers,” she shot out. Seconds later it occurred to her she’d just used the same logic with Jude that he’d used on her. It sounded equally inane.

“Okay, so just fill me in on “someone” so I know where I stand.”

She stared at him, feeling her eyes go round as saucers. There was no way she wanted to talk about Will with Jude. No way. The two concepts didn’t even fit in the same room together.

“I’m not prepared to talk about it.”

“About him, you mean.”

“About my personal life.”

“Even if I’m trying to get into it?” He leaned toward her, the scent of sweat and pheromones mixed together, addling her senses.

Farrah froze. But inside her blood coursed wildly.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” he told her. “I’ll ask a question, and you just nod your head yes or no.”

She giggled. Something about Jude made her feel playful, lighthearted. She didn’t need to be on her best behavior. Neither did she have to pretend to be a snob, or struggle to win zero-sum games, point by point. She could just relax.

“Are you seeing someone now?” he began.

Unable to nod her head, she couldn’t think of how to answer. What was she doing with Will anyways? Definitely not sleeping with him. Not yet, at least. He’d come up to Riverdale a few times, and they’d gone out in the neighborhood then gone for a beer. Exactly as she was doing with Jude now. Except that it felt completely different.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. By the way, every time you don’t answer, you have to take another sip of beer.”

Again she giggled. Then lifted the glass and sipped. Hanging around with Jude was fun. Even when they were having a serious conversation. Even when she was furious with him. And even more when things had been going right. She thought back to their two dates: his fingers on the back of her neck, kissing by the Mianus River.

“Is this someone you’ve been seeing for a long time?”

She shook her head. Then she nodded it.

“Hmm. That’s one hell of a confusing answer. You need to take another sip to pay for that one.”

She drank then cleared her throat.

“Okay, here’s the deal. It’s someone I went out with a long time ago. He just showed up again recently.”

“How recently is recently?”

“Uh—about a month ago. No, maybe six weeks.”

“Okay, let’s just stick with yes or no. Did he show up before we went out?”

She nodded.

“Did you go out with him before we went out?”

She shook her head.

“Did you go out with him during the time we were seeing each other?”

“I saw him, but I didn’t go out with him. I’m not actually going out with him now. I’m—I’m—”

“You’re deciding whether to let him back into your life.”

Jude’s face was serious. This wouldn’t be a good time to give a complicated answer. Or a disingenuous one.

“Yes.” She took another gulp of beer.

“So let me ask you something. And this time, don’t answer. Just think about it.”

She nodded.

“Does he make you happy?”

“What do you mean?” It was the exact same question Marianne had asked. The same question to which she didn’t yet know the answer.

“Like I said, don’t answer. I don’t want to know.” He leaned closer, catching a curl of her hair that had come loose from behind her ear. “I just want
you
to know.”

H
E WAS IN
a tight spot. Now that he knew some other dog was sniffing around her door, he was incensed. He wanted to rush in and knock the lights out of the other guy’s head. But that wasn’t going to win Farrah’s heart. Meanwhile, she’d declined when he’d asked her out again, saying it would be too confusing. He could understand. But the point was to get his competition out of the picture as soon as possible.

The way she’d hedged when he’d asked if the other jerk made her happy had given him hope. If she’d been madly in love or 100 percent sure of what she wanted, she wouldn’t have hesitated. Instead, she’d asked “what do you mean?” as if she didn’t even know herself what a man making her happy was supposed to feel like.

That’s where he came in. Whether she’d date him or not, he would figure out a way to make her happy until she made up her mind.

Fortunately he now had a friend in her doorman. The day after their run and drink at An Beal Bocht he’d driven down to Riverdale again and dropped off another bouquet. It was a cheap one but, frankly, he was broke. Fortunately, flowers at the greengrocer in the Bronx were half the price of what they cost in Greenwich.

The other two problems were his book deadline and his need to find another place to stay over the holidays, which were fast coming up. Come to think of it, he had a lot of problems. But the way Farrah had hesitated when he’d asked if the other guy made her happy wasn’t one of them. That split second of uncertainty had hinted at a way to get back into her life.

Staring at his computer screen, he decided to reward himself for finishing his chapter by giving her a call. In a minute, he’d wrapped it up, all twenty-five pages of How to Handle Horsey Talk. One thing he’d recently learned was that it was a lot easier to handle horsey talk than relationship talk. He shut the cover of his laptop and picked up the phone.

After three rings she answered.

“Hello?” Her voice shimmied through the phone. He imagined her as a tree nymph peeking out of a tree.

“Farrah. It’s Jude.”

“Hi.” Her greeting came out like a diphthong. Nuanced, with a hopeful lift at the end, she didn’t sound altogether closed off.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what makes you happy.” He might as well hit the nail on the head.

“I told you I’m not ready to talk about my personal life.” Quickly, the tree nymph scurried back into her tree.

He re-routed fast.

“I understand. So I don’t want to talk. I want to run.”

“You what?”

“I want to run with you again. Up and down that hill.”

“You’re kidding. You didn’t look like you were enjoying it.”

“You’re right about that. I really need to do hill work. They’re my least favorite workouts.”

“Me, too. Especially the downhill slopes.”

Jude breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for running. They could talk about their favorite sport until they were blue in the face. It was a safe topic they both enjoyed, one that never got too personal. “So let’s set up a time this week to tackle that hill again.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot going on.”

“Farrah, clear the decks for one, small hill workout with me. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

As her voice tightened, he caught himself.
Hold on man. Rein it in.
“It means I’ll give you some company on your nastiest workout of the week. That’s it. Nothing more.”

“I told you I’m not ready for anything personal right now.”

“Nothing personal. Promise. Just the sheer joy of running up hills and back down them.”

She sounded as if she were choking back laughter. “Okay. How about Thursday?”

“Done. What time?”

“Is four too early?”

“Four it is. I’ll pick you up at your place.”

“Jude, as far as the flowers go, thanks, but don’t pressure me.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“It’s not?”

“Of course not. I just enjoy giving flowers to you.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yes. Hugely.” He caught himself. “But impersonally, of course.”

“Okay then, could I make a suggestion?’

“Please.”

“Orange is my favorite color.” The tree nymph’s head popped out again.

“Orange it is, my lady. Oops. I meant that impersonally of course. Not my lady as in
my
lady. I meant like any old lady.” Relationships were complicated. Especially ones that weren’t clear yet.

“Any
old
lady?” she teased.

“No!
Any
old lady,” he stammered back, wishing all of their misunderstandings could be so light.

“Any old lady it is. See you Thursday.”

“See you then.” Getting off the phone he couldn’t decide who had sounded sillier, Farrah or him. Maybe Farrah. Yet another reason he was falling for her.

“I
T’S CALLED
W
AVE
Hill,” she told him as they approached the first of the two long hills they’d run the previous weekend.

“So this is Wave Hill.” He’d heard of it. The large park overlooking the Hudson was known as a famous landmark in Riverdale. He hadn’t realized it was surrounded by a dense forest.

“This is it.” Farrah ahead, they began their ascent.

“This sucks,” Jude breathed out after a minute.

“Right. It does.”

“At least it’s pretty.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Their run was off to a good start. Jude felt confident, although he still wasn’t sure about how to keep an impersonal tone with the last person on earth he felt impersonally about. He’d ask his sister over Thanksgiving for some pointers on how to play this particular hand with the opposite sex. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him.

They spent the next few minutes focusing on getting up the hill. The weather was unseasonably warm for November, somewhere in the high sixties. After twenty minutes of running, it would feel twenty degrees warmer.

Side by side with Farrah, Jude was elated. Her running style was the diametric opposite of his. She was graceful, light on her feet. Next to her, he was a galumphing giant. What was his competition for her heart like? He imagined him as a tall, thin, wussy architect who wore eyeglasses with fancy frames. Pretending he was underfoot, he viciously stomped his head in, stride by stride.

Ahead of him, Farrah was already taking off her zippered fleece and wrapping it around her waist. He followed suit.

At the top of the first hill, she slowed down and ran in a circle, waiting for him. Something was written across her T-shirt but he couldn’t make it out. All he could catch was the word “girl” before he checked himself, averting his gaze. It wouldn’t do to stare at a woman’s chest while trying to reassure her his interest was strictly impersonal. They were just working on improving their hill work together, right?

“Ready for the next one?” she asked, looking as fresh as a spring lamb.

He loved the way she bounced in her running shoes as she waited for him. Again his eyes were drawn to the words written on her berry-colored T-shirt. “Like a girl” came into view. Not only was she like a girl—she was the embodiment of one. A womanly girl. Unlike the females he knew back in Greenwich, who were more like tiger-women packaged as Park Avenue pussycats.

“Give me a second,” he begged.

“Don’t stop moving. It’ll break your stride,” she ordered.

“Uh-huh,” he panted, circling in a slow jog then turning left to head up the next hill. For the next few minutes they ran in silence, side by side.

In a minute he felt Farrah begin to fade. His muscular legs were giving him an advantage he didn’t want. He willed her to keep up with him, slowing his pace.

“Don’t slow down for me. Go,” she puffed out.

“Come on, girl. You can do it,” he encouraged her. Ignoring her orders, he kept pace at her side. “Just take it easy and breathe.”

She nodded, struggling to keep up.

“Breathe baby, breathe.” He hadn’t meant to say “baby.” It had just slipped out.

She looked strained. Was it from the run or because he’d gotten too personal?

“Sorry. I meant it impersonally.”

“Sure you did,” she huffed out.

“You’re doing great.”

“I hate this hill.”

“Me too.”

“I hate it when I can’t keep up,” she panted.

“Why?”

She glared at him.

Something about that glare hit him in the heart. It reminded him of something he couldn’t possibly remember. He’d find out one day in heaven if his mother had a similar one, if he was lucky enough to get in.

“Why do you think?”

“Because you want to win?”

“No. I mean yes.”

“You’re really good at being confusing.”

“Thanks,” she gasped out, laboring.

“Don’t talk. It’ll save you from contradicting yourself.”

She glowered at him again. This time, he saw the phrase on her T-shirt. It said “I know I run like a girl. Try to keep up.”

He laughed aloud, his heart as warm as his body.

“You run like a girl and I
am
keeping up,” he said in a low voice, taunting her.

“Says who?” She surged ahead, passing him.

“Got your groove thing on, huh?” He heaved out behind her. A little trash-talking was good for the soul, not to mention for keeping things strictly impersonal.

“See you at the top,” she shouted.

This time, when he tried, he couldn’t catch her. But now he knew how to light a fire under her. That might be handy information under other circumstances.

In another minute, he joined her at the top, where she stood.

“That was rough,” she greeted him.

“You do this once a week?”

“Yes. When I’m not traveling.”

“Do you like traveling?” He hoped he wasn’t getting too personal.

She looked at him, a shadow crossing her face. “Not really. I mean not for business. I might like it if it were for fun.”

“You ever done any traveling for fun?”

“I’m going to California for Christmas.”

“Sounds great.” He hoped she wasn’t going there with the jerk. “Whereabouts?”