A Rose in Bloom

“That’s fine. But I promise I won’t want to speed up.” Elyssa ventured one last glance at the loft before mounting the treadmill, but Jaxon’s office door remained closed.

*****

The door creaked open behind Jaxon as he slid into his desk chair.

“What're you doing?” Nate followed to lean forward with his hands on the desk, wearing an accusing glare.

“I’m doing paperwork.”

“No you’re not. You want to know what I think you’re doing?”

“Not really.”

“I think you’re hiding. You’re a big fat chicken. You’re afraid to face a girl who probably only weighs a hundred and twenty pounds.”

“I said, ‘Not really.’”

“And you know what else I think.”

“No, and I don’t care to know. But somehow I think you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“I think Shelly would kick you in the butt, if she were here.”

“That’s low, Nate. You can’t bring up Shelly. You know how close we were.”

“You’re not the only one who loved Shelly, Jaxon. You act like her suicide was your personal loss and yours alone. You may have known her longer, but we all loved her. And we all felt guilty about it, too. But you know I’m right about her. How many times did she fuss at you for sidestepping long-term relationships? She always said, ‘Avoiding love is like driving a race car at twenty miles per hour. You won’t get hurt, but you have zero chance of winning.’”

“Fine. Okay, you’re right about me. But right now I have zero chance of winning anyway. Like I told you before, she hates me.”

“Look Jaxon, she’s here. She's on your turf. You’ve got the home field advantage. Get down there and do what you do best.”

“What’s that? Are you suggesting I go flirt with her?”

“No, that won’t work. But, I watched her working out with Sadie yesterday. She lasted longer than any other first-timer I’ve ever seen. She’s a competitor, Jaxon—she hates to lose.”

“So what should I do?”

A slow smile spread on Nate’s face.

*****

If Elyssa’s muscles had been blessed with voices, their oath-filled complaints would’ve been R-rated for obscenities. Her quads, her calves, her hamstrings… every muscle in her legs protested her ongoing march on the treadmill. She waited for the easing of sore muscles promised by her aunt, but no relief came. This isn’t working. And Jaxon’s ignoring me, anyway. I might as well go back home and soak in a tubful of hot water.

She reached toward the button to stop the treadmill when a noise on the adjacent treadmill startled her. Her hand froze, millimeters from the ‘stop’ button as she turned her head slightly to view the new arrival. Jaxon. A shirtless Jaxon. A delectable, shirtless Jaxon, who seemed oblivious to her presence. He kept his eyes glued to the screen as his fingers punched the control panel, and he settled into a fast-paced walk. She strained to read the numbers on his machine… four point zero.

Without hesitation, Elyssa punched the up-arrow, matching his pace while ignoring the objection of her muscles. But the speed that produced a long-strided walk for Jaxon forced Elyssa to jog, the jostling impact causing even more discomfort. Her ponytail bounced, as a few strands of hair escaped to plaster themselves to her perspiring neck. His hand snaked forward to increase the speed to four point eight miles per hour. That’s not too fast. She matched the speed on her treadmi

ll.

But before she had time to accustom herself to the new pace, Jaxon pressed the arrow again, the new numbers indicating six miles per hour. Elyssa knew she was approaching her limit. Maybe I can keep it up for a little while. She duplicated his speed, the pain in her legs forgotten as her heart and lungs shrieked with effort. When did I get so out-of-shape?

“It’s not a race, you know. You don’t have to strain yourself.” Jaxon trotted on the treadmill with ease, apparently exerting the effort required for a Sunday stroll.

“It’s not… a strain,” she said between heavy breaths. “I can run… faster than this… I used to… play soccer.”

“No offense. I just didn’t want you to push yourself beyond where you feel comfortable.” He gave her a smug grin as he moved his fingers toward the speed control yet again. Elyssa kept what she hoped was an impassive expression plastered on her face. The numbers went up and up, finally stopping at seven point five miles per hour.

All thoughts of flirting had fled her mind, along with every ounce of sanity. She only knew she couldn’t let him ‘win’. Her finger pushed the up arrow again and again and again. At eight miles per hour, her feet flew along the track. Her chest screamed as she gasped for breath. There was no oxygen in the air. Sweat drenched her brand new workout clothes and ran in rivulets down her legs. Every part of her body was in agony. But it was worth it—she was winning. Wasn’t she?