Quarantine and Chill - AMBW Standalone Romance

“Sounds good.”

“But for all people. Hugs are still important.” He stopped us by a tree and began stretching.

I went into my own stretch.

“Basically, we need four hugs a day for survival.”

“Just for survival?”

“That’s right. Basic level is four hugs.”

“Okay.”

“We need eight hugs a day for maintenance.”

“Maintenance?”

“Yep. That’s just eight hugs to remain upbeat and ready to deal with the world.” He twisted his body one way and then turned the other way. “But for true growth and pure happiness. . .”

“Okay?”

“Twelve hugs.”

“Wow. I don’t think I get twelve hugs daily, especially when I’m back in Los Angeles.”

“Get a dog. They provide therapy.”

“Good point.” I bent over and touched my toes. “And I’ve definitely hugged Ganesha a lot recently. My mood has improved.”

“So. . .” He gave me a sad smile. “You can see my dilemma.”

I rose and rolled my neck around in circles. “What dilemma?”

“I need to hug someone today. In fact, you need to hug someone too. It’s for our maintenance.” Oliver spread his arms out. “Let’s knock a few hugs out today. My immune system is tough. I don’t have the virus or anything like that.”

I grinned. “Oh no. I’m good. I’m a better safe than sorry person.”

“Well.” Disappointment covered his face. “We’re buds, so I figured I would ask.”

“Of course.” I gestured to Elisabeth. “However, don’t forget. You can get your hugs with your furry baby.”

He frowned. “You’re right.”

We finished our stretching in uncomfortable silence.

I scanned the place. Sunlight bathed the area, sprinkling through the scattered trees. Only two other people were out today, walking their dogs at a far distance.

I glanced back at Oliver.

He bent over directly in front of me with his muscular ass in the air.

You think you could have done that the other way?

I turned my attention to Ganesha. He took our moment of stretching to poop. I pulled out a bag from my fanny pack, bagged the poop, and threw it in the trash can.

“Here we go.” Oliver flexed his arms a few times. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s do it.” I smiled and started a light jog forward. Ganesha and Elisabeth followed us, wagging their tails. “Please, keep it easy on me this time. Last Monday you sprinted at the end.”

Oliver kept my pace several feet on my right. “It builds muscle.”

“I was sore for the rest of the week.”

“I can always come over and give you a massage.”

“No thank you.” I laughed. “Do you not understand that there is a pandemic happening?”

“Hey, I’m keeping my distance.”

“Where’s your mask?”

“My mouth is one of the best parts of my face, besides my eyes. I’m not covering it up.”

“Alrighty then.”

“It’s true. Don’t you think so?”

“I think you better start putting a mask on your face.”

“Anyway.” He increased our pace a little. “I am glad I have a dog. No one has wanted to come over for dinner and watch Netflix with me. I’ve been so alone.”

“It’s a deadly virus going around.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Were you tested?”

“I don’t need to be tested. I’m running. People with the virus aren’t running.”

“Some have reported no symptoms, but still had it.”

“I haven’t really heard about anybody even having this. I think some of it is. . .”

“What? A conspiracy?”

“I’m not saying this is completely fake, but you know how the news can blow things out of proportion?”

“I do, but they can’t fake people dying every day.”

“Who do you know that has had it?”

“My best friend’s mother.” My thighs burned a little as I continued jogging forward. “The singer Pink announced it. She said her son and her recovered.”

“Yeah, but did you see her sick? Maybe someone paid her.”

“Oh my God. You don’t really think that way. Right?”

“America is messed up like that. This society likes mass hysteria.”

“No way.” I shook my head. “What about Tom Hanks? He said he had it.”

“Paid.”

“Prince Charles?”

“Definitely paid.”

“And Scarface?”

“You mean Tony Montona?”

“No. Not the movie character. The rapper, Scarface. He announced it.”

“I don’t know him, but I bet he was paid too.”

I giggled. “Okay. I can’t with you right now.”

We rounded the path and sped up through a tunnel of trees. Sweat trickled down the side of my face.

Oliver sighed. “Hey, maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe.”

“I just hate this quarantine crap.”

“It hasn’t even been a week, Oliver.”

“It’s killing me.” Slowing up his jog, he turned my way. “Last night, I cried.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I think I needed a hug or something.”

“I’m. . .sorry to hear that. It’s going to be okay.”

“It will. Elisabeth licked the tears away.” Oliver sniffled and winked at her. “Dogs are good with human sadness.”

“They are.”

“After she licked my tears. . .I just started talking to her about everything.”

“Good.”

“Elisabeth doesn’t have an agenda like some chicks. She just listened.”

“O-kay.”

“Dogs are authentic.”

“And cute.” I pushed myself to maintain Oliver’s speed. “This is probably why so many use them for therapy.”

“Exactly.”

We chatted more. An hour later, the jog ended. Sweat coated my body. My thighs and calves burned. I lifted my mask and fanned my face.