Noah

"Quit whining." I smirked as I attached my phone to the elastic band around my arm. "You think I'm enjoying this? I'm fucking suffering. But I know it's good for us, and as soon as it becomes a routine, we'll be moping if we don't get to run first thing in the morning."

"I highly doubt that," he muttered and slipped into his shorts. "And stop calling it morning. I like mornings. This isn't it."

I rolled my eyes.

*

As had become normal once I'd found out Julian smoked, he lit one up as soon as we came out of our building. And this morning, I wasn't having it. I grabbed it and stubbed it out.

He scowled.

"You said you'd been tryin' to quit," I reminded him.

"Yeah, and then my family died."

I didn't reply as I stuck one of the earbuds into my ear. He had a point, and I hadn't been a saint, but we had to move on, yeah? So if I could at least help him smoke less, it was good enough for now.

"Come on." I jerked my chin, and then we were jogging down the street toward the beach. It would be an uphill battle on the way home, and I was planning to make it a race.

Julian kept a few paces behind me, a fan of complaining, which I just thought was fun. He'd be sold soon enough.

Once we were warmed up, I went a bit faster, enjoying the burn in my legs. I didn't know I'd missed it until this week. Getting the blood pumping, heart racing. I felt more energetic with each day that passed, and I was getting ready for more. Namely, work.

I'd read Tennyson's script. Of fucking course, it was brilliant. He wouldn’t have decided to back an entire project for anything less.

They were coming home today, too. They'd spent a week in Vancouver, all of them, and then Tennyson and Sophie had taken their two runts on a vacation to Hawaii. Tonight we were having dinner with them, and I was looking forward to getting Tennyson's thoughts on the script.

It was the kind of project you went all in for, and it was supposed to take place in Paris. For authenticity, it made sense to film it there too, but that required a lot of fucking green.

Like I'd already mentioned, this was a huge deal. I'd been comfortable in my role as the assistant director. But I'd be a liar if I said I didn't wanna go for it. Several buddies in the industry, Tennyson among them, had told me to try.

"No more detours, man," Julian panted. "Let's hit the beach."

Looking over my shoulder, I saw he was sweating and struggling to keep up. Fair enough. I made a turn in the next cross section, and it only took us a few minutes to reach the running path.

The sky above the mountains was glowing orange and purple.

As we approached the gym farther down the beach, I slowed and checked my watch. We were good on time. Juiceheads wouldn’t be arriving until much later. After that, the beach gyms were useless.

"I need to lie down," Julian gasped.

"That’s fine." I didn't stop until I reached the bars where I could do chin-ups. "We're racing home today, so you rest while I exhaust myself."

He'd already collapsed on a bench. "That’s one way of saying I'm ridiculously out of shape."

I chuckled and pulled off my T-shirt, using it to wipe off sweat from my hands and forehead. And with the shirt and my phone on the ground next to the bars, I grabbed on and grunted as I pulled myself up.

Julian eyed me before quickly looking away. "So why are we racing?"

One.

"Because there's a prize."

Two.

Another thing I'd learned about Julian was that he had the Collins pride. We may not be related by blood, but dammit if he hadn't inherited some of our traits anyway.

I would have to be blind not to notice how much he wanted to use the baby grand piano that had arrived last week, but evidently it was getting in the way of his frugal life.

He was already paying rent, and he didn't borrow my car without filling the tank afterward. He pitched in for food and whatnot, and if he couldn’t imagine a college student affording something, then he'd do his best to stay away from that.

He took the bus occasionally.

"Do I even wanna know?" he drawled.

I huffed out a heavy breath. Nine. My arms shook on the last one. Ten. Then I hopped down and bent over, hands supporting me on my thighs. "It's about the piano." I swallowed dryly, my heart pounding. "You're supposed to play it."

"This again?"

I chuckled, out of breath, and checked my watch to set a rest for another twenty seconds. "That’s where the race comes in." I straightened up and wiped away some more sweat. "If I win, you play."