Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 202638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1013(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 675(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1013(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 675(@300wpm)
‘Good morning.’ he chirps, and I screw my face up in disgust at his cheery, break of dawn happiness.
‘Please don’t make me.’ I plead, pulling my most solemn face.
‘Up you get.’ He grabs my hand with his good one and pulls me into a sitting position. I make a big display of moaning in repulsion at his idea of starting the day, and then nearly start crying when he presents me with my freshly laundered running kit that he, so generously, bought me.
‘I want sleepy sex,’ I complain. ‘Please.’
He hoofs me off the bed and draws my lace knickers down my legs before tapping my ankles to lift. ‘It will do you good.’ he states firmly.
It’s all right for him. He runs stupid distances on a daily basis. I’m more of a quick few miles girl when I feel the need to shift a few pounds. ‘Hey! Are you trying to tell me something?’ I narrow my eyes on his crouched form before me.
He rolls his eyes and signals for me to lift my foot so he can get me into my Little Miss knickers. ‘Shut up, Ava. If anything, you’re too slim at the moment.’ he scolds me. He’s right, I am.
I let him dress me in my shorts, vest top and trainers. ‘This is torture.’ I grumble.
‘Go brush your teeth.’ He slaps my bum, and I head off into the bathroom, dragging my feet and rolling my head back to make a point of my disgruntled mood.
I clean my teeth, locate a hair bobble from my bag and make my way down the stairs to find him at the front door waiting for me. ‘I’m just a hindrance.’ I moan as I scrape my hair into a ponytail. He’ll be much quicker without me, and I’ll get an extra hour and a half in bed. ‘I’ll never do the full fourteen.’
He takes my hand and leads me out of the penthouse and into the elevator. ‘You’ll never be a hindrance to me, I like having you with me.’ He punches in his code and we descend to the foyer. I love being with him too, but not at five in the morning and running around London.
‘You need to get that code changed.’ I remind him.
He looks at me, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I could slap him for being so wide awake and alert. ‘Nag.’ he mouths, and it’s at that point I elect not to remind him again.
We emerge into the dawn sunlight to birds chirping and the hum of delivery vans – the same sounds I recognise from my previous punishing pre-dawn torture session.
I start to stretch before any instruction from Jesse, and he smiles as he watches me, at the same time carrying out his own muscle sweep. I want to be a grump, but he is just too delicious in his black shorts and tight, white vest, his hair a disheveled mess on his head and his morning stubble at just the right length.
‘Ready?’ I chirp, as I bounce off toward the pedestrian gates. I punch in the exit code and start jogging towards the Thames. I feel better already.
‘Just think,’ he muses, as he joins my side and we start running steadily together. ‘We can do this together every morning.’
I cough on a sharp inhale of air. Fourteen miles every morning? I don’t think so, the mad bastard.
We jog at a steady pace, and I’m reminded of the relaxing advantages of running at this time of day. It really is very peaceful and mind cleansing. I glance up at my beautiful man every now and again in the hope that he is at least displaying some sign of fatigue. Of course, I’m sorely disappointed each time. He’s like a machine. I make a mental note to have my iPod ready for the next time he heaves me out of bed at this God forsaken hour.
We hit St James’s Park and the early morning runners come into view – all women, who start faffing with their running vests and straightening their backs. Oh yes. How many of them time their runs just right?
Jesse puts his hand up to many of them as they smile brightly and bash their fake lashes at him. I want to throw up, or trip them up. Are the fancy earphones and bum bags with pouches of energy shots loaded into them really necessary?
I feel his eyes on me, and I know he is checking to see how I’m doing. I feel okay, as it happens, but if he increases his pace, then it might be a different story.
We conquer The Green Park and make our way onto Piccadilly, passing the point at which I collapsed the last time. I glance across to the spot where I sat every morning, picking at the grass and soaking up the dew through my trousers. I can see myself there – a pasty, empty waif – a half complete woman.