Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Overall, it was a little over six point two miles. Which ended up being ten kilometers.
And right now, I was totally and completely regretting having fucking pizza for lunch.
I was tasting the sauce as I put on a burst of speed when I saw the football team.
That’s why I didn’t like running when I was near them.
Because if I didn’t put on the speed, then they’d see me practically dying over here and they might have a reason to laugh.
Another reason that I put on the speed was because of fucking Symphony.
She always made a habit of being by the fence so she could yell at us words of encouragement.
Today was no different.
“Whew, Perry,” Symphony yelled. “Might want to unload that trailer when you run next.”
I narrowed my eyes and lengthened my stride, doing my best to ignore her.
“Bet your ass is regretting that pizza today, isn’t it?” Symphony asked.
I hated her.
And, worse, she was on the cross-country team with us.
Then, if that wasn’t bad enough? She was just as fast at it as I was, so on the days that cheerleading didn’t interfere with cross-country, she came to practices and made my day—or continued to make it—a living hell.
I was thankful when I finally made it back to the gym.
Not thankful when I saw the look on Flo and Tempy’s faces.
“What is it?” I gasped, going into the tripod position with my hands on my knees, hunched over and trying to draw in more breath.
Tempy made a grumpy face.
“We’re running bleachers,” she murmured softly.
I blinked, then turned to see Coach Little staring at us with an evil grin.
It wasn’t often that we had to do more work after a long run like this, but a lot of the time he did when he saw how bad we’d eaten that day.
He was a staunch supporter in fueling your body with what made it run the best. And now that I thought about it, I had seen him come in with a couple of other coaches and glance at our table.
Shit.
“Fuck,” I muttered darkly.
Tempy snorted.
Blue groaned and fell onto the grass face first.
I snickered and walked up to the water cooler, my eyes going to the football field briefly when I did.
I looked over and saw Alero standing on the side of the field looking extremely pissed off and very unhappy.
I wondered if that was because of the new guy, but before I could look more into it, the rest of our group arrived and Coach Little led us to the bleachers.
“I want ten sets of cross-country bleachers,” he said to all of us. “Once you’re done with that, you can go home.”
I grimaced and looked at the bleachers as if they were spawns of Satan.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, then started up the bleachers.
Though Tempy and Flo were faster than me at runs, I had more raw power in my legs, meaning that the bleachers were definitely part of my territory.
That’d been why I went first.
By the time I was running down the other side all the way across the stands, nobody was in sight of me.
Nobody but one particular guy staring me down from across the field.
Which, of course, was when I tripped.
I cursed and pushed myself up, moaning when I saw the blood dripping down the length of my shin.
When I next looked up, it was to see Banner standing at the gate holding out a set of towels.
“Here,” he said.
I took them, pressing it against the blood.
When he went to hop over the partition that separated the bleachers from the fence, I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“No, I’m fine,” I said as I waved him off. “Thanks for the towel.”
Then I started to run again, tossing the bloody towel into the trash on my way.
The next time I came down the opposite end, I firmly kept my eyes in front of me.
Which made me quite sad seeing as Banner in all his shirtless glory was a sight to be seen.
***
“Here you go,” the trainer said, handing me a couple of big Band-Aids.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking them from her.
She handed me a stack of paper towels that were slightly damp and sent me on my way.
I surreptitiously ignored one man that was so close that I could almost reach out and touch him, instead keeping my eyes on the others of my team.
When I got there, I plopped myself down and groaned into my hands.
Blue laughed.
I looked out over the field again, seeing Banner rearing back to throw the football, and nearly swallowed my tongue.
“So my mom and everybody were talking the other day,” I said, panting lightly. “About sweatpants season. And although logically I knew what they were talking about, I just didn’t ‘get it.’ You know?”
“Dear sweet baby Jesus,” Tempy breathed.
“Dude,” Blue breathed. “That’s… when did they start wearing sweatpants to football practice?”