Physics held my attention for a while; at least until nearly noon. One of my strong subjects, I made sure I covered all the notes and pages I’d flagged to study. But I’d had enough, and after I’d lifted my phone a hundred times, just to make sure I hadn’t missed a quiet vibrating message from Brax, I packed my stuff up and left.
Now I was getting worried. A sick feeling gnawed at my insides as I crossed the campus. Still overcast and gray out, the rain had slowed to a barely-there drizzle when I entered my dorm. The moment my eyes rested on my bed, visions of Brax and I from the night before flooded me. But he’d been gone by morning, and I hadn’t heard from him since. I dropped my pack on the floor, next to his duffle, then plopped down on my bed. I stared at my hands, recalling how I’d touched him, how he’d felt against my skin.
I was driving myself nuts.
Deciding I couldn’t just sit around the dorm and pace, I yanked off my jeans and boots, trading them for running shorts and a tee shirt. The common room was empty, save for one girl who sat reading a novel on the sofa, and I pushed out of the door and started up the sidewalk at a fast pace. Fast, in hopes of out-running the fear now digging at me. The drizzle falling didn’t deter me; it actually kept my mind occupied as I ran along Main Street, circling the observatory, and skirting the park. It felt good to make my muscles burn, so I kept going, until I found myself at the sports complex. I wasn’t surprised to find it desolate; it was a rainy, dreary, Saturday afternoon. People were holed up in their apartments, their dorms, their houses. Watching TV. Studying. Painting their nails. Gearing up for Saturday night parties. So where was he?
Deciding to circle the complex, I began a quick-paced run around the walkway. No one was out; the complex was deserted. Only me, the crazy one, had decided running in the rain was a great idea. By now my hair was sopping wet, the heavy braid bouncing off my backside like a soakened hemp rope, and the faster I ran, the deeper my lungs burned. I ran for over two hours; my skin was slick from rainwater, my clothes drenched. Finally, I stopped beneath the mammoth cottonwood tree close to the ball diamond, pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had one message, and it was from Mom. Hey, sweetie, I miss you. Give me a call when you get a chance. Xoxo
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I took off, this time leaving campus. I ran through the main entrance and turned toward town and just … kept running. Few cars were out and about, and the rain continued to fall in light sheets that left me soaked to the bone. I didn’t care. Something was wrong; I could feel it. I swear I could.
My Nikes smacked the wet concrete as I ran past an old white wooden church, its spire jabbing the heavily clouded sky. I turned onto the side street, circled around, made my way back to campus. I was jogging along the run path at Rigley Commons, the park where Brax had kissed me by the fountain, when his voice jolted me from behind.
“Gracie, wait up.”
I spun around, and the moment my eyes rested on Brax, relief washed over me. I hurried off the path toward him where he stood beside the massive fountain, and I couldn’t help the grin that took over my face. “Hey, you. Where’d you—Brax, good Lord!”
I stopped in front of him, where he stood motionless at the fountain, and I inspected him closely. Shock and fear tore at my insides as I took in his busted and bleeding eyebrow, cut lip, and white tee shirt splattered with blood. More blood stained the front of his jeans. When I looked at his fists, I saw they were busted up and bleeding, too. He wouldn’t look at me. “What happened?”
It was then, when Brax’s eyes finally lifted to meet mine, that I felt it. Like someone just suckerpunched me in the gut. “We gotta talk, Gracie.” His voice was edgy. Strained. So not Brax.
I stared at him then, through the lightly falling drizzle, and my insides clenched. “What is it?”
He wouldn’t touch me; wouldn’t even come close to me. A good three feet separated us. Fear kept me frozen in place as I waited. He looked away first, to some unknown point, then lowered his gaze to the ground. Then slowly, to me. I felt the change in his character just as surely as I would a shift in temperature.
“This won’t work.”
Disbelief shocked the breath right out of my lungs. I could do nothing but stare. No way had I heard him correctly. “What won’t work?”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and glanced away. He grasped the back of his neck with both hands. “You and me, it won’t work.” He looked at me then. “You’re a nice girl, but I don’t do relationships, Gracie. Especially nice girl ones. Never have.”