He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind the past few weeks.
“You know that feeling, when you start to see something in a different light?” he asked her one day, during lunch. Ironically, he had no one else to discuss the matter with but the lady in question, since they were best of friends.
She poked at her food. He could almost swear she was trying not to look at him – but then again with women, he could never really be sure. “Something, or someone?”
A nervous laugh. “What makes you think it’s a someone?” Oops. He swore viciously inside his head. Did he just give himself away?
She shrugged. “Just asking.” Finally she looked at him. “But, yeah, I get that. I used to feel that way about running. It was pretty fun, and then the more we did it, the more it… well, you know, one day I realized I just really liked it.”
Oh, you have no idea.
He slowly exhaled, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he’d been holding his breath as she spoke.
“So what’s really bothering you?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I’m not sure how to explain it.” He took a page from her book, averting his gaze and poking at his food. “Well, I guess if we use the running scenario… what’s next? Do we take it up a notch and start training for marathons? Or do we just keep running, the way we’re used to? Option 2’s awfully tempting. Because what if we don’t really like running that much after all, or if things just don’t work out, or-”
“Or what if we stop clinging to the notion of safety and actually give the marathon a try?” She folded her arms and grinned at him smugly from across the table. “Option 1’s riskier, but you know what they say. Fortune favors the brave.”
He stared into her eyes, and even though the cafeteria was noisiest at lunchtime, the silence between them was deafening – it was so loud, he could hear his heart banging on the walls of his chest.
But in those few precious seconds they came into some sort of understanding.
“When do we start?” he asked, smiling.
She gave him the same smile in return. “Dinner?”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.