CHAPTER 9

Past acquaintances

The very next day, Brandon was out there in his running shorts and a tank top. Sofia could tell he’d already been running because his shirt was dampened with perspiration.

He ran up to her as soon as he saw her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The first thing she noticed was a tattoo on his upper arm, but she didn’t say anything. Something about it being on his big, muscular, sweaty arm, made looking at it feel wrong.

Sofia still couldn’t get over how different he looked. He seemed so improved, and she was happy for him. Everyone thought he’d end up in jail, and here he was, clean-cut and looking healthier than ever. “How long you’ve been out here?”

“About an hour.”

“Really?” she said. “Wow, how much longer are you gonna be? I usually only do about an hour total.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a Marine, honey.” He wiped the sweat from his face with his big shoulder. “An hour ain’t shit. Pardon my French.”

Sofia smirked. “Yeah, but you’re practically walking.”

Brandon’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that a challenge?”

Sofia smiled and took off sprinting. She felt him closing in, and she turned it on. Sarah had been the best on the team in high school. She taught Sofia how to turn up the speed fast. She felt herself pull away. Then suddenly, Brandon started closing in on her again. She reached the park, ran into the grass, and touched a tree, the one that she’d always made her target. “I win!”

“What?” He reached it and ran past it. He slowed down and turned around, walking back toward her with his hands on his hips. “You cheated.”

“I did not!”

He bent over, putting his hands on his knees. “First of all, you didn’t even tell me we were starting, and then you invent the finish line just as I’m catching up?”

Sofia laughed, bending over to hold her knees as well, and tried catching her breath. “You’re the one that brought up the challenge.”

Brandon walked over closer to her and leaned against the tree. “Damn, you’re fast.”

~

honey.”

She straightened up and leaned against the tree. Brandon moved closer to her. “I remember.” He smiled, a little too close to her face.

Her racing heart fluttered. As much as she wanted to rest, she didn’t think standing there with him anymore was good idea. She took a deep breath. “You ready for more?”

He looked at her unbelievably. “You’re kidding me.”

“I won’t invent the finish line this time. Last one to my house is the loser.” She put her finger and her thumb to her forehead in a shape of an L.

Before he could even respond, she took off. It was a few moments before he was right behind her. This was good practice for her. She turned it on and broke away again. She was almost there, could see the gate to her backyard, when Brandon snuck up behind her. She tried to step it up, the expression on her face completely determined, but she was so exhausted and her muscles ached so badly, she couldn’t, and he came up from behind her, beating her by a foot.

Sofia slowed down, coming to a stop just a couple houses past hers. She walked back to where he was leaning against the fence. Neither could talk, they were breathing so hard. She circled around holding her sides, trying to catch her breath. Even though it was just a friendly run, it irked her. She hated losing. She glanced at him and then away. “Don’t be mad, honey.”

She had to laugh. “Whatever.”

“You almost had me.”

“Yeah, well almost isn’t good enough.” It was a struggle just getting the words out.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to sit down, so she leaned against the vinyl fence and slid down until she was sitting. Brandon came over and sat next to her. His leg touched her thigh. It was wet with perspiration, and his pinky caressed her own glistening thigh as he massaged his leg.

“You still writing?”

Sofia turned to him. “You remember?”

“Of course. I still have that piece you sent me.”

“You do?” Brandon was the first person aside from a teacher or a professor she’d ever let read anything she wrote.

She’d since let Eric read some of her stuff. But since she stopped writing for so long, she hadn’t had much to show him in years, other than her school work.

“I was really impressed.” He wiped the sweat away from his brow. “I’ll be honest. I was a little nervous it wasn’t going to be too good. But I really got into it.”

She smiled, remembering the email he sent her back. She’d been surprised herself about how eloquent he’d been when speaking of her writing. Then he admitted to writing a little poetry himself. She asked to read some and he sent her one. She didn’t really get it. She printed it out and tacked it to the small tack board in her room, determined to try to figure out the message. It was still there even after all these years, under a buns, anch of other stuff, but she hadn’t read it in a long time.

“I’ve taken a bunch of creative writing classes, so I’ve written a lot there. But only recently did I start writing again for pleasure.”

“Really?” His eyes were always so piercing, and so lash heavy, it was almost sensual the way he stared at her. “Why’d you stop?”

She shrugged, unwilling to admit the truth. “I got busy, I guess.”