Captive - FourTris

Forty-One

OCTOBER 18
1 MONTH, 18 DAYS

Today is our first away meet for cross country. I'm a ball of nerves and excitement.

I won my first race two weeks ago. But winning at home is different. You know the terrain; you know when to kick it up a notch and when to coast. You know where the turns are and where to position yourself to keep the most momentum going.

At Reilly Hills, it's different. I've been here twice, but the last few hills still manage to surprise me. I always get passed at the last minute because I don't gauge it quite right and have nothing left.

But now I've trained harder than ever before, and I can't wait to be the one who breaks the tape. I can't wait to feel the energy and the cheers as I win.

Al and I sit next to each other on the bus, like we're supposed to since we're captains. It's a tradition or something. Coach thinks it gives the team confidence, like we're strategizing.

We're not talking, though. Ever since that awkward... moment a few weeks ago, we haven't said much, and it's starting to get to me. We lead the team in our silent way. If one of us announces something, a warm-up or a stretch, the other just follows without a word.

Even though we've never been best friends, we've always been close. We have this sort of mutual respect for each other that comes from years of proving ourselves. I know Al worked his butt off to get to this point.

To be the best. I see him, all summer long, jogging the long back roads around town. He knows a real runner never has an off-season. And so each fall, it's like a reunion, and we hug and talk and catch up, and every year we get closer.

It's a forty-minute ride to Reilly Hills. It's going to be torture if we don't speak, and I hate that we've been reduced to this. I can't tolerate the prickly feeling every time we hit a bump and my shoulder rubs his. I can't tolerate the way he's staring out the window, as if he doesn't even know I'm there.

So I break the silence myself. "So, um, do you hate me now or what?"

He turns and gives me this look, like he's shocked I finally talked. "No. God. I don't hate you. I just thought... I figured I made you uncomfortable or something."

"Oh, no, it's not that. I just didn't know what to say, after... you know."

And then there's silence again, and I worry that it's back for good.

"Okay, well now that that's over," he says, and laughs. And Al is back. "Congrats on winning last week, by the way," he adds.

"You too. Two in a row. Well done."

He grins at me, in that way of his. The way that says I know I'm good without being cocky. I don't know how he does it, but he has this comfortable, confident air about him.

"So, this boyfriend of yours," he says.

I nod my head, a little worried about what he's going to say next. "Yeah?"

He grins at me. "If he hurts you, I swear to God I'll knock him out."

I smack his leg with the back of my hand. "Oh, quit it, he's a good guy."

"He must be. He's got good taste in girls."

I smile in relief. Obviously Al isn't so embarrassed about the... event in the woods. That's good. Maybe we can stay friends. Three years is too much to give up on so easily.

"In another life, we would have been perfect, you know."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye and try not to smile. "Shut up," I say, the smile finally taking over as I playfully swipe at him again.

He raises his hands in mock-surrender. "I'm just sayin'."

I slide down a bit on the bench and prop my knees up on the seat in front of us. "Maybe. Guess we'll never know."

He slides down so we're shoulder to shoulder again. "Okay, but do you have any hot friends?"

"Al!"

"What? You can't blame me for trying," he says. He shoots me another of his cocky grins, and it makes my cheeks warm.

"You're impossible." I raise an eyebrow, try to act like I'm not finding him even a little attractive, but I'm not sure it works. There's no denying that Al is good looking.
(A/N lol, not really, but just go with it)

"That's what they tell me."

I shake my head again, but the grin is there to stay. I'm glad Al is who he is. It makes all this so much easier.

He drums his fingers on the seat between us, though there's hardly any free space, and his fingers keep brushing my thigh. My warm-ups are so thin I can feel the heat on my leg. "How 'bout whoever runs the fastest time overall leads calisthenics next week?"

"Plus walk-out duty."

"Deal." His fingers stop their drumming and he reaches out to grasp my hand.

And then we shake on it, and I know I'm doomed. Al will win. But the knowing smile on his face right now makes it all worth it.

A/N

Can anyone guess what happened with them in the woods? 🤔