Burn Before Reading(20)

A bigger seed of pity than I'd like to admit sprouted in my heart for him, but I quashed it. He still wanted me expelled from his school. He was still an asshole.

He was still Wolfgang Blackthorn, and we were still never going to be anything more than mortal enemies.

***

I'm not much of a morning person.

This is evident in the way I:

A. can't open my eyes fully without the help of coffee, and

B. wake up every morning with hair like a Tasmanian devil's nest.

I forced myself to tiptoe blearily to the kitchen and start the coffee maker with as little beeps as possible - both Mom and Dad needed their sleep. I successfully brewed a cup of coffee with only two stubbed toes and one cupboard-to-forehead maneuver. Considering how little light was streaming in through the dull dawn sky, I decided to call that a victory.

"Can you shut up?" I hissed at a gaggle of cheery birds chirping madly in the driveway. I fumbled my keys trying to get into the car and the birds only grew louder, and for a split-second I swear to god they were laughing at me.

Staring down at my old exercise t-shirt and gym shorts, I almost started laughing at me, too. Since when did I exercise? Sure, I did some stretches if my back got sore when I was on the computer, but other than that I was pretty much a slug. It was a miracle I hadn't put on more weight, but then again Mom always said I had Dad to thank for that. It's true - the man's got a metabolism like a starving tiger. Even if that meant, when he wasn't eating so much anymore, he got thin.

Too thin.

I shook my head. Now wasn't the time. Dad was fine. Tonight I'd come home and make him something he really liked. But for now I needed all my mental presence just to get through driving on two sips of coffee and no sleep.

I made it to the Diamondback trail in one piece. The parking lot was empty, of course, because what madman comes up here at the asscrack of dawn to do something healthy like exercise? Not me. But Burn Blackthorn definitely did, judging by the shiny red convertible sitting there. What was it with rich people and their obsession with motor vehicles? Why did they polish and wash and detail them so painstakingly? Did cars create their lives, or something? Did cars bring them food in the dead of winter when they were starving? Were cars actually useful beyond getting from one place to another and I just didn't know it? Maybe he used his car to save orphans, or something. Or maybe it's just a dude thing I'll never understand.

I stretched my calves a bit at the mouth of the trail, half to calm my nerves and half so I didn't injure myself to death running like I never do. Burn was definitely here. And I definitely had to get to know him, if I wanted my scholarship intact. It was now or never.

"Harley Davidson," I muttered as I started up the trail. "Bugatti. Suzuki. Yamaha. There's an Italian brand too, isn't there? Or is that Bugatti? Do you Bugatti a Bugatti?" I laughed at my own joke and felt a little better.

The humor petered off quickly. It was only a half-mile or so into the trail before I was wheezing. The pine needles smelled great but the crisp air stung my skin, freezing my lungs on the way down. And while my nose dripped with the cold, the rest of me was burning - my muscles begging me to stop.

"Oh no. No mercy for you," I said as I bent to look at my ankles. "Not today."

"Are you...talking to your feet?"

I jolted at the low voice, whirling around to come face-to-face with Burn. He wore sweatpants and a hoodie, his curly hair damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed. He looked at me like I was a totally alien species.

"Shit!" I wheezed even harder. "You scared me! Again! Is that like, a talent of yours? Scaring people? Because you should consider making money off of it. You're really good at it. Not that you need money. Or to scare people. I'd prefer less of it, frankly."

"So would I," He said slowly. "What are you doing out here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I assumed a confident posture even as my legs were killing me. "I'm jogging."

"You don't do this a lot," Burn said, a fact, not a question. I felt slightly miffed, except then I realized he was right and it was obvious by the way I was puffing and wheezing.

"Yeah, well. We all have to start thinking about our old bodies someday," I said. "I want mine to look good in a grave, thank you very much."

He shook his head, which I took as a positive sign. At least he wasn't running away. Yet.

"So, uh," I looked behind him, to the misty trail. "Anybody else? Out here? With you? On this fine morning?”

Burn wiped his face on his sweatshirt. "Don't worry. Wolf hates mornings."

"I wasn't worried about him," I countered. "I was just -"

"I should get back to my routine," Burn interrupted me.

"Oh - right. Can I - Can I come with you?"

He looked confused again, and the more I saw it the more it reminded me of a lost puppy. He didn't look nearly as intimidating as I was used to at school. Then again, I'd never studied his face much - I was too scared by his height to really look at it for long.

"I just don't know this trail," I said quickly. His mouth creased slightly, but finally he nodded.

"Alright. But I won't slow down for you."

"Sure. Didn't want you to, anyway. I like running fast."

He gave me what I thought was a 'sure' look, before turning and starting off at a brisk pace. I kept up with him for all of three minutes before I had to fall back. God - he was fast. And to make it completely unfair, he was graceful, too, like a cheetah running next to my wobbling, drunken moose gait. The trail was a pretty simple roundabout, so I just followed it, clutching a stitch in my side and grumbling at the footprints in the dirt that undoubtedly belonged to the fastest Blackthorn brother.