“Be my guest.”
“How do you expect to be a captain of a team when you know none of the players?”
“A leader isn’t a friend, they are the leader.”
He shakes his head. “A leader should lead by example. If we all did what you are doing, none of us would know each other, and we would lose. We wouldn’t be a family, like your dad wants.”
Touché.
Little shit.
Pressing my lips together, I don’t look at him as I run. I’ve decided this conversation is over. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him shaking his head, but I don’t care. I don’t want to make friends; I don’t want to let anyone in. The last time I did that, when I left, no one cared. Out of the hundred odd people I met, I made two friends and one guy broke my heart. Yeah. I’m good, and plus, I have a one-way ticket out of here, so what’s the point? No one will care about me later.
What a really sad thought, right?
When he takes off, I don’t speed up. I need to save my gas, because this trail is tough. I didn’t realize it was all uphill or that it was kind of rocky. My knee is aching and I want to quit, but I’m nowhere near the top. Trotting along, guys start to pass me, but there is no sight of Jayden, so I keep my pace. As I trot, I replay what Jace said and try not to let it bother me, but there may be some truth to his words.
If the captaincy were up to a vote, I’d lose in a landslide. No way would these guys vote for me. And the thing that worries me the most is that when I do win, will they ever respect me? Do I care if they respect me? A part of me knows I do, but then the bitter, angry part doesn’t care. I just need the C to make my career look more lucrative.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I wonder when my need for a career became more important than my love for the game.
Before I can overanalyze that, Markus falls into step with me. “I’ll be getting beer for tonight. Do you like liquor?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I won’t be there.”
His brows come together. He’s sweating and gasping for air, but still he asks, “Why not? It’s gonna be a blast.”
“Eh, I gotta do something else,” I say, and I’m not sure why. Why am I lying?
“Oh, well, that sucks. Can’t blow it off?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Well, shit, all right,” he says, visibly disappointed. And then he’s gone, trotting along and leaving me behind. For some reason, it bothers me that I turned him down.
Why does that bother me?
Wiping sweat out of my eyes, I pick up speed because I want this to be over. I’m done with this team-building exercise, and I’m done with running. Trudging along, I suck in a deep breath, letting it out through my nose as my legs burn. Sometimes, I feel like the devil made running. He sends all his little demons to eat away at your legs and make you feel like you’re dying.
At least that’s how I see it.
“Move it, princess, you’re gonna lose.”
Whipping my head to the left, Jayden is beside me, grinning and looking extremely sexy instead of on the verge of dying like I’m sure I look. His hair is slicked to the side, sweat running down his neck and wetting his back. He’s taken off his shirt, it’s wrapped around his neck, and I’m pretty sure his running shorts are illegal. I can see the outline of his cock. Seriously. That’s just dirty and mean.
“Suck it, Sinclair, and hide your dick. It’s showing,” I say before picking up speed.
He laughs as he catches up with me. “Aw, Moore, you looking at my dick?”
“It’s very distracting,” I mutter, and he continues to laugh.
“It’s so big, it has that effect on innocent girls.”
Glancing over at him, I flash him what I hope is a sinful grin. “I’m far from innocent.”
His grin grows, but before he can say anything, I’m running faster.
But he catches up with me again.