It’s pretty nearby and I don’t have to walk far to get to the runners trail. It’s nice here, the sun is slowly going down the horizon and there’s a slight breeze in the air, birds chippering in their trees and I can still hear the sound from someone mowing their lawn.
Inhaling the woodsy aerosol, a smile pulls at my lips at how pretty the lush tree crowns look with the sun shimmering in between them and then I start running.
It’s just me out, I don’t meet anyone, except for a middle aged man jogging with his white golden retriever.
Next time, maybe I could ask Stan if he wants to join me. Though I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate on exercising with him right next to me, doubt that I’ll be able to turn my gaze away from those intense eyes of his that sometimes seem to be tricolored.
When they change like that, he seems to be staring straight into my soul. I can’t do the same with him on the other hand. A wall seems to be up but I don’t know why.
Why do people put up walls in the first place?
To protect themselves? Or maybe sometimes it’s to protect others...
I shudder, suddenly cold even if the temperature hasn’t changed and my panting increases the farther I run. I’m on the yellow trail, but maybe it would be a good thing to get rid of as much nervous energy as possible so I switch to the red instead.
It’s a longer one, blinking like a beacon and it takes me farther into the woods, where I no longer can hear any sounds from the street and where the vegetation seems denser, the branches a little sharper.
At least it’s not dark out yet but the trees are closely knitted together here, making it harder for the light to pass through. I don’t mind. I don’t scare easily. Besides I have a man back home, who I have the feeling would come to my rescue faster than I could blink if anything would happen.
The way he held me today was different. He’s touched me before of course, when handing me something or when we brush against each other in the staircase. But today he was different.
Impatient.
Hungry.
It made me hunger for him too, making me fantasize about our lips clasping in a rosy kiss, his hands holding me gently, his mouth whispering romantic words in my ear before his lips go lower and...
Corrupt me.
My fists clench at my waist because I don’t know where that thought came from. I’m not that kind of girl. I’m wholesome. I like hearty things, not dark ones.
But I like Stan, and there is something dark about him even if he tries to hide it. In the very beginning he had me fooled. I confused him for just a regular guy. Then I caught him looking at photos of me in the middle of the night, caught the look on his face when he watched me play.
A look that I will never forget for as long as I live.
A look that makes me feel feverish. Edgy. Like it could make me risk anything, just to have him watching me like that. It’s a drug. One that can’t be bought and sold. Its special. Rare.
Belonging to a rare animal.
And there is something animalistic about Stan. Underneath it all. He’s casual otherwise, bends his head back when he laughs out loud, causing faint lines to spread around his eyes. He smells good. Fresh and crisp.
Normal.
Sometime he watches baseball on the television and waves and chats with the neighbors over the fence. He plays with their fluffy, spoiled dogs and kicks the ball back to the kids whenever they kick it into our yard.
He’s funny too, joking around with me until I laugh so much that it feels like I’m being tickled to death. And the other day he went with his colleagues to grab a beer after work, just like any other guy.
But sometimes all that feels like an act.
Underneath it all he is different. His body language always alert like he doesn’t miss a thing. He doesn’t move the way normal people do. His movements too fluid, too determined.
Like he has a single goal on his mind. It intrigues me, makes me want things from him that a regular girl like me shouldn’t want.
I wonder what Stan would do if I told him that. Would he tell me to give in, ask me to dive into unknown territory? And if I was scared would he still manage to make me feel safe...?
I jump when a twig snaps from behind me.
It catches me off guard and I’m going at such a speed that I come to an abrupt stop. What was that? That sounded like quite the twig breaking, not done by a small, furry animal.