She couldn’t remember who’d first suggested she try running as a way to work through her anger. Maybe it was Craig. He always loved sports. Whoever it was, she’d tried it because she needed something to get her head straight, and nobody had been more surprised than Van when it actually worked.
Starting off easy, she jogged down the sidewalk toward the town square, doing a full circle before heading west on Main Road, out of town. As the space between houses increased, and the verdant green of the cornfields appeared in the distance, she felt her breath begin to shallow as her lungs worked overtime.
It always took a good two or three miles for her to get into her stride. Only when she’d reached an unconscious rhythm could her brain push out all the worries and anxieties and leave pure, blissful nothingness in their wake. She panted as the sidewalk ended and dusty country roads began, her skin heating up beneath the early morning sun.
This was where the road bent to the left. On one side the corn fields continued – green now, but in a month or two they’d begin to turn golden. On the other was a field, full of overgrown grass and a huge wooden screen whose white paint had long since peeled away. The box office was still there – a wooden cabin where she’d sat as a teenager and sold tickets to cars as they lined up for whatever movie the drive-in was showing that week. That job had been her ticket out of town.
Or so she’d thought at the time.
The Chaplin Drive-In Movie Theater had closed eight years ago, right after her mom and Craig got married. It had felt like the end of an era, even though Van wasn’t working there any more. Her heart clenched to see it so neglected.
For years it had been a huge part of Hartson’s Creek life. It had never shown the latest and best movies – in fact the owner, Mr. Chaplin, had a preference for showing movies that were at least ten years old. They kept costs down that way, and nobody really seemed to mind. Back in those days, before Netflix and other services were king and everybody could stream, it was somewhere to go and watch an old favorite.
One of her best memories were the meetings they’d have where they would talk through the showings for the next few weeks. He’d let the kids who worked there make suggestions. The whackier the better.
They were good times. There had been a lot of those, growing up. A lot of them in this very field.
Leaning on the old sign that used to proclaim the show times, she gulped in a breath, ignoring the burning of her calf muscles. To her right, she sensed some movement. Another runner? It was a strange enough occurance to make her turn her head to look.
It only took a moment for her to recognize that gait. She’d seen it enough growing up. First when they played games here and there all over town. Then when he’d been part of the football team at school, throwing his body into winning games the way he always threw himself into everything.
She froze for a moment. If she recognized him, there was every chance he recognized her, too. There was no opportunity to leave and outrun him, either. Tanner Hartson could always catch her. It had been the source of much irritation when they were younger.
There was nothing to it but to get it over with. He was right. This was a small town and the likelihood was that she’d see him a lot more the longer she stayed in Hartson’s Creek.
“Hey.” He slowed down, his breath barely labored. “I didn’t know you ran.”
She shrugged. “I took it up a few years ago. When the chocolate started to make itself known on my hips.”
His gaze automatically dropped to her legs. She felt her cheeks warm at his scrutiny.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, his jaw twitching as he resolutely pulled his eyes up to hers. “You could eat any guy under the table when we were kids, and never put on a damn ounce.”
The corner of her lip curled. “I guess things have changed since then.”
“I guess so.” He inclined his head toward town. “You going back?”
“As soon as I catch my breath.”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’ll wait for you.”
Anxiety shot through her. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he told her, his eyes still holding hers.
Okay then. So this was how it was going to be. Maybe it was time to take control of the situation.
She pushed herself off the peeling sign, and took a deep breath. “Race you back!” Launching herself forward, she felt the air rush past her as her gait sped up. She heard a chuckle, then the pounding of feet against the dusty country road as he easily caught her.
“So you still play dirty.” Unlike Van, he wasn’t breathless at all as he slowed his speed to run beside her.
“Gotta use whatever advantage I have.”
It was only when he was this close that she could see the difference in him. Sense it, too. His body was stronger than ever, his running shirt tight across his chest, revealing muscles that rippled a little too much for her liking. His legs were tan and defined as they moved in a laid back rhythm.
She’d never noticed the height difference between them so starkly before. Not even during junior year when he’d shot up almost a foot over the summer and all his jeans had ended above his ankles.
It was so strange running next to him. Familiar, yet completely alien, too. Ten years ago being together would have been their normal, but now there was so much history that it hurt like a knife.