“No coffee?” I asked.
“Not before a run. Drink the water and eat the bar so you have some energy.”
I forced the bar down my throat. I never ate before my morning runs. At least I tried not to. “Jesus, it tastes like a cardboard box.”
Jeff laughed. “You get used to it. Let’s go; I’ve got some planning to do for Ellie’s graduation party in a few weeks.”
My body froze. Jeff turned back to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Shaking it off, I forced a grin. “Nothing. Trying to get the rest of that brick into my stomach.”
He laughed and grabbed his iPod.
A good run was what I needed. I’d run that damn dream right on out of my head.
By the time Jeff and I got back to our place, I was covered in sweat. My heart raced in my chest, and my lungs burned.
“Jesus H. Christ, dude. I could hardly keep up with you,” Jeff panted, leaning down to rest his hands on his knees.
I paced back and forth in our front yard with my hands over my head, trying to open up my damn lungs to let more air in.
“I needed . . . that,” I panted.
“I’d fucking say so.” Jeff slapped my back and headed to the front door. He glanced back over his shoulder and said, “Get a shower! I want breakfast now, and Magnolia is calling my name.”
An hour later, and we were walking into the Magnolia Café. The last time we were there, Jeff and Josh got themselves in a bit of a situation with one of the waitresses.
Do I bring that up and have Jeff’s good mood fade? Nah.
Sitting at a table, I let out the breath I was holding when a male waiter came to our table.
“What can I get you gentlemen?” he asked.
“Coffee,” Jeff and I both said at once.
“I’ll take an ice water as well,” I added.
“Make that two!” Jeff stated.
Jeff tossed the menu onto the table and leaned back in his chair. “I’m getting French toast.”
“What?” I asked with a puzzled face. “You just ran, and you’re going to ruin it with French toast?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
Rolling my eyes, I scanned the menu. I knew the damn thing inside and out so why was I absentmindedly roaming my eyes over the menu? By the time the waiter came back with our coffee and water, I forced myself to pick something.
“French toast for me,” Jeff said.
The waiter looked at me.
“House omelet,” I said.
“Toast or biscuit?”
“Wheat toast,” I answered.