I’m not sure if he’s serious, so I leave it. Because I’m not interested in his hacking activities or anything else Ford does with Spencer and Ronin as part of their ‘business’.
I hide my camera under an old jacket that Ford hands me from the backseat and then we head over to the stadium entrance. We pass several more security checks. Each time Ford flashes those badges and each time we are waved forward. Ford seems to know where he’s going so I just follow. We come out in the stands, about halfway up, like we used to at Coors Field.
“OK,” Ford says once we get inside and choose a spot that’s not being used by other runners. “I will slow down for you. From now on, we run together. But I won’t slow all the way down, you need to meet me halfway. So you have to actually push yourself. No more slacking off.”
“Well, that’s no fun. I’m a moper, remember? I come to shuffle.”
“Your shuffling days are over, Rook. And I’m sick of your moping. From now on, you’re training with me. So keep up or I’ll find ways to make your life uncomfortable.”
“Ha! Like how?” I cross my arms in front of my chest in defiance and before I can even process what he’s doing, he leans forward into my personal space and slips his hand under my hair behind my neck, drawing me close to him. His touch affects me immediately and I flush with heat. I can probably count on two hands the number of times Ford has actually touched me, and most of them have happened in the past few days. His mouth dips down to my ear, his breath hot against my skin, and for a second I think my heart will actually stop from the shock of it all.
I swallow.
“Like this, Rook.” Ford’s soft words vibrate into me. “I like you. I’d like to show you how much, actually. I’m being a gentleman to make life easier for you, but believe me, it’s not really in my nature to be so accommodating. I typically just take what I want.”
A shudder erupts as his fingertips drag lightly across the back of my neck. He pulls away smiling. “So keep the f**k up or I’ll make things very confusing.”
And then he turns and takes off running up the stairs.
What the hell just happened?
But I don’t have time to think because he’s already halfway up this aisle. I follow, running hard for a second to try and catch up, but once I match him he slows a little so that I don’t have to exert myself too much. He continues to adjust our pace like this, running harder for ten or twenty seconds, then slowing down for a minute or more.
And I realize something.
Ford knows me. He knows exactly what I’m capable of at my current fitness level. He recognizes the sound of my breathing when I’m getting winded, as well as the sound of it when I’m too comfortable.
He pushes me to do better and try harder in just the right way.
Not too fast, not too slow.
But just right.
We run this way for almost an hour. Much longer than we normally did at Coors Field. That was always thirty minutes or so. I’m starting to lag behind severely, and no amount of threatening me with uncomfortable sexual touching will make me keep up, so he slows to a walk. “We’ll do two sets like this, then we can be done.”
I wait for my hard breathing to slow and my heart rate to come back to normal and then I figure I have to say something. Because the entire run, all I thought about was how his hand felt on the back of my neck. “Are we playing again, Ford?”
“Playing what?”
“Are you gonna try and make a move on me? I thought we were friends?”
“I thought you said you trusted me to do what’s right for you?”
“Yeah, as a friend, I do! But that was before—” I’m not sure what the hell that was back there so I don’t even have a word ready to describe it. Ford doesn’t offer any help, in fact I can sorta see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. “I think you just came on to me.”
He laughs, then stops and stands in front of me, forcing me to look at him. “Believe me, Rook,” he says with a serious expression. “If I was coming on to you, you’d have no trouble recognizing it.” He turns and continues walking.
“So I should just—what? Ignore that exchange back there?”
“Just keep up in training, Rook. And you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
I stop and throw up my hands. “OK, I’m done then. I’m out.” I turn around and start walking down the stairs.
He follows and when he gets alongside me he jumps down several steps and cuts me off. He starts walking back up, which makes me almost fall, but he grabs my arm and then lets go when I’m steady again. “So that’s it?”
“What’s it?” I ask, annoyed.
“That’s your boundary? I can push you to run past your current endurance level just fine. You adjust and work harder without one complaint even though I doubled our running time and had you gasping for breath on four occasions. But when I push emotionally, you shut down and run away immediately. You know, I’m the guy who supposedly has no emotions, I’m the one who’s supposed to be incapable of feeling. I’m the one who doesn’t give a f**k about people. But you, Miss Corvus, are really giving me a run for my money. You want to play as long as you’re in control, right? You stare at my chest then freely admit you’re checking me out to compare to Spencer. So I might ask you the same question. What are you doing with me?”
“You said we were friends. I was joking about Spencer.”
I hide my camera under an old jacket that Ford hands me from the backseat and then we head over to the stadium entrance. We pass several more security checks. Each time Ford flashes those badges and each time we are waved forward. Ford seems to know where he’s going so I just follow. We come out in the stands, about halfway up, like we used to at Coors Field.
“OK,” Ford says once we get inside and choose a spot that’s not being used by other runners. “I will slow down for you. From now on, we run together. But I won’t slow all the way down, you need to meet me halfway. So you have to actually push yourself. No more slacking off.”
“Well, that’s no fun. I’m a moper, remember? I come to shuffle.”
“Your shuffling days are over, Rook. And I’m sick of your moping. From now on, you’re training with me. So keep up or I’ll find ways to make your life uncomfortable.”
“Ha! Like how?” I cross my arms in front of my chest in defiance and before I can even process what he’s doing, he leans forward into my personal space and slips his hand under my hair behind my neck, drawing me close to him. His touch affects me immediately and I flush with heat. I can probably count on two hands the number of times Ford has actually touched me, and most of them have happened in the past few days. His mouth dips down to my ear, his breath hot against my skin, and for a second I think my heart will actually stop from the shock of it all.
I swallow.
“Like this, Rook.” Ford’s soft words vibrate into me. “I like you. I’d like to show you how much, actually. I’m being a gentleman to make life easier for you, but believe me, it’s not really in my nature to be so accommodating. I typically just take what I want.”
A shudder erupts as his fingertips drag lightly across the back of my neck. He pulls away smiling. “So keep the f**k up or I’ll make things very confusing.”
And then he turns and takes off running up the stairs.
What the hell just happened?
But I don’t have time to think because he’s already halfway up this aisle. I follow, running hard for a second to try and catch up, but once I match him he slows a little so that I don’t have to exert myself too much. He continues to adjust our pace like this, running harder for ten or twenty seconds, then slowing down for a minute or more.
And I realize something.
Ford knows me. He knows exactly what I’m capable of at my current fitness level. He recognizes the sound of my breathing when I’m getting winded, as well as the sound of it when I’m too comfortable.
He pushes me to do better and try harder in just the right way.
Not too fast, not too slow.
But just right.
We run this way for almost an hour. Much longer than we normally did at Coors Field. That was always thirty minutes or so. I’m starting to lag behind severely, and no amount of threatening me with uncomfortable sexual touching will make me keep up, so he slows to a walk. “We’ll do two sets like this, then we can be done.”
I wait for my hard breathing to slow and my heart rate to come back to normal and then I figure I have to say something. Because the entire run, all I thought about was how his hand felt on the back of my neck. “Are we playing again, Ford?”
“Playing what?”
“Are you gonna try and make a move on me? I thought we were friends?”
“I thought you said you trusted me to do what’s right for you?”
“Yeah, as a friend, I do! But that was before—” I’m not sure what the hell that was back there so I don’t even have a word ready to describe it. Ford doesn’t offer any help, in fact I can sorta see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. “I think you just came on to me.”
He laughs, then stops and stands in front of me, forcing me to look at him. “Believe me, Rook,” he says with a serious expression. “If I was coming on to you, you’d have no trouble recognizing it.” He turns and continues walking.
“So I should just—what? Ignore that exchange back there?”
“Just keep up in training, Rook. And you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
I stop and throw up my hands. “OK, I’m done then. I’m out.” I turn around and start walking down the stairs.
He follows and when he gets alongside me he jumps down several steps and cuts me off. He starts walking back up, which makes me almost fall, but he grabs my arm and then lets go when I’m steady again. “So that’s it?”
“What’s it?” I ask, annoyed.
“That’s your boundary? I can push you to run past your current endurance level just fine. You adjust and work harder without one complaint even though I doubled our running time and had you gasping for breath on four occasions. But when I push emotionally, you shut down and run away immediately. You know, I’m the guy who supposedly has no emotions, I’m the one who’s supposed to be incapable of feeling. I’m the one who doesn’t give a f**k about people. But you, Miss Corvus, are really giving me a run for my money. You want to play as long as you’re in control, right? You stare at my chest then freely admit you’re checking me out to compare to Spencer. So I might ask you the same question. What are you doing with me?”
“You said we were friends. I was joking about Spencer.”
