the story. Hadn’t laid eyes on Alex again.
Hadn’t tasted what could have been hers all along.
***
As Joe showered, Stephanie pressed Call and with a thousand wings flapping in her stomach waited for Aleksandr to answer. She gnawed on a fingernail.
“Hello?” His soft yet full-bodied voice, his Russian accent, awakened memories of him lying beside her, describing all the things they would do together someday.
“Aleksandr. Hi. Where do you run?”
A moment’s hesitation. “You’re coming?”
“I’d like to.”
“Seward Park. I’ll meet you at the entrance in half an hour.”
“See you then.” Now to get out without a barrage of questions. She wiggled into a fresh pair of underwear, a sports bra, run capris, and a long-sleeved crewneck.
“Working out early today, huh?” Joe asked as she was tying her sneakers. He dropped his damp towel on the bed, and she wrinkled her nose.
She darted into the bathroom to scrub some deodorant under her arms. “Yeah.”
“Awfully eager. You’re not a morning person.”
“I have to go. I’ll see you after work, okay?” She gave him a perfunctory peck on the cheek before grabbing her keys and phone. She couldn’t stand the thought of kissing those wet, malleable lips. Like jamming her mouth into a spoiled melon.
Stephanie drove to Lake Washington Boulevard as the sun was waking, the world painted into life with strokes of gray light. In the near-empty lot, she parked beside Aleksandr’s Mercedes. He was standing at the entrance, wearing black running shorts over black leggings, Adidas sneakers, and a long-sleeved, blue Under Armour shirt. She stared at the outline of his chest beneath the fabric.
He kissed her on each cheek, his face prickly with stubble. “Good morning,” he said with a smile that brightened the dreary morning. They walked into the park and warmed up: five minutes of walking, five one-hundred-meter strides, and several dynamic stretches. When they were ready to run, Aleksandr chose the paved path looping two and a half miles around the peninsula, with the lake beside them and majestic Mount Rainier ruling the distant Cascades. Woodpeckers drummed messages in the poplars. Diving ducks and swan-necked Western Grebes floated on the water, while gulls wheeled and gathered on shore in search of dead fish, crying to each other with low wow s and kak-kak-kak s.
Rubber pounded the asphalt. Stephanie stole several glances, straying again to the contours of his pecs, of his biceps. She listened to the pattern of his breathing, watched white puffs condense with each exhale. His strides were long and easy. She hadn’t gone on a real run in years, and her lungs were feeling the burn. She let him pull ahead enough that she could watch the joggle of his high-carriage ass. There was a word for that kind of ass. Callipygous . Having shapely buttocks.
God help her.
“This is nice,” she said. “Peaceful.”
“I tried Green Lake, but it gets crowded. Myrtle Edwards is closer to me but again, people.”
They reached the end of the park loop and headed back. Less than half an hour had passed. “I thought you ran for an hour.”
“I do. I usually go all the way to Colman Park and back, but I don’t think you’re going to make it.” He laughed. “Did you see the forest trails we passed? We can go for a walk. It’ll be a nice cooldown, and it’s easier to talk when you’re not wheezing.”
She punched his shoulder. They relaxed into a stroll as they entered the old-growth forest, the trail denoted with granite markers. Aleksandr paused to lift his shirt and wipe the sweat from his face, offering a glimpse of his six-pack, of the black hair sprinkled on his flat belly. Something was pinging deep inside her like notes from a piano. She imagined roaming her hands over his stomach’s concave edges, to the place where his V-cut dipped beneath his shorts. Her thighs tingled.
Douglas firs towering over two hundred feet above them dominated
Hadn’t tasted what could have been hers all along.
***
As Joe showered, Stephanie pressed Call and with a thousand wings flapping in her stomach waited for Aleksandr to answer. She gnawed on a fingernail.
“Hello?” His soft yet full-bodied voice, his Russian accent, awakened memories of him lying beside her, describing all the things they would do together someday.
“Aleksandr. Hi. Where do you run?”
A moment’s hesitation. “You’re coming?”
“I’d like to.”
“Seward Park. I’ll meet you at the entrance in half an hour.”
“See you then.” Now to get out without a barrage of questions. She wiggled into a fresh pair of underwear, a sports bra, run capris, and a long-sleeved crewneck.
“Working out early today, huh?” Joe asked as she was tying her sneakers. He dropped his damp towel on the bed, and she wrinkled her nose.
She darted into the bathroom to scrub some deodorant under her arms. “Yeah.”
“Awfully eager. You’re not a morning person.”
“I have to go. I’ll see you after work, okay?” She gave him a perfunctory peck on the cheek before grabbing her keys and phone. She couldn’t stand the thought of kissing those wet, malleable lips. Like jamming her mouth into a spoiled melon.
Stephanie drove to Lake Washington Boulevard as the sun was waking, the world painted into life with strokes of gray light. In the near-empty lot, she parked beside Aleksandr’s Mercedes. He was standing at the entrance, wearing black running shorts over black leggings, Adidas sneakers, and a long-sleeved, blue Under Armour shirt. She stared at the outline of his chest beneath the fabric.
He kissed her on each cheek, his face prickly with stubble. “Good morning,” he said with a smile that brightened the dreary morning. They walked into the park and warmed up: five minutes of walking, five one-hundred-meter strides, and several dynamic stretches. When they were ready to run, Aleksandr chose the paved path looping two and a half miles around the peninsula, with the lake beside them and majestic Mount Rainier ruling the distant Cascades. Woodpeckers drummed messages in the poplars. Diving ducks and swan-necked Western Grebes floated on the water, while gulls wheeled and gathered on shore in search of dead fish, crying to each other with low wow s and kak-kak-kak s.
Rubber pounded the asphalt. Stephanie stole several glances, straying again to the contours of his pecs, of his biceps. She listened to the pattern of his breathing, watched white puffs condense with each exhale. His strides were long and easy. She hadn’t gone on a real run in years, and her lungs were feeling the burn. She let him pull ahead enough that she could watch the joggle of his high-carriage ass. There was a word for that kind of ass. Callipygous . Having shapely buttocks.
God help her.
“This is nice,” she said. “Peaceful.”
“I tried Green Lake, but it gets crowded. Myrtle Edwards is closer to me but again, people.”
They reached the end of the park loop and headed back. Less than half an hour had passed. “I thought you ran for an hour.”
“I do. I usually go all the way to Colman Park and back, but I don’t think you’re going to make it.” He laughed. “Did you see the forest trails we passed? We can go for a walk. It’ll be a nice cooldown, and it’s easier to talk when you’re not wheezing.”
She punched his shoulder. They relaxed into a stroll as they entered the old-growth forest, the trail denoted with granite markers. Aleksandr paused to lift his shirt and wipe the sweat from his face, offering a glimpse of his six-pack, of the black hair sprinkled on his flat belly. Something was pinging deep inside her like notes from a piano. She imagined roaming her hands over his stomach’s concave edges, to the place where his V-cut dipped beneath his shorts. Her thighs tingled.
Douglas firs towering over two hundred feet above them dominated
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