Boyfriend

Rhythm went all to pieces some time during the tenth lap. It was a victim of poor choices and heavy thoughts. Nick let his stride break and came to a rest on the edge of the bleachers, too tired to sit. Poor choices because of the frozen breakfast burrito he'd clawed out of the plastic before dawn, and chewed into a flavorless mush, still half frozen. Heavy thoughts because of Allie. He panted and the feeling was like someone sucking the air from his lungs with a bellows.

Allie let herself more gracefully slow and drift out to the far lane, then stepped back toward him, eyes on something else. Her shoes matched the green starter's lines, and her shorts showed off the only thing he liked unambiguously about her. She spoke with misty breath.

“That it?”

Through a heavy pant, he managed a breathy “Yeah,” but couldn't contribute more usefully than that.

Stretching up and down onto the balls of her feet, Allie got a look like she was being put through the paces. Nick felt some composure coming back and said “Go ahead and keep going if you want.”

"It's okay. That was plenty.” She walked over and sat, every dark blond hair still in place, breathing like a quiet metronome.

Sitting down took forever, like he was instantly stiff. It wasn't so bad. The chill in the air was probably what did it. She grabbed his hand and held it in her lap while he rubbed his face with the other one. Even holding his nose in his palm didn't banish the cold, dead feeling in the flesh at the tip.

Allie squeezed his palm, and when he looked she was smiling and innocent. She pulled his hand up to her chest and held it like a kitten or a teddy bear, but she was still at arms length. The distance felt personal. Nick didn't know if he should cross it. There were a lot of things he didn't know.

“What the heck are we, anyway?”

Her eyebrows went out wide and the corners of her mouth dropped like curtains at the end of a show. She looked hurt. He hadn't meant to be so blunt. It had sounded friendly and cheerful in his head, kind of like a “how the heck are ya',” but after he'd said it he knew his resentment had gotten out with his honest curiosity.

“Sorry.”

“Fine.” She let go of his hand.

“I mean,” The landscape was suddenly unfamiliar. He was still at the track. Still being watched by all the pine trees and the thin veil of gray that covered a shamelessly cold blue sky. He could hear the same birds. But he'd painted himself into a corner somehow. “I think I'm nervous because this isn't what I was expecting.”

“And what?” Allie shuffled an inch or so farther away.

“I want to talk about it?”

“I don't.” Her eye contact at that moment became suddenly gentler. “I'm totally ok with the ambiguity right now.”

Ten kinds of compassion fought in Nick's mind over who would get to speak next. He barely managed to control them, absolutely sure that acting like he knew why would only agitate her. “Do you still think you're going to move?”

“I don't know.” She'd gone right past hurt and into ambivalent and annoyed. “I'm still thinking about it.

“I guess,” he paused for effect more than anything. “Maybe I just think if I knew what you were planning I might know what to do. I mean, what to think.”

A bird landed at the top of the bleachers and hunted around in a crumpled up Subway wrapper.

Miraculously she laughed, not quite at him, but not warmly. “You need me to hold your hand? Maybe I'm your mom.” She grabbed his hand and it was even less comfortable. “Maybe that's what the heck we are.”

“I kind of wish I had a word for it.”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” She was dead serious, switching off masks like a revolving door spitting out faces at the end of a long workday.

“I don't know.”

“Is it nineteen fifty seven? Gonna ship out to Korea and write me letters until I sober you up with a Dear John?”

Nick felt like she was making fun of him. “Listen, I'm sorry if we're stuck with a retarded vocabulary for describing relationships. I don't even have archetypes for this.” He might've overreacted.

“Maybe you can be my beau. It's less specific.” She was making fun of him now. “It's more French, too.”

“I shouldn't bring this stuff up.” She stopped her minor torment, and slid closer again. He felt immediately like he was pouting. It was kind of like the cold handshake of charity. “There just isn't anything like a normal relationship anymore, is there?”

“There wasn't ever.” She smiled at him. “I like you.”

“Do you know English doesn't even have any active verbs for sex that aren't taboo or euphemistic?”

They both thought about it for a minute. She looked almost read to say something, then mentally took it back.

“Fuck. Bang. Screw.” He put them on the line.

“Do?” Allie shrugged.

“My favorite has always been 'pork'.”

“Gross.”

“I like you too.” He kissed her, just a little bit. Enough to drive home the point. “Whatever you are.”

“Thanks,” she said, and then they were just holding on to each other while the birds fought over fast food.

“Don't move,” he said. And she didn't say anything.