Self-conscious, I check the drawstring on my running shorts; the last thing I need is for them to, by contrast, slide down my nonexistent pancake ass.
Ethan throws me a glance, raking his gaze down my body. “You’ve lost weight,” he says to me. “But then I guess that makes sense, since you’re probably not eating much. You lost your personal chef, didn’t you?”
“Did you lose yours, too, Ethan?” Alex asks. He dips a chin, nodding at Ethan’s lean biceps. “Or have you always been that meager?”
Ethan’s eyes flare.
I squeeze Alex’s fingertips with mine, biting my lip. I don’t subscribe to any one idea of what makes a man attractive, masculine, “man enough,” and under any other circumstance, Alex giving Ethan hell for his lean physique would have left a bad taste in my mouth.
But this isn’t any other circumstance. Ethan hit a nerve he’s hit before, critiquing my body, reminding me of my uselessness in the kitchen. It was a low blow. Alex went just as low, defending me, and far from leaving a bad taste in my mouth, this revenge issweet. Because I know Alex didn’t do it for himself; he did it forme.
Thankfully, Jen and Mia haven’t been tuned in to this, but as Jen stands with Mia, it’s evident that there’s tension between us.
Jen darts a nervous gaze at Ethan, then Alex, then me. “Nice… day for a bike ride,” she offers.
“Very nice,” I tell her.
“Glorious,” Alex says dryly, as Mia launches herself toward him. He scoops her up, tossing her high, making her squeal.
Ethan’s jaw clenches as he watches. Alex’s arm muscles, as he tosses his forty-pound daughter up into the air, donotlook meager.
Jen’s watching the two of them, something pained in her expression, some ache I can’t name. It makes me ache, too. Sadness, chased by a pinprick stab of jealousy.
“Well,” Ethan says tersely, straddling his bike, “were we planning on actually getting a ride in?”
“Yes!” Mia says, taking his words, in that beautifully pure, endearing way kids have, completely literally. She leaps into a starfish stance, legs wide, hands wider and yells, “Let’s gooooo!”
I jump into the same stance and join her, yelling, “Let’s goooo!”
Mia shrieks with laughter.
Alex is smiling as he crouches, checking her helmet straps, helping Mia to steady herself on her tag-along bike seat. I try and fail not to stare at his thighs, as his shorts ride up enough to reveal a stark tan line, a dusting of dark hair, leg muscles flexing as he shifts in his crouch, then stands.
An ache curls through my body as I look at him, as I replay how quickly he came to my defense. I’m having very lusty, very unfriendlike thoughts about myfriend.
Turning away, I pluck at my tank top and try to fan my well-on-their-way-to-tomato-red cheeks. My hair is frizzing out in response to the humidity in the air. My skin feels sticky. I already have boob sweat. Nice day for a bike ride, my butt.
“Ready?” Jen calls, leading us out onto the road.
Alex and I mount our bikes, then meet each other’s eyes. “What do you say, Ted?” he asks. “Ready to kick their ass?”
A zing of pleasure snaps through me. I tear my gaze away and shout, “Ready!”
I have never been this close to death. My thighs tremble, my lungs are heaving. We’re so close to the end of this wonderful, hellish, exhausting bike ride, and I am determined to win.
The route is a loop, the first half of which was an indeterminable climb through downtown, up into the Hill District, past thehockey arena. Ethan and Jen easily beat us up the hill, with my lackluster fitness and Alex hauling a kid weighing down the back of his bike. The second half, which is all downhill, is another story.
By the time we’re back in Downtown’s Market Square, we’ve caught up to them, Ethan looking smug, Alex fuming, Jen and I similarly winded but determined to keep pace with the guys.
Alex and I finally pull ahead on the downhill side of the bridge stretched across the Allegheny River, leading to our neighborhood, the North Side. As we rounded the bend of a small side street past the Clark Building, the last tiny hill leading up to our starting point, I know we’re going to beat them.
Wehaveto beat them.
Alex glances my way, eyes bright, a near-maniacal gleam in them that I know I’m mirroring right back at him.
Then we face forward, lean into it, and fly up the hill.
As we crest the top, we turn onto the road leading toward the local community college and Gus and Yiayia’s, the rainbow-umbrellaed snow-cone truck that was our meeting point, coming to a screeching halt seconds before Ethan and Jen soar up behind us.