I don’t know why I started this competition, or why we’re both so intent on winning. I want to prove to Raylan that he can’t beat me, and he apparently feels the need to do the same. We’re running fiercely, doggedly, furiously.

I turn the treadmill up to 10.5.

“Are you training for the Olympics?” Raylan pants.

“You can give up any time,” I say.

He just laughs.

I have the strangest mixture of annoyance and admiration for him. I want to fucking beat him—I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but it is. And at the same time, a tiny secret part of me doesn’t want him to quit. I know myself—I’m always looking for people to show weakness. To fail. And then I have disdain for them. A tiny piece of me wants Raylan to force me to respect him.

I can tell he’s tired. He’s red-faced, sweating, panting. So am I—maybe even more than Raylan. It’s a battle of wills now. Our brains are driving our bodies forward, despite our exhaustion.

Silently, throwing a cheeky look at me, Raylan turns the treadmill up to 11.0. I try to do the same, barely able to keep pace enough to reach up and hit the button.

“I’m a lot of things,” Raylan says to me, “but never a quitter.”

My lungs are burning and so are my legs. I’ve never sprinted for so long. I can feel my knees getting wobbly beneath me.

All of a sudden the roof and the floor swap positions. My legs give out from under me.

“Riona, what the hell!” Raylan shouts.

He jumps off the belt and grabs me right before I hit the floor.

I can hear the treadmills still whirring away at top speed, but white sparks are flashing in front of my eyes. Raylan grabs his water bottle and splashes cold water in my face.

“Are you insane?” he says.

“Get off,” I push him away. “I’m fine.”

I don’t know why I’m angry at him. Maybe because I lost. Maybe because I’m embarrassed at almost passing out like that.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he says.

“You were racing me,” I snap back at him.

My head is pounding, and I feel simultaneously too hot and too cold. I can feel sweat running down my chest, even though I’m not running anymore.

“You’d rather kill yourself than let me win?” Raylan says. His smile is gone. He looks properly pissed.

“Just leave me alone,” I say, getting to my feet. I’m planning to stalk away from him, but my legs are too wobbly, and I almost fall over again.

Raylan grabs my arm. “Calm down and get your breath back.”

I know it’s good advice, but I hate the way he thinks he knows what’s best for me.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I shout, yanking my arm away from him.

Thank god we’re the only people in the gym. I’d hate to have anyone else witness what an asshole I’m being right now.