I stop. Nothing makes me bright-eyed anymore. Nothing. I whirl around. “You’re the one who says I need to do something other than mope. Well, I’m running.”

At least I try to. I never ran track in high school, but I used to run before that for the fun of it. These days, I can’t remember what fun feels like. I run to escape. It’s not fun. It’s a matter of life and death.

“You didn’t stretch good enough. You’ll get shin splints.”

“Thank you, coach,” I growl at him.

He holds up his hands, acquiescing. I think he’s going to leave me alone, but then he comes up close to me. Too close. He reaches up and plucks the earbud from my hand, putting it against his ear. “Good song.”

Kane hates this band. “You’re smashed,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Where’s Luisa?”

His playful look dissolves. “Why do you always ask me about her?”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“Right.” He drops the earbud and starts to walk away. Sighing, I stick it in my ear and continue out of the cul-de-sac, breaking into my normal run.

I did cross-country in middle school, but always ended up near the end of the pack. Even though my runs now are not timed, I feel like I’m faster. But it doesn’t matter how fast I am. Some things you can’t run from. Besides, I’m going in a circle. Brookline Way, the main road of our development, is a three-mile loop, so the jog to my front door makes for a perfect 5K. I used to be out of breath running the mile around the track in gym. Now I can loop around like a washing machine, over and over again until I lose count. The only thing telling me to stop is the sun creeping over the horizon.

I’ve passed the first few houses when I feel like I’m being followed. I shake the water from my brow and glance behind me as he comes barreling up to my heels. I pull out my earbuds and groan, “I thought you were going to mug me.”

“You shouldn’t be jogging alone,” he says.

“I jog nearly every morning.”

He falls in pace with me. Ever the athlete, even drunk, Kane can beat most anybody. He surges ahead of me. I’m going too slowly for him. He’s wearing his running shoes. He must’ve gone in and changed. “Not a good idea. You’ll break your neck on some ice.”

“Maybe.”

“What? And that would make you happy? This self-destructive behavior shit is getting really old.”

“This isn’t self-destructive! You’re the one running with me after a night of hard drinking.” I scowl. “Leave me alone, Kane.”