Digging in, I push off the ground harder and run faster. I lengthen my stride. My arms pump at my sides and I sprint as fast as I can across campus to the far side where the new gym is located. By the time I get there, I can’t breathe and there’s a stich running up both sides of my ribcage and across my hip.

I swipe my ID card and go inside. Holding my hands on my hips, I stop and suck in air. I stay like that for a few moments in the darkened hallway, just trying to catch my breath.

When the cramp subsides, I walk down to the exercise room. I don’t expect anyone to be here. The halls are empty and the lights are off. I swipe my card and go inside. I find a treadmill and turn it on, increasing the speed up to a full run. I pound the crap out of the thing, sprinting as fast as I can.

A few moments pass and I’m in my own little world. Thoughts float away. The only thing in my head is the pounding of my heart and the rush of air filling my lungs. That’s why he scares the shit out of me.

“Sidney?” Mark’s voice comes from somewhere beside me. I yelp, lose my footing, and step on my sneaker. The result is instantaneous. I fall and get launched off the end of the treadmill. My back slams into the wall. “Holy shit!” Mark pulls out the emergency stop key and the treadmill turns off, before my feet get sucked under the thing. Then, he falls on his knees next to me. “Sidney, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Can you move?”

I start laughing. It’s the crazy kind of chuckling that makes people really uncomfortable, but I can’t stop. Mark is still kneeling next to me. He glances around. “Awh shit. I broke her.” He runs his hand through his hair and pokes my shoulder. “You okay, there? You sound a little bit nuts.”

I take a deep breath and look over at him. “I am a little bit nuts. Why else would I be here at four in the morning. I assume you’re twisted too, since you were sitting in here in the dark.”

Mark looks offended. “I was not! I was back in the weight room when I heard someone. I came out to see who it was, said your name, made you fall on your ass, and then get battered by the wall.”

I laugh and realize that I do sound way past crazy—and way past tired. I rub my hands over my face and sigh. “It’s not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened.” When I pull my hand away, there’s a streak of blood. “Damn it. I cut my face?”

Mark stands and offers his hand. I put my clean hand in his palm and he pulls me up. “Nah, it’s just a little scrape on your cheek.”

I dab it again with my fingers and walk over the mirrors. It’s not that bad, but I look like hell. My hair is a rat’s nest pulled into a ponytail. It’s all bushy. I didn’t bother brushing it before I left. I just pulled it back and snapped the elastic ring around my hair. There are dark circles under my eyes and I look beat.

Mark hands me a hanky. I look over at him, surprised. “It’s not used, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I take it and say, “Thanks, and that wasn’t what I was thinking at all.” I take the white cotton and run it under the water fountain, getting it damp, and then blot my cheek. “I don’t even know what did this.”

He points to my wrist. “Your watch. Your hands tried to cover your face when you fell. The watch probably scratched you.” I look at my wrist and then back up at him.

“So, what’s your story?” I ask. I don’t want him staring at me, but he is. I glance at him. “Are you always in here at four in the morning?”

Mark puts his hands behind his back and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s usually five by the time I get here. I was early today. As to the reason why, well, I’m a bit of a freak. I only need four hours of sleep.”

I’m dabbing my cheek as he’s talking. When says that, I look up at him, envious. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it’s some kind of genetic thing. My mom’s like that. They thought it was ADHD for a long time, but that’s not it. I just don’t need to sleep eight hours to feel good. Four or five, max, and I’m good to go. I can stay out all night and then wake up at the butt crack of dawn.

“Since there’s nothing to do at the dorm, and my roommate kills me if I wake him up, I usually head over here.” He’s leaning against the wall, watching me. Mark’s closer to my age than Peter. This is the kind of guy I should be with. He’s normal, nice, and my peer. He’s not my teacher.

I watch Mark for too long, staring at his face, wondering what he would have done if I threw myself at him at the beginning of the semester—if it was Mark at the table and not Peter. Would he have done as much? Would he have stopped? What would that have done to me? Sometimes I think sex will fix everything. It ruined everything, so it makes sense, sort of.

I don’t realize how much time has passed.

Mark gets a nervous smile on his face and looks around, like I must be watching something else. “Uhm, Sidney? Did I accidentally put you to sleep with my overly boring story?”

I smirk and blink. I hurt so much and he’s so sweet. “No. You’re anything but boring.”

He grins. “You really think so?”

I nod. “I would have followed you around like a puppy if some other guy hadn’t caught my attention first.”

“Story of my life.” Mark’s eyes search my face before he lifts his hand and lightly touches my arm. It’s a reassuring touch. “I’m guessing said guy is the reason you’re here at this ungodly hour?”

I nod slowly. My thoughts are jumbled. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to make the agony inside of me stop. I’m staring at Mark’s lips. I’m reverting. I can feel my old pre-Peter plan jumping around my ankles, nipping at me.

Mark is shirtless. His body is covered in a thin layer of sweat. His hair is damp and messy. I’m aware of my breathing, aware of his mouth, and aware that I’m standing too close to him. Mark’s hand slips up my bare arm, over my shoulder, and touches my cheek.

He tucks a piece of my crazy hair behind my ear and smiles sadly at me. “I’m not a rebound guy, Sidney. I’m a love-her-with-my-whole-heart kind of guy, and since I really like you, it’s so damn hard not to kiss you right now. But, I can’t…” He breaks our gaze by looking down. Mark takes my hands and rubs his thumbs over my skin slowly. Breathing deeply, he adds, “Forgive me?”

Normally, I would have turned beat red, but today I just nod and look at our hands. “Then, how do you get over a broken heart? Everyone says sex, but I just don’t…” I sigh deeply and look up at him.

“Since I’ve had mine stomped on a few times, I can tell you the truth.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at me. His eyes don’t meet mine again, not while he’s talking. “You don’t get over it. Nothing immediately heals the pain. It doesn’t vanish because you’re ready to get over him. It takes time. One day, things won’t hurt so much. One day you’ll notice someone else and not think about the last guy at all. You’ll be ready to start over, and so will your heart. Give it time, Sidney.”

I nod and he pulls his hands away. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I shake my head. “You’re hot, like amazingly bodacious. I have a little crush on you.” Mark looks sheepish when he says the last one.

I smile at him. My face feels funny and I realize that I haven’t smiled in a while. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, I tend to keep things low key.” He gives me a lop-sided grin and bumps me with his shoulder. “Want to race or something? I’m guessing you came in here to run and I bet I can totally beat you.”

I glance out the windows at the track and nod. “Sounds good.”

I spend the next hour running with Mark. We race until my muscles are twitching like I’ve been electrocuted. I fall onto the mats and lay on my back. Mark sits next to me in a comfortable silence. It seems that I’ve found another friend.

CHAPTER 22

I still have to see Peter once a week. I didn’t get transferred out of his night class, although I wish I did. My only option would have been to drop it, and if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to retake it because of my scholarship. It was too far into the semester by the time Strictland separated us. I’m just glad she didn’t force me to drop it.

Peter’s at the front of the room. I don’t look at him. Instead, I hear his voice and stare down at my notepad. I’ve been up for a really long time. It seems like yesterday that I was sitting with Mark, but that was only this morning. I touch my face and feel the cut on my cheek. Yup, that was today. I can’t believe I fell off a treadmill. Who does that?

“Miss Colleli?” Peter says. I get the feeling that it’s not the first time he’s called on me.

I look up. Everyone is watching me. “Sorry, what was that?”

Peter’s eyes drift to the cut on my cheek. His brows pinch together. “The poem at the beginning of the book…” When I don’t answer, he adds, “The Man Who Was Thursday had a poem at the beginning. What did you think it was about? Did it fit the literature?” Peter is standing in front of me for a moment. Then he crosses the room, leans back on his desk, and folds his arms across his perfect chest.

Why is he calling on me? I want to crawl into a hole and die. That’s the one question that I can’t answer at all. “It made me want buy a top hat,” I say, and shrug. A few students giggle. One says freak. I turn and give that guy a thumbs-up. I’m a proud freak. Deal with it.

Peter stares at me with a hopeless look on his face. He doesn’t ask me to elaborate. Instead he calls on the smartass who says he’s not gay enough to think the poem is about hats. Peter pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at the clock. It’s almost nine.

“Since no one knows what the hell the poem is about, you guys are going to hand in a research paper next week. I want three sources, four pages, double-spaced, and include your own understanding of the poem. If you agree with the research, state why. Class dismissed.” They all groan and exit quickly.