Running on Empty

Three miles into practice and my lungs were basically screaming, but I kept pushing. Cross country wasn't even my thing—I'd joined because Marcus had begged, and somehow I'd actually gotten decent at it. Now here I was, running toward the back of the pack like always, but at least I wasn't dead last anymore.

The sunset was going full orange tonight, the kind that makes you stop and stare even when you're sweaty and gross. I slowed to a walk near the water fountain, pretending to need a break. Truth was, I was waiting for her.

Maya from my English class had joined the team two weeks ago, and I'd been lowkey obsessed since freshman year. She was always reading these thick fantasy novels during lunch, completely unbothered by the cafeteria noise. Today she'd worn this orange hoodie that matched the sky, and I'd spent the entire practice trying not to stare like a total creep.

"Hey, you got a sec?" she asked, suddenly beside me.

My brain short-circuited. "Uh, yeah? What's up?"

She pulled her phone from her pocket—dead, obviously. Classic. "My phone died and I need to call my mom about practice ending early. Can I borrow your charger? Like, for two seconds?"

I fumbled with my backpack, nearly dropping it. "Yeah, totally. Here." I handed her my charging cable, trying to play it cool even though my heart was basically doing cartwheels.

She plugged it in, waiting for enough juice to make the call. Meanwhile I stood there awkwardly, wondering if I should say something about that orange hoodie or how I'd actually read the same fantasy series she was always carrying.

"Thanks," she said, handing it back. "You're a lifesaver. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow." I managed not to sound like an idiot.

As she walked away, I realized I was still running—not from anything anymore, but toward something. Maybe next time I'd actually ask about those books. Baby steps.