Read Online Can't Get Enough of Your Love by J.J. Murray - Free Book Online Page A

name?” I just said, “Hey.”
    â€œWhy are you running on such a hot day?”
    â€œTo keep in shape.”
    He
didn’t
say, “Girl, you got a nice one.” He simply asked, “What for?”
    Which was a compliment, right? He was saying without saying that I already looked to be in good shape. “I’m getting in shape for football.” I
didn’t
say, “I’m getting in shape for you and me getting it on later.”
    His face didn’t change, and he didn’t hesitate. “You play?”
    â€œI’m going to. For the Roanoke Revenge.”
    He nodded. “I heard about them. You any good?”
    I
could
have said, “I’m best when I’m being bad” or “Wanna find out?” All I said was, “Yeah.”
    He had such a young face for someone my age, but it turns out he was twenty-two and fresh out of college at Hampton. “Maybe I’ll have to come and see you play.”
    I
could
have said, “We can play all night long, player,” or I
could
have asked him to play with me back at his place, but I could only say, “All right.”
    I kept on to that field beyond the pool and ran ten wind sprints. Then I half-jogged past the pool and passed him again.
    He slid down from the hood. “You thirsty?”
    I nodded.
    He pulled some bottled water from a cooler inside his Blazer and threw it to me. I took a sip and poured some on my head.
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    â€œI’m Karl,” he said.
    â€œLana,” I said. “But some folks call me ‘Peanut.’”
    He smiled. He just … smiled. He
didn’t
ask if I had a boyfriend, and he
didn’t
rape me with his eyes, instead focusing on my eyes and not my thighs. “You run here all the time?”
    â€œWhen I can,” I said, “about every other day.”
    â€œI’ll look out for you.”
    I thanked him again for the drink and jogged away real slow.
    I came back two days later, this time in my “she-she” jogging outfit.
    â€œThere she is,” he said from his perch on the Blazer.
    â€œHey.”
    â€œCatch you when you come back by?”
    â€œSure.”
    I did only eight wind sprints that day, but not because it was hot or I was tired. Karl had intrigued me by
not
using any lines or really hitting on me. I kind of wondered why any man would be sitting on the hood of his Blazer on a hot August day for maybe three days in a row, but maybe he was there only to see me again. He had a bottle of Gatorade for me when I jogged back, and I took that as a sign of something big.
    â€œYou do any weight training?” he asked.
    â€œSome.” Which was a lie and a half. I’ve just always been naturally muscular.
    â€œMaybe we can work out together sometime.”
    I
could
have asked, “Are you asking me out on a date?” but I didn’t. Who goes weightlifting on a date? I also
could
have said, “We could work out at your place right now.” I’m pretty forward, but I’m not that forward. “Sure,” I said. “We can do that.”
    â€œBreckinridge has a weight room,” he said. “I can meet you there tomorrow around seven.”
    â€œOkay. Seven.”
    The next day, precisely at seven, he showed up at the Breckinridge Middle School weight room, and we worked out. He was helpful and charming, and though I made it obvious that I had never lifted any weights before, he helped me with my technique, let me borrow his weight belt, and spotted me. We were just two athletesimproving our bodies, and I spent most of my time wondering what our two athletic bodies could do to each other in bed.
    I was sitting on a weight bench toweling off when he asked, “You doing anything this evening?”
    I was sweaty, stank, and sore, and yet he wanted to see more of me. “No.”
    â€œWant to hang out?”
    â€œSure. I’d like to go home and take a shower