I wondered if I should stop asking, or keep asking.
Try to drag him out into the world, or just leave him alone.
Fuck it.
I headed into the house, walked into the studio and stood in the control room doorway until he noticed me. It didn’t take long. He turned his head and his eyes dragged down my outfit; tank top and sports bra, fitted leggings.
“I’m going for a jog,” I told him. “You should come.”
He blinked at me.
“I just go around the neighborhood. The sun is going down, so it’s getting pretty dark out there. I stay on the residential streets, nice and quiet. I rarely even see another person.”
“Uh…”
“Come on, it’ll be good for you.” I stepped into the room and took his arm. He slipped off his headphones and let me pull him up out of his chair. “You sit too much. Go put on some jogging stuff and let’s go.”
“I don’t have jogging stuff. I don’t jog.”
“Well, it’s like walking, only faster.” I pulled him out into the hall and toward the foyer. “And all you need is some sweats or whatever you’ve got. You can wear jeans, but you might get some thigh chafe.”
I deposited him at the foot of the stairs and watched him reluctantly head upstairs. He turned to walk up the stairs backwards, raking his gaze over my body again. “You know, I’m only going with you because I want to see how well that sports bra holds in your tits.”
“Great. I’ll be here waiting. Hope you have some decent running shoes.”
“I may,” he said, and turned and jogged up the rest of the stairs.
While I waited, I tucked my earbuds away in my zipped pocket. When Cary reappeared, he had on some joggers and an old T-shirt. The shirt had a caricature of an obnoxiously handsome dude with a bum chin and a sparkling smile, with the words, Born Like This.
I snickered. “Nice shirt.”
“Dean’s idea of an uplifting Christmas gift.”
“Holy shit, is that him?” I examined the caricature a little closer. “Wow. You really have thoughtful friends.”
He made a doubtful snorting sound, pulled on the baseball cap he was carrying and said, “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
I led him outside and only realized he wasn’t following when I didn’t hear the door shut behind me. I turned to find him standing just outside the front door, at the top of the steps, staring at me.
“You okay?”
“Just need a sec.”
“Take a deep breath,” I said automatically. “I’m here.”
He turned and carefully shut the door and came down the steps, looking stiff. I took his hand. “Come here. You should stretch.” I drew him over to the grass at the side of the driveway and guided him through some stretches to warm up his legs. And to distract him. “Don’t worry. We’ll start at a slow pace. Ish.”
“Good. If I have a heart attack, it’s your fault.”
“First of all, that is not an okay thing to say to someone.”
“Isn’t it? I’ve lost my social acceptability meter.”
“You’re kidding me,” I said with mock surprise. “I didn’t notice.”
“And I’ve lost my filter, too. Your tits look huge in that top.”
“Anyway. Second of all, you’re too healthy for a heart attack. Probably.”
“Thanks for the reassurance.”
“And I’m sure a panic attack is more likely, given your history.” He wanted to distract me by talking about my tits? I wasn’t sure who he thought he was trying to play, but I wasn’t that bimbo. I held his gaze and told him point blank, “If that happens, I promise to sit your ass on the curb and calm you, and call Liam to come get us.”
“How do you intend to calm me?”
I tried to come up with something on the fly. “Remind you to breathe? Tell you you’re safe. Press my huge tits up against you.”
He took a breath like he was fortifying himself. “Okay. That’ll work.”
“Good. Now move your ass. And try to keep up. My legs are made of solid steel. I’m practically bionic.”
“I know,” he said appreciatively. “You’re bendy, too.”
“Quit looking at my butt and get up here.” I was striding toward the gate; he was somewhere behind me. Maybe he was stalling, but I was just gonna go ahead and treat him like a regular guy and not like he had a disability that needed to be accounted for. Unless, of course, he asked me to.