All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

feel that? You’re itching to stretch your legs and
get some air in your lungs … don’t you want to feel the wind blowing over you?
    I pulled in a big, deep breath, mostly to keep myself calm,
but as the air rushed into my lungs, I got a hint of what he was talking about.
And while it seemed illogical, I started thinking running would help me feel
better.
    Hell yeah! Let’s go baby. Come on. You want it.
    “And you swear on your life that you’ll stay out of the
bathroom? And you’ll step out when I ask for privacy?”
    He laughed, a slow, totally male sound, and I knew exactly
what he was thinking.
    “Is it a deal?”
    It’s a deal. Unless you ask me to join you. Because I could
show you a few things.
    “We are going to shut up, get ready, and go on a SHORT run.
Got it? Short. And you’re going to pretend you’ve learned some manners.”
    Before changing, I cracked my door open and peeked down the
hallway, just to make sure there wasn’t someone listening to my insane
conversation. I kept trying to talk to him in my head, but that made me feel
even weirder about the whole thing. 
    Ten minutes later, I couldn’t believe I was out in the forty
degree, misty air, running down the sidewalk. The rain had made the world shiny
and silver, but that didn’t mean I needed to be running through it. My legs
burned. My lungs burned. My stomach hurt. Another runner flew by me like it was
nothing.
    “I don’t know if I can do this,” I wheezed, then realized
too late I was passing a man walking his dog. He glanced over but I pushed on,
staring straight ahead. Marcus, can you feel the stitch creeping up my side?
    It gets better. And those are just signs that you really need
to get out for cardio more often.
    “What happened to the smoking hot thing?” My words came
between huffs. Was that just to butter me up so you could get me out here?
    Let’s be quiet and run.
    I laughed. Well, I would have if I had the air for it.
Quiet. Being quiet. No, I needed to focus on breathing. In. Out. In, in, out.
In, in, out. Soon my breathing fell into a rhythm, orchestrated with my feet,
instead of the frantic wheezing I’d done the first two blocks. My face felt hot
and my lungs still burned, but I kept moving. Then I felt Marcus almost like an
energy streaming through me. He remembered hours and hours of running, arms
moving, feet flying across the dirt, or snow, or sand. I could remember with
him how it felt to fill his massive lungs, the length of his stride, the power
in his limbs.
    No wonder he felt trapped in my five-foot-four frame.
    Actually, he’d been nice about not comparing my body to
other women or to his previous abilities. He’d been bossy and pushy but he
hadn’t managed to crush my ego, but didn’t that play into my theory that he was
a figment of my schizophrenic mind?
    Babe, listen, don’t schizophrenic visions and voices make you
do crazy things?
    Like run first thing in the morning?
    No, like kill people and weird shit.
    We hit an intersection with traffic streaming through. I
lurched to a stop and bent over, hands on knees, sucking air. I remained bent
over for so long, a lady’s voice asked if I was okay.
    “Yeah, fine.” I waved her away and tried to follow up with a
smile. I stiffly straightened and turned to head back to the house. Marcus
groaned, quietly, but I caught it.
    I know that wasn’t far for you, but I won’t be able to
walk to class if I push it any more.
    All right. I’ll admit I’m being an ass.
    Was that the Marcus version of an apology? Reluctantly, I
pushed myself back into a jog, at a slower pace than before, and focused on
moving my arms to keep my body in motion. Still, I stopped twice on the way
back, and then figured out, as I fell onto my front steps, that I had covered
about two miles in all. Not a bad start, right?
    Well, if you’re calling it a start, implying that we’ll keep at
it, then, yes, it’s a good start.
    The door opened.
    “Avery? What happened?”