Love on the Run Read Online Free PDF Page A

set records at the Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea, Shayna had idolized the former track star since grade school, when a physical education teacher said Shayna reminded him of her. “Who’s that?” Shayna had asked him. The teacher not only told her, but showed her. Turns out he’d been a huge fan and had photo albums filled with pictures and newspaper clippings of the running phenom. Sixth grade, that’s when Shayna decided she wanted to be a track star. Like Flo-Jo.
    â€œIt’s the same with all great athletes. They all have a trademark something. Michael Johnson had the trademark gold shoes; Michael Jordan, the trademark three-pointers and hook shots with his tongue hanging out. Venus and Serena changed what women wear and how women play on the tennis court; Phelps made swimming cool. They—” He was interrupted by the sound of a vibrating phone. Shayna immediately tensed up. Michael, who didn’t miss much, didn’t miss this. “You need to get that?”
    â€œNo,” Shayna quickly replied, reaching for her phone. “I should have turned it off.” She did so, her frown fleeting as she recognized the number of the texted message before dropping the phone back down into her bag.
    Fleeting though it was, Michael noticed the flash of concern on Shayna’s face. “You sure everything’s all right?” Shayna nodded. “Because as your manager, I need to be able to trust that you’re keeping it one hundred, and vice versa. I know that trust and respect are earned, and I plan to do that. But anything happening in your life that might affect you publicly, quite simply, I need to know about it.”
    â€œOkay,” Shayna replied, wishing her voice sounded more confident. She cleared her throat. “Of course.”
    â€œSo where were we? Ah, yes. Talking about ‘the Sprintress.’”
    Shayna rolled her eyes.
    â€œOkay, maybe not, but you see where I’m headed.”
    â€œAway from that crazy nickname, I hope.”
    â€œHa!”
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    A young black man sat parked on the side of the road in his black Beamer, silently fuming, creased brows and narrowed lips marring his otherwise handsome face. Suddenly, he jerked up the phone that he’d earlier tossed on the passenger seat and angrily punched the face next to the name on his Android, ready to punch her for real if she didn’t answer. The call went straight to voice mail.
    â€œDammit, Shayna, answer the phone!” He threw down the phone again and slammed his fist against the soft, leather seat. “I can’t believe that you’re dogging me like this! We’ve been through too much for you to keep ignoring me!” He picked up the phone and then, knowing how all of the other attempts had ended, calmly placed it beside him and reached for his keys. “I’ve had it with this bullshit. You may not talk to me over the phone,” he mumbled, bicep muscles rippling as his hand squeezed the wheel, “but I bet you’ll talk to me before the day is over.”

5
    While anger was simmering elsewhere, a level of comfort was being found in Hollywood Hills.
    â€œAnyway,” Michael finished, “the world will never know that their oh-so-macho running back would rather dance with a tight end, if you know what I’m saying.” Michael’s eyes twinkled as he watched Shayna react with neck-thrown-back laughter.
    â€œWe didn’t want to believe it,” Shayna replied, speaking of the former classmate she knew who’d turned pro publicly and was gay privately. “When we were in school, he’d be the first one to call out some dude for acting feminine and all the time he was the one in the closet.”
    â€œBoisterous commenting is sometimes a red flag, with the loudest critic being the biggest hypocrite.”
    â€œBut how did you find out? I mean, I know because he and I have been friends since high