It seemed that every step I took, the vibrations of my anticipation shook the ground. My heart thudded a gentle beat in the depths of my chest as I entered the fancy gates of the track.

Mr. Lee was right. Everything about this day was beautiful, and I felt envious of the people that were going out tonight. Birds sang a song in the distance, their chirps growing muffled by the bursts of the Halloween breeze that caused Mr. Lee's curls to gently blow around.

I stood to observe him from afar, thankful that his eyes had not yet found their way to me. His long fingers twisted and pressed on something that appeared to be a watch, although it had a bulkier, black cover that proved it wasn't.

His eyes were deeply concentrated on the object strapped around his wrist, his attractively sharp, angled jaw clenched together. He licked his lips and the veins in his neck seemed to pop out. My stomach clenched as I noticed the finely detailed muscle in his calfs- and how thick and muscular his thighs were. How was it possible for him to have such a masculine and oddly sweet look to him?

"You can do this," I whispered to myself. I blew out a breath of air and proceeded over to him while the voice in my head screamed at me to run back inside and skip practice.

When I walked over to him, Mr. Lee turned around and a small smile tugged at the corner of his plump lips.

"We're going to be running three and a half miles, if I can get this stupid timer to work," he said casually as he focused back on the device. "Your shoe is untied, by the way."

And of course, when I looked down, my shoe that I had so carelessly tied had both laces undone.

"Sorr-" My pathetic apology got interrupted by his husky and stern voice.

"Sorry?" He asked. His fingers let go of the watch and he looked straight at me. His eyes absorbed every feature of my face and it felt as if I could literally melt away.

His gaze turned hard and uncomfortable, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he were about to punch something. Surely he couldn't actually be mad, but why the hell did he look so murderous?

"Did you just apologize for your shoe being untied?" He questioned me softly, his voice immediately switching to an awfully captivating whisper.

I couldn't move or speak. I didn't know why I couldn't react to him, but I heard so many different voices in my head that all I wanted to do was lay down and close my eyes.

"What could have possibly made you think that you need to apologize for something as silly as that?" He asked, his blue eyes dancing around my face, flickering from my stone expression to my untied shoe.

And then, as it usually happened, everything once again slowed down when his body made contact with mine.

It was such a simple thing. Him placing his fingertips on my dirty shoe, but I felt every single moment of it. His fingertips ignited a nerve in my body that shot up straight to my face, and all at once my body relaxed and color in my face flooded back in.

"Poppy, you don't need to be so scared. Nobody is going to hurt you. Your mother is not going to haunt you," he said quietly, his eyes engulfed in emotion and his voice thick with dysphoria.

Holy shit. I could hardly think straight, but what I did realize was that he just prevented me from having a panic attack. It all began to click in my head. When he comforts me, my fears drop away.

I stared down at him as he tied my shoe, his crouched form making his buff shoulders quite visible underneath his white t-shirt.

"Y-you just saved me," I whispered inaudibly to him. "Thank you."

When he finished, he pushed himself back up. "You've always been strong enough to save yourself. I only gave you a little nudge. Come on." He held his large hand out to me.

Without a second thought, I placed my small hand in his, and his fingers tightened against mine. I couldn't believe how wrong this was- everything about it was danger, but I couldn't seem to wrap around the fact that I didn't care at all about how much I was risking.

I trusted him. I mean, of course I did. Everybody did. He was confident and controlling, but not overly controlling, just enough to let everyone know that he had power but can still kid around. Every student and adult had a liking to him. But if he was a responsible adult, why were we doing this? It wasn't allowed, or right.

But perhaps he was just being a guardian to me. I was a selective mute with social anxiety, and as a coach and a teacher, he was helping me. That was allowed.

"If you asked your father if I could take you to Mountain Heights to go for a run, would he let you?" Mr. Lee suddenly asked me, our hands disconnecting so he could once again adjust the timer on his wrist.

"I think so," I said quietly.

"Would he let me drive you there?"

I nodded. I attempted to look contained, but on the inside I was screaming my heart out with pure joy. I would be sitting next to him in his fu.cking car.

"Ask your father and go get your belongings. My car is the only blue one in the parking lot. I'll meet you there."

I quickly texted my father as I practically flew back into the school and to the locker room. Excitement pushed me into hurrying along. Quickly glancing at myself in the mirror, I stopped to observe my features. I didn't look the greatest, but I smiled at myself and confidently walked back out with my backpack, glancing down at my shoes to make sure both were tied.

His car wasn't the typical navy blue. It was a midnight blue, like the color of his eyes. I stood before the car after walking towards it, my eyes popping out in admiration.

Reading the reply from my father that said I could go, I stared extra long at the message so that I didn't look pathetically awkward. He appeared next to me and snapped me out of my mental ordeal.

"What kind of car is this?" I asked him, practically gawking at the beauty before me. I wasn't an expert when it came to cars, but it didn't take a genius to know this vehicle had an old-fashioned look to it.

I couldn't help but wonder what his house looked like. He obviously had to be rich, but the way his house was decorated interested me. What did his bedroom look like? Hell, what did he look like in his bed?

But the more I thought about his personal life, the more the questions turned into how many girlfriends he's had or what he looked like naked. Embarrassingly turning red, I shook my head and focused on Mr. Lee.

"Chevrolet Corvette," he responded, smiling softly at the car.

"It's the color of your eyes," I observed. "Did you do that on purpose?"

Immediately silence took place and I felt the overwhelming sensation that I did something wrong.

I turned to look at him, but almost immediately he looked away. Opening the passenger side up for me, I cautiously stepped in. He gently shut the door and walked to the other side, all the while I held my breath in anticipation while my nerves formed a lump in my throat.

Once he got into the car, he stared at the window in front of him, placing his hands on the wheel. His face was warped into a sudden sadness. "My mother picked it out for me on my twenty-first birthday. She's not alive anymore."

For once, I could say that I felt his pain. That was the last thing I had expected him to say. He glanced over at me, his eyes hooded, and I literally felt what he was experiencing at this very moment.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He smiled at me, a sad smile, one that I knew way too well. "I know," he said. And then he started the car and we were off.

***

"Can I use Google Translate instead of speaking?" I asked him quietly, my voice hoarse and awkward. "Just for now, I mean," I added. I felt far too nervous and fidgety to speak a lot right now, especially considering the fact that he was mere inches away from me, and I couldn't stop thinking about seeing him without a shirt.

"Of course," he responded, his fingers gripping the wheel. I glanced down at his muscular legs, his shorts slightly riding up to reveal more of his muscular thighs. His arm muscles flexed as he turned the wheel, and I tore my eyes away in frustration. It was unbelievable. He always looked attractive.

I typed up my message on Google. In a way too robotic female voice, it said out loud, "do you live in Rosefield?"

At first I couldn't even think straight because I immediately felt my cheeks heat up and flush like a tomato. The voice sounded pathetic, and I glanced over to notice that Mr. Lee's lips were quivering in a soon-to-be smile.

"Okay, I can't do this," I said out loud, a giggle coming after my voice. And before I knew it, I was full out carelessly laughing, and Mr. Lee's beautiful chuckles mixed in with my own.

"No, I don't live in Rosefield," he answered after we both quieted down. He turned into the parking lot of Mountain Heights, and by the time we both exited the car, my nerves had finally calmed down. It was good to know that I felt more comfortable around him.

However, I couldn't shake the feeling that I did sound pathetic. Asking him where he lived was such a random question. Hopefully he didn't think I was weird.

Mountain Heights was what it sounded like. There was an excessive amount of hills, although I ran quite a lot, so they didn't intimidate me.

I could vaguely remember coming here with my parents. We'd all bring our bikes and go around the trails that weren't hilly, and then we'd all stop at the tiny playground and go on the swings. Come to think of it, my parents probably looked a bit ridiculous swinging on the swings almost as high as I was going, but I guess it doesn't really matter what you look like anymore once you have kids.

I knew that people from school also came here, since I always heard students talking about it.

It definitely was a beautiful place, that was for sure. There was at least six different trails, some going straight while others immediately started going uphill. A huge fountain was placed at the entrance with a little angel on the top, water shooting out of its mouth and splashing at the bottom.

To the left was a tennis court and a few lunch tables, as well the playground I remembered too well. Red mulch outlined the rectangular playground, two sets of empty swings sadly getting pushed by the wind.

"You okay?" Mr. Lee asked me, giving me a soft pat on the back. My heart lurched and I sucked in a breath, hating and loving the way my stomach felt tingly when he touched me.

I nodded and stared at the empty place. Not one person, besides us, was here. In the strangest way, I loved how secretive it felt. As out of character it was for me to say, it felt erotic to be alone with him like this.

"Pick a trail that we should run on. My timer is ready," he whispered, his face suddenly close to me. I looked up at him towered over me, my eyelashes tickling the skin above my eyebrows. His minty breath fanned the top of my head.

"Second trail," I answered immediately.

"The hardest one," he countered. "You sure about this? I don't think you'll be able to catch up with me.." He trailed off in a playful manner.

"Try me," I replied back, holding my head as high as I could, getting my legs in a starting position.

"One." He counted.

"Two." We both said at the same time.

"Three."

And then silence. We both took a few deep breaths, the dead air feeling beautifully therapeutic.

"Go!" He shouted, and as our feet carried us both into the start of the grassy trail, I glanced back at the swing set, picturing my mother, pretending she was there clapping her hands and cheering me on.