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The sun crept above the horizon and Jemma did her best to race it, her feet pounding out a steady rhythm against the pavement.
In truth, she didn’t much care for running. The too-tight sports bra, sweat streaming down body into the most awkward of places, sore muscles, straining lungs; none of it spelled a good time. As Daisy had told her more than once, she was crazy for putting herself through this routine daily, and the truth was that Jemma agreed. Particularly when it rained, snowed, or she was nearly blown off the sidewalk by gale-force winds.
But still she plodded on.
There were parts of running that appealed to her greatly. Jemma liked the solitude running gave her. The clarity, the opportunity to review the day before or plan the day ahead without anyone interrupting her. Even if they wanted to, they’d have to catch her first.
Today was a day where she planned ahead. This early into the school year, there weren’t many choices for her to agonize over just yet. No, all she had to worry about now was her father’s constant harping about the schools on her application list. Naturally, he’d insisted she apply to each of the Ivy League schools, and being a dutiful daughter, Jemma had finished those ages ago. She’d moved on to the schools that truly interested her now, all characterized not only by their academic excellence but also their location 3000 miles away on the opposite coast.
Jemma wound her way through her small town, the quasi-mansions of her neighborhood giving way to the more modest homes that made up the older parts of the township. Her thoughts shifted as the scenery did, her mind turning away from the future to the past.
She hadn’t meant to, but Jemma found herself running down Fitz’ street. The trees were taller, their leaves fuller, the houses a little shabbier, but other than that, it was exactly as she remembered: quiet, tree-lined, and homey.
When they were younger, Jemma had spent most of her time running in and out of the Fitz home, the screen door banging away behind her as she chased her best friend to the park down the block. There had been a large football pitch there, which had been home to most of their first “experiments.” In all actuality, it had only been a reason for them to mix the vaguely dangerous chemicals they found in his garage to see what would happen when they inevitably added fire to their concoctions.
They’d come home with singed eyebrows and sooty fingers, and Fitz’ mum would patch them up when she came home to take her evening break from the diner. They’d share a meal of whatever Mrs. Fitz brought home - burgers and fries, chicken fingers, whatever she could convince the cooks to give her - before she’d send Jemma on her way, Fitz and his mum waving to her from their front door as she peddled her way back home.
Jemma sighed and turned the corner, finally heading back toward her house. She hadn’t thought of Fitz in years. It had been awful when her father had forbade her from seeing Fitz, and she’d cried for weeks at the time. All he had told her was that Fitz would drag her down, that he would never be able to reach her heights, and had left it at that. He’d arranged for her to join different clubs, go away on extended holidays, and before long there had been a distance between them that had seemed insurmountable.
Until three weeks ago, when Dr. Weaver had paired them in her AP Chemistry course.
He might be standoffish and hate her, but Fitz was still one of the most brilliant people she’d ever met. Even with them giving each other the silent treatment, they had managed to get top marks on each assignment. Jemma could feel their friendship there, just beneath the surface within easy reach and oh, so tempting.
There was something else, too, something that left her heart racing and gut clenching, something that made her want to reach out and touch him. And unless Jemma was entirely misreading the way Fitz looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, he felt it, too.
Uttering a low groan, Jemma picked up her pace, her legs pumping for home. Considering Fitz - let alone the status of their relationship, if it could be called that - was too much for this early in the morning, even for her. Better to give in to the worn-out, jelly-like feeling in her legs than think about him any longer.
That way lay madness, and Jemma had no time for that.