Home is a Fire by Jordan Nasser

use as scrap paper. I scrawled my angry message and then walked back up the hill and placed my handwrittennote under the pick up’s windshield wipers. It said ASSHOLE in large, black capital letters. I knew my note wouldn’t have any effect, but it sure made me feel better.
    I popped my headphones in, started my running app and a Madonna playlist, and took off. The first 5 minutes I felt like crap, but as I rounded the bend I started to feel the proverbial “wind beneath my wings.” That elusive runner’s high was about to be mine. I was completely in the zone. No David, no New York. No school, no Scooby Gang. No Luke, no romance.
    I was keeping a great pace, when suddenly I felt the runner behind me shoot past me, turn, and wink. You guessed it. Luke Walcott. Damn it, Luke, this is one game I’m not going to let you win.
    I pulled the headphones from my ears and used every trick I knew. Breathing in through my nose, out with my mouth, lifting my legs high and really engaging my thighs. Seeing him just within reach was pissing me off, but it was good. I’m competitive as hell, and I pushed faster, harder and stronger, until I was able to catch up to him. He flashed that perfect smile at me and kept pushing on, just as hard. We raced to the top of the hill, towards the home stretch. My legs were aching, my heart was pounding out of my chest, and I was gasping for air as we rounded the last corner and began our descent towards the lot, neck and neck. The rest of the path was downhill towards the parking lot, and I was going to try my damnedest to win.
    “First. One. To. The. Oak. Wins,” I managed to gasp out, with my last remaining breath.
    “You’re. On. Buddy!” he replied. And with that, we pushed forward. I was afraid to look next to me, but all I knew was thathe wasn’t in front of me. Was I actually winning? My momentum was propelling me forward so hard that I overshot the tree, and then collapsed on my back onto the green grass, gasping for air.
    Luke came crashing down next to me, his chest heaving up and down, as we both stared up into the sky. You know that moment where something happens, but you’re not sure how or why it started? Well, this was one of those moments. He started laughing, then I started laughing, and before you know it, we were rolling on the grass, cracking up.
    He flipped over onto his stomach and said, “Damn, buddy. You can run!”
    “I’m like a greyhound,” I said. “I just keep my eye on the prize.”
    “Did you run in high school?” he asked. “I’m sure I would have remembered if you were on the track team.”
    “
Nah
. Didn’t pick it up until I moved to New York. Central Park is a pretty good motivator. That and all the hot guys in shorts.” I turned to him to gauge his reaction.
    He looked down, a small grin forming on his face. Those dimples. “Well, whatever your motivation is, you’re good. Better than me, I’d say.”
    “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Star Athlete.”
    “Well, I do have a few pounds on you,” he said.
    “Yeah, all muscle.” Was I flirting? Oh, my god. I’m flirting.
    “Take the compliment, man,” he said. “You’re an athlete, too. You just proved it.”
    I was on my back, one arm crooked under my head, the other on my chest. He was leaning on his side, one arm holdinghis head up, his eyes looking directly into mine. Sweat dripping down his forehead, he had never looked sexier. The past few weeks felt like such a dream to me, but what was the end goal? Another crush on a straight guy? No. This was something more. I felt it. I knew it.
    Fuck it. Now or never. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest as I leaned up slowly… and kissed him softly, once, on the lips. He didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t push me away, either. I pulled back, my heart pounding.
    “Derek, I…” he started to speak, but stopped and just looked at me, with an air of sadness in his eyes.
    “I’m sorry. I just. I don’t