Paulie by John Inman

Author:John Inman [John Inman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2014-01-05T05:00:00+00:00

PAULIE WAS dressed in running shorts, ankle socks, and his favorite running shoes. He had a bandanna knotted around his neck to catch the sweat.

Ben, after rummaging through the U-Haul truck for ten minutes to find his battered Asics, had finally joined him. He wore running shorts as well, and a raggedy muscle shirt that looked like it had been hemmed with a pocketknife and only came down to just above his belly button.

To Paulie’s surprise, Ben gave Paulie’s body an appreciative once-over. “You’ve stayed in shape,” he said shyly.

“You too,” Paulie said, trying to sound casual but probably failing miserably. Calling Ben “in shape” was a little like calling the Mona Lisa “a nice picture.” It didn’t do the artwork justice by any means.

“Street or sand?” Paulie asked, dragging his eyes back to Ben’s face.

“Sand, if it’s okay,” Ben answered. “I’ve missed the ocean.”

“Sand it is.”

They left the mansion and skirted the pool, ignoring a chorus of wolf whistles and hoots from the morons still in attendance there, and headed for the redwood staircase leading down from the property to the beach.

It was still early afternoon. The sun was at its highest and hottest. Paulie loved the heat of it on his skin, and his heart was racing already. He loved to run. And he had always loved running with Ben. Back in college they ran almost every weekend. Even participated in a few marathons together.

After a few hamstring stretches to limber up and a good shake to get the blood moving, they set a leisurely pace up the beach, heading north, breathing in the sea air and letting their strong legs adjust to the pull of the sand in their treads. Down here, a breeze came off the water that had not been felt up at the house. The breeze was warm and silky against Paulie’s skin—the air alive with that fishy, homey smell of saltwater and sea life.

The ocean cast foaming breakers across the sand every few seconds, but Paulie and Ben stayed far enough up on the beach to keep their trainers dry. There is nothing worse than running in wet shoes.

There were sunbathers and kids scattered around, but not many. This part of the La Jolla coastline was a little too far off the beaten path for the tourists to have found the place yet. Here the sun worshippers were mostly locals. Paulie even recognized a few, nodding or waving now and then as he passed them sprawled out on the sand, slathered in lotion, reading, basking, turning brown, looking like they owned the world; and if they could afford to live in this neighborhood, they damn near did.

It only took a few hundred yards for Paulie to realize how much he had missed running with Ben. They quickly reverted to that comfortable camaraderie they had always experienced when jogging together, and since they were very nearly the same height, their strides matched almost perfectly. It made for an easy, comforting workout—never having to adjust your stride to someone else.

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