Matthew
The second I get home, I go for a run, needing to clear my head. I barely know her, and from what I've seen, she's not exactly my type-high maintenance, spoiled, probably shallow-so why is she stuck in my head?
My feet pound the sidewalk, fast and robotic. It's dark out, not the time of night you want to go running in this neighborhood, but I'm scarier than half of the monsters out here.
My thoughts return to her. In my mind, I'm picturing her golden-brown hair catching the overhead gym lights. Her tight yoga pants cling to her curves. She shows up for training like she's about to walk the catwalk, which drives me insane. She is, in fact, everything I despise. I try to avoid everything. She is now everywhere I look.
I need to get back into fighting mode. I need to go back to
