First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 21

If she didn't know any better, Liz might have thought he was following her. The first time it happened, the day was gray, the sky filled with clouds and fog in the air.

The run started out lovely. It was cold and gray, but almost damp, in a strangely pleasant way after the constant dryness of the blowing wind and the interior heaters. Her bangs and the tiny hairs around her face quickly became saturated, sticking to her skin and leaving a trail of water on my forehead and cheeks. It all sounded terrible unappealing in theory, but in practice it was invigorating, waking her up and soothing her winter-dry skin.

She pushed herself harder than she had in a while, flying over slips of ice and buckles in the pavement. When her ears began to feel cold, she wished she'd worn a headband over them. When they became numb, then hot, she shook her hair out of its ponytail and let it fall over her ears and behind her shoulders. It only helped a little but she didn't want to slow down.

Rather than listening to an audiobook or music, she had opted instead for silence. She could hear the gentle rumble of traffic over the wind in her ears. The soft calls of the winter birds. The rustle of the dry branches and the crunch of snow.

Liz was panting by the time she reached the bench at the far end of the park. She stretched one leg and glanced down at her watch to check her time, and then paused. It was difficult not to be competitive about running after so many years of tournaments and times and goals. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should train for a half marathon or a marathon; it might be good to have a goal again. She wondered if she could get Charlotte to help coach her, just for old time's sake.

As she flexed her fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them, she heard footsteps approaching, moving at an even jog with a much slower pace than she had been taking. It took a moment for her to realize who the figure running towards her was.

Darcy wore a red knitted cap pulled snug against his head. A few locks of his hair poked out from under the brim, gently curling upward. He appeared decidedly uncomfortable, though it was difficult to tell if it was from the cold—which had whipped his cheeks with color—or some other reason. He passed with barely a sideways glance and without breaking stride before stopping at the next bench over, about fifteen feet away.

Liz watched him for a minute. He didn't really stop to stretch or catch his breath, didn't move to sit down. Instead, he held his shoulders very stiffly before reaching for his phone in his pocket. He dipped his head to look down at the screen.

She frowned, crossing her arms. Hadn't she just told him she preferred to run outside? Surely that would have kept him in the little gym. He relaxed slightly after a second; she had seen enough of her sisters to be able to tell in an instance, even from behind, that he was typing something into his phone just from the gentle bob of his elbows.

After another minute, she wondered if it might become awkward if she didn't move on. What if he turned around and tried to talk to her? She shuddered delicately and, after sweeping her hair back from her shoulders, picked up her pace again. As she passed him, also keeping her face resolutely forward, refusing to allow herself to turn long enough to even glance at him, she thought of the time they spent in the cabin and the couple of times he had stopped her from falling. If I slip on a patch of ice in front of him and he feels the need to catch me again, I might as well die. She could feel his eyes on her like a shiver down her right side.

It was not as hard to not slip on the ice as she feared and she exited the park without incident. Though she was flustered enough to forget to ask Charlotte for a coaching pep talk, she was not so offput to mention the chance meeting.