The word felt utterly foreign, like trying to speak Martian. It stumbled out of his mouth, clumsy and awkward, and he almost tripped over the sylbles. He could feel his own ears getting hot. He risked a gnce at Dipa; her eyebrows had definitely shot up a millimeter, a flicker of surprise or maybe confusion in her eyes.
Nailed it? Probably not.
Toya, however, was a seasoned professional. Without missing a single beat, she beamed up at James, radiating enough fake adoration to power a small vilge. "Exactly! Gotta maintain our couple fitness goals, you know how it is!" she chirped, selling it hard. She then turned her bright smile back to Dipa, lowering her voice just enough to sound conspiratorial and giving her a pyful, exaggerated wink.
"Can't let this one get too far ahead of me in the fitness department, right? Keeping him on his toes!"
She patted James's arm again, reinforcing the charade. Dipa just blinked, offering a slightly bewildered smile in return.
They kicked things off with some deliberately slow, almost comical jogging on the spot, making a big show of 'warming up' before transitioning into a gentle, easy-paced trot alongside Dipa as she started what was clearly her cool-down p around the edge of the grassy area. Immediately, Toya unched into her designated role: Chief Distraction Officer. A relentless stream of light, bubbly chatter flowed from her like a leaky faucet. Seriously, the girl had stamina for conversation that rivaled Dipa's newfound endurance.
She asked Dipa about that notoriously difficult bio professor, "Did Professor Evans curve the midterm, or is he still channeling his inner supervilin?" She commented on the surprisingly vibrant flower beds near the path, "Seriously, how do they keep the petunias looking that good?" She even brought up some random piece of campus gossip involving someone neither James nor Dipa likely knew well. All delivered with relentless cheer.
Every thirty seconds or so, she’d perform a calcuted 'couple' move – leaning her head towards James for a brief moment, sharing a quick, blindingly bright smile that was clearly manufactured for Dipa’s benefit (James tried to mirror it, probably looking constipated), or making a comment designed to loop him in. "James loves this weather for running, don't you, babe?"
James just nodded along, pying his part as the supportive (and slightly monosylbic) boyfriend. "Yeah," "Sounds rough," "Totally," "Mmhmm," were his main contributions. He was acutely aware of maintaining the facade, of keeping the right distance, of occasionally making eye contact with Toya that looked affectionate. Inside, he was mostly just counting the seconds until this p was over and praying Toya didn't ask him to actually contribute a full sentence.
It felt like acting in the world's most awkward, low-stakes improv show.
While keeping up the slow jog and pretending to listen intently to Toya's commentary on cloud shapes, James kept stealing gnces at Dipa. He wasn't just looking; he was analyzing, comparing. Her stride was definitely more fluid now, less like she was fighting gravity with every step. Remember that first time?
It looked painful. Now, it looked… practiced. Her breathing, though still audible – because, you know, jogging – was way more rhythmic and controlled. Not the ragged, desperate gasps for air he'd heard before.
