I strarted stretching, getting ready to run the race. I looked around, observing the poeple around me. Some looked totally into it; they had obviously been training for months, maybe a year. Others looked like they were in it just for the shots being handed out by the "fun runners." I was participating to support the charity the money was going to. Plus, I'd always wanted to run a real race. I got in my place around the middle of the middle of the crowd and waited for the gun to signal the start.

"Dinner says I'll cross the finish line before you will."

I jumped a bit at the sudden smooth voice whispering in my ear. I turned to face my new opponent. He had rather large brown eyes, light brown curly hair with some of it pulled back, soft yet masculine features, and a slim but still toned body. Definitely someone I'd go to dinner with. And his smirk told me that he was sure he'd win.

"You're on," I replied with an equally assured smirk. I do enjoy free dinner.

A few seconds later, the gun went off, signaling the first wave of runners to go. As soon as I saw an opening in the crowd of people in front of me, I darted through and started running. I felt the wind whistling past me as I nearly flew. The hardest part, though, was getting past the slower runners and those who started walking. I felt myself slow a bit around the half-way mark of Mile 1. I dropped down to a quick jog for a while. My iPod helped keep my mind off of my legs hurting and my breathing. I was slowing down even more by Mile 3 and I also felt something burning on the back of my foot. Crap. That's gonna be a bad blister.

At that time, I also saw that guy from earlier passing me. Unfortunately, he saw me, too. He started jogging right in front of me. I just rolled my eyes. But then he continued jogging, and turned around to face me.

"My name's Minho, by the way."

"Helena."

"Nice to meet you. I'll see you at the finish line. Oh, and I like steak!"

"Yeah? Well, I like lobster!" I yelled as he turned back around. I saw him chuckle at my comment and speed ahead.

Yeah. I'm going to lose.

But I persisted, alternating between running and power walking, matching my footsteps to the beat of the song I was listening to. Along the way to the finish line, I would chat with a few people beside me. I also saw Minho a few more times. As soon as I would spot him, though, he would run forward again.

The rest of the race was just a blur. Although I do remember all of the unique, scenic places as well as the houses with their sprinklers on.

I reached the finish line about an hour and fifteen minutes after I started the race. Not too bad for someone with no prior practice. I remembered Minho and our bet as I sat down under a tree to rest and drink the water I was given. I lost track of him after the 4-mile mark. Maybe he fell behind. I really wanted dinner. In the meantime, I examined the blister on my heel.

"Whoa. Never seen one like that before... Damn. I ruined my new shoes," I said to myself.

Blood was running down my heel through my sock and into my shoe. I decided to go home and rest there instead of going to the post-race festivities or finding the first aid tent. I got up and tried to walk, but ended up limping. Just then, I was literally swept off my feet. As soon as I realized who was carrying me, I settled my head on his shoulder and let myself relax.

"Where's your car?" Minho asked.

"Across the highway. Near the coffee shop on the left."

"Good. Mine, too."

We stayed silent as he carried me to my car. After he placed in the driver's seat, I said,

"Thanks, Minho. I really owe you one."

He smirked and replied, "How about dinner?"