This is part of it, too. Your eyes on the next step, and the one after that, and the one after that, but not further. A glance at the top, maybe, before forgetting it for the current stairs. The top will come when it comes, and not before. Like the end of a half hour, the end of a shift.
All she can do is try to get there faster.
It's hard, and getting harder. Breath scraping, now, panting against the pull of gravity. Keep going. Hard. Fast. Harder, faster. Up and up and up. Following the swing of Steve's shirt and shorts. Feeling her legs burn, the muscles wanting to give in and stumble.
Just a sign to focus more, further. Clear her mind of everything except one step after another, levering up, light as she can, as fatigue starts setting in and her feet start feeling heavy. Hair soaking in sweat, glad for the lack of a shirt sticking to her back or stomach, casting out breathless excuse me's to people they pass.
And tilting a smile at Steve when he looks back, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, breath hard, glowing under sweat and sun, and meeting that glance with one of her own. Not left behind yet, Steve, and not planning on it.
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All she can do is try to get there faster.
It's hard, and getting harder. Breath scraping, now, panting against the pull of gravity. Keep going. Hard. Fast. Harder, faster. Up and up and up. Following the swing of Steve's shirt and shorts. Feeling her legs burn, the muscles wanting to give in and stumble.
Just a sign to focus more, further. Clear her mind of everything except one step after another, levering up, light as she can, as fatigue starts setting in and her feet start feeling heavy. Hair soaking in sweat, glad for the lack of a shirt sticking to her back or stomach, casting out breathless excuse me's to people they pass.
And tilting a smile at Steve when he looks back, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, breath hard, glowing under sweat and sun, and meeting that glance with one of her own. Not left behind yet, Steve, and not planning on it.