Palpitations [blitz]

Chadsworth Guilford Hastings III

I go running with my shirt off because I want people to look at me.

It’s not because it’s really that hot in district two, especially when winter sets in. I hate having to wear anything over my body because it obstructs the goods, and makes it a lot hard to get noticed – there’s plenty of good enough looking bodies when I’m off running with clothes on – though I have to admit wearing a compression shirt at least gives the same sort of impression. And don’t make it seem like I’m desperate. I don’t want just any fucking loser approaching me with a compliment. That shit is reserved for the folks that I want to grace me with their presence.

So it was unseasonably warm that afternoon for a day in January, which meant that I could dress as obscenely as possible while still being comfortable.

Now any guy that tells you he’s only going to wear spandex leggings and that it’s because he likes to better for running is full of shit. It’s about what folks can see and no one wants to look at that unless they’re curious. So of course, I go without the shorts and just the tights. And as you could’ve guessed, I’m just out and about without a shirt.

I take off from our giant ass house toward the park, and head right onto the trails. There’s not many folks out at first, and I make my way along the trails by my lonesome. After about a half hour I pause by one of the little ponds where there’s a grouping of benches, and decide to start doing some stretches to limber up. I make sure to show my range of flexibility, and, at the sound of someone coming up along the trail, pretend not to notice. Until, when I hear them getting close, throw my head over my shoulder with a glance and a smile.

“Sup, dude,” I call out, giving a glance at the boy coming in my direction.