One of the nice things about the University was that the workout center was open around the clock. So if Amanda was worn out or keyed up from studying and found it hard to fall asleep, she could trek over to the IM building and exercise herself into sleepiness.

After 2 AM the facility was usually all but deserted. On this night Amanda found it so—only some beefy football guy doing weights. Amanda warmed up on the mats, did a few dozen lat pull downs, then went over to the treadmills. These machines were wonderful, with the running surfaces having just enough firmness, just enough bounce. Amanda was about to climb on and go when a guy hopped onto the machine next to hers.

“Hey,” he said, “how’s it going?”

“Good,” Amanda replied. “Forgot my water bottle but other than that.”

“The fountains should be okay,” the guy said. “Or you’re welcome to share mine.”

“Um, thanks,” Amanda said, not sure whether this guy could be serious.

They both started up their machines at the same time, Amanda picking a pace of eight minutes per mile. When she glanced over she saw the guy had his machine set on 10. She smiled. The guy caught her smile in the big mirror and bumped his machine to 8. Amanda nodded and upped her pace to seven. The guy responded in kind. And when she did 6 the guy followed.

“Can you do fives?” he asked.

“Can you?” she answered.

“Piece of cake,” he said.

“But for how long?” Amanda asked.

“Let’s find out,” he said, punching 5 into his treadmill. “See who lasts longest? Winner take all?”

Amanda nodded and keyed five minute miles into her machine.

They ran.

The guy was clearly an athlete. He had a long smooth stride. Amanda couldn’t match that, but she ran easily enough. Ten minutes at fives should be possible for her, she knew. Maybe fifteen.

The guy didn’t seem to be tiring, but he pulled off his jersey after they’d gone a mile. His skin gleamed with sweat. Amanda wondered what would happen if she removed her top. Would seeing her little breasts bounce distract her opponent? She smiled to herself—the question was moot: no way could she manage to take off her top and stay on the treadmill.

Two miles and Amanda was starting to tire. She could do sixes all day, but fives were a stretch. But she didn’t want to lose. The guy looked very fit, but he didn’t look like a long-distance runner. Maybe he’d give out. Amanda kept with it.

Another minute, she told herself. Another minute. One more. One more.

“Done,” the guy gasped, punching his machine, the treadmill jerking to a stop. He grasped the side bars and slumped, breathing hard.

A half dozen strides later, Amanda pushed “warm down” and her treadmill slowed. She pushed the button twice more to a pace almost walking and breathed deep.

“Whew! You’re good,” the guy admitted. “Too good for me.”

“So what do I win?” Amanda asked.

The guy smiled sheepishly. “It was winner take all, right? So I guess you get all of me. Blake Donald.” He said, holding out his hand.

Grinning at each other, they shook hands.

“So where do you want me?” Blake asked.

Amanda wasn’t completely sure what he was asking.

“Shouldn’t we shower first?” Amanda suggested.