“I’m kidding,” I say with a small laugh. “Felix is gorg, of course, but this guy . . . he just runs by, and I feel a little breathless. I might need to take up a lunchtime jogging hobby. Do you think I can still catch him?” “You hate running.” She arches one brow at me while wearing an amused expression. “Hated. Past tense. It’s me and my new boyfriend’s favorite hobby.”
