Exercise? I Thought You Said Extra Fries

Quinn refused to put the block of cheese in the fridge.

Outright.

She growled possessively.

“Don’t touch me.”

Jarel hadn’t been planning on that, but he took a cautious step back anyway. Now she stood in the living area while he remained in the kitchen - there was no physical way for him to get near her from that distance.

He sighed.

“Quinn, I need to put the cheese in the fridge.”

She shook her head, eyes never leaving him.

“No.”

Another sigh escaped. She was proving to be far more work than he’d anticipated.

“Why not?”

She blinked, genuinely confused.

“Because I like it?”

“Then why not put it in the fridge and take it out whenever you want to… sniff it?”

She tightened her grip, squeezing it to her chest.

“I want it all the time.”

He didn’t want to examine how strange that sentence sounded. So he nodded slowly.

“Okay. But you can’t have it all the time.”

She frowned.

“Why?”

“Because it needs to be kept cold. Otherwise it’ll go bad.”

She blinked again.

“Go bad?”

“It’ll change color. It’ll start to smell gross. Very strongly.”

Her stance wavered slightly. He was making progress.

“But I want to smell it all the time…”

He almost felt bad.

Almost.

“You can’t. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes pleaded.

“Is there nothing that can stop that from happening?”

If there was, he absolutely wasn’t about to encourage a dairy dependency.

“No.”

She stared down at the block as if weighing whether eternal access was worth eventual mold. The internal battle was visible.

Finally, she sighed.

Defeated.

She approached him slowly, as though he might suddenly lunge and snatch it from her. But he didn’t. He simply opened the fridge and pointed to the covered shelf he had unofficially designated as The Cheese Area.

He let her place it inside.

Her fingers lingered.

The door closed with a soft click.

She stared at it.

And kept staring.

Withdrawal had begun.

Without thinking, he reached out and rested a hand gently between her ears.

“You’ll be alright.”

She nodded faintly, not even reacting to the headpat - which told him just how serious this was. Her eyes remained locked on the fridge as though it might run away with her treasure.

He sighed.

“Come on. Let’s do the next thing.”

She turned slowly, gaze dragging behind her.

“Excerise?”

He smiled.

“Exercise.”

She nodded once.

“Okay.”

The park was only six minutes from the apartment building, and it was a nice one - open fields, gentle slopes, paved paths weaving between trees and trimmed grass. The surrounding cityscape marred the view, but it was better than nothing.

Now dressed in a casual t-shirt and shorts, Jarel stretched his legs while Quinn watched, utterly confused. She was still wearing her knit turtleneck. She’d been the one who insisted on coming.

He smiled at her expression.

“I’m making sure I don’t hurt myself.”

She blinked.

“Doing that stops you from hurting yourself?”

He nodded.

“It warms up and prepares my muscles.”

She considered this carefully. He watched her fondly - and then suddenly noticed something so obvious he couldn’t believe he’d missed it earlier.

She wasn’t wearing anything on her feet.

He stared for a second too long.

“Why are you staring at my feet? Do you have a fetish?”

He shook his head so quickly he nearly undid the stretching.

“No! I just can’t believe I didn’t realize you’re not wearing shoes.”

She blinked.

“But I’ve never worn shoes. Is that not normal?”

“No. Not even slightly.”

“Do people’s feet break?”

“Not usually. But they get sore. Especially on pavement.”

She shrugged.

“The carpet is comfy at home.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“Will you be alright running on this?”

She lifted one foot, then the other, inspecting her soles as if they’d provide an answer.

“I don’t see why not.”

He straightened, stretching his arms behind his back with a long groan.

“Alllll right then. Let’s do this.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What are we doing?”

“Running.”

She mumbled something about that not sounding very lazy, but then smiled anyway.

“Okay! I’ll follow you!”

They started off fine, jogging along the winding paths. It was a large park, but he normally did several loops without much issue.

It was during the second lap that he noticed her falling behind.

He slowed, letting her catch up before matching her pace. Her face showed clear discomfort - but no exhaustion.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Why’d you slow down?”

She was terrible at lying.

“Are your feet sore?”

She sighed and gradually came to a stop. He did the same.

After a moment, she nodded.

“I thought I’d be fine…”

He chuckled.

“I’m impressed you made it this far. And that you didn’t just give up.”

She nodded again, but still wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

An idea crossed his mind.

“What if I carry you?”

She frowned.

“What for?”

He adjusted his tone, slipping into logic he knew would land.

“If I carry you and run at the same time, I’ll have to use more effort. Which means the exercise finishes faster.”

She considered that for approximately one and a half seconds.

Then nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Of course it did.

“How will you carry me?”

He dropped to one knee.

“Climb on. I’ll piggyback you.”

She did so without hesitation, sliding onto his back, legs hooking into his arms, arms wrapping around his neck. He stood with no trouble at all.

She gasped.

“You’re tall.”

He wasn’t.

But he appreciated the sentiment.

“Thanks.”

She really wasn’t that heavy. He began jogging again, slower than usual, exerting more effort to keep the rhythm steady - but those were minor inconveniences.

What mattered was the warm wolf-girl clinging to him.

She laughed as they moved, her silver hair brushing over his shoulders like it belonged there. The sound made him smile despite the extra strain.

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head against him.

“I don’t know!”

He grinned wider and kept going, ignoring the looks they were getting from other joggers. Soon they’d head home.

But for now, he carried her through the park.

And his life, somehow, felt very far from ruined.