Janice reached across for the snooze button, momentarily forgetting she wasn’t at home. The clumsy flop of her hand against the hotel dresser jolted her awake much faster than the alarm had. This wasn’t a day to indulge in the snooze; the educational leadership conference was scheduled to begin promptly at 9:00 a.m. If she were simply getting dressed and crossing the street, there would be less rush to her morning. Instead, she had promised herself she would get up and hit the treadmill before the day began. She didn’t want to lose her streak, knowing full well that a long day of networking would leave her evening completely devoid of any desire to exercise.

Rummaging through her unpacked suitcase, she found a pair of leggings and a loose-fitting tee. She made a quick stop in the bathroom to brush her teeth and pull her hair back, then stepped into her sneakers, which conveniently slipped right on. Grabbing her earbuds, phone, and key card, she slipped out the door and made her way down the hall.

Waiting for the elevator, she sent her husband a quick good morning text. It was just about time for his own alarm to go off, and she wanted him to have a little smile when he woke up.

Good morning, love. Slept okay, though the mattress could be softer. Decided to hit the treadmill early. Love you!

The elevator dinged its arrival just as she hit send, allowing her to step into the empty car for the seven-floor journey down to the lobby level where the fitness center was located.

Janice was pleasantly surprised to find the gym completely empty. She was by no means a gym rat, usually preferring the quiet solitude of her own equipment at home. Working out surrounded by strangers held absolutely no appeal in her comfortably quiet life. She took care of herself for herself, never feeling the need to announce her progress or efforts to the world through social media like so many of her acquaintances. A few people in her daily life had already noticed her progress, and their genuine acknowledgment meant infinitely more to her than the validation of random strangers online.

Taking the last treadmill in the small row of five, she figured if anyone else arrived, they’d have plenty of room to maintain their personal space. She was thrilled to find the machine was the exact same brand as hers at home, allowing her to easily fumble through the connection steps and log into her profile. Having a much larger screen for her walking tour was a nice treat compared to the phone screen she usually relied on. It easily made up for the lack of actual scenery, considering her “view” from the hotel treadmill was just a glass wall looking out into a sterile hallway.

Crossing the thirty-minute mark, Janice decided to push a little further since time allowed and the gym remained blissfully empty. The walking tour of Egypt she was immersed in had a few more minutes to go; she might as well reach the Great Pyramid before breakfast.

Her phone lit up on the console—a notification of a reply from her husband. But as she reached for it, she caught the glimpse of a man walking toward the glass doors.

Suddenly, a small, undeniable knot of anticipation grew in her stomach. The moment he pushed through the door, she decided Giza could wait.

Forgetting the text entirely, she tapped her screen to stop the machine, ending her session. She acknowledged his entrance, and he returned a polite smile and a low, friendly, “Good morning.”

As she reached for her towel, he approached the line of treadmills, seamlessly adhering to unspoken gym etiquette by choosing the machine at the absolute opposite end of the row. He clearly spent plenty of time doing this. As he powered up his belt and broke into an effortless run, Janice found her sudden desire to leave completely vanished.

Patting the sweat from her face with the rough hotel towel, she casually let her eyes linger, watching his body move. The definition. The agility. The quiet, powerful speed. She took it all in.

Suddenly, he looked casually in her direction, his gaze catching hers dead-on. The intensity of the eye contact jolted her straight back to the reality of the brightly lit gym and the time on the clock.

Hastily draping the towel around her shoulders, Janice grabbed her things and made a quick escape back to the elevators, deciding the whole way up the seven floors that tomorrow might just have to be a “rest day.”

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Janice settled into one of the poorly padded metal chairs located at the end of the second row of the symposium room. As she adjusted the slightly annoying conference lanyard around her neck, she made a mental note to bring her own coffee tomorrow. The watered-down hotel coffee she was nursing was the only thing slightly masking the heavy perfume of someone sitting nearby. Already done with the day, she pulled up the schedule on her phone, verifying she was in the right place for the 10:30 a.m. breakout session on Finding Our Way Back to the Basics.

The loud thumping of the microphone seemed totally appropriate for the situation. It might have been a way to test its function, but it also served as a way to get the silent attention of a room full of educators. The lights dimmed slightly as the moderator began to speak. “Welcome, everyone. We are thrilled to have our next speaker with us to discuss the ways we can get back to more pencil, paper, and books. Please welcome…”

Fading from the reality around her, Janice didn’t even hear the name.

The room broke out into applause as a man stepped out from behind the curtain. Janice glanced up, unimpressed, immediately returning to the text conversation she was having with her husband. It wasn’t until his voice came across the speakers that she finally decided to attempt to focus.

She viewed the visual on the screen first, taking in the statistics about the decline in students’ skills, before shifting her gaze to the man speaking. The session suddenly caught her full attention.

Looking entirely too comfortable in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, was the man from the treadmill.

The messy, sweat-dampened hair from two hours ago was expertly styled. The raw agility she had watched on the running belt was now channeled into a confident, commanding stride as he took the center of the stage.

Janice’s stomach did a familiar, sudden flip. She sank just a fraction of an inch lower in her chair, her heart thumping against her ribs. She unlocked her phone and opened her husband’s thread. She had mentioned him a little earlier in their texting, so it was instinct to message him the news.

You are never going to believe this. The guy from the gym? He’s the guest speaker.

She hit send and looked back up. The speaker had just asked the crowd a question about creative writing in their classrooms, his eyes scanning the educators and taking in the majority. He swept over the back rows, down the middle aisle, and then, his gaze landed on the second row.

He stopped. It was only for a microsecond—a tiny, almost imperceptible falter in his practiced rhythm. But Janice caught it. She saw the flash of recognition in his dark eyes, followed immediately by the slow, deliberate curve of a smirk that he quickly hid behind a sip of water.

He knew exactly who she was. And worse, he knew she had been watching him.

Continue On… Extracurriculars | Part 2: Office Hours