Well, I've exceeded the word count. Not only did I not keep my story to 2000 words, and not only am I adding on with this little thingy here, but there is even a build-up back story that I didn't include in the word count at all. See, this is a modern rendition of the three conversations, and even if you could start out cold reading it, I couldn't start out cold writing it. I had to know a bit of where I was coming from, and the roles these characters had taken on. Read the back story if you're curious, ignore it if you're not. In this little challenge piece I'll alert you when you get to 2000 words; that way, if you're going to be a stickler about word count, you're free to stop reading altogether.

Indulging Herself in Air and Exercise ~ by Alyson

Wednesday morning I went out for my morning jog, expecting that Charlotte would be waiting for me when I returned to the apartment despite the suit she'd donned after her shower. What I didn't expect was to pass William during my jog. I was only a minute or two beyond Mrs. DeBourgh's driveway gates when he came running toward me. I didn't recognize him at first; I noticed the jacket tied around his waist, I noticed the nicely muscled arms coming out of the T-shirt sleeves, and (when he came closer) I noticed his chest muscles as his arms pumped. I glanced at his curls, sticking to his forehead, and then, with a jolt, I noticed the face. William, I thought, heaving a sigh. Too bad. He was nice to look at.

I had every intention of just nodding as we passed one another, but when he was close enough he slowed and came to a stop. "Good morning, Elizabeth."

I continued jogging in place. "Hi."

"Are you...Have you..." He took a deep breath, probably to slow his respiration, and frowned. "Out for a jog?"

"Mmm hmmm. If you don’t mind," I said, starting to move past him, "I'll keep going before I lose my momentum."

He turned and followed me. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Didn't you just finish running?" I asked. And rather than wait for an answer, I picked up my pace.

Within seconds he was by my side. "I just finished my second lap. I have four more to go," he answered. I wasn't sure if I believed him; it was a cool morning, but he was warmed up. So warm, he'd shed his jacket and had a sheen of perspiration on his face.

We ran for two minutes side by side, without saying a word. Finally, I said, "I just love my morning jog. Don't you? I love the solitude." Here I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, to see if he'd taken my point. "My time alone to think about my place in the world, you know? I jog every morning. Pretty much the same time. I don't know about the neighborhood, so I run the same route. Every morning." If you want to avoid me, that's all you'll need to know, I added mentally.

He nodded grimly beside me, his eyebrows knit together as if in concentration.

"You jog often?" I asked, hoping he'd say this was his last day, and that we'd never have to encounter one another out here again.

I thought I saw him smile. "Pretty much every day," he answered.

"Mmm." More silent, side-by-side pavement pounding. "How far?"

"It varies," he panted.

I grew tired of trying to carry on a conversation; I grew tired of pretending we were jogging together. I turned my focus inward and didn't say anything to him at all, imagining I was alone. I almost did forget he was beside me until we reached the stairs at Charlotte's apartment and I began stretching. He stood beside me, asking about my plans for the day, watching me stretch.

"I really don't know until I get inside and see what Charlotte has planned," I said. "Thanks for seeing me home safely, William." I climbed the stairs and entered the apartment as quickly as I could, never looking back.

Thursday morning was a little warmer, and I started out at a quicker pace, glad to feel the cool air on my face and to see the rosy morning sun touching the homes and trees around me. I noted that some trees had buds on them, and the grass was very green and, in most cases, long. "Not Mrs. DeBourgh's, though," I mumbled aloud as I looked through her gate into her large yard. "Perfectly trimmed, I see. In a pattern, like a baseball field." I snorted. "She probably..."

My soliloquy died in my throat as I noticed William sprinting down her driveway. He was going to make it to the gate within seconds of my own arrival.

"Elizabeth," he said, as coolly as one can when one is breathing hard, "may I join you again this morning?" He didn't wait for an answer, but matched his pace and direction to mine.

For more than a minute I couldn't think of anything to talk about; my tendency was to comment on all of the circumstances, some tiny alteration of which would have given us each our desired privacy. I wanted to say something like, "If you saw me coming, why didn't you duck into the shrubs?" or "Isn't it something? If one of us had set out just three minutes earlier or later, we wouldn't be struggling for a topic right now!"

Eventually, I settled on, "Lovely morning."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see William's head turn toward me. Nevertheless I kept my eyes straight ahead until I began to worry about him – he might step into a pothole or run into a hydrant if he didn't look at our path. (Not that Catherine DeBourgh would allow potholes anywhere near her home!) Finally I glanced in his direction. He looked like he had a thunderstorm brewing in his eyes.

"Yes, it is lovely. What's up with your hair?"

I'm sure I looked as confused as I felt. Even if he wouldn't be prudent, I would. I turned my eyes back to the path before me. "What are you asking? What's up with my hair?"

"It looks different."

"I woke up, I got dressed, I came out jogging – my hair is only along for the ride."

"You..."

"I just rolled out of bed, William."

After another long silence (during which I was absolutely certain his gaze was on me), I chanced another glance at him. He was biting his bottom lip and he had a look in his eyes I'd never seen. His eyes held mine for a few seconds, which seemed much longer. I saw a blush on his cheeks, and wondered if he'd gotten sun the day before, or if the color were somehow related to the expression on his face.

We both turned our heads forward, and William mumbled, "You look great for having just rolled out of bed."

We jogged the rest of my route in silence; when we arrived back at Charlotte's apartment I bolted up the stairs; I didn't realize until I'd already turned away from him that he seemed to be making an effort to say something. Oh, well, I thought, considering that we have no friendship, no relationship, and nothing to do with one another, it couldn't have been too important. When I arrived in the guest room to grab clean clothes before showering, I looked out the window and was surprised to see him strolling very slowly down the street, looking back at the apartment every 50 feet or so.

Friday morning I considered skipping my jog altogether. And then I realized that I was changing my routine to avoid William Darcy! I'll never give him that much power over me, I thought as I energetically tied my jogging shoes. I yanked so hard I broke a lace, but with a little pulling and a good, tight knot I was back in business.

Weakness again overtook me at the bottom of the stairs and I almost turned to the left rather than the right to begin jogging. No, my plans in favor of scenic run will not be affected by his being in the neighborhood.

And so I set out. And so, when I had gone less than two blocks, I saw William's masculine form striding toward me. From a distance I thought I saw a broad smile on his face, and wondered what could have inspired his good mood; but when he came closer his lips were in the same configuration as always. He looked contemplative and a little surly. Again I planned to nod as I passed him, and this time I would not be taken in if he stopped to chat, but would continue on in the same direction at constant speed.

Again I was foiled. He didn't stop; as if in a voluntary act of penance, he turned before I even reached his position and began jogging, slowly, in the direction I was headed. I caught up to him a few seconds later. He looked more grave than usual when he said, "Good morning, Elizabeth."

"'Morning, William," I answered. What terrible luck was this, to bring us together three mornings in a row? And when I had so carefully warned him of my tendencies, too? "Crowded neighborhood, isn't it?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know; I suppose there are a lot of homes and several apartment buildings..."

"Yes," I said, determined to make my point. "Yes. Lots of people. It's difficult even to have privacy during a morning run."

He smiled reluctantly at this remark, as though he were trying to keep his dimples from showing. It looked uncomfortable.

"But – " he ventured, looking sideways at me but not willing to meet my glance, "aside from the crowding, how are you enjoying your stay in the area?"

"I've had a wonderful week with Charlotte," I answered.

"Is she...are she and her husband...happy?" he asked, the same reluctance that had plagued his dimples now filling his voice.

"I believe she has constructed as happy a life as they could possible have together."

He cocked his head to the side. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, I believe they're going to do very well together. Better than I would have expected." And I refused to give him more detail than that.

"I'm glad. I...I liked Charlotte. She seemed a very nice sort of...person, and...sensible." I couldn't tell if the pauses in his conversation were due to efforts at phrasing or aerobic puffing.

I decided to allow him to catch his breath as much as he needed, and I remained silent so as not to give him the added stress of conversation.

We'd probably traversed another quarter mile or more when he began wetting his lips and clearing his throat. I wondered if he were having difficulty breathing, and I slowed down a little and said, "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" he replied too quickly. "Fine. No problems here. None whatsoever." We resumed our rhythmic pace. "Just...just fine."

I heard a number of gusty exhales in a short period of time, and was again going to ask him about his strained breathing, when he hastily began talking. "So you must jog all the time, then, to be in such good shape? I mean..."

I looked at him, and his cheeks were red again. I had noticed no trace of the redness up until now, but I hadn't been looking. Perhaps he was just spending his days in the springtime sun?

"I mean...you're in good shape." He said the last meekly, quietly, not willing to meet my eyes but doing a quick sweep of the rest of me. It was less amatory than appraising, and I had a hard time holding back my laughter when I saw he was embarrassed and his cheeks were even redder.

He's blushing! I realized with amazement. Rather than increase his discomfort, teasing him and prolonging our conversation, I simply answered his question. "Yes, I've enjoyed jogging since sixth grade. I quickly find a favorite route wherever I am."

"Do you always go out alone? Even in new places?"

I smiled. "I'm a big girl, William."

Again his eyes swept over me. "No, you're not."

Not sure what to make of his statement, I turned my face forward and picked up my pace.

"You probably have no idea how..." He swallowed. "...how easily someone could carry you away."

I half expected him to pick me up and demonstrate. Something in his eyes hinted toward it. I tried to lighten the serious mood by saying, "With any luck, I'd be able to outrun them." I sprinted away from him, leaving him momentarily in my wake.

But he caught up to me. "Catherine has a treadmill, you know. You could use it."

"I prefer running outside."

"But it could be dangerous," he said quietly.

Suddenly, I wondered if he had been meeting me and running with me out of a skewed sense of chivalry, and some misplaced obligation to protect me.

"William," I said, trying to put him at ease, "I have a can of pepper spray and a whistle in my pocket. I'm fine."

"Well, my aunt's house actually has a whole gym. Next time you visit you won't have to leave the house if you want to work out."

What about leaving the apartment to get to Catherine's? I wondered with amusement.

But the more I thought about what he said, the more I wondered if he meant what it sounded like he meant: that during any future visit I'd be staying at Mrs. DeBourgh's house. Why would he think that? I wondered. Why would he even hint it? His aunt certainly didn't like me enough to begin extending invitations.

I was keenly aware of him running beside me. He was actively silent, a presence that couldn't be ignored. I thought of the dinner invitation that had been extended to the Collinses and myself, now no more than nine hours away. We had all wondered why on earth we'd been invited to dinner with Catherine DeBourgh, but in a flash an idea entered my head.

Colin. Colin Williams. He probably set the whole thing up. He encouraged her to ask us. And why? Could it be...did he have some interest in me? Would he have told William? Could he be seriously interested, with how little he knows about me?

These sorts of thoughts filled my reluctant mind for the remainder of our run, and by the time I'd gotten back to Charlotte's I was mulling over which outfit I'd brought along would make a decent impression on the amiable Colin Williams.