Byron replied, "Yep."

"Then why didn't you remind me?" Maeve pressed.

"You didn't ask," Byron said.

Maeve was left speechless, pressing her lips together in frustration. She didn't want to turn back after running a short distance, so she tried a different approach. "Mr. McDaniel, how about I buy you some drinks, and you teach me—"

Byron nodded reluctantly. "Alright."

After a short break, Maeve started running again, matching Byron's pace. Following his instructions on posture and breathing, she found the run noticeably easier and managed to keep going longer.

After two laps, Byron stopped first. "That's enough for today. Keep running like this, and in two weeks, we'll see if you need to adjust the intensity," he said.

Panting heavily, Maeve wiped the sweat from her neck and glanced at Byron, who looked perfectly composed. "Are you sure you're okay? Your injury didn't act up, did it?"

"This amount of exercise isn't enough to make it worse," Byron said, keeping his hands in his pockets, his tone cool and indifferent.

"That's a relief," Maeve said.

They walked slowly side by side, the cool night breeze easing the heat from their run. Passing a beverage shop, Maeve turned and asked, "I'll grab something. What kind of drinks do you want? How about some sports drinks?"

Byron wasn't interested in sugary, artificial drinks. He simply replied, "I don't drink that stuff."

Maeve noticed his disdain and fell silent, thinking, Has he seriously never had these kinds of drinks before?

When they left the shop, Maeve handed him a cup of lemonade. "Here, I got you some lemonade."

Byron raised an eyebrow, gave her a quick glance, then took the cup.

Maeve took a large gulp of her juice, immediately feeling her fatigue melt away. "This is so good!" she exclaimed.

Byron took a sip of the lemonade, swallowing without changing his expression. It tastes awful, he thought. But when he saw Maeve's delighted expression, he frowned. Is it the drink, or something else? Hers really looks like it tastes amazing.

Maybe he stared too long, because Maeve noticed and assumed he wanted a taste. Without thinking, she offered it to him. "Wanna try? It's actually pretty good."

Byron was usually meticulous about cleanliness and never shared drinks. But the pure bliss on her face made him suspicious. Is there something special in that juice?

It wasn't until after she offered it that Maeve realized she might have crossed a line. Just as she was about to pull her hand back, Byron leaned down and took a sip directly from her straw. He seemed to catch a piece of fruit, his cheek puffing out slightly. The normally cool and distant expression on his face softened. Maeve's eyes widened, and her face flushed bright red. She thought, Did he seriously just drink from it? Isn't that basically an indirect kiss?

Byron slowly swallowed the fruit. The taste wasn't anything special, but it wasn't bad. Noticing Maeve's crimson face and shocked eyes, Byron raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you're getting worked up over some silly 'indirect kiss' nonsense," he scoffed lightly. "We've kissed before, and now you're blushing over a sip of juice?" So easy to fluster, he thought.

Maeve nearly crushed her juice cup. "I wasn't thinking about that at all! And what do you mean we've already kissed? Don't make it sound like there's something going on between us!"

Her dismissive tone irked Byron, and his eyes turned cold. "Then maybe don't offer me your juice next time."

Maeve realized she had made a mistake, clamping her mouth shut and sulking. She was stuck holding the half-finished juice, unsure whether to drink it or toss it. She thought, Why did I even ask if he wanted a sip? I really dug myself into a hole!

They walked in awkward silence for a while. When they passed a clothing store, Maeve stopped. "I need to pick something up. Are you coming in?"

"No. I'll wait for you, but only for ten minutes," Byron replied curtly.

Maeve dashed off without looking back, thinking, No way am I walking back alone. She needed another pair of sneakers.

Maeve was quick, picking what she needed and heading to the checkout in five minutes.

"Maeve? Is that really you?" A surprised voice called out.

She turned to see Maura, a short-haired girl in a sparkly mini-skirt, despite the cold weather. "I almost didn't recognize you."

Maeve blinked. "Maura!"

Maura Lowery was an old university classmate. "Can't believe you still remember me," Maura said, grabbing her arm. "I heard you broke up with Jeff. Weren't you guys about to get married?"

"How did you hear about that?" Maeve asked.

"Everyone's talking about it in our class group chat. They say you dumped a rich guy to marry some broke driver. Is that true?"

Maeve nodded. "It's true."

Maura burst out laughing. "Are you crazy? Throwing away a wealthy man for a broke driver? Everyone's gossiping, saying you'll regret it. I actually feel bad for you—giving up such a cushy future."

Maeve thought, This old classmate is just here to stir the pot. The smile on her face faded. "What they think has nothing to do with me. And who says a woman's future is defined by who she marries? Jeff's rich—a hundred times richer than my husband—but in my eyes, he's not worth a strand of my husband's hair. No amount of money would make me marry him."

Maeve took her shopping bag, then paused and looked at the stunned Maura. "Don't bring this up again. If you do, we won't even be acquaintances anymore."

She turned to leave, only to see Byron walking over, dressed in dark athletic wear. Maura's heart raced, her eyes glued to him. Just as she was about to speak, he stopped in front of Maeve and asked, "All done?"

"Yeah, I'm done," Maeve replied, surprised. "Weren't you waiting outside?"

"It's cold," Byron replied, his voice cool, though a faint smirk played on his lips. "Let's go." Of course your ex-boyfriend can't hold a candle to me. You've got your priorities straight, he thought.

Maeve followed him. But as they were leaving, Maura called out, "Wait! Maeve, aren't you married? If your husband finds out you're cozying up to another guy like this, wouldn't he be upset?"

The final sentence ("Search the FindNovel.net website...") is promotional and should be removed entirely from the cleaned-up text.