Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Pairing(s): Tahno/Korra, Mako/Korra, one-sided Bolin/Korra
Genre: Romance/Friendship/Drama
Word Count: 8,186
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: The life and love of running, autumn, and high school cross-country. — Tahno/Korra, Mako/Korra. AU.
Author's Notes: 11/4/12. Super quick: it's so nice to finally be able to write a little bit about what I've seen in my travels... and to have it fit so nicely with Korra's background is such a plus. Also, I don't know how many chapters this thing is going to have, but I don't really want it to have more than five. :P Oh, and also, consider this segment a little transition piece of sorts.

Musical Inspiration: Just as a heads up, I've been listening to a lot of throwback music to high school and middle school for these next two chapters… Thus, I'm going to need you to not judge:

"Just So You Know" by Jesse McCartney (STOP IT, YOU KNOW IT WAS CATCHY) and "I Need Some Fine Wine and You, You Need to Be Nicer" by The Cardigans.

3

"Pick it up, pick it up!" Mako called out from the other side of the track, all the way across the field.

"Yeah!" Bolin's cheerful voice chimed from somewhere up ahead. "What's the hold up, guys? You hoisting sandbags or something?"

Something dark and guttural tore from the back of Korra's throat and, in a burst of adrenaline and fury and hatred, her legs carried her faster. She wasn't sure which one was going first, but Mako and Bolin were going to die.

Korra could feel the other runners falling behind as she took off, legs and core burning, shoulders crushing under the weight of the sandbag secured over her upper back, but she didn't bother to look behind her. Just one second was all it would take, one moment of distraction, and she could lose her lead. The back of her throat began to burn with the taste of iron as she rounded the bend, but she pushed through, trying to remember the pointers in proper form that Bolin had taught her on Monday—chin up, chin up, chin up—and willed her legs to move faster. She could hear screaming now, the sounds of voices pulling together from the far end of the field, shouting out things that she couldn't understand—things that didn't matter—because all she could see was the track, it's white lines and synthetic grooves and faded markings.

She was tearing down the final straight, pushing step after step, when the screaming voices came into view, though not into focus, and for a split, irrational moment, her mind lost control and—she was supposed to be the one carrying the weight, guarding this burden, so why was the track carrying her?

—and Korra was sure she was flying.

Someone was screaming her name above all the rest, urging her toward the finish line, and though she could hear it now, she didn't need it; she was already there.

Korra wasn't sure which sensation came first—the bubbling exhaustion or the fires stretching out over her muscles or the acid in her lungs—but the euphoria outlast them all. Her smile only grew wider when Tenzin gave her a single, formal pat on the shoulder, and it hadn't gone away even by the time she'd done a cool-down walk around the grass with her teammates or even when she spread herself out alongside the three other girls in the bleachers, laughing breathily at their own lunacy and god, do we really do this for fun?

"Our sport is every other sport's punishment," Bolin chirped merrily as he bounded up the bleacher steps. Korra lifted her head from the aluminum stair and looked up into his proud, beaming face... and to the sports drink in his outstretched hand.

"Here, take mine."

"Thanks, but I already—oh," Korra broke off, glancing down to the empty bottle in her grasp. Hm. When did that happen?

"Not all at once," Bolin cautioned with an emphatic finger. "You chug that all in one gulp and you'll be feeling it for the rest of practice."

"Thanks," she laughed, trying to follow his advice as she took a careful sip. "Man... Did you see that? I was so fast! I don't know where that came from."

"I do!" Bolin exclaimed, taking the seat next to her. "I can't wait to see how you do tomorrow morning. I mean, you're improving so quickly, it's almost unbelievable. Either you're a real natural or all of these practices must really be paying off."

Without meaning to, Korra was struck with images of tiny creeks, bright trees, and rocky riverbeds during early Saturday afternoons. There was a vision of a bridge that was fresh in her mind, the memory of an impromptu race, a small victory, a budding partnership, and the realization of

I didn't know I had it in me.

"Yeah," she muttered absently, taking another sip. "That must be it."

She wished that there were some way she could tell Tahno soonerabout how well she'd done today at practice. She would see him tomorrow after their separate meets... well, in theory, at least, since it wasn't like they ever openly planned to run into each other. Korra took another thoughtful sip from the bottle and felt her eyes being drawn toward movement near the equipment shed on the far side of the field. On second thought... she mused quietly. She wondered if she might want to wait to share her accomplishment until she had something more tangible to show for it, and then wondered what that said about her. Or him.

"Did you hear me?" Bolin gently waved a hand before Korra's eyes. "Hey, Earth to Korra—"

"Yeah," she repeated, giving her head a gentle shake. "Sorry," she apologized with a smile, hoping that he wasn't put off by her distractedness. He gave a casual shrug and a lopsided grin, and then sat back against the bleacher seats to get a better view of her teammates and chat. Bolin had them laughing in seconds... but Korra had already gone back to watching the space between the equipment shed and the far end of the opponents' bleachers. Even though Korra had always been able to count on her pretty reliable vision, she could never be totally sure; from her spot in the home bleachers, however, three things seemed pretty clear.

Mako and Asami were across the field, nearly hidden by the silver bleachers, loading the sandbags back into the storage unit. They were alone and, from the look of it, deep in heated discussion.

"Could you just drop me off at the corner, please?"

The car was thick with cozy heat, even with Tenzin's questionable taste in music, but his curious glance cut straight through to her skull like an ice pick.

"Don't you want me to bring you closer to the entrance?" Tenzin asked, clearly bewildered. "I'm sure the restaurant isn't so busy that I can't just drive through and leave you by the door."

"Nah, it's okay," Korra shrugged, eyes stuck on the bright red and blue lights of passing cars along the dark highway. "I like the cool air."

"Korra," he spoke softly, and she could practically hear the fatherly advice sensors whirring in his mind. "If you're still uncomfortable with the idea of sharing the particulars of your living situation—"

"I just don't want anybody to think that my spot on the team wasn't earned," she cut in, firm, but pleading just the same. "I don't want anybody to be able to say that about either of us."

Tenzin sighed, and a quiet hush fell over the interior as the cassette tape gently transitioned songs. "I can understand your... hesitation," he intoned carefully. "And I won't pretend to know what it was like for you, growing up surrounded by the wilderness coalition, but I know the White Lotus isn't without its extremes." She could hear the sounds of his fingertips pressing against the steering wheel as he curved along the highway's turn, but to Korra they were empty, empty sounds.

"I know it's not the same," she said quietly. "And I know what you're going to say."

"Still," Tenzin flicked on the turn signal, and the gentle ticking echoed in her ears. "Perhaps it should be said. This is our team, Korra," he reminded her. "They're not going to judge you for who you know. We're a pack. They won't judge you for who you are."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Because I thought this was high school."

For a moment she actually thought she saw him smirk... but it was probably just a trick of the light.

"They're going to find out eventually," he added, eyes glancing toward the dark rearview mirror as he shifted lanes. "Just see what happens when you offer them a little trust."

The gentle purr of the car thrummed through Korra's bones as Tenzin gently pressed on the gas pedal, leading her around the bend with slow, expert care. She watched the highway exit signs fly on overhead, glinting with the shock of blue and yellow headlights, and thought about what it might be like for a man with three young children and another on the way to take in a wandering, wild young woman who, quite possibly, would rather have been anywhere but here.

I'm sorry I've been so difficult, she wanted to tell him. I'm sorry that I haven't fully appreciated how much you've done for me... that I've been too angry about being shipped away. I'm sorry that I've been too angry about being left behind and being pushed forward and being left nowhere at all.

I'm sorry that I didn't realize how lucky I've been until now.

"Thanks for the ride," she offered instead, fiddling with her seatbelt.

Tenzin spared her a glance, but mostly kept his eyes on the road. The city center came into view, full of commercial lights and night stars, and the old cassette tape played on.

"You're welcome," he said.

"Korra!" Bolin nearly shouted. "You made it!"

She had barely made it through the doorway when Bolin pushed through the crowd, took her arm, and graciously started steeringher toward their party. Despite Tenzin's vague prediction, the restaurant lobby was packed with people, and more than ten group leaders were anxiously holding onto little black plastic beepers, all with flashing little red lights. Korra allowed herself to be pulled through the crowd, glancing from side to side at the people filling the entryway and suddenly feeling horribly out of her place in her jeans and navy hoodie. Why had no one told her that this was supposed to be a fancy restaurant?

She didn't remember much from those boring documentary dinner receptions that her dad stopped making her attend, but maybe if she tried visualizing the tic-tac-toe game they'd drawn onto the tablecloth at the last one, she'd be able to remember the proper way to hold a fork or—

"We were afraid you got lost or something!" Bolin told her, still pulling her along. Just where was he taking her, anyhow?

"Bolin, why didn't you tell me that this place was nice?" she hissed, trying not to draw any more attention to herself than necessary. "I would've worn something nicer! Granted, I don't have very much to work, but—"

"Korra, relax," he laughed. "Nobody really cares about a bunch of teenagers here. We're regulars on most Friday nights, anyway. Our cross-country team has been providing them with routine service for years!"

"You sure about that?" Korra asked skeptically, spotting a woman in a black cocktail dress.

"Korra, trust me," Bolin assured her, and she was caught by the sincerity in his voice. "I mean, look at me!" She did, but it wasn't very helpful. He, however casual, at least looked respectable with his dark jeans and the deep green sweater that matched his eyes and—aww, crap.

"Bolin, what are you talking about, you're looking just as spiffy as the rest of these people are!" she complained.

Since she was still too busy taking in the general foreignness of the atmosphere, and since she wasn't expecting him to come to a full out stop in the middle of the walkway, Korra ended up ramming herself straight into his side as he turned to face her. Feeling slightly dazed, she looked up slowly, only to find herself staring into Bolin's grateful smile.

"Thanks," he said, voice warm and green eyes glowing. Korra blinked, suddenly having lost her train of thought, but then he was tugging her by the hand again, and she was left with the distinct feeling that perhaps that wasn't what she should have said.

"We're in the back corner, but once you see the rest of everybody, you won't feel so out of place," he smiled back at her, and it took Korra a moment to remember what fear he was trying to assuage.

Crap.

Now she just felt silly. She was whining about what she wore? What the hell. She was Korra, the girl who liked holes in her socks and rebelled against sleeves! Her favorite article of clothing was a parka! It's not like she was—

"There you are!" came a friendly voice from the corner seat, and Korra inwardly groaned.

Korra was convinced that Asami was just like one of those girls on television who always looked polished and put together no matter what they had on. Black jeans, soft sweater, trendy scarf, and ugh, even brown boots that were stylish and practical. It wasn't a cocktail dress, but it may as well have been.

"Hey," she greeted in return, and as Asami rose from her seat to meet them, Korra struggled not to fidget with her zipper. She placed her hands on her hips, if only because she wasn't sure where else she could put them without looking awkward... or punching someone.

"Korra, I'm so glad you came," her captain told her, and Korra relaxed, just a little, at the genuine warmth in her tone. "I know it must have been hard with your move and everything, but we're pumped you could finally make it!"

"Uhh, yeah," Korra shrugged slightly, offering a small smile. She could see the whole team lined against the wall, some sitting along the long bench, some standing in small clusters, and somehow, despite the street clothes, things suddenly didn't feel all that different from practice. "I'm pretty pumped, too," she replied, and was surprised at the truth she found in her words.

Asami's smile was wide and white and brilliant. "We've been waiting for you to be able to join us for ages," she said meaningfully. For the briefest of moments, her eyes slanted toward Bolin, but when Korra turned toward him curiously, he was already flagging down somebody on the other side of the massive lobby, a figure making his way back from the podium.

"We should be up next!" Mako announced to the group at large, waving his pager apologetically. "Pack up your stuff, guys, we'll be moving in soon."

"Geez, Cap'n," Korra released a sharp laugh, crossing her arms, but her smile widened. "Do you ever take a break?"

The shock that played across his face was priceless.

"Korra!" he called, and the force of his smile hit her like a wall. "You're here!"

"So it would seem," she grinned back at him, and the beginnings of true excitement for the evening began to bubble in her chest. Why had she decided not to come to these dinners again?

"So," Asami prodded gently, and Korra's world came to a crashing halt. Oh. Now she remembered. "You a big fan of Italian food, Korra?"

"Uhh, well," Korra shrugged, still a little guiltily. "I've actually never had it before."

"What!" Bolin's hands flew into the air. "How is that even possible? What do you even eat?"

She briefly considered telling him about cuy, but the buzzing pager saved her the trouble.

"All right, guys, file in!"

Korra stepped in line almost as naturally as if it had been on the track, which, if she was being honest with herself, scared her a little. Living life off the beaten path had given her the will of an explorer and all the edges that came with it; the fact that she could so easily find her place among the thirty or so teenagers, looking like them and talking like them as they carved out a space in some chain restaurant like some scene straight out of a teenage drama movie, the fact that she could so easily fit in... Well, it's what she'd wanted, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

"Wasn't it, what?"

"Oh," Korra shook her head with a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Just talking to myself."

Bolin's smile never faltered, but she could see it flicker in his eyes. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she shrugged, knowing that she was crap at acting, and crap, wasn't she supposed to be putting more distance between the two of them?

"All right," he said, obviously unconvinced. "Well... if you're not feeling well, I could take you home, you know. Mako and I borrowed the car from our neighbor tonight, so if you're—"

"I'm okay," she assured him, pasting a small smile over her tired mouth. "Really. I, uh... I'm just not used to all of this central heating, you know? Makes me sleepy or something. But I love it! I've just never—whoah... Is all of this for us?"

"I told you we're regulars," he gestured to the wide, open room. There were long rows of tables, fit for a medieval feast, all neatly arranged under a high, sloping ceiling. The lighting was low and delicate, and softness permeated the air... though Korra suspected that might have also been due to the deep tenor of a man singing in Italian somewhere over the well-hidden speakers. Bolin placed a hand over her shoulder and gestured to the sight before them once more in a grand sweeping arc. "Welcome to the high life!"

But then they began to move.

While Bolin pointed out some of the skylights dotted along the ceiling, Korra watched as seat after seat, table after table began to fill, and she was left feeling like she was being given an exam, only no one had thought to tell her the subject, let alone pass along a study guide. All around her the team began to arrange themselves, the pieces of their grand puzzle clicking into place, and all she could do was watch to see where there might be a gap large enough for her to fit. There was that one girl that she'd raced earlier that afternoon—crap, what was her name again?—or maybe she could go sit next to—

"Hey, Bo!" Mako called from the very edge of the table. "Over here!"

"Come on," he nodded to Korra, but he went ahead and grabbed her hand anyway.

Crap, crap, crap, Korra's mind spit. Here she was supposed to be giving Bolin space, based off an understanding that she had come to with his brother, with whom she was dangerously in like, the exact brother who was calling them over and who was going to see them holding hands, who was—

Not paying any attention to them at all.

"But if we sit here, then I won't be able to sit with the rest of the girls," Asami reasoned, her painted lips curling into a small frown.

"But we always sit near the head," Mako countered, brows furrowing under his fringe. "Always."

"Look, you can sit at the head, but my girls are already sitting on this side of the table. I'm just going to sit here," she said, gesturing to the second to last seat from the edge. "It's not that far away, anyway."

"So I'll just sit next to you, then," Mako said, walking over to claim his spot. Asami blocked his path with a single finger.

"Not if you're going to sit there all night and complain about the lack of heat," she warned him. "Just sit on the other side, like you usually do. It's only one across from me, anyway."

"But—"

"Mako, it's fine," Asami lowered her voice. "Okay? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

Korra was desperately trying not to pay them any attention, but Bolin was busy chatting it up with some of the other runners, and Korra was left standing awkwardly with her hands on her hips—better than in someone's face—and she wasn't sure what the social protocol was for eavesdropping on a muted argument between the boy one liked and his girlfriend.

"Here, Korra," Bolin burst in suddenly, rounding on her as soon as his conversation with the others came to an end. "The heater's right here, so you can take this seat, and I'll take this one right next to you."

Next thing she knew, Korra was courteously helped into her seat by a very considerate Bolin and subsequently electrified by the realization that this put her directly across from Asami. The lovely captain was chatting with the friends to her left, which meant that she had yet to see who had been placed in the spot right next to—

"Oh," Mako grinned, sliding into the end seat next to hers. "Hey, Korra."

"Aw, man," came Bolin's disappointed scowl from behind. Korra looked to the other side, having expected to find Bolin sitting beside her, but it looked like someone had already filled his spot.

"Sorry, Bolin," came the honest apology from one of the other varsity runners and—man, why was she so bad with names? "We had three to seat and these were the only open seats left together in the room."

"Nahh, it's okay," Bolin waved a dismissive hand good-naturedly. His smile was still intact, but Korra could see the disappointment all too easily as she watched him walk around the edge of the long table and take the only other open seat in the room, the end seat right next to Asami. She watched him shuffle his seat closer to the table and look up at her with an apologetic half-grin and Korra felt awful because she shouldn't be feeling this relieved and disappointed all at once.

It was for the better, Korra reminded herself, trying not to miss his presence; it was always so much easier not to feel awkward around people when Bolin was with her, and she'd underestimated the amount of stress that could come from being in such an open, public setting. But she was supposed to be letting Bolin down easy, and she wasn't going to be able to do that if they spent the whole night chatting in a dimly lit restaurant. This was a good thing, Korra assured herself.

On the other hand…

"I didn't think you'd come," Mako leaned slightly closer, trying to make himself heard in the steadily growing din of the room.

Korra hesitated, unconsciously sparing a glance across the table to Asami, who was still chatting with the other girls. Bolin, beside her, was joking with a few runners from another table.

"I wasn't so sure I would either," she admitted honestly, feeling her blood warm. She blamed the heat of the radiator at her back, but she knew better.

"What changed your mind?" he asked, and damn it, if this boy didn't stop smiling, she was going to get dizzy.

But then some ancient instinct, perhaps something dredged from a millennia of collective evolutionary memory, seeped into her awareness, and forced her to look up… to where Asami was looking back at her, watching the hushed exchange with speculative, narrowed eyes.

Korra retracted her claws, and offered her most pleasant, genuine smile.

She definitely preferred the glaciers.

"Are you positive you can't come?" Bolin asked again, just to be sure. "We could totally give you a ride. I'm sure your folks wouldn't mind you staying out for another hour or two."

"Sorry," Korra shook her head and, in a way, she really was, but mostly, Korra was just trying to ignore the way Mako was trying to ignore their goodbyes. "I should really just go straight home."

"We could drop you off, if you want," he added, and something inside her squeezed at the trail of desperation hiding beneath.

"Sorry, Bolin," she apologized, but then crossed her fingers in the pocket of her hoodie. "My ride's already on their way."

"Then we'll stay with you, so you don't have to wait alone."

"Really," she nearly begged. "I'll be fine—"

"Don't worry, Bo," came Mako's voice, suddenly at her side. "I'll stick around until everyone leaves. You guys go on ahead and I'll see you at home."

Bolin sent Mako a wary look that she didn't quite comprehend. "You sure about that, bro?"

"Yeah," Mako shrugged casually, dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

Korra didn't much understand the exchange, but then again, it's not like she'd ever had a sibling either. As she watched Bolin head off into some station wagon with what was probably far too many people, part of her really did regret turning him down. What would it be like to go out with a group of people for no other purpose than to just… hang out? What could she talk about that they could possibly relate to? If she started comparing fireworks to the aurora australis, would her teammates think of her as interesting… or pretentious?

Ugh.

That's the last thing she'd thought she'd ever have to worry about.

"So," Mako gently rocked back on his heels. "Is your ride really on its way, or did you just say that to save my brother's feelings?"

Korra's head snapped up with a glare. "Not so loudly!" she hissed, quickly shooting a reconnaissance glance about the patio.

"Relax," he grinned. "Everyone else is already gone."

"But you said—"

"I said that I'd stick around until everyone leaves… and not everyone has," he added, rubbing the back of his neck.

Korra was trying not to think about the lights strung up around them, twisted along the beams of the large wooden pergola overhead, and desperately trying not to think of the cold autumn air... or how warm Mako looked. Almost angrily, Korra jammed her hands into her sleeves, and swung her stance hipshot.

"What about Asami?" she asked pointedly.

Mako had the decency to look sheepish, but Korra felt like it only made the awkwardness worse. "She had to head out early," he explained with another shrug, though this one looked far less casual than the one he'd given Bolin. "Her dad called and she had to go home and help with some stuff."

Korra's insides felt twisted. "Is everything okay?"

"What? Yeah, no, she's fine," Mako smiled slightly, looking up at the starry through the gaps in the beams. "She just switches back and forth between her mom and dad over the weekends, and her dad is always calling her back for random stuff when it's his turn. He's pretty overprotective," he releases a low breath into the cold air, where it curls against the darkness of the sky. "Half the time I think he calls her just because he's afraid that one of these days, she won't come back."

Korra listened with her whole heart, and felt like she was being more invasive than ever. She nearly cringed as a small, curious part of her wondered what Asami's father thought of Mako.

"So," he repeated. "Is your ride really on its way?"

She sighed deeply and tightened her crossed arms. "No," she confessed. "I still have to call."

Mako grinned, and the light in his amber eyes sent warmth running through her limbs.

"Tell you what," he said quietly, smiling. "Call your ride up and tell them you don't need one."

"Man, I had no idea you knew Italian!"

"Technically... I don't," Korra confessed with a shrug. "It's just very similar to Spanish."

"Whatever! I just saw you tear two jerks apart in a completely different language." He shook his head, laughing to himself, though Korra didn't really see what was so funny.

"They were giving her a hard time," she contended. "The waitress was just trying to do her job, and they were being dicks. She didn't understand a word of it. Of course I was going to say something."

"Uh, yeah, in Italian," he laughed again, and gently steered the car through the parking lot's mouth. "Is this going to happen every time I give you a ride? We head for the door and you bust some heads?"

Korra faltered. Was there going to be another time?

"What did they even say to her?" he asked curiously.

"Something I'd rather not repeat," she huffed, sliding farther down against the headrest.

"Well," he paused. "What did you say?"

Korra smirked.

"That, I really can't repeat."

They both laughed then, and Korra started to feel some of the adrenaline give way to the comfortable cloud of heat blowing from the dashboard. There was some local radio station playing in the background, but Korra still didn't recognize any of the music. Not that they were really listening.

"Which way?"

And just like that, Korra's original worries came bursting back to life. "Uh, take a right here, onto the highway," she instructed carefully, feeling her heart pound.

"You know, for a second back there, I actually thought you were going to clock one of them," Mako noted, and she hoped that what she heard in his voice was awe, rather than wariness.

"Not today," she answered honestly. "That's not really my style."

Well.

Not anymore, anyway.

She wondered what his reaction would be if she told him the reason why her parents really thought it'd be best to send her here. If he knew how many confrontations she'd started… and ended.

Korra flipped the hood onto her head, and zipped the zipper higher, hoping that it might somehow make her disappear.

"You cold?" he asked, glancing to her from the side. Without waiting for an answer, he jacked up the heat to full blast. "Sorry, the car's kind of old. I'm helping my neighbor, Toza, fix it up in exchange for being able to use it every once in a while, but there are still some kinks to work through."

"It's fine," Korra muttered, hoping that he couldn't hear her beating heart over the blast. Even if she hadn't run out of things to say, she still wouldn't have been able to say much; all she could think about was that in a few minutes—

"Take the exit after this one," Korra managed through the small cocoon of her hood, and without meaning to, her body slid down all the way in the seat until she was nearly curled into a little ball, her knees up on the dashboard and chin practically tucked into her chest.

"Hey," Mako glanced again, looking a little worried. "You sure you okay? It's not too hot now, is it?"

Korra leaned her head back against the seat, willing herself to calm down. "No," she laughed softly, mostly at herself. "I like the heat."

Mako was quiet then, like he didn't really have much to say to that, but Korra was too chicken to look at him to see why.

At least two songs went by without further comment, and Korra was torn between overwhelming mortification at the fact that, hello, she'd only been working overtime for the last month or so to keep her soon-to-be-revealed home a secret and overwhelming nervous jitters because, hello, she was still in the car with Mako. Alone. And neither of them were talking.

"This one here?" Mako's voice broke through the silence and Korra looked up, startled. He was pointing toward her exit.

"Yeah," she confirmed, feeling her mouth go dry. "Just turn right as soon as you get off. It's in that residential district down the road."

"Hey, did you know that you live right in Coach Tenzin's neighborhood?" he asked, clearly amused. "I wouldn't ever try egging his car, or you'd be the prime suspect."

"Is that a thing?" she asked, half-grossed out, half-mindlessly afraid, and wholly intrigued.

"Only for the sore losers," he laughed, but then his face darkened with shadows. "Or the Wolverines."

"The what?" Korra breathed, shifting herself upright.

Mako sighed, and his breath grew long and suffering and irritated. "The ones you ran into at the first meet. Tahno and his arrogant gang of asshole running junkies."

"But… aren't we all running junkies?" she asked, stamping down the defiance that slithered its way into her tone.

"Cross-country isn't just about running," he explained, and the tension in his voice pulled taut while Korra's mind went blank; this was the second time in a single week that someone had tried to tell her this… though she never did hear the other perspective. "And it's not just about one person," Mako continued, nearing a full-out rant. "In cross-country you're a part of a team, and a team is only as good as its slowest runner. People think that cross-country is about individual performance, but it's not. And the hero worship that these schools lay at Tahno's feet makes me sick."

Korra released her fingers with a deep breath, feeling her grip on the seatbelt give way and loosen; she wasn't entirely certain when her knuckles had turned white, but if she didn't want to make a fool out of herself, then she needed to pull it together quick.

"Have you ever thought that maybe—"

"All right, which street?" he asked brusquely, and despite her growing fear, Korra rolled her eyes at the terseness in his voice. Abruptly, she scoffed and shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. This was a mistake.

"This one on the right," she pointed, feeling her throat itch.

"Wow," he murmured, and the earlier irritation in his voice trickled away. "You know, I think this street looks awfully familiar," he commented, though Korra suspected that it was more to himself than to her as he drove along. "I swear I've been on this same street before."

"Probably for Tenzin's end-of-the-season dinner," she suggested.

"Wait," Mako did a double-take. "You live on the same street as Coach Tenzin?"

"Actually," Korra paused, feeling her heart clench as she spotted the familiar mailbox too few yards ahead. It was right at the far end of the street, nestled along a line of towering pine trees. "You can stop right here."

"But we're not near any of the driveways. It's practically deserted here, and we're essentially under a willow tree."

"Just stop, please."

"But—"

"Just stop!"

"All right!" he barked, before pulling the car up to the curb. The air was thick with a different kind of silence as he put the car in park, but Korra refused to look at him until she was ready, her heart drumming loudly in her ears. Finally, he gave the key in the ignition a vicious twist, and the car shuddered to a quiet. Neither looked anywhere but forward, stiff in the stillness of the sudden war ground between the doors, and at last—too soon—he turned to look at her, and waited.

Korra took a deep breath.

"I don't just live on Coach Tenzin's street," she said carefully, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I live in his house, too."

Mako blinked. The look that crossed his face sent Korra's stomach hurdling toward the ground. "Say… what?"

"And it's not just Coach Tenzin," she added, more quietly than before. "It's Uncle Tenzin... for me."

"So," Mako's brows furrowed, and he cleared his throat to rid himself of the small crack that had entered it. Korra tried not to flinch. "You're... related?"

"We're family," she clarified.

"Wow," he nodded absently, looking just as lost as Korra felt.

"I'm sorry for being so weird about it," she glanced up at him from under her hood. "I just didn't know what people would make of it."

"No, uh, don't worry about it," he said quickly, laughing a little nervously. Korra's eyes narrowed as she watched him fidget with the steering wheel; for a guy who usually looked so stoic and who always needed to be in control, she hadn't expected him to be so… awkward. Like her.

"Well," he laughed again, sounding sheepish. "I guess it explains why you've gotten so much better these last few weeks, huh?"

Her stomach dropped.

"Tenzin doesn't play favorites," she warned him icily.

Mako looked taken aback. "I never said—"

"Tenzin may have been the one to push me toward the team in the first place, but I'm the one who got myself a spot. He trains me like he would anyone from the rest of the team, and my progress over the last month doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I live with his family," she continued, feeling her heart well in her throat. This was such a mistake. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop yourself from going home and spreading this all over the team, too."

So stupid. Here she thought she was doing the right thing by giving a little trust, just like Tenzin had asked, and all she got for it was seeing the boy she thought she liked live up to every fear she'd ever housed about sharing more of herself with her team. She shouldn't have let him drive her home.

And the worst part, Korra thought, was that it wasn't even the whole truth. The truth was that she ran herself into the ground each and every Saturday with a boy that she wasn't even sure she liked, but who helped her train and climbed trees with her and always judged her, not because she was weird or awkward or crazy, but because he was a jerk who judged everyone, and she could always rely on him to tell it like it was.

"Korra, listen to me, I didn't—"

"Whatever," she mumbled, reaching for the door handle, feeling worse than ever. "I'll see you at the meet."

"Korra, wait—"

She pulled on the lever, but the door wouldn't budge.

"What the hell," she murmured, twisting fiery eyes back at the driver. "Did you seriously just lock me in?"

"You're not listening to me!" Mako threw back, and his hands fly into the air with the force of his frustration. "Look—"

"Unbelievable!" Korra hissed, and the next thing Mako knew, she was scrambling to unhook her seatbelt. "Dude, this isn't funny," she twisted in her seat, trying to find the lock, only to realize that it was protected by some child-safety device. The hell? "Mako, this is stupid. Let me out!"

"Not until you hear what I'm trying to—"

"Hey!"

"Korra, stop being so ridiculous and—"

"Whoah, man, let go of me!"

"Will you—just—stop!"

And she did.

In a strange moment of clarity, Korra could see that the windows of the car were fogged, clouded from the heat of their breaths, and she could feel the cold of the window against her back, the icy chill of the condensation dripping down her spine. It was impossible that it could be so cold when the rest of her body felt so hot, felt so warm under the pressure of his hands, the heat of his breath, but there it was.

Carefully, Mako leaned back, suddenly very much aware of the closeness between their bodies and the way his hands rested over her wrists against the side of the door. He shifted, trying to readjust his weight so that he wouldn't crush her, but just enough so that she wouldn't try to run.

They remained absolutely still, sharp angles and stiff lines across the seats of the car, breaths mingling in the stale, dry heat of the hazy air, and it was in the third silent breath that Korra realized that the anger on her face had melted entirely away.

"If I let you go," Mako whispered, and the puffs of air blew gently against her cheek. "Will you promise to hear me out first?"

So close, her mind whispered.

But this wasn't cliff diving and this wasn't Mako's car and she wasn't Mako's girlfriend.

She nodded.

He released her, scooting back into his seat almost immediately, and gripped the steering wheel hard. Korra took a little longer to sit up, carefully adjusting the hoodie back over her stomach, carefully watching Mako avoid looking at her. She could feel that her ponytail, her breathing, her heart—all of it—was a complete and utter mess.

"Look," he said heavily, running a hand through his unruly hair. His breathing hadn't gone back to normal either. "What I said—I didn't mean anything by it… again," he scoffed, softly slapping the steering wheel with the flat of his palm. He sighed, eyes downcast. "I don't know why I'm so terrible at this stuff. I'm not usually so bad with words."

Korra inhaled deeply, and felt the ends of her hair grow damp against the cooling droplets on the window. Her feet were still stuck halfway between his seat and hers, but she was afraid of making any sudden movements.

"I guess you're not the only one who has a thing for overreacting," she sighed again, feeling a weight float away from her shoulders. It might have been the part of her that cared.

Mako laughed suddenly, an uneasy, flustered smile breaking out across his face that only looked all the more beautiful in the shadows from the branches of the willow tree. So much for not caring, she thought, letting her head fall back against the glass with a thud.

"Can we make another agreement or something?" Mako turned to her then, and Korra's tongue went thick. Her eyes traced the lines and edges of his jaw, curved over the bridge of his nose, the paths of his brows, his mouth. "I vote that we're not allowed to jump to any conclusions of any kind with each other… Not until we're sure that we understand the other one completely."

Korra's head twisted to the side, and her eyes fell to the dashboard with a huff of disbelieving laughter. Her smile was wide, but tentative, full of I can't believe I'm doing this, but it gave Mako the answer that he needed.

"All right," she quietly agreed, feeling more ridiculous than ever. There was an uncomfortable pulling at the nape of her neck as she nodded, and in one swift motion, she'd reached her hand up and pulled her hair elastic free, letting the strands spill out over her shoulders. "I think I can handle that," she smiled up at him, sliding the elastic over her wrist.

He blinked, and then abruptly turned back away, facing the long line of the street ahead of them. Gently clearing his throat, he asked, "Would you like me to drop you off closer to the driveway now?"

No, she thought.

She wouldn't.

"Yeah," she murmured gently. "That would be great, thanks."

The engine gently thrummed to life as Korra twisted herself back into position in her seat, and before Korra knew it, they were once again moving forward. She didn't bother to put her seatbelt back on, and the music was still off, but the new silence was an acceptable one. It wasn't comfortable, still spiked with haywire sparks and residual tension, and it set Korra's teeth on edge, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"If I didn't manage to say so before," Mako said softly, pulling the car to a stop just out of the house's view. "It's cool that you're living with Tenzin."

Korra glanced up, and the hands that had been playing with the drawstrings of her hood grew still. "It is?"

"Yeah," Mako shrugged awkwardly. "I mean, I guess it all makes more sense now, too. But he's the best coach our team has ever had and… I don't know. It just makes sense."

Korra didn't know if it was the renewed warmth surging through the dashboard or if it was the blood still pumping heavily through her veins or if it was the way he looked at her then, sheepish and guilty and endearing—and trying so hard to make things right again—but in a gentle flash of movement, too quickly for either to resist and so slow that they could feel it coming, Korra rose up, shifted forward, and softly pressed a kiss to his cheek.

She leaned back, watching the shock and the confusion root him to the spot, and offered him a small, grateful smile.

"Thanks, Mako," she whispered, feeling her smile turn with sadness. "For all of it. You're a good guy."

She lingered only a moment more, watching the thoughts swirling madly behind his eyes, the color stretching over his cheeks in the shadows, but when he made a move to speak—brows drawn, lips wet, parted—she carefully pulled the handle and twisted herself out.

Korra looked back at him from the safety of the ground, one hand still on the frame, and watched him withdraw.

"I'll see you at the meet tomorrow," she smiled still, but somehow her cheer fell flat.

"Yeah," he replied, and Korra saw the way the corners of his mouth refused to climb any higher, though they tried. "I'll see you."

The door's closing thud had a disheartening sort of finality to it, so she made sure that her back was to it before it cut down her spine. She didn't look back until she was at the threshold, too afraid of what her face might betray, wondering why she hadn't yet heard the car pull away, but by the time she looked down to the street, Mako's eyes were already on the road, and he was slowly turning around.

The next morning, when she crossed the finish line, she nearly took out two girls to get there.

The taste in her mouth burned all the way up and down her throat as she doubled-over in the chute, willing herself not to throw up, even as the girl in front of her retched, and gentle hands on her back pushed her along, keep moving, keep going, don't stop.

When she was released out into the open field, poked and prodded with water suppliers and tag collectors, she stood and swallowed hard, feeling the harsh air cool her warm, wet face.

She walked the first twenty steps beyond the course, but broke into a jog as she headed for the results tent, feeling her legs protest every step of the way. Her lungs were crying, her body aching, but her mind was on fire, and she didn't have time to wait, not for anybody.

The meet was a small one, invitation only from a few select sponsors, so perhaps it wouldn't make much of a difference, but she wanted to know.

And she wanted to know before he did.

Her finger shot out along the computer monitor before her brain could actually assess what it was doing, and her eyes frantically tore down the screen, picking out words and letters and meaningless numbers until—

She smiled.

Her hand fell limp at her side, and she let her head fall back with the weight of the breath released from her lungs. Korra's body suddenly felt like jelly, loose and weightless and unstable, and the walk back to the starting line was wobbly and shaky, but she didn't care.

"Korra!" her captain cried cheerfully. Asami's face was flushed and her long strands of hair were matted every which way, drenched in sweat and victory. "We're back here!" she smiled, reaching for Korra's hand. "The boys are about to start! Come on, come quickly!"

She took her place among the other ladies on her team, still feeling weightless and displaced among the crowd and the noise. There was a lightness about her now that wasn't there a few weeks ago, a strange feeling of being grounded and lifted all at once that made her head spin, and the beating in her chest made her feel young and strong and alive.

The racers were finishing up, shaking out the last of their stretches, and loud grunts and shouts could be heard all the way down the line. Korra could feel the sweat dripping into her eyes, creeping over her eyelids and slipping into her mouth, but the taste of it only made the victory sweeter.

She glanced up at Mako and Bolin, mouths of hard lines and eyes of steady, narrowed focus, determined to only look forward, only ahead. They were approaching their marks, and the screaming around her was deafening, so Korra let out a long, heart-pounding whoop amongst the crowd, and let her face express all of the emotion that she could no longer contain. She felt like she was on fire.

And when she looked to box one, he was already staring back at her.

Across the chaos, they locked eyes, and Korra let her breathing run ragged, let her smirk spread wild across her face. His eyes were curious, a cold sort of heat that she was growing more and more accustomed to, and when neither of them looked away, she knew with certainty that she would see him again that day.

From across the barrier, she let her eyes say all that she could not, and as she mouthed the words across the field—go for it—she briefly wondered what the hell she was doing.

His smirk spread wider, seared to the very marrow of her bones, and then he was facing forward, eyes hungry, and she felt the gunshot all the way to the core.

Tahno won, again, but somehow Korra wasn't at all surprised.

What did surprise her was that she had come in eighth.

And that it somehow felt like first.