#i feel like ryan needs to be characterized as a golden retriever more often

[senditcolton]

sweetie pie honey muffin congrats on 1k!!! may i please have a lead me to the garden chai cookie of the oak variety with one mister ryan graves? love youuuuuuu 🥰🤩🥳

thank you so much my love!! love you to the moon! and i went a little more cutesy fluffy for this oak chai cookie. hope you love it!

word count: 0.8k

You loved your boyfriend, Ryan. You really did.

You swear you did.

But sometimes, you wondered what the hell you got yourself into.

And yes, some people might think that you were talking about the distance, his travel schedule, the packing and moving, the lack of stability. But right now, you were talking about the fact that this man woke you up at the crack of dawn… to go on a run with him.

It was partially your fault. You mentioned to Ryan that you would love to be a little more active, get some more exercise. And Ryan – your sweet golden retriever boyfriend – took that off-handed comment and ran with it.

Literally.

No, like he was legitimately running ahead of you on the Nova Scotia beach and you were struggling behind him, your feet sinking beneath the sand, even though Ryan had the foresight to have the two of you run on the smooth packed edge of low tide.

You had been doing alright or at least you thought you had. It was different at first but you were sure you could handle it. But now, after only 8 minutes of this, you were ready to collapse into the wet sand and stay there until the waves washed you away.

“Come on babe, keep up!” Ryan shouts to you and you can hear the playful tone of his words but oooh boy, you were ready to fight him. Add kickboxing to your exercise repertoire.

“I hate you!” you reply, your own tone light but there was a slight truth to your words. Thankfully, Ryan doesn’t take offense, like he never did, and just laughed before smiling back at you.

“I know.”

You huff with your own strained laughter as you dig your feet into the unsteady ground and propel yourself forward, knowing that Ryan would never push you too far. You manage to last for what feels like another two minutes before your pace is slowing and you’re calling out to your boyfriend again.

“Ryan,” you whine, the high-pitch helping to cut through the sound of crashing waves. “This is so difficult. Like why did you have me run on sand?”

“Adds resistance! Really works your lower body and helps your balance.”

“Is that why you hockey players like it. Helps you balance on your knife shoes?”

“Something like that,” Ryan chuckles, slowing down his pace until you’ve caught up to him.

“Well, I…” you huff out, reaching out to grip Ryan’s forearm, halting both him and yourself before you lean forward, your chest heaving. “Oh, I can’t do this. This is exhausting.”

“I know you can do it. Just a few more minutes and then we can take our sweet time walking back to the car.”

“Babe, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. This is what you do every morning?”

“Yeah, I really like it. Training with a view, y’know? But I promise, if you end up absolutely hating this, you never have to do it again.”

“You swear?” you genuinely ask, looking up at him and still slightly hating him. But now, you’re hating him for the way the sunlight hits his pale skin and highlights the cut of his jaw.

“Absolutely,” he smiles at you and if your legs didn’t already feel like jelly, the action would have you weak in the knees. “But I know you can make it. You’re stronger than you think.”

The words soften your resolve and you stretch your body upright, sighing deeply as the salt air fills your lungs and the breeze from the ocean cools the sweat on your skin. You eyes open to find Ryan still staring at you, waiting for your answer. The bemused huff falls from your chest as you playfully glare at Ryan.

“Why are you so good at sweet-talking me?”

“Must be the Gemini,” he says and you can’t stop the laugh that falls from your lips.

“Okay, five more minutes,” you concede and Ryan’s grin grows more as he turns to take off again. But before he can, you stop him with a grip on his forearms. “But… we’re getting frozen yogurt after this.”

“Deal.”

You do manage to stick it out for the next five minutes, managing to reach the small beach that Ryan had planned your route to. Soon you found yourself walking back to the car, your shoes in Ryan’s hand, the rising tide lapping around your ankles, and the small cup of vanilla fro-yo in your hands.

And when you looked out over the ocean, the sunrise painting the beach a hazy pink and orange, you were startled to realize that you might start to enjoy these types of mornings with Ryan.

But maybe next time, the two of you could try yoga instead.