Ken let out a sigh of relief and followed behind him a moment later. It seemed he had thought badly of Steve, despite what he had said earlier, but it turned out that he was helping in his own way.
The two continued on their run for another 30 minutes before finding a place to stretch.
"So? What did the note say?" Ken asked, unable to hold his curiosity any longer.
Steve grinned, "Just a poem I came up with…"
"Which was?"
Steve turned to him with his eyes misted over,
"My Dear Rose,
A bouquet of beauty, soft and true,
Yet pales beside the charm of you.
With roses soft, I dream of this—
Your tender lips, a stolen kiss.
-Brian"
Ken shuddered unconsciously. Being serenaded by Steve was something that his body had an instinctive negative reaction to. "Dude, don't ever do that again…"
"What? You asked what I wrote." Steve said, shrugging.
"Since when did you learn to write poems?"
"Ahem… Well since you asked, I have bee—"
