Page 36 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
My lip curls as I watch her eat the chocolate-dipped fry.Disgusting. How are we related?
“It’s fine.” I glance down at my plate, which is empty. “Itwasfine.”
I honestly don’t even remember what I just ate. Which is probably because I don’t remember when Ilastate. I’m not very good at taking care of myself even when I’m at my peak. Taking care of my clients? Absolutely. My own nutritional needs? Not so much. Unless you consider coffee and a protein bar a well-balanced meal. (There’s probably vegetable powder inside those things, so it could be worse.) But I haven’t been eating eventhatmuch since arriving in Oakley. One meal a day, maybe. And only if I eat out. I’m definitely not cooking anything at home.
Especially not after talking with Hunter. The conversation lingers like a fog in my mind. Why don’t I feel peaceful about it? Why can’t I stop thinking about it? Abouthim?
“It must have been. You pretty much inhaled it.” Sadie eats another gross shake-fry, then wipes her hands on her skinny jeans. “We should dance.”
“Dance?”
“Yes, my sweet, stifled sister. You’re twenty-six, not eighty-six. Now get your pert little butt off that stool and shake your groove thing with me.”
“I don’t have a groove thing,” I protest, gripping the sides of my stool, like that will do any good against my sister.
“I’ve seen it. It’s very neglected, but that’s okay. Dust it off and let’s go.”
“I hurt my ankle the other day running.”
“Nice try but you haven’t even been limping. Time to pop and lock, Mer-Mer.”
Sadie stopped using that nickname for me when she was maybe five. It startles me, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy dragging me out onto an area where a handful of people are dancing. Not enough of a crowd to really hide behind, which makes me hyperaware of my stiff movements.
When was the last time I danced? Muscle memory is definitely not helping me right now. “Um, I’m not really a pop and locker, Sadie.”
“Just let go,” she says.
Is it really so easy for other people? To just … let go?
Sadie, who isn’t the best dancer but possesses more self-confidence than the entire room put together, has her hands up in the air, eyes closed, a smile on her face. That is, until she glances my way. Her happy expression disappears, and she wrinkles her nose.
“You look like you need a chiropractic adjustment!” she says, leaning in so I can hear her over the music, which has switched from Zac Brown to R&B. “Let loose. I know you can. I’ve seen it. You’re a grown woman, fully capable of not caring what any of the people in this bar think of you.”
With that, Sadie bumps my hip like that will somehow kickstart my sense of rhythm. It doesn’t.
But as I glance around the bar, which has a decent crowd without being packed, I realize that Sadie is right. Not a single person is looking my way. I’m as invisible here as I am on any New York sidewalk. And even if they were all watching—I AM a fully grown woman. I can do what I want. And right now, what I want is to enjoy dancing (badly) with my sister.
She takes my hands, and I let her, hoping for an osmosis-style transmission of rhythm as well as attitude. I close my eyes and finally lose myself in the music, my limbs slowly cooperating as my hips sway to the thumping bass. Sadie lifts our hands up, then lets go, and I’m on my own. But it’s good. I feel good.
“There she is,” Sadie says, smiling as she tosses her hair over her shoulders. “Merritt’s wild side, coming out to play.”
She grabs my hands again, and now we’re spinning. I laugh, tilting my face up to the lights. I’m not sure if someone turned up the music or if I just feel it more now. It pounds through my torso, thudding through the soles of my feet.
I’m weightless, easy, free. New York slides away like a distant bad dream—Simon beating me out for the promotion, Simon confessing he was cheating, Simon telling me she was pregnant and they were getting married.
So much of my New York life was tied up with Simon, and as I shake him off, I realize I can’t go back.
I don’t WANT to go back.
“I’m never going back.” I say it out loud, needing the words to be real and out in the world, not just in my head.
“What?”
Sadie has to lean closer and yell because they’ve definitely turned up the music. The dance floor is more crowded too. How long have we been out here?
I smile. “I need a drink!”
We can talk later. A loud bar isn’t the place to tell Sadie all the things I’ve been hiding.
