Page 78 of Fun at Parties
Sequins looks at me curiously from the seat on my right, as if she’s not sure who I am or how I got here. Everyone else is still talking.
“Excuse me!” Nate tries.
Nothing.
I blow out a loud, shrill whistle, and every head snapstoward me. “Can everyone listen to me for a minute? I want to help,” I say. “My name is Quinn Ray and I’m a spin instructor.”
“What?” Sequins shrieks. “You were sent by Jesus!”
Wheat Jesus, maybe. “Okay, everyone. Do you want to get to the Lilypad as quickly as humanly possible so your friend Maggie can have the bachelorette experience of her dreams?”
They shout ayesin unison.
“We can do it, but we’re going to have to give it our all,” I say. “You in the lace—wake up the one who’s asleep. Every pair of legs counts. I want you all to sit as far back in the seat as you can without falling off. Engage your core, and don’tstopengaging your core. And remember, your power doesn’t come from your feet. Use your whole legs and your butt. You can do this!”
No one’s talking now. They’re listening to me, sitting up straighter and adjusting their positions, pedaling harder. The one holding the flask puts it down. The neon-lit buildings are going by faster, and we’re passing pedestrians.
I increase my own cadence. “Great job, everyone! Can you feel the difference? Let’s keep it up.”
Our driver makes a turn. Now I can feel a breeze blowing, thanks to our momentum. Satin’s eyelash falls off and flutters away on the wind.
“No!” she yells.
“My legs are burning,” complains someone else.
“Stay focused,” I urge. “We’re doing this for Maggie.”
“For Maggie!” they cheer.
“We’re a team,” I say. And we are. They’re feeding off my energy, and I’m feeding off theirs, and the air hums with the sort of magic I feel in a good cycling class. Nate catches my eye, and he’s smiling and pedaling as hard as the rest of us.
“You’re actually moving pretty good,” the driver says over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”
When we pull up, the guitar melody of a familiar song floats toward us from the Lilypad. There are people outside, but the bachelorettes should be able to squeeze their way to the front if their scheme to bribe their way in the door doesn’t work.
“Good luck,” I say as we dismount.
While Nate steps away to look for the club, Sequins squeezes me in a hug. “Quinn Ray, I love you!”
And then they’re off. I turn to follow Nate and come face-to-face with a woman holding up her phone, recording me. She waves and says, “Spin instructor girl! What are you doing with a bachelorette party? Telling the bride not to go through with it?”
My stomach clenches, but I force a laugh. She’s still filming, so I keep smiling. “You know me. Have a great night!”
This satisfies her. I escape and find Nate, who’s doubled back to fetch me. The club is a few doors down, and thankfully the line out front is short.
“Ready?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “What you just did on that bike ride was ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”
“I got a little carried away.” I cringe at myself.
“No, I mean it in the best way.” He grabs my hand. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
My cheeks flush. I know Nate likes me when we’re alone together, and when we’re with our friends. But it’s important to me that he likes me when I’m on the bike too. It’s the part of me that’s most foreign to him, but it’s still part of me.
His face glows as green as all my best feelings in the light of the neon sign hanging over the club, and I sway closer. But before I lose myself in the moment, I remember that the woman who recognized me is still nearby, and the clock on finding Logan is ticking.
“Let’s go,” I say.
