Page 97 of Fun at Parties
“You deserve everything you want,” I say, like he once did to me. “Everything.”
We look at each other. His summer storm eyes are full of emotion, and I’m sure mine are the same. We’re ten feet away from the spot where we almost kissed a decade ago. That moment was about vulnerability and chemistry and feeling seen. This one is about so much more—understanding, and caring, and love, no matter how this ends.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I have a million regrets about the way I hurt you in Asheville. You were so good to me, and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was scared and frustrated. That’s not an excuse, by the way. I’ve learned a lot over the past few weeks about how to handle my feelings, but it’s a work in progress. I’m realizing that I can’t talk myself into being happy. Trying to dothat just means bottling stuff up, which never works. All it did was send me into denial about how bad things were and make me spiral out of control trying to fix the wrong things.
“Look at the trip we just took. I thought what I needed was to commune with nature. Instead we party-hopped across the country, and it had its moments of misery, sure, but you know what? I had the best time.”
“Me too,” he says softly.
“I’m sure part of it was the satisfaction of beating Michael Embry at The Floor Is Lava,” I say, “but mostly it’s because it brought me closer to you.”
My voice cracks, and his thumb curls over the top of mine on the concrete.
I clear my throat and continue. “The parties were so hectic, and trying to find Logan in all those places was so completely bananas—it’s like I had no energy left to hide myself from you. Somehow, being driven to the absolute brink was exactly what we needed to figure things out.”
His feet go still in the water. “Havewe figured things out?”
There’s so much to think about, I don’t want to get ahead of myself before I know what’s possible. “I need to make some changes to my life. I’ve been so focused on fixing my perspective when my perspective wasn’t what was broken. Or at least not the way I thought. I want to fix what really needs to be fixed. For myself, and also because I can’t have a future with someone without knowing my place in that future. Not when it’s a relationship as important as this.”
He slides his hand under mine and intertwines ourfingers. “It is important,” he says. “The most important. We should do it right.”
A weight lifts off my chest. Until now, I wasn’t sure if he’d already written me off. “Once I’m back in L.A., I’m going to make a plan. I just need time, although I understand if you can’t give it to me.”
He squeezes my hand. “Quinn. It’s yours.”
Voices from somewhere in the distance carry toward us on the breeze, getting louder and louder. The gate swings open and a crowd bursts in. “Owow!” Bailey catcalls as the motion light kicks on. “Sorry to interrupt, but we thought it would be fun to go for a swim.”
She steps into the water in her icy pink dress. Giana shrugs off her gown, which was apparently hiding a bathing suit. Everyone else has already ditched their costumes. Sam and his husband are in swim trunks and T-shirts, and Michelle and Tim follow behind in their costumes. Logan brings up the rear, inexplicably yet unsurprisingly shirtless.
I look at Nate, who gives me the tiniest knowing smile. Most of the group slips into the water, except Michelle and Tim, who stick their feet in near the steps in the shallow end.
“What do you think?” Nate unzips his hoodie.
“Come on.” I stand. “Let’s jump.”
Chapter 33
Back in L.A., life isboth the same as before and completely different. Michelle decides she likes her OB-GYN too much to leave before the baby is born, so Tim switches to a temporarily remote schedule at work and moves back in. Otherwise, my living situation doesn’t change. We drink our usual smoothies every morning. I still teach the same number of classes per week, but my time slots are better, and I barely cross paths with Caleb. I no longer slap the brick wall before entering the studio.
When Tracy gives me notes, I nod and smile and incorporate about twenty percent of what she says into my classes. The rest I do my way, and if she’s unhappy with that, she doesn’t say so. My metrics are good, and maybe that’s all that matters. I meet our newest instructor, a former college runner named Hannah, and she looks a little intimidated after touring the studio for the first time, so I invite her on a hike. It’s a three-miler; I know my limits.
Michelle recommends a financial planner, and I meet with her. We crunch numbers. I plot my next steps. I didn’t expect a spreadsheet to make me emotional, butreally, is there anything more romantic than reshaping the logistics of your life to be with the people you love?
Twice a week, Bailey and I video chat, and Nate and I text occasionally. Updates on the camp, a picture of Jolly the Clown, a long exchange after Breanne connects me with the All & Every people about a potential sponsorship. I never had to ask; she offered the first time we went to dinner together.
Every night, I stare at the numbers—income and debt and savings—and try not to get my hopes up.
During my first class back, I filter the leaderboard to show only the riders who are taking their first-ever CycleLove class, something I always do while giving my shout-outs. There are a lot of names on the list, but one catches my eye.HeyItsMeis the username. I notice it because instead of the usual hashtags that people use to find others similar to them—dads and seniors and nurses and people from Oregon—this person’s are unique: #dontstoppedaling and #thefloorislava.
It can’t be. He hasn’t said anything about acquiring a membership. But I just know it is, and a giant grin spreads across my face. “We’ll be out of the saddle in the next song,” I say, then tap the icon next to his username to add him to my friends list. A notification pops up on his screen instantly, I know, so I look directly into the camera like I’m looking at him and offer a softer, more private smile.
He doesn’t say anything about it after class, and neither do I. But the next day, he’s there again, this time with the hashtags #yourchallenge and #usethewordskedaddle. I have to fight to hold in my laughter when I urgemy riders to take the next interval like they’reskedaddlingfrom a lion’s den.
In my next class, on Saturday morning, he only uses one hashtag, but it’s a powerful one: #imissyou. My heart threatens to burst. “I miss you too,” I say directly to the camera, pausing before adding, “if you’re part of my usual Saturday crew and we haven’t ridden together in a while. I’m glad you’re here now.”
The studio used to be a lonely place, but HeyItsMe changes that. He may not be in the room, but I feel connected to him here.
The All & Every deal should be final any day now. I haven’t told him what I’m hoping for yet. It’s still a little fuzzy, and I’d like to be able to give him a clear picture of what to expect once I know what they’re offering. It doesn’t worry me, because we’re talking via text and flirting via hashtag, and I know patience will pay off.
