Page 16 of Fun at Parties
When we reach the bottom, Nate glances over from where he’s sitting on the futon, the TV tuned to a Yankees game. “I told him not to bother you while you were napping.”
Logan ignores him. “We can do dinner every night. My other friends headed out this morning, so I figuredI’d crash with you guys so we can all hang. Should we grill and get the fire pit going tonight?”
Nate’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought you had a place for us to stay.”
“I did have a place to stay, but then my friends left. Why wouldn’t we all stay here? It’ll be awesome.”
Nate and I lock eyes, and he winces. At this point, he’s not only hijacked my trip, he’s also roped in Logan, who’s going to hijack the hijacking. I can try explaining that I’m desperate for alone time, but Logan won’t understand that. His enthusiasm tends to steamroll everything in its path. He’s the first one on the dance floor at every party, and he’ll drag anyone nearby along with him.
But you know what? Spending time with a friend who makes me laugh, someone I’m happy to see in a refreshingly uncomplicated way, sounds pretty damn good right about now. The girl in the viral video would never let the awkwardness of a failed romance get in the way of what she wants.
“Sounds like fun,” I say.
“I’ve never wished for anything as hard as I wished for that store to have a functioning self-checkout.” Nate shakes his head at Logan as he pushes a grocery cart out of the South Lake Tahoe Whole Foods. “I couldn’t look the cashier in the eye when he was scanning your stuff. What you did in there should be a felony.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Logan sputters.
The automatic doors open onto a parking lot in one of the more commercial areas of town, where the Five Guysand Chase Bank are camouflaged in rustic Craftsman-style buildings.
“I don’t know,” I say, my flip-flops smacking as the guys walk and I waddle across the pavement, nature’s beard burn haunting my inner thighs. “Big Marshmallow’s got a lot of political sway.”
The “S’more War,” Logan’s calling it, our activity for this evening. A taste test, with regular s’mores versus fancy ones with artisan marshmallows, premium chocolate, and candied orange peel. Refined sugar isn’t in the meal plan my CycleLove-provided nutritionist recommends, but hey, I’m on vacation.
Logan pulls a brown paper container out of his shopping bag. “They’re small batch. Look at this packaging. Look at thefont.They’re not fucking around. These are amazing, guaranteed.”
“You are a marketer’s dream,” Nate says.
Logan’s smile cracks open on his face. “You know, man, I think this is the first time you’ve busted my chops all day. Thanks for finally showing up.”
I dig around in my grocery bag for the keys, under a yellow onion and a head of garlic. A side dish that doesn’t take up real estate on the gas Weber on the deck, that’s my responsibility. Logan and Nate are making feta and dill turkey burgers and corn on the cob. I chose rice-stuffed tomatoes—cheap and delicious, my favorite kind of recipe.
“I’m open to them,” I say. “It’s important for a juror to be impartial.”
“Ha!” Logan hooks his arm around my neck and kisses my temple. “I’ll win you over too, Nate.”
“You don’t sound impartial,” Nate grumbles frombehind us. “By the way, I think those girls took a picture of you.”
A duo in tennis skorts disappears into the store. Logan gestures at himself. “All I’m doing is grocery shopping. No one can possibly get mad at me about that.”
“You just paidfour bucks a marshmallow,” Nate says. “French royalty has been executed for less.”
This is the most fun I’ve had in days. With Logan as a buffer and a job to do—grocery shopping and dinner prep—it feels easy, and the next few hours are more of the same. There are plenty of tasks to complete, and I focus on those: hollowing out ripe tomatoes and boiling rice in their juices, cleaning up the chopped-herb debris in the kitchen after Nate preps the burgers, setting the patio table. Even when we’re eating, somebody’s always running into or out of the house for a drink refill or extra napkins.
On one of my trips inside, I grab my phone from the counter and find an email waiting for me from Tracy.
Quinn—The single empowered woman thing is resonating. Your last ride was the biggest of the week by far, and we should leverage the powerful response. I knew you could thrive like this under the right circumstances.
Relief clouds my vision. She’s not pissed about me going viral, andIhad the biggest ride of the week? That spot is usually reserved for one of our top instructors, the ones who do features inShapemagazine on their pre-workout routines and star in our TV commercials. I wasworried about disappointing her, about getting fired, but if she’s happy with the turn things have taken, maybe it’ll work to my advantage. That could bemeinShapemagazine, with a toothy smile and job security.
Tracy’s email contains two more paragraphs:
Make sure you stay on top of your socials during your time off. Lean into the single-and-proud messaging. The stuff you shared from your hike was okay, but a bit of a snooze. Not quite juicy enough for the mood of the moment. Try to keep the momentum going by connecting with your audience on a personal level—more about how you’re feeling post-breakup (in an upbeat way) and what’s next.
This morning I preemptively spoke to the executive team to address any concerns, and I assured them that you’ll deliver. I’m copying Summer, our new social media coordinator, who’s excited to hit the ground running. In fact, we’re wondering if you can fly back to L.A. for a day to film something with one of her contacts, an Internet personality known for relationship humor videos. Just a quick in-and-out. How’s the day after tomorrow?
I go cold, my stomach turning. No. No. No. Single and proud? Relationship humor videos? Returning to L.A. already? She saw what a mess I am. She knows I’m struggling. And she’s asking this of me anyway. My shaky hand slips as I try to scroll back to the top of her email, and I fumble the phone. Instead of picking it up off the floor, Isink down next to it, hugging my knees and pressing my forehead to them.
This break is exactly what I need to feel like myself again. I’ve just started to appreciate that, and now she wants to yank it away from me so I can, what? Pretend like I’m thriving when I’m not? We’re not just talking about spin here. We’re talking about mylife.
