Page 73 of Fun at Parties
I may not be an expert, but I didn’t feel like a fraud putting this out into the world. I’m living this struggle right now with Bailey, so I know I’m right. Tracy mostly approved, complimenting the “balance of authoritativeness and relatability.” The only criticism in her email wasI know I said deeper, but this is a little too deep. Keep it upbeat. More girl power! Say (or type) it with a smile.
After that, I texted Bailey to let her know we’re nearing the East Coast.What day should I get there?I asked.
I’d love to reunite with you ASAP, she said,but I have a conference in Boston this week. I’m back Thursday night though! Can’t wait to see you!
That’ll give me eight days with her before her party. Plenty of time to get us back on track.
“I’m going to eat the other half of my sandwich while we’re stuck here,” Nate says. “Do you want yours?”
I consider the photo I just posted. After a week and a half away from my usual diet and exercise regimen, my stomach is a little softer. Which is fine. When I return to L.A., I’ll get back into my routine. Daily strength training and cardio, protein shakes, lean meats and veggies. Not exactly thrilling, but my body is part of my job, so I treat it that way. Frankly, I’m lucky my relationship with food isn’t weirder.
CycleLove celebrates body diversity—our ads show riders of all shapes, sizes, and abilities, and we’re trained not to talk about weight—but that doesn’t apply to instructors. When they bought us matching green outfits to wear for Earth Day, all the women’s sets were the same size.
“Maybe later,” I say. “What do you want to do when we get to the Airbnb?” We don’t know exactly where Logan is, so we’ll need to wait for a clue to point us in the right direction.
His smirk sayssex thoughts.“I mean, same,” I say. “But what else?”
He rubs his chin. “Laundry. And, god, I’d love to sit around and watch TV.”
I picture it: us, throwing our clothes in the wash together, a thing I have never done with any man. Sittingon the couch with him until he falls asleep five minutes into a show, just like he used to, except this time we’re cuddling. I’m pretty sure this is my most serious relationship ever, and it’s ending in less than two weeks.
I sigh dramatically. “Laundry and TV. Wow. I guess now that we’re lovers, you’ll stop trying to woo me. Tale as old as time.”
“I’ll never stop trying to woo you.” His eyes glitter like mosaics, and I feel dizzy. “As long as you don’t use the wordlover.”
We get through the traffic jam, leaving us three hours from Nashville. I check my phone for signs of Logan. If he’s with Breanne, she’ll post something soon, as long as somebody from theBeach Housesubreddit doesn’t spot them and leak their whereabouts first. The sun is setting as we cross into Tennessee, but there’s still nothing.
We stop for a bathroom break at the Tennessee Welcome Center. When I get back to the car, I lean against the driver’s-side door and scroll through my notifications. What I see makes my heart leap, and it has nothing to do with Logan. All & Every commented on my photo with heart eyes and shared it with a link to the set I’m wearing.
Numbers flash in my mind like a stock market ticker. Caleb’s deal with an activewear brand, minus a bit since All & Every is smaller. My growing follower count. The non-romantic-life highlight reel video trend hasn’t died down at all; in fact, it’s still spreading, and I’m up to seventy-four thousand followers.
Then there’s the amount of debt I have left—an ugly, glaring red number, though lower than it’s ever been—and my savings goal, the amount I want in the bank before I’ll feel like I can step back and breathe.
This could get me close.
Nate squeezes past the car next to ours, a deflated expression on his face. “Breanne just posted. ‘Cozy night in,’ with drinks and a cheeseboard and half of Logan’s hand at the edge of the picture.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
He flips his phone around. The hand is attached to a wrist wearing a black leather bracelet with a yellow smiley face charm. “Everyone will know who that is,” I say. “So tonight she gets people riled up wondering why they’re together, and then tomorrow they go out in public.”
Tomorrow, then. Which means once we reach our Airbnb tonight, we’re not going anywhere. Nate must be thinking the same thing, because his hands slides around my waist and up the back of my shirt, raising goose bumps all over, and he presses his hips to mine.
My phone vibrates, and Michelle’s name appears on the screen. I should probably tell her what time zone her car is in.
“Do you want to drive so I can take this?” Nate nods, and I walk around to the passenger side. “Hello?”
“Hey. Do you have a few minutes?” There’s tension in her voice.
I buckle in. “Of course. We’re at a rest stop an hour from Nashville. What’s up?”
“Nashville? What happened to Kansas?”
As Nate pulls back onto the highway, I give her the twenty-second update, which she responds to with an distracted-sounding “Oh. And how is Nate?”
“You called for a reason,” I remind her, nerves climbing my spine.
Michelle isn’t the type to beat around the bush. When I first moved in, she told me straight up: “I need to be alone at least three nights a week. No cooking dinner or watching TV together on those nights. Other people make me tired, and this is how I deal.”
