Page 88 of Fun at Parties
I rear back. “I don’t hate my job!Youhate my job.”
“You do, and that’s the only reasonIhate it.” He shakes his head. “God, this whole time you’ve been talking about how there’s something wrong with you and you need to get back in your groove and I’ve just been waiting for you to realize thatyou aren’t the problem.CycleLove is the problem. Maybe you didn’t always feel this way, but you don’t like how Tracy’s running things, or that you don’t get to teach live anymore, and the only person you like there just quit because she was miserable too.”
“I’m not miserable,” I snap. “It’s not perfect, but maybe it’ll get better. In six months they may change everything again. Who knows? I have to see it through. It’s helped me get closer to a financial position I didn’t think was possible. It would be reckless for me to give up.”
“So instead you’ll give up other things,” he says. “Your friends and—and me. Because of money?”
“Money isn’t nothing,” I counter. “But it’s also not the only thing I like about my job. Do I wish we had in-class riders? Yes. But I get to lead classes withthousandsof people in them. I get to give them a fun, positive workout experience. That’s important to me.”
Nate rubs his face. “Fuck, I know. I know. You deserve to be in a position where you can shine like that.”
“Are you sure?” I fold my arms. “I’m starting to think you only like me at my worst. God, how have I not seen it before? The first night we bonded you saw someone try to revenge pee on my car and heard my Jolee sob story. Then when I lived with you, I had zero friends and was flailingmy way around a new city. And how about this trip? Pretty much my all-time low.”
“I did like you all of those times,” he says. “But I don’t agree that any of that was you at your worst. Those are just times that you’ve been real with me.”
“But don’t you see?” I’m feeling too much to think, and my arms are flapping. “I’m also real when I’m teaching a class in gold spandex and temporary butterfly tattoos. I’m real when I’m trying to see the bright side in everything. That’s me too, whether you like it or not. I’m a ray of fucking sunshine, Nate!”
He stares at me. His mouth forms a tight line.Laugh,I want to urge him.It was a ridiculous thing to say. Please laugh with me.
But he doesn’t. “I like that side of you too, Quinn, I really do. God, didn’t you notice how I acted after you whipped those drunk bachelorettes into a frenzy so they’d get to that bar on time? If I wasn’t already completely gone for you, witnessing that would’ve done it.”
“But then what do you want?” I ask tentatively. “You want me to give that up?”
He closes his eyes. His voice is quieter now. “I want you to be happy. And I want to be one of the things that makes you happy. I mean, if you don’t want to leave CycleLove, ask me to go back to L.A. with you. Or ask me to do long-distance. I’m so crazy about you, I’ve been trying to convince you to move to Seapoint for me.” His eyes open, and they’re pleading with me. “If you feel the same way,ask.”
It’s torture. My chest aches. He’s holding out the life Iwant like it’s something I can reach out and take, but my hands are tied behind my back. “I’m not going to do either of those things,” I say. “I want the best for you, and we both know you need to take a shot at the camp. There’s no way I’d ask you to give that up.”
“Then—”
“Ican’tdo long-distance. My life in Los Angeles needs to be my focus if I’m going to turn things around for myself there. I can’t be wishing I was in Seapoint.”
A light goes out in his expression and he looks away, working his jaw. “Yeah. Okay,” he says eventually.
It feels like my heart is being carved out with a butter knife. I need him to understand how hard this is. “That doesn’t mean I’m not crazy about you. I love you, Nate.”
He goes still. “You don’t get to say that. That’s not fair.”
My throat burns. “I’m sorry.”
My apology hangs uselessly in the air until he breaks the silence. “I know. Me too.” I’m crying in an ugly, snotty way. His mouth is a taut line, but his eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “I think it would be best if I head out,” he says.
“Don’t,” I whisper, but I know he’s right.
There’s no good place for me to wait while he tosses the few things he’s unpacked back into his bag. I end up on the front steps, staring at the trees until his Uber pulls into the driveway. I wipe my palms on my pants when he opens the door.
“I’ll see you at the party.” He hesitates, lifting his hand like he’s going to reach out for me, but he decides against it. “Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah,” I say. “You too.”
When he’s gone, I lie down on the living room floor. Nate must’ve cleaned up the deck while I sat out front, because I don’t see the dinner plates or candles through the sliding door, and there’s a bag of trash next to the kitchen island. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he held me like he wanted to do it forever. But wanting it isn’t always enough.
My phone vibrates, and my heart jumps. But it’s not him. It’s Tracy:Can’t wait for our call. Exciting things in the works.The phone thuds as I drop it onto the rug.
The dam breaks, and a deluge of emotion drowns me. Violent sobs rack my body, but it doesn’t matter how loud they are. No one is around to hear them. Because I am completely alone.
Chapter 30
It takes me forty-two minutesand thirteen seconds to decide I need to get the hell out of here. That’s the length of boygenius’s album, which I play from the Bluetooth speaker on the deck while restlessly plucking the stubble from my knees and watching a giant spider guard her eggs on the web in the corner.
