Page 70 of Thanks for the Friendship
“Bethany,” Reagan says, her voice strained. “What are you doing here?”
I continue my stretching without saying anything.
“It’s good to see you too, Reagan,” she says with a giggle.
I’m not sure what she thinks is so funny. I guess she’s oblivious to the fact that we’re not happy to see her this early, or ever.
“I’ve heard this is the best place to take yoga and Pilates, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
I open my eyes and shoot Reagan a glance. It might be time for us to switch studios.
“Reagan, I never heard back from you about getting together,” she whines. “I know you were pretty upset the last time we talked.”
“Do you mean when you told her that I was selling my house?” I say, without opening my eyes. I have nothing to lose, and I’m usually someone who gets right to the point.
“Well, it’s not my fault you weren’t being honest with your roommates.”
I inhale deeply followed by an exhale. “It shouldn’t be any concern of yours, considering it has nothing to do with you,” I reply sharply.
I continue to concentrate on my breathing in order to keep myself calm.
“Reagan is my oldest and dearest friend, so that makes it my concern.”
This girl is unbelievable.
I’m about to mention Jordan, when our instructor comes in to start the class. Of course Bethany lays out her mat on the other side of Reagan because she can’t take a hint, ever. Thankfully there’s no more talking for the next hour.
During my practice, I zone out and let my mind wander. I have enough to think about without letting stupid Bethany take any of my energy. My home is going up for sale, I need to talk to Elizabeth about her offer to run Fun in the Sun, and I’m having dinner with Cal in a few days—as friends. I’m the type of person who thrives when things are chaotic, so I should be able to handle everything with grace. I hope.
“I really enjoyed that workout,” Bethany says as soon as the lights come on. “Reagan, do you remember when we took that hip hop class back in Chicago? We had a such a blast, even though hip hop isn’t really my thing. I was terrible.”
A smile spreads across Reagan’s face. “It wasn’t really my thing either, but I wanted it to be. I gave it my best effort though.”
“Me too,” she squeals.
Ugh. Somehow I’ve ended up in the middle of a trip down memory lane with Bethany. The last place I want to be.
“Do you gals usually get coffee or breakfast after class?” Bethany asks. “We should go grab something.”
Honestly, I think this girl lives in an alternate universe. A few weeks ago she reached out to Bethany to throw me under the bus, and now she wants to have coffee like we’re all the best of friends. Maybe things could be different if she didn’t always have an ulterior motive. And if she really just wants to be friends with Reagan again, she went about it the wrong way by telling her about the house sale.
“Sorry, I have to get to a meeting,” I say, not sounding sorry at all.
I take my phone out of my bag and find a text message from Diane.
I’ve managed to avoid her since the weekend, claiming I was busy, but I can’t do it forever. I just know she’s going to want to talk about Sara and Cal, and I don’t.
Reagan and Bethany are still chatting about the hip hop class.
“Lila, I’m sorry about telling Reagan about the house. You were right, it probably wasn’t my place. Sometimes I get overprotective because she’s looked out for me most of my life.”
I do an internal eye roll.
“I actually understand that because I can be overprotective too,” I reply. “I care about Jordan, so I hope you’re not playing games with him like you did with Paul.”
Her mouth drops open. “Paul and I were always just friends, and he knew that.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m just being protective of my friends—like you.”
