Stop.
I'm either severely sleep-deprived or Virginia's lap dance broke something fundamental in my psyche. Because there is no version of reality where Caleb Miller groans my name in the shower. Not when girls like Virginia are practically throwing themselves at him.
The mountains rise behind our neat row of yoga mats, still misty in the golden light, and there's just enough humidity in the air to make my hair start to curl. It would be peaceful if not for—
"Center your chakras, ladies!" Kristal twirls between our mats in head-to-toe pastel Lululemon. Her blond hair swishes with each movement, the embodiment of some bizarre Barbie–Buddha hybrid at sunrise yoga. "Feel the universe flowing through your root chakra! Channel that hangover into spiritual growth!"
Seriously, is there anything this woman can't do?
Wedding planner, yoga instructor, crisis manager, and I'm pretty sure I saw her fixing the industrial coffee maker earlier. Whatever they're paying her to wrangle this chaos, it's not enough.
Virginia lets out a guttural groan from her mat, designer sunglasses firmly in place despite the early hour. Her sleek bob's unraveling by the minute, and she's looking distinctly green around the edges. "If I channel anything through my root chakra right now, we're all goingto regret it."
"Hydration is key!" Kristal bounces over. "Mind-body connection! Spirit-soul alignment! And remember to breathe through your—"
"If you say 'third eye' one more time," Virginia lurches forward, dry heaving, "I'm going to hurl my breakfast all over you."
Next to her, Dixie flows through poses with precision, her highlighted ponytail swinging. "Y'all just need to embrace the morning energy! This is nothing compared to my old dance team days. Back when I was with the Panthers . . ." she pauses, making sure everyone's listening, because apparently, being an ex-NFL cheerleader is still her entire personality five years later, ". . . we'd do these sunrise conditioning sessions that would make this look like naptime."
Sarah, somehow looking fresh and put-together despite the hour, flows through each pose with effortless grace, and I follow along easily, grateful for all my hot yoga sessions. There's something grounding about the familiar movements, even if the company is . . . different.
"Beautiful form, Ivy!" Kristal beams. "Such natural alignment!"
Virginia scoffs from behind me. "Of course she does yoga. Probably communes with crystals too."
The cattiness in her voice yanks me straight back to high school—whispers behind locker doors, fake smiles and petty comments. At least then, I had Daphne and Amelia to roll my eyes with.
Mary watches from the corner of her mat, her smile a practiced curve that never touches her gaze. "Sarah always had a knack for doing everything just right," she says, saccharine-sweet. "I'm sure the wedding will be flawless too. Though I did hear the florist raised a few concerns about the budget."
"The flowers are gorgeous," Sarah says firmly, but I pick up on the tension edging her shoulders.
"What happened with you and Caleb last night, Virginia?" Dixie asks as she flows into another pose. "One minute you're giving hima private lap dance, the next he's practically vaulting over the coffee table to escape."
I hide my grin in a forward fold.
"Well," Virginia announces, her sunglasses doing little to mask the bruised ego, "I suppose Caleb's cute, if you're into that broad-but-soft thing. Personally, I like my men with muscle that wasn't earned chasing snacks to the couch."
Something hot and unfamiliar rises in my chest—pure rage—and my fingers twitch with the urge to tackle her. Because Calebisgood looking. "You don't know anything about him."
"Aww, look at that." Virginia's voice drips with poison. "Caleb's little bestie coming to his defense. Tell me, does he even know you're in love with him?"
My entire body goes rigid.
"Oh my god." She laughs. "I've known you both for less than twenty-four hours and it's just so obvious . . . and sad."
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
"Oh honey." She leans in, all faux intimacy, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "You're sweet, Ivy. The kind of woman men trust. Lean on. Confide in. But let's be honest, you need to let go of that little fantasy where Caleb suddenly realizes you're it. Guys like him don't wake up one day and decide to settle for safe. They want the chase. The thrill." Her eyes flick over me, slow and surgical. "Not the girl who's just . . . there when it's easy."
But Caleb isn't like that,I want to argue.He's different. He's. . .
Except he kind of is, isn't he? Every girl he's dated has been what Virginia described—bold, challenging, exciting.
"You met him yesterday," I say, meeting her gaze directly. "You don't get to reduce either of us to whatever convenient stereotype fits yournarrative."
Virginia's eyes widen for a split second before her face hardens. "Wow, the kitten has claws. Cute. But tell me—if I'm so wrong, why isn't he with you after all these years?"
Words bubble up in my throat, but Sarah's voice cuts through first.
