Laughter tumbles from my lips. Real, no holds barred, unadulterated laughter.
He grins, proud of his joke, and hands me his phone. “Put your number in,” he tells me.
I do as he says and hand the phone back to him. “I’ll give it a try.”
“You won’t regret yoga,” he promises. “Nobody does.”
“Can I bring my sister? Isn’t yoga supposed to calm you down and stuff?”
Dayton eyes me. “Is your sister hyper?”
“She has severe anxiety. Struggles to be in public sometimes. If she can learn some ways to manage it, she might have a happier life.”
“That’s the beauty of yoga.” He spreads his arms wide. “It’s for everybody.”
We step from the bar and say goodbye, then go in opposite directions.
“I’m calling you tomorrow,” he yells behind me.
I turn around, raising a hand above my head and waving it his way, then keep walking.
My heart feels just a little lighter, my step a tad bouncier. For a short while, my new friend made me forget about my aching heart.
And about my aching feet.
18
Noah
Two and a halfyears later
I was raised in Northmount,but for the past four years, I’ve stayed the hell away. Mostly, anyway. I came for Christmas morning, to appease my mother. My parents understood why I spent my summers traveling, and visiting friends at their family homes. I couldn’t come back and face Ember. She’d tried to tell me from the very beginning, and I was stupid and stubborn, believing we were stronger than we were. Sincere, but naïve, an eighteen-year-old who didn’t yet know the external dangers a relationship can fall prey to.
This is my first time being back for more than a day since I started college, and nothing feels quite right. Not even my old room, with its charcoal gray bedspread, and framed and signed Lionel Messi jersey. As soon as I walked in yesterday I looked at the desk, seeking out that picture of Ember. It wasn’t there. Probably my mom’s doing. I didn’t know whether to thank her or ask for it back. This room is a snapshot of a period of time in my life, and now it looks like Ember was never a part of that.
It feels just as weird to wake up here as it did to walk in yesterday. I never thought I’d miss Tripp’s music that he plays at all hours of the day. Waking up to the quiet of this big house feels loud. By the time I make it downstairs, the sun hangs high in the sky. I squint and rub my eyes, as if I can somehow rub out the pain from the hangover.
Tripp and all his goodbye shots.
He’s headed to South America, to see the Peruvian girl he met on Spring Break. I told him Cancun would only lead to trouble, but Tripp gave me a one finger salute, then told me not to forget my denture ointment while he was gone.
Thanks to multiple rounds of shots with weird names, I now want to put a mask over my face to protect it from the laser beam focus of the sunshine streaming into my parents’ house.
All the windows are thrown open, and that means my mother is in a good mood. That shouldn’t surprise me. Tomorrow is kind of a big deal.
Through the large dining room window, I see my brother. He’s standing on the back porch, his back to me. Alyssa stands beside him, gazing up at him like he’s made of puppies. Or diamonds. Or whatever she would like enough to make her look blindingly devoted.
I’m about to pull open the door to say hello when Brody’s arm winds around Alyssa’s waist. He pulls her against him and leans down. Quickly I back up, moving away from the door and their tender moment.
They’re getting married tomorrow. Maybe that’s why they’re being so loving and vomit-inducing. Maybe I’m being the love-Grinch because I’m back in town and as much as I want to track down Ember, I also don’t want to see her. I don’t know if she’s dating someone else, and I don’t think I can handle the answer to that question.
I shouldn’t want her, but I don’t want anyone else to have her either. The thought of her giving someone else those feisty, cute looks… My fists ball at my sides. She’s no longer mine, and she hasn’t been for a long time, but that doesn't stop me from despising the idea of her being anybody else’s.
Leaving my brother and Alyssa to their sweet nothings, I stomp to the kitchen and head straight for the coffee maker. After I’ve shoved a k-cup into the machine and hitgo, I search the contents of the fridge, hoping somehow there will be breakfast leftovers even though it’s so late I should be eating lunch.
“Do soccer stars normally shove their noses into fridges as if they've never seen food before?”
My smile springs up instantly. I back out, letting the door fall shut as I go to Gretchen.
