I can feel myself vibrating with unspent energy, and I will the car to get us back as quickly as the laws of motion will allow. I am not capable of sitting still for very long in general, and certainly not when my insides feel like someone filled them with Pop Rocks.
“You in for the bridge?” asks Shanthi, referencing Mar’s text.
“Nah,” I say, “I need to go for a run.”
“Didn’t you hit the gym this morning?”
What does that have to do with anything?“Call it self-preservation. Nobody wants to be around Mar after she’s eaten a burrito,” I say. Beans don’t agree with her, and that disagreement doesn’t agree with anyone within a twenty-foot radius of her.
I feel Shanthi eyeing me, my legs jittering impatiently, but the second-best thing about Shanthi is that she will never pry. (The best is that every piece of content she touches turns to gold.)
When the car finally delivers us to the hotel, I rush to my room, throw on workout clothes, and bolt back out into the cool, sunny air. I don’t even stretch, just turn left toward where the road inclines and hoof it.
The wind whips my short ponytail behind me as I pound the city sidewalks, dodging people and dogs and strollers. I realize belatedly that I should have brought my earbuds, put on some music, a podcast, or an audiobook, anything to drown out my spiraling thoughts about a man who has no right to take up so much of my headspace.
I duck into Salesforce Park, a tree-lined walkway snaking between skyscrapers that gives a similar enough impression to the High Line in New York that it makes me momentarily homesick for my beloved metropolis. I banish the sentiment by conquering the steep hills from Union Square to Nob Hill, punishing my quads and calves till I can’t think of anything but the burn. I know I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, but right now it’s a must.
After an hour, my legs are on fire as I slow to a walk, catching my breath. I wish we’d booked some kind of promo activity for this evening, which otherwise stretches before me, way too empty. Maybe I can catch up with Maral and Shanthi at the bridge, or do some other touristy thing that will occupy my body and mind.
My phone rings and I all but drop it in my haste to see who’s calling—Mom. I worry my lip for a moment, the fire in my muscles growing more acute, before sending her to voicemail. I can’t trust myself to be solicitous right now, nor to magic-wand the emotions threatening to surface as expertly as I’d like. I’ll call her later when my armor is stronger.
A couple of blocks from the hotel, I round a corner and see a man who’s a dead ringer for Ryan walking side by side with a tall, lithe blond woman. They’re each carrying a coffee and laughing over some shared joke I’m too far away to hear. I’m sure it’s not Ryan for that reason alone—I’ve never seen him so physically atease, almost…joyful. I don’t even think that state exists inhisrepertoire.
But as he turns my way, our eyes lock, and even from twenty feet away I feel the weight of his gaze right down to my toes.
Yup. That’s Ryan.
And he’s with a beautiful young woman who is…beautiful and young. Like,reallyyoung. She doesn’t look like a teenager or anything, but early twenties at the most.
I steady my breathing. That’s fine. Who he chooses to date is totally his prerogative. Even if she looks like she’s on a ticking clock to be dumped by Leo DiCaprio.
Just smile, say hello, and pass them by. Let them continue their date in peace. Then go back to your room, wash this hog sweat off yourself, crawl into a hole, and disappear forever.
But they have the audacity tostop,the clearly hilarious joke lingering in Ryan’s smile. I wish it would stop being so devastating, but no such luck.
“Ana,” he says.
“Hi-lo,” I say inelegantly. “Hi, hello. That was supposed to be both. Of those. But came out as a fun li’l mash-up.”Stop talking.
He looks good. Really good. His dark hair shines gold in the sun, his eyes lit up. A relaxed set to his normally rigid shoulders. Fresh and rested and happy.
Which only reminds me that I’m sweating balls. I’m not normally self-conscious about how I look, but can’t help feeling like a swamp creature next to his ethereal date. “I went for a run,” I say needlessly.
“Oh, these hills are killer!” says the divine being. “When I first moved here I could never run outside. The only plus side is that it never snows or gets icy. Which is amazing!”
“That is amazing,” I say, clocking that she’s also friendly. “I don’t need any help breaking my neck. My clumsiness makes a valiant enough effort.”
She laughs loudly, palming Ryan’s triceps as if to draw him into the joke. The move shows such a casual comfort with his body that an arctic ripple crawls down my esophagus. He returns her joviality with an indulgent smile, and then looks back to me.
His gaze travels to my neck, where stray hairs that have fallen out of my ponytail cling to my skin. His throat bobs, and he stands up straighter.
A beat passes before his date finally says, “Well, if he’s not going to do the honors, I guess I’ll introduce myself! I’m Celine.”
And there it is. The woman of emoji fame.
“Ana,” I say, shaking her outstretched palm, realizing too late that mine’s a clammy fish. “Shit, sorry.”
“Oh my god, don’t worry about it! I’m actually a high-key fan. I’d say I rival him, but that might be impossible.” She smiles coyly at Ryan. “My roommates and I play your videos to fire up before exams.”
