Cammie
We’re playing cards in the kitchen. Feel free to join us.
Flip
I hope you’re staying away from the shots
Tally
Never again. *dies GIF* *shots GIF*
I pocket my phone as the bathroom door opens and a girl wearing a Tilton Hockey hoodie steps out. I trade places with her and lock the door, letting the embarrassment over Flip’s message wash through me. At least he’s joking around with me again. Iwish I could forget everything that happened after I sat in his lap, but my memory of the night is unfortunately clear.
He did use a winky emoji, so maybe he’s over the black eye I gave him and the terrible night’s sleep on a yoga mat. Analyzing his message will only make me sweaty, so I compartmentalize it until I can ruminate in the privacy of my bedroom.
I avoid making eye contact with random drunk guys as I make my way to the kitchen. I find my friends gathered around the table, playing cards, as is typical.
“I’m heading out. I need to study.”
“Do you want me to come back with you?” Fee asks.
Mac is seated to her right, his eyes on his cards.
“Nah. Stay and have fun.” I kiss her, Cammie, and Enid on the cheek. “I’ll message when I’m home.”
“Be safe,” they reply in unison.
I duck out the side door to avoid the crowded living room and run into a couple getting it on against the fence. They don’t notice me, though, too absorbed in each other.
When I get back to my building, instead of taking the elevator to my apartment, I poke my head in the yoga studio. It’s open to students until eleven-thirty, and luckily, it’s empty. I text the girls that I’m home, then shed a few layers until I’m in my cropped tee and yoga pants. I do not dress up for hockey parties.
I connect to the sound system, cue up some music, and start with light stretching. I love dancing with Charles and Arya, but the freedom of solo numbers invigorates me. Once I’m warmed up, I give myself over to the heavy bass, trading modern ballet style for contemporary.
There’s nothing soft about this music. It’s all aggression and emotion. The sadness, fear, disappointment, and embarrassment I’ve been holding on to fade away as I become a conduit for the sound. A vessel for rhythm. I put the song on repeat and pay special attention to my release technique, because it’s theelement that needs the most attention for my upcoming performance.
I spiral into a chasse, stag leap, and move to floor work, improvising to make the song my own. I dance until the automatic lights turn off, and then I lie on the wood floor, heart hammering, skin damp with sweat, hair sticking to my neck and temples.
Eventually, when my breathing calms, I peel myself off the floor and head up to my apartment. Parsnip rushes down the hall to greet me, but I close the door in time to prevent his escape. I scoop him up like a baby and rub my face against his cheek. “How is my cute boy?”
He wriggles around, uninterested in the affection.
“I know I need a shower, but you could be less obvious about it.” I head for the kitchen first, feed Parsnip so he doesn’t become a tripping hazard, and pour myself a glass of water.
I check my messages while I drain the glass. Cammie, Fee, and Enid have sent me a range of gifs.
But a new one from Flip makes my heart skip a beat. It’s in our private thread. Mostly it’s used for book recommendations.
Flip
I hope you’re staying hydrated.
I didn’t drink at the party. I consider taking a selfie with my glass of water, but I’m sweaty and red-faced, so I snap one of the glass, with my bookshelf as the background.
Tally
H2O for the win. What about you?
Flip
