THANKSGIVING EVE
Three days. It's been three days. It's not even enough time for an avocado to ripen but here I am already missing him. Missing my Brooks. My.
I disgust myself.
It's the word that makes me want to reevaluate my mental well-being.
I'm three blocks away from my loft. Sitting at a coffee bar. Pumpkin spice latte in hand. #PSL for those of you who only speak in trends. 'Tis the season, bitches.
Every time my phone dings, buzzes, vibrates or literally just sits there I hope it's him. It takes a lot of TV, a lot of yoga, some porn and a ton of ripening avocados for me to keep my mind occupied. OK, maybe I squeezed in a one-night stand or two (pun intended). I blame Zoë. It's like there's this wild dormant side of me that comes out to play whenever she's around. She's a terrible influence.
It didn't matter. It didn't change anything. It's like sex has been ruined for me.
Once you go demi-god you never go back.
Filthy average humans. Eye roll to them all.
Had to keep my hands too busy to pick up my phone and be the one who caves first #feminism. We are the stronger sex and I will be damned if I let smooth talking, surfer-boy, demi-god Jay Brooks break me.
It's been three days since he's called or texted. So what? My head tells me there's a logical explanation. There must be. Brooks has been checking-in every other day since Labor Day. Sometimes we video chat.
The video chat after Halloween was our longest. A lot of sorry's went around. Some we actually meant. Some not so much. More from him than me. The conclusion was we should never text/call each other while drinking. More easily said than done as that is arguably when you want to text/call people the most –especially ill-fated sexy ex-turned-current lovers.
He spent the entire last video chat trying to convince me we should visit each other. I was finally coming around to the idea; I had told him maybe I would consider it. Since then, nothing.
Of course not. Duh. I took the bait. I said maybe. The chase is over and he knows it.
It's not like Halloween completely erased everything, right?
I may or may not have stalked his media pages. Discovered he was in Myrtle Beach last weekend. Couldn't help notice all of the attractive women on his story. Couldn't help harping on them for hours –days. Not proud of it, but it happens. I knew this would happen.
Typical boy. I'm prob getting ghosted.
It's your own fault I remind myself.
Go Zen is crowded as fuck today.
I'm splitting the 11AM class with Zoë and there're still too many people to focus on. The front glass windows are already steaming up from everyone's overly active sweat glands. This ain't PE class, people; news flash, deodorant is a thing.
"Don't forget, we're going out tonight. Downtown at 10," Zoë says, walking past me.
"We'll see," I mumble under me breath. I reposition myself in a new pose. The floor follows suit.
"We'll see... what you're wearing out? Cause we are doing out." Zoë raises her eyebrow at me, insistent.
"Fine. Fine. Just focus," I sigh, laughing.
I look out at the crowd in front of me -the wood floor splattered with neon patterned yoga mats.
"I am focused. Ready for the next session," Zoë says, standing up.
I stand too and reach for my water bottle on the foam cube behind me. Zoë walks up to the front of the studio to bring back the next class. Full capacity. Shocker.
Everyone is getting their workout in today since we're closed tomorrow. And I'm betting everyone is going to eat their stomachs into a coma on Thanksgiving.
Zoë flips the fans on. Even in the airy space with industrial ceilings and exposed air vents, it's still TOO HOT. My bare feet are sticking to the hardwood floor.
"Em, someone just got here. Wants to join today's class," Zoë says, tossing me a towel.
"Tough shit. We're packed."
I'm glad yoga is trending but no new people are allowed today. These lessons have been booked since September. They can't sit with us.
"You can tell him. Wants to see the owner anyway. Over by the door." She nods her head. "He's really cute."
I roll my eyes. Everyone is cute to Zoë. I glance in the mirror on the back wall to make sure I'm presentable. My black yoga leggings and macramé sports bra seem to be in order. Can't say the same for my hair. Oh well.
I turn for the front door.
Fuck. No.
Oh. Fuck. No.
There he is sitting in the chair beside the front desk. Next to the out-of-place palm tree. His gray long-sleeved shirt stretches across his chest. Pairs nicely with his black gym shorts. Both have his Edge lax logo on them. He's a walking ad for his own clothing co.
He looks up. My heart leaps. What in the hell? How is he here? How does he look so good? HOW has it been two months?
"Hi." Brooks beams. A gym-bag hangs from his shoulder.
"Hi? Really? You want to go with hi?"
"Yes, I do." Brooks says, head nodding, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"What? What're you doing here?"
"I heard this place was the best." He looks at me.
"Well, it is. But I'm still not sure what you're doing here." I shake my head.
"Heard the instructor was hot too."
"Yea?" I laugh. "I heard she's way out of your league."
"We'll see about that. I was in the neighborhood and I'd like to take a class." He hands me a clipboard of paperwork.
"Sorry, we're full today." I smile back.
"Can you make an exception? It was a bit of a commute." Brooks stands and towers over me. He steps in to me.
Fuck.
"You have to stay in the back." I shove him away from me. "And don't get any ideas. The instructor's taken."
"I like a challenge."
Longest. Class. Ever.
Properly demonstrating a bridge was torture. I had to somehow pretend to care about peoples' cobra pose. I just kept thinking how stupid cobras are! Brooks watched silently the entire time from the back corner –from the neon pink yoga mat I gave him from the spare cabinet. I stared up at him during downward dog. I knew he was thinking the exact same thing as me. Or hoped he was, at least.
The last five minutes were reserved for a Zen meditation. The come down and the calm down. Normally I enjoy this. But today? It's just as dumb as cobras. Today it's five whole minutes I am kept from Brooks.
God, yoga is fucking stupid.
"How was I?" Brooks appears at my side once half the class has left. I'm folding up my mat, pretending to hardly pay attention. It's hard to fight a smile.
"Mediocre at best." I shrug.
"Maybe private lessons could help." He smirks, reaching for my waist.
"Or a change of hobby?" I suggest, laughing.
"Quick on the draw. I've missed that." Brooks laughs. God the way he leans into me when he laughs. "Can you get something to eat?"
"Um," I bite my lip.
"Go on!" Zoë calls from the mat pile. "I can cover the last two." She winks at me. I roll my eyes.
"Fine," I say, turning back to Brooks. "But I'm picking the place. Come on."
"I like her," Brooks says as we turn away from Zoë.
"She's an enabler." I swing my tote over my shoulder and walk in front of Brooks, thankful I wore my cute butt leggings today.
"And I like what she's enabling," he laughs.
AH.