Under the Lights

No, seriously. He actually said that. In a text.

Meanwhile, I haven’t spoken to Bri since that day at Josh’s house. I’d desperately hoped some time apart would help me forget about her, but if anything, it’s only made getting my own place even lonelier.

By Thursday of that week, I’m feeling lower than low. I’m off, but the thought of leaving the house, even for a spa day or something, fills me with anxiety. Plus, I’m feeling a little gross and sluglike, especially after non-stop takeout. Finally, the idea of going to yoga pops into my head. I haven’t been in weeks, and I could definitely use a night of losing myself to meditation.

I check the time on my phone. If I change and head out right now, I should be able to make the five o’clock session. I usually prefer to go at night, when it’s cooler outside and traffic is less crazy, but if I don’t get out of my house soon, I’ll go nuts. Plus, at this hour, at least I’m guaranteed Bri won’t be there.

The simple act of changing into my yoga clothes makes me feel better already, and when I get to the studio, I know I’ve made the right choice. This is exactly what I need right now, for both my mind and body. This is perfect. This is—

A huge mistake. Because the first person I see when I walk inside is none other than Bri. And she’s talking to a tall, athletic-looking blonde I know is her ex-girlfriend within two seconds of seeing them interact. The blonde flicks Bri’s ponytail in a way that makes it clear she’s done it a million times before, and Bri laughs. God, I’ve missed the sound of that laugh.

I so badly want to run, but too many people have already spotted me, and they’re already whispering. I can only imagine how much worse it would be if I left. Then Raoul calls everyone to attention, and everyone, including Bri and her Amazonian ex, get into place; I have no choice but to do the same.

He gives me a little smile and nod of recognition, and that’s when Bri looks up into the mirror and spots me. The smile on her face drops, but she doesn’t look away — not immediately, at least. I try to smile at her, but my lips won’t curve, and eventually we both give up the half-ass effort and begin our deep breathing.

It’s too late, though. Now that I’ve seen her, I can’t clear my head. I can’t think of anything else. All I can do is move into position after position while sneaking looks at her in the mirror. She never catches my eye, though; unlike me, she’s focused. Peaceful.

Her ex, though…she seems to be doing the same thing I am. I can’t help wondering why they broke up and just how permanent it is. It hadn’t occurred to me that Bri might be here to reunite with her, that she could be over everything that happened with us so quickly, but really, what reason did I give her to do otherwise? Why shouldn’t she find happiness with someone who can give it to her?

And if I won’t, why does the idea of seeing her with someone else make me feel like there’s a tornado swirling around my insides?

God, watching her hurts. I try to stop, and I can’t. I can’t pull my eyes from the drop of sweat rolling over her tattoo and down the back of her blue Radiohead tee. I can’t not follow her graceful limbs shifting from pose to pose. Even when I close my eyes, I see her behind my lids.

Like I said to Josh, I know choosing her is just choosing one happiness over another. But when I’m with her — laughing, talking, kissing, dancing, even just swirling our hands in the sand on the beach — I never feel like I need anything else in the world. If acting’s just as fulfilling, why is there such a huge hole in my heart at the sight of her?

Class is over before I know it, and as I chug my water, I watch the blonde turn to Bri. She says something to her and gives her a hug, and I hold my breath as I think, Please don’t leave together. Please don’t leave together. The blonde walks out herself, thankfully, and I release a sigh as soon as she’s gone.

But my relief is short-lived when I see that Bri’s just about ready to leave, too. And I know then that watching her walk out the door without a word will kill me. Even though I shouldn’t, I say, “Bri, wait. Please.”

She does, but she looks pretty pissed about it. We’re both silent as everyone else files out, and only when we’re alone does she speak.

“What are you even doing here?” she asks, her voice taking on an edge she’s never used with me.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” I admit. “I needed to do some yoga to clear my head, and I’m off today, and I know you don’t usually come to the five o’clock because…” I flip a hand toward the door. “So, um, does that mean you and she are, um…” I can’t even say it, but I know she knows what I mean.

“Vanessa, we really shouldn’t be talking about this.”