Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Thankfully, my musings were interrupted by a sharp rap on my door, and I smiled as I pulled it open to find my neighbor, Gretchen. She and her girlfriend, Hope, lived across the hall and were the first to welcome me to the building, with a box of fresh bagels on the morning I moved in two years ago. Hope traveled a ton for her sales job, so I rarely saw her, but Gretchen and I had gotten to know each other better over coffee and the fresh muffins I’d brought over to return the favor, and since then we’d become friends. I even fed their cat for them when they went out of town.
“You ready?” she asked, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.
“More than ready.” I grabbed my stuff and followed her out the door.
As we walked past Eddie at the front desk and onto the sidewalk, I felt eager to get there already. The idea that I would be psyched to walk two blocks from my apartment to participate in a Zumba class was ridiculous, honestly. But somehow, Gretchen had talked me into it, and I was hooked after the first session with our hunky teacher. That wasn’t why I liked it, though watching him maneuver his toned body didn’t hurt. The reason was the deep satisfaction I got from moving my body this way and that, expressing myself freely to upbeat music. Besides, when was the last time I’d even been to a club? So not my thing.
I used to be way more limber and energetic as a kid, but then I graduated college, got saddled with responsibilities, and dedicated my days to selling prime real estate in Portland. I always knew it was what I’d end up doing, and I was good at it. Occasionally, some places would practically sell themselves, but when it came to the more worrisome customers, other agents always dumped those on me because of my supposedly calm and soothing demeanor. That was me—dependable, trustworthy, and the ultimate closer. A consummate professional. Sounded so stuffy and boring.
But tonight I let loose, my exuberance likely surprising the instructor as he smiled in my direction, and the vibe was contagious. It felt so freeing, I probably grinned through the whole damned session. Plus, the combination of dancing and body-sculpting moves was great exercise.
My mom would be appalled that I could shake my ass that well, and Donald would only roll his eyes when I’d leave his place to get to this class, but I’d made it clear how important it was to me.
“You were a beast,” Gretchen said as we walked back to our apartment building, sweaty and flushed.
“Want me to make us smoothies?” I asked Gretchen when we got to our floor.
“Hell yes.” She followed me to my apartment. “Can you make the kind with the bananas and peanut butter?”
“Absolutely.”
She sat at the kitchen island and watched while I whipped up a thick concoction, adding plenty of ice and almond milk. Gretchen, who was a computer consultant, told me about her workweek, and I described a cool property I’d shown that afternoon.
“What’s with the box?” She motioned toward the living room. “Are you holding out on me? Is it a new kitchen appliance?”
I enjoyed cooking when I found the time and had Gretchen and Hope over for dinner on several occasions. We’d stuff ourselves with rich food and whatever dessert they’d insist on bringing, then take a bottle of wine out on the balcony, where we’d sometimes get tipsy and tell our life stories. Like their first time meeting after finding each other on a dating app. They were well suited, which seemed a miracle after hearing so many horror stories about hookups. I’d tried one of those sites before, but my bio likely turned most guys away. Especially the part where I was looking for a stable relationship and to be married someday. Most responses were something like, Show me your dick and I’ll show you mine, or, You looking for a top? Because no way would a twinky-looking guy want other things. Or my personal favorite: Why the hell would a twenty-four-year-old single guy want to settle down when you can have all the sex you want? As if I hadn’t had my fair share or couldn’t possibly know what I wanted at such an early age. I knew there were other men out there like me—my ex was one of them—but something always happened to sow doubt, and I certainly didn’t want to go the long haul with the wrong person.
Which reminded me—the box.
“It’s from Donald.” I walked toward it slowly, like it was a ticking time bomb. “He dropped it off with Eddie.”
She winced. “Guess that’s better than having him show up at your door.”
“Tell me about it.” It would’ve been awkward, since we’d broken up as he was getting on a plane, but at least it’d been mutual. We’d been growing apart for a while.