Page 79 of The Comeback Summer

I pick up my phone, poised to text him an excuse, but something stops me. The journal prompt from this morning asked about the last thing I did that pushed me outside my comfort zone. I haven’t been able to answer it yet, since I don’t think trying a new pasta recipe counts.

This non-date outing would definitely do the trick. It doesn’t get much farther out of my comfort zone than (a) doing something athletic that’s (b) in front of people and (c) with one of those people being a cute guy I have a not-so-tiny crush on.

Maybe I am starting to grow. Just a little bit.

Crush Your Comfort Zone

THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE COMPANION JOURNAL

WEEK 7

I want you to imagine a wounded animal, out in the wild; where would it retreat? To a safe space, a cave, where it can lick its wounds, rest, and recuperate before heading back out again. That’s the important part: the heading back out. Unfortunately, many of us have become stuck.

Today, write about a wound in your past that caused you to retreat into the safety of your present-day comfort zone.

Libby, July 17

Hi, Lou.

Maybe the reason I’ve been avoiding this journal is because I’ve been pretending my wounds don’t exist. I’m the queen of covering up pain with a smile or joke—but I know that if I want to grow, I have to face the things that have hurt me.

Like when I was seven and my mom wouldn’t even let me try on a two-piece swimsuit. When I was thirteen and couldn’t find a single romance novel with a character who wasn’t skinny. Every day on the bus when strangers avoid eye contact when I’m walking down the aisle, looking for a seat.

On their own, none of these “wounds” are that big or tragic—but after living in this body for twenty-nine years, the comments and actions have added up, like a million paper cuts. I’m tired of letting them hurt me.

Twenty-Eight

HANNAH

I’m standing on Michigan Ave. in the oppressive July heat, eating a quick and cheap lunch (a hot dog—the peppers, tomato, and pickle spear tumbling from my poppyseed bun as I scarf it down) when a text arrives from Josh.

Josh:Come sailing with me today

Longing corkscrews through my chest, sharp and searing. I’ve spent the past couple of weeks thinking about him, deliberating, but it comes down to this: I miss him. I want to see him, to hear his voice. To breathe the same air.

Maybe there’s a way to take baby steps toward being together. I want to give him a chance, but I also don’t want to rush things.

Hannah:I’ve been thinking about what you said at the hotel. About us. And

I bite my lip, hesitating. Part of me wishes I could throwcaution to the wind and go for it with Josh now. Do whatIwant, instead of worrying about what my sister will think, or what’s best for our business.

But I can’t; responsibility is one of the most important values I learned from GiGi. I continue typing.

Hannah:And I want to try again. With you. But I need to finish my dating challenge this summer before I feel comfortable moving forward. Is it okay if we take things slow until then?

I take a deep breath and press send.

Josh:Of course

Josh:I just want to spend time with you

Josh:speaking of which

Josh:Sailing?

I exhale, relieved at his easy response. He knows where I stand, so nothing will happen. Plus, sailing sounds amazing—the city feels swampy with humidity today, and I have such fond memories of being out on Josh’s family sailboat. His mom would pack a picnic lunch and his dad would enlist us as his crew, teaching us about all the different knots, how to trim the sails and tell what direction the wind is blowing.

Libby is heading out tonight with Suji to plan their big networking event, and it sounds like she’ll be gone for hours.

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