Page 31 of Beach Bodies

‘You’re welcome in my class any time.’

‘I used to watch your show,’ I blurt out. ‘Take it Off?’

‘Yeah, a lot of people watched that show,’ she says with a dry, raspy laugh. Do I detect a hint of regret? I press on.

‘You really helped a lot of people lose weight.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, but her expression doesn’t seem pleased. ‘Let’s just say I wish we had prioritized the long-term health of the contestants. Losing all that so quick… it wasn’t sustainable.’

‘You were such a badass, though,’ I prod.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ she says, and I recognize a forced smile when I see one. ‘But I’d do it all differently if I had the chance.’

‘Well…’ I say lamely, vaguely registering out of the corner of my eye that Daniel is leaving the studio. ‘I guess hindsight is twenty-twenty.’

‘I guess it is.’

I return my yoga mat to its place, then take a long drink from my water bottle.

Ugh. I hate that I like her.

No. You hate that you’re losing your biggest potential number three and you’re not sure who should take her place.

Of course it’s great that she’s showing signs of having changed. It’s not like I was hoping she’d embarrass Traci or anyone else for my sake. It’s not like I was hoping she was still the monster from years and years ago. But I leave her class feeling the weight of that empty third slot like an iron around my neck.

In the evening, I sit in on Pat Burton’s ‘fireside chat’,The Mind as a Muscle, and even though I notice Daniel one row in front of me, and he turns around multiple times to catch my eye, I look stubbornly forward.

Could it be Pat? But by the time he’s giving his closing remarks, I’m just not seeing it. He definitely loves the sound of his own voice. His ‘deep’ observations, such as ‘habits are the tools we use to train ourselves for the race of life’, felt like poorly disguised clichés. His boot-straps story of his rise to success was ick, and honestly, the whole ‘manifesting’ thing he’s obsessed with is just a way to pretend you havecontrol over the things you don’t. It’s self-deception at its finest.

But none of these qualities makes him deserving of the slot.

So Shayna’s a no. Pat’s a no.

Who, then?

To comfort myself over the missing piece in my mental plan, as Pat moves on to Q&A, I start sketching out a few potential plans for the two I do have. Very loose, but this is how it starts. Serena could fall down a staircase. She’s known for her lack of coordination all over TikTok, after all… and she sure drinks enough that it would be easy to chalk up to inebriation. I could help with that part, too. Not to mention, I know just the stairs. A memory sparks– the long yawn of the steep descent to the basement indoor pool. The wet cling of the moist air. The echoey slap of his flip-flops as he headed down, AirPods in, head bobbing, completely oblivious to my presence. The muffled yell– the noisy tumble of his fall– then, the sharp silence—

I shiver the memory off.Not now.

Craig. Craig is easier. He loves the sauna, but he can only spend a few minutes in there due to his heart condition. What if he lost track of time? How could I facilitate that?

There’s applause; I guess the Q&A is over.

‘Hey, Lily—’ Daniel says as we both rise, but I simply work my way out of the row and walk away, as if I didn’t even hear him.

Men, I’ve noticed, are quite insecure, even the ones with bristly, masculine five o’clock shadows. A single freeze is usually enough to put them off for quite a while, if not for ever. Daniel will be no different.

And this does not make me sad.

*

Sunday morning, I line up behind Craig and Brian at the smoothie bar (Craig orders for Brian; another small humiliation for the file). And who gets in line behind me but Daniel. It definitely feels like he’s following me.

Don’t flatter yourself, I remind myself harshly.

‘Morning,’ he says behind me, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. Goosebumps race down my arms, my back.

Admit it, Lily Lennox. You’re into this guy and he’s forcing you to remember that sex exists.

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