Ren

After my drinks with Hannah, I'm home but not quite tired yet. I'm up in my small bedroom, lying on my old bed, staring up at the ugly texture of the white ceiling, just as I had when I was a teen. Back to square one.

I don't quite know what to do with myself. I've already binge-watched all of the girly movies I haven't seen in my stockpile. I've finished reading Eat Pray Love, and I just can't with the divorce recovery workbook. My divorce coping mechanism is to try not to think about it. Actually, seeing Gio is really helping with that.

My mood is still a bit erratic from my brief but exciting encounter with him, and my emotions lightly jingle around like a wind chime. A part of me wanted so badly to share the news with Hannah, but another part wasn't sure I was ready to share all my mixed-up feelings just yet.

My brain still can't quite believe I actually ran into him already, and my heart does a somersault whenever I picture the look on his face after I hugged him. He looked so good, all dressed up... grown up. I close my eyes, picture him, and let my imagination take me back.

I have memories of him here in this very room, climbing on top of me, both of us wet from swimming in the pool when my mom was away. The feel of the weight of his body on mine, pulling my bikini top off, his mouth all over me. In my mind, his face blurs back and forth between how he looked then and how he looked today.

I lie on my back, enjoying the visuals like soft porn in my brain one moment more before I roll over on my bed, grab my laptop, and open it on my legs. I'm just staring at my computer's home screen for a minute as my mouse wavers over the Google search bar and clicks in. My fingers prepare to type. I type...

Giovanni Regalli.

There is something about the act of typing out his name that is so pleasurable. I wish I had his number... or an address... or something...

What! No! You are not allowed to search his name again. You already know there's nothing to find.

Sighing, I roll onto my stomach and scroll through Facebook instead. The posts pass by my eyes in an endless stream as my mind wanders to these dating sites my girlfriends keep mentioning and what all the fuss is all about.

Maybe Gio's on there... I could just sign up and take a look... I wouldn't actually have to go on any dates... right?

My heart replies with a resounding yes in the form of jitters shooting down my fingers, and I search OkCupid and sign up. I upload my best selfie I took on a night out back in New York and answer some basic questions:

Age: 29

Height: 5'-7"

But then the questions take a left turn.

Which would you rather be—normal or weird? Hmm, is this a trick question? I have a weird side... but I'm selecting normal... what if they match me with a bunch of really bizarre guys.

Do you like the taste of beer? Random question, but yes.

Do you like the idea of living alone? Oh... I don't know, actually. I've just started apartment hunting today. This'll be the first time I've ever lived alone—no roommates, no boyfriend, no husband. As much as it feels like the adult 30-year-old thing to be doing, I'm nervous, if I'm honest. I like having people around, even if they are just doing their own thing in the house. The questions continue.

Could you live with someone who is really messy? No.

Do you go to great lengths to avoid conflict? Yes.

Will you teach your kids to believe in Santa? Crap.

Water pressure builds at the corners of my eyes, and my stomach tightens into a ball. For a moment, I picture having a little kid of my own, maybe six or so, waking up on Christmas morning to find presents left by Santa. The expression on their precious face and the way my heart would fill with joy for the regained magic of Christmas I had once felt. Tears prickle up.

Stop it. This is just a silly question.

I answer: Yes.

The questions go on and on. Finally, I get to the end and hit save. I looked at the navigation bar, and I already have ten likes. I close my laptop and go downstairs for a glass of wine or two while watching The Vampire Diaries. Alex would never have watched with me.

Control of the remote. That will be a plus for living alone!

At nearly midnight, I finally pad upstairs, open my laptop again, and check OKCupid to see if anyone has reached out. My mouth falls wide open as the navigation bar displays that I have over fifty likes and seventeen messages. Am I fresh meat or something? An intense, curious feeling in my head mingles with moderate trepidation in my chest as I click through a vast range of guys. I read a few of the messages.

The first few are short, like "Hi" or "Want to chat?"

Others say a little more. One or two guys seem half-decent... maybe. But every time I pulled one up, I compare their face to the one that has been running through my head all week. The one I'm desperately attempting to shut out—at least for now. I keep clicking pass, pass, pass. Then partway through, I run into the type of messages my friends warned me about. Lines like:

"Why are you single?" and "Mmm, nice." And one from Jay just reads, "You are very sexy. Would you be down to sit on my face?"

What the—!

I gasp in horror and click out of the website. I don't know if I can hack this new way to find men.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

The next week at work, I try to focus on my job and start looking for an apartment. I tell myself I don't need to date right now, and men will only complicate my effort to get back on my feet and get back to who I am. Once I'm established at my job and have my apartment, I'll start trying to date again. Right now, focus on me.

But thoughts of Gio keep slipping into my brain whenever I least expect them. Especially at my office. When will I eventually run into him again? What floor does he work on? I was so shocked to see him I didn't even notice what level he walked in on. Every day, I take my bagged lunch, a habit instilled in me by my dad, to the atrium in the lobby to eat. I keep checking the elevator doors, hoping I'll catch a glimpse of him. Every time they ding and open, my body imperceptibly jolts to attention. My heart ready to react. But day after day, he never appears.

Friday at noon, Bryce comes by my desk as promised, and we leave together to get Thai at a nearby food truck and bring it back. Bryce has been apologizing all week about his deadline pushing back our lunch, but I always found myself feeling grateful instead of disappointed. We sit down in the atrium at a little black single-leg table and quickly find out we got the wobbly one. Bryce immediately gets up to fix it with a folded-up napkin.

"So you got the UpLook job online this morning before the deadline?" I ask, loading up my fork with some PadThai.

"Yes, finally. That was quite a push. Sorry, I had to keep postponing our lunch da-... uh, thing."

I smile. He obviously nearly said date, but it was nice that he corrected himself to make me feel comfortable.

"It was no problem."

"So, did you find the perfect apartment yet?" he asks, interested, fixing his baby blues on me.

"No, but I've got a few lined up to look at this weekend that I'm excited about. I hope one of them will work out."

"Yeah, where are you looking?" he asks, unwrapping his lunch.

"Um, two are downtown, and three are over on the park's north side."

"Really, I run the lake path in that park with my dog every day. Do you ever jog there?"

"No, I don't run." He was looking for some common ground, but my answer wasn't giving him much to work with. I'm still finding myself guarded with him.

"Well, so you don't like running, but maybe you like dancing?" he cocks an eyebrow at me.

Oh no. He's found one of my weaknesses. A smile slips past my guard at the edge of my lips, and he sees it. It encourages him, so he keeps talking.

"I just found out there's a place that still does swing dancing. I learned in high school, and I keep thinking it would be fun to try again and... I'd love to take you out sometime. What do you think?" He looked at me with such an adorable and hopeful look.

"Um... that would be really fun, actually," I say, blushing slightly.

"Really?" Bryce beams. "Awesome. How about tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow?" The sudden possibility of an actual date makes me slam on the brakes. "I don't know, Bryce. I'm still getting into the swing of things, moving back home and all. I've got my weekends pretty full right now. Maybe another time."

"Okay," he says, a little disappointed. "Raincheck then?"

"Yeah, sounds good." I smile.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Contrary to what I told Bryce, I actually have zero plans this weekend besides apartment hunting. I also haven't done a lick of anything besides walking fifteen minutes to work, and I'm starting to feel a bit like a slug. So, I conclude that this weekend, I should probably get my exercise routine back on track.

There are only two fitness centers in Oakmont, The Power Gym and Gym Hero, and both offer dance classes. When I get home, I look into their dance fitness classes online, and Gym Hero has a cardio hip-hop class on Saturday mornings at 10 am. Perfect.

Upon arriving early to the gym to sign up, a woman with an orange spray tan and a name tag that reads Kymberli greets me from behind the long, modern-looking reception desk.

"Welcome to Gym Hero! How can I help you today."

"I'm interested in trying out the Hip-Hop class."

"Okay, great! Have you been a member here before?" she chirps.

"Nope."

"Well, I'm glad you came in!" she says, handing me a clipboard.

She gives me a tour of the facilities, ending with the yoga studio and dance room, which is only separated from the weight-training area by a giant wall of glass. Not ideal. I don't like the thought of strangers watching me dance.

The brunette instructor, crouched in the corner, is hooking her phone up to the stereo equipment, and a few other women of various ages are stretching on the floor. My anxiety is percolating at a low level in my stomach, but I remind myself that it's just a fitness class, and the first time is always the hardest. I join them in the safety of the back row. The wait isn't too long before the instructor starts, and right away, I love it. It's super high energy and fun—the songs are current, and the moves are a mix of simple and more complex.

Thirty minutes in, I'm feeling good and working up a sweat. We are dancing to Poker Face by Lady Gaga, and I'm feeling very sexy doing it. The teacher starts an eight-count that ends with facing the right wall.

We start the same count again, and I'm nervous. Once we turn to the glass wall at the back, I won't be able to see the teacher, and the whole class will be looking at me! I keep my eyes straight ahead and focus on the movements. It's all going smoothly until I turn and immediately lock eyes with a certain somebody sitting on the bench of the chest machine directly opposite.

♥︎♥︎♥︎