Dani
Simone Clarke asked me to dinner in front of Amy on purpose. I respected the strategy and hated the result.
It happened after my Thursday, June twenty-sixth, conditioning class. Simone taught high school history, ran fast enough to make hills look optional, and carried the confidence of someone who could leave any room without needing approval. She was also attractive. That had never been a problem before Amy.
“Great class,” she said, toweling her face.
“Your lunges got lazy.”
“History remembers whoever writes the textbook.”
I laughed. Across the studio, Amy packed her resistance band into her bag. She wore the blue shorts and had listened to the exchange from the first word.
Simone followed my gaze. “So the relationship is real?”
“We are in the challenge.”
“That did not answer me.” She lowered her voice without making the conversation private. “I have been thinking about asking you to dinner.”
Before the challenge, I might have accepted. Simone was funny, direct, and unlikely to require emotional excavation. Now the idea felt like stepping away from something I had already entered.
Amy lifted her bag. “You should go.”
Simone’s eyebrows exposed the mistake.
“Should I?” I asked.
“It is your decision.”
“Do you want me to?”
Amy straightened. “The agreement protects your private romantic life.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the available one.”
Simone looked between us, increasingly entertained. “I can ask another time.”
“No,” Amy said.
“Probably,” I said at the same moment.
Simone laughed. “Healthier than dating apps.”
I made the choice before Amy could retreat further. “I am going to say no.”
“Because of the challenge?” Simone asked.
“Because I am not available.”
The distinction landed with both women. Simone accepted it without injury.
“Offer expires respectfully.” On her way out, she complimented Amy’s shorts, told her I had good taste, and left Amy rearranging the same towel twice.
“You were free to accept,” Amy said.
“Yes. She seems compatible with you.”
