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“Did Becker call yet?” Clara asked. “He seemed pretty excited that you wanted to meet him.”
“He texted while I was in the shower. I just texted him back.” As if on cue, my phone announced another incoming message. “He wants to know if I want to hang out sometime this week.”
“What are you going to tell him?” Clara asked as she sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. “I’ll see if he wants to meet me tomorrow night at the Daylee Grind,” I answered as I typed the question to him and hit send.
I made plans to meet Becker at seven-thirty p.m. the next night. I didn’t want to wait until the weekend, because I already had plans to meet Dylan, Clara, and Cason at the Thunder Lounge on Friday, and I wanted to get this over with before I saw Dylan again.
I had to get Dylan out of my head. It wasn’t quite a “getting over one guy by getting under another” situation, but one could say the idea was similar.
CHAPTER 6: DYLAN
The following Sunday afternoon, I went for a workout out at the gym on campus. I had met Ethan and Jonas there, and was doing my best to avoid their questions about how my Halloween night had gone.
It was fairly easy to deflect the questions. All I had to do was get them talking about how their own night had went, and that effectively distracted them from mine.
As we were leaving, I got a text from Zia.
Zia: Hey! Are you falling in love with scarf girl or are you up for a weekday meeting this week?
Me: Haha nah I’m cool. What do you have in mind?
Zia: It’s a surprise for now. Which night could you meet around 6:30 pm?
Me: Tuesday ok?
Zia: Yep, that’ll work.
Me: Sounds good. C u Tues.
Zia: Wear sweats. And a muscle tank.
Sweat pants? What in the world did she have in mind, I wondered. I realized I didn’t care as long as I got to see her.
* * *
Zia answered her apartment door in an electric blue pair of yoga pants with a running jacket to match, thumb holes included. A neon yellow tank top hugged her toned body and peeked out from beneath the jacket, her hair tied back in a tight pony tail.
She carried a yoga mat under one arm as she came out, and I found myself questioning what it was exactly that she had planned for us to do that night.
After giving her an appreciative glance, I asked, “You going to tell me where we’re going yet? I mean, I really didn’t think girls liked being hit on at the gym.”
I had dressed as instructed in a dark gray pair of sweat pants that were loose around the ankles, along with a white, ribbed tank top and a black hoodie. All signs were pointing to some type of workout, and I was beginning to have my doubts. Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing Zia work up a sweat. She certainly looked great in her yoga pants.
“You’re probably right, but lucky for you, we’re not going to the gym. Well, not exactly,” Zia said as we took the elevator down to the first floor.
“Not even a hint?” I prodded.
“Okay, okay. But keep an open mind!” she urged defensively.
“Haven’t I so far?” I reminded her. By that time, we had made it out of the elevator on the first floor and out to the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.
“Touché. Follow me,?
?? she said with a smile. I guessed she wasn’t going to give it away that easily just yet, so I waited patiently as I walked beside her a few blocks to the South.
We made small talk along the way until we arrived in front of a yoga studio. Then she turned to face me.
“Well… this is it.” She pointed up to the lighted sign above the front entrance.
