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Royce returns then, holding a bottle of navy polish, a small bag, and an old towel, which he hands to me.“Dry your feet,” he instructs, opening up the small bag to reveal a small manicurist’s set.
I do so obediently.Royce sits down, pulls one of my feet into his lap, and begins pushing back the cuticles.There’s no way he hadn’t very clearly noticed the rough edges of my foot, and I feel compelled to explain that the calluses are intentional.
“Oh good,” he says, relieved.“I was hoping you weren’t a barefoot lunatic like Bryson.”
I laugh.I’m aware of Bryson’s dislike of shoes, even if I didn’t actually see it that often in the city.It’s just impractical.“No, I wear shoes,” I promise.“Anyway, Sawyer, if you really are interested, I’d be happy to share my training plan with you.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Sawyer says, nodding fervently.“I mean, I still might be too lazy, but it’s good to have all the information before I sign up for something on a whim.”
“Absolutely.”I slip my phone out of my back pocket, find the plan I’d paid for in the carefully labeled ‘fitness’ section of my inbox, and set the email to forward.Then hand it to Sawyer.“Just toss your email in there and it should be good to go.”
“Ooh Carleigh, giving out numbers?”a loud voice interrupts.
I glance up, squinting at the glare from the sun.The giant shadow moves, blocking the sun from my eyes, and I realize it’s Bryson.
