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He points at my phone. “Camera’s still rolling.”
In a panic, I pick up the phone and catch a few of the incoming comments:
No one who says how happily, happily single they are is actually happy
Who is this mystery guy? Can we get a name?
Gosh, she really wants to take a bite out of those buns
“Hi again, everyone,” I say, trying to keep my voice under control. “Sorry for the mishap.”
A million more questions pour in about the mystery guy.
I take a deep breath, trying to regain composure. “Okay, I think that’s enough for today, guys. Thank you so much for joining me in this dance class. As for the mystery guy, I’m not going to reveal his identity. He’s not into social media and I don’t want to invade his privacy.”
Rather vocal protests ensue.
I clear my throat. “Um, sorry to disappoint you all, but the new guy is just a friend—well, not exactly a friend.” I read another comment. “Definitely not a friend with benefits, there are no benefits involved. Just an acquaintance. Nothing more. And let’s focus on the dancing, shall we?”
Amita shakes her head behind me, clearly not buying my explanations, same as my followers, judging from the comments still rolling in. “All right, folks, I wish you again a great day, byeeee.”
I push the end button three times just to make extra sure, and slide down the mirrored wall to the floor, hugging the phone to my chest.
Evan looks down at me with a stern expression. “Who’s the mystery guy?”
I shake my head.
Amita pulls on a sweatshirt and, grabbing her bag from the floor, turns toward Evan. “Name’s Gabriel if it helps,” she rats me out before exiting the studio with a friendly wave.
Evan pulls both his hands through his hair. “Mercer?”
I’m getting ready for a new lecture when my phone rings, startling me. I check the number on the screen and pick up. “Mom?”
“Darling, it’s your father.”
Dread pools in my chest. “What happened, is he okay?”
“Yeah—yes. Sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just his back.”
I sag against the mirror, flooded with relief. “What about his back?”
“It’s his sciatica, it’s flaring up and he’s insisting on going to work anyway.”
“Can’t the weekend manager substitute for him?”
“No, Jerry has another job during the week. I’ll go if you just can help me convince him to stay put.”
My mom’s back isn’t much better than my dad’s. “No, Mom, I’ll go.”
“No, honey, no. You’re too busy.”
I am busy, but not so busy I’d turn my back on my family. But after today, I will insist with Dad that he hires an extra hand during the week as well as weekends.
“Mom, now don’t you also be difficult. I said I’ll go, I’ll go. You stay home and take care of Dad, okay?”
“You’re the best daughter. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
