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It’s 5:07 a.m. already. I have exactly one hour to get to my Yoga classes, before getting a Hazelnut Frap and then its literature class with Mr Tillman.
But having that fruity rum punch last night did not turn out to be so ideal for me today. My headache grows more painful each time Ryan pounds on the door. I’d ended it with him over text the night before in my drunken stupor.
It’s over, I told him. Clearly, he did not get the message. Either that or he was just really stupid.
I decide to leave him hanging and instead have a nice long wash, brushing my teeth an extra minute longer than usual, before dressing into my black tights and dark, purple crop top.
I check on Lex before I can leave and find her asleep again, all tucked up in her bed, so I close her door shut.
When I’m done getting ready, I grab my rucksack and stuff in an extra set of clothes and then head over to the door.
I open it to find Ryan leaning against the wall in his Wolves football jacket. His dirty blonde hair is messy as if he just woke up and his cheeks are red from the cold.
His blue eyes are sorry and I can tell because I’ve seen that look before. He’s always sorry and I’m always understanding.
But cheating? That is something I wouldn’t settle for.
I lock the door and walk right past him, but he follows me anyway.
“Parker, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.
I stay silent as I take the nearest elevator and he quickly steps in beside me.
“I was drunk last night,” he says.
I ignore him and try to stay as calm as possible, but his excuses are really starting to tick me off.
“Parker, it was a mistake.”
I turn to Ryan and give him a long hard stare.Is he serious?“Which part of it was a mistake? Lying to me? Cheating? Or sleeping with that slut? Tell me, which part exactly was the mistake?”
His expression falls and he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Parker. But you can’t just break up with me, we’ve been together for almost a year.”
“I think I can and I think I did exactly just that last night, Ryan,” I say.
“My parents are still hosting their lunch date this weekend and they’re expecting you to show up,” he tells me.
The elevator doors open as we reach the main lobby. “You should have thought about that before, but maybe you can take your new plaything to meet your parents! I’m sure they’d love her.”
As I walk away from him and leave my apartment, I can’t help but feel a weight leave my shoulders.
A dismal cloud hangs over Manhattan as I move through the streets with throngs of other people rushing for work.
I walk the short distance to the Yoga studio,Vibe & Blisswhere I spend half an hour trying not to fall over each time I attempt the Tuladandasana,standing stick, pose with my right leg up and my torso and arms perpendicular to my leg.
“It helps strengthen your concentration!” Neela Raj, our Yoga instructor tells us, before she tortures us with twenty more awkward poses that are sure to make us feel like we’ve been through hell when we’re done.
Sometimes, I really hate doing yoga, but I’ve had weight issues in the past, so I have to force myself to believe that I can do it because even though my body weight is fairly average now, I’m not as flexible and healthy as I want to be.
I work my ass off, working out all my morning anger of Ryan cheating and kissing some slut, until I am reduced to a hot mess.
My body is aching when the session is over and I immediately hop into the shower in the locker room, with the icy jets turned on full. The frigid water cascades over my body, giving me a slight chill and adrenaline rush. I finally let myself cry in the shower because I need to let it all out. The tears run down my cheeks and I can taste their saltiness on my lips.
When I am done, I wash my body down with a coconut oil scrub that Lex had bought for me and rub it into my skin. It leaves me feeling soft like a baby and with rejuvenated skin.
I already feel much better, but to truly get myself going, I need a large cup of coffee so I get out of the shower and lather my body with a strawberry-scented lotion, before pulling on a pair of black jeans, a white, lacy blouse that’s a size larger than what I usually wear and a beige coat. It’s what Lex calls my “Writer Look”.
I untie my hair and leave it down, before running my fingers through it several times to get an effortless look.
