Chapter Three

Eliza

So many damn towels, I swear you’d think we had a full gym in this place. Half my life I spent doing the studio’s laundry. I smiled, though, just happy that I had such an amazing job in the first place. I wiped down the counters and smiled at one of the other instructors, who was getting ready to mop the floor. It was Saturday night, and I had only planned my day up to this point, which happened a lot now that I was running the studio. Several of the girls were going to stay after and do the monthly deep clean, but I opted to take the night off, thanking them in advance for their motivation.

“Hey, Eliza,” Marie—one of the instructors—said, walking toward me. “Doing anything wild and crazy tonight?”

“If laundry and mac and cheese is wild and crazy, then you got me,” I said, laughing.

“Some of us are going on over to the 51st. It’s an art gallery,” she replied. “There is some big shot coming into town, and we got tickets last week since there’s an open bar. Art and vodka are like my fave, well, next to the hot art guys that will be there.”

“Ha.” I laughed. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind. Right now, all I want is a shower and some food.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “If you change your mind, you have my number.”

“For sure. You guys be safe tonight,” I said, picking up my bag and heading for the door.

“Thanks,” they said in unison.

I walked down the street, taking in a deep breath of the cool fall air. I loved the city this time of year. It was always so festive and fun. There were still a ton of artists along the boulevard, and I smiled at them as they worked diligently on their masterpieces. I love making clothes, but I couldn’t really bring my sewing machine down there to work with the other artists. It was kind of a bummer actually.

I stopped on the corner and listened to a drumming musician for about fifteen minutes, completely blown away with how talented he was. He looked like a guy I would date too—long dreads, sweet smile, and a really carefree attitude. However, that kind of guy didn’t seem to be working out for me lately, so I was thinking about switching it up a bit, maybe go for someone a bit more grounded. The thought bummed me out since I was pretty light and bubbly and never really liked to be around serious people—except Missy of course, but she was my exception.

I walked on, dropping a tip in his bucket and heading for the house. I loved living in this area; it was always so inviting and invigorating. When I got home, I stood there and sighed, looking around at the tiny space. Though I was lucky to actually have a separate bedroom, the living room was so small I could only fit a chair and a love seat, and sometimes my eyes hurt because the television was so close. I did have some pretty sweet street vendor art hanging on the walls, but that was about the extent of my decorating abilities.

I tossed my bag on the floor and started the towels in the laundry, knowing if I didn’t I would completely forget. As I sorted them, I thought about last Saturday and how much I did not want a repeat of that night. There was this seriously creepy dude in a leather jacket and some really old Reeboks who would not leave me alone. I mean, he followed me everywhere, and at one point I was thinking I was going to have to stay the night at the police station or something. Eventually, though, I got up the balls to turn and tell him to get off me. He gave me an angry face and eventually left, but I was definitely looking over my shoulder my entire way home.

When I was done sorting the towels, I plopped down on the couch and just breathed in the patchouli incense and quiet of my apartment. I opened my eyes and looked down at the wrinkled bar napkin on the coffee table. I picked it up and smiled, looking at Anthony’s number. Part of me was super psyched that I had met this guy at the party, but the other part of me knew exactly what he was looking for. We had talked for about two hours, laughing at the people around us and introducing ourselves to one another. He owned a large marketing company in the city and was not happy about having to be at the event. He knew all about Zen and sounded pretty stoked to meet someone besides Missy from the company. However, I definitely got the “Oh, so you’re a yoga instructor” vibe from him.

Dudes always had this way of thinking that yoga instructors were like these flexible slutbags walking around in hippy clothes and dreads, ready to spread their legs for anyone. In my years as a yoga instructor, I think I had met maybe one free-love hippy, and that was at a retreat in Nova Scotia, and she was about sixty-five years old. The rest of us were the same as anyone else, doing what we wanted and taking care of our bodies the best way we knew how. I was definitely not a stranger to random sex, but it wasn’t because I was all free love; it was actually more the opposite. It was a craving for that closeness that regular men didn’t feel they could show. The only issue was the men I found myself with wanted to show that emotion to many different women, and sometimes at the same time. I was just not down for that.

He was such a playboy, it was not only obvious in every line he used to try to impress me, but Missy had pulled me aside and let me know what was up, though she said she understood why he was that way. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t pry, figuring it was his personal business. He was so handsome with his dark Italian features and incredibly nice suit, but he wasn’t my type, though he probably should be, minus the proclivity for refusing committed relationships. All in all, though, I was definitely not looking for yet another one-night stand.

I sighed, tossing the paperback on the table and putting my feet up, resting for a little while before having to get in the shower. My muscles ached from the number of classes I had been teaching the last week since one of my teachers was out with the flu. I definitely liked the muscular shape I was getting from it but was glad to keep my feminine curves, something I was always grateful to have since I was so tiny and could easily have looked like a nine-year-old boy for the rest of my life.

My legs waved back and forth with that overabundance of energy I always had. I really wanted to do something, but I had no idea what. I didn’t really feel like drinking and having to go through the whole process of picking up a dude, but at the same time, I didn’t really want to spend my Saturday night alone. Missy was off with Mason doing something romantic, and the rest of the girls were out at the bars doing what I normally did. I sighed and threw my head back, feeling like I was an old lady. At twenty-six, I shouldn’t have a shortage of fun things in the lineup, especially not in a city like New York.

I got up from the couch and walked back to the bathroom, flipping on the shower and waiting for the water to warm up. What I wouldn’t give to have an amazing shower with marble floors and unlimited hot water. My length of shower solely depended on how many people were taking a shower at the same time as me. That’s why I usually waited until about nine since everyone else was either in bed or already gone out for the night. Still, it was a crapshoot on whether I would have time to shave both legs or not. It was definitely not pleasant shaving while ice-cold water poured down your back.

I wiped my hand across the fogging mirror and looked at myself, realizing I was looking pretty tired. I mean, I had been teaching twice as many classes, and sleep hadn’t really come easily, especially last night when I was wasted and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. I shrugged and jumped into the water, sighing as it ran down my head and shoulders. God, it felt so good on my muscles. I washed my hair and put conditioner in, shaving really fast in case the hot water ran out. Just as I finished my legs and went to lean back to wash out the conditioner, my phone rang.

I stuck my head out of the shower and grabbed a towel, leaning forward and snatching the buzzing phone off the counter. I wiped the fogged-up screen with my towel and glared down at the number. I had no idea who was calling me. I sighed and answered, in case there was some issue at the studio.

“Hello?” I said, the shower beating down in the background.

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice said on the other line.

“Um, who is this?”

“It’s Anthony, from last night,” he chuckled.

“Oh.” I laughed. “You scared me for a second. How are you?”

“I am really good,” he said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No,” I said, looking back at the dissipating hot water. “Not at all.”

“What are your plans for tonight?”

“Umm, I really didn’t have any,” I said, rolling my eyes at my own pathetic response. “Well, I mean, I have options, I just hadn’t decided yet.”

“Well, can I add another option? Come out for drinks with me, my treat,” he said.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, thinking about what I had decided earlier. “I told the girls I might show up at this art show, and then there is the fact that I am exhausted.”

“Are you eighty? Did I misjudge your age?”

“No.” I laughed. “I am an adult.”

“So am I—well, most of the time,” he chuckled. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“All right,” I said finally.

“Awesome,” he said. “Put on something nice—I have reservations for Balto’s at ten. I’ll send a car for you.”

“Wow, Balto’s,” I said, impressed. “That’s a really nice place.”

“Did you think I’d take you to Costco or something?”

“I mean, I do need to get some new razors and a ton of soup for the apocalypse,” I joked.

“We’ll make that date number two,” he said with a chuckle. “See you soon.”

I hung up the phone smiling, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling in my stomach. I had told myself I couldn’t get involved in another one-night stand, but at least I would get an amazing meal and some drinks out of the deal. I looked down at my phone and freaked out, realizing he gave me very little time to get ready. I jumped back in the shower and screamed out, realizing that all the hot water was gone. Well, I guess it was time to wake up because I couldn’t go on this date with conditioner in my hair. Crazy that he already thinks there will be a second date.