The Reality of Everything - Rebecca Yarros Page 0,54
make the eleven o’clock class.” She walked over to the construction dumpster and tossed the coffee over the metal edge. “Now get your wetsuit and let’s go.”
“For yoga?”
She grinned. “Do you trust me?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Smart woman. What if I ask you really nicely and promise not to ask you to surf?” She batted her lashes at me.
I sighed. “Give me five?” I was supposed to be exercising my body and making new friends, and if that included putting on my wetsuit, then fine. At least I wouldn’t fail that section of my homework.
“Take ten,” she answered with a shrug.
I raced up my steps and didn’t stop until I reached my bedroom, where I went to war with the neoprene piece of hell known as my wetsuit. Good Lord, this thing exhausted every muscle I had just getting it on, but I did. Thank God I didn’t go with the full-body model or I wouldn’t have made it.
With already aching arms, I gathered my hair at the top of my head and looped it into a bun, then pulled on my yoga pants, grabbed my sunglasses, and headed back outside, where Christina patiently waited for me.
“Good girl. For your speed, I shall offer you a new cup of non-cold coffee on the way,” she said with a smirk.
We took her coupe twenty minutes north to Avon, stopping along the way for the promised caffeine hit.
“You going to pry?” I asked when I caught her glancing my way.
“Nope. I figure if you want to tell me why you were staring at a pickup truck like it was your mortal enemy, you will.” Her eyes cut my way. “Doesn’t mean I’m not dying of curiosity.”
I took a sip of the caramel macchiato as we sped along the narrow parts of the island.
“I’m struggling with a homework assignment my therapist gave me.” I glanced at her. “Does it weird you out that I’m in therapy?”
“Nope. You already told me you struggle with anxiety attacks. It weirds me out when people know they need help and still don’t seek it. Homework, huh? Dead guy problems?” she asked.
Somehow the blunt way she addressed it made me want to tell her.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to open the door to his truck once a day. Just open it, not get in or drive it or anything, and I can’t manage to do it.”
“Why not?” She pulled into a small parking lot on the inlet side of the island.
“Probably because the last time I opened it, Jackson had a front-row seat to an epic anxiety attack. I’m not too eager to undo all the progress I’ve made and risk that happening again.” I nearly high-fived myself for analyzing my own motives pretty successfully.
She parked, then turned toward me. “Which part? The attack? Or Jax seeing it? Also, it’s adorable that you call him Jackson.”
I laughed off the last comment. “Both, I guess. I knew better than to try it again, honestly. Sam only left for the weekend because her husband’s family asked her to come up for dinner, and I refused to go with her. She told me to give it a day and we’d try again when she gets back on Sunday, but I just stood there in front of that truck for an hour and a half after she left.”
“So basically, you had a free homework pass and tried anyway.”
“Stupid, right?” I laughed again, forcing the sound out.
“Brave. It tells me you’re serious about getting past whatever is holding you back.” She killed the ignition.
“And the fact that I just stood there staring?”
“That just makes you human. Now are you done beating the shit out of yourself? Because this is a really cool class.”
“Well, you kind of take the fun out of it.” This time when my lips lifted, the small smile was genuine.
We got out of the car and walked through the parking lot.
“I’m just glad you were lost in your own little world. I was kind of scared you’d stood me up because of Jax,” Christina said, adjusting her beach bag on her shoulder. “I was afraid you were having second thoughts or something and didn’t want to see me because we’re friends.”
“Jackson?” I nearly tripped over my flip-flops.
“You guys are going out tomorrow night, right?” She did a double take at my face and then sputtered. “Sorry, the guys at the station are pretty much a high school gossip club. Everyone knows everything.”
“We’re not dating or anything,” I assured her, just like I