Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I fiddled with the controls of a treadmill that lured me in with the promise of Netflix.
Look, I said I would go. I didn’t say I’d give it my all. I was obviously following the Lazy Bride’s Guide to the altar.
Elle walked on the machine next to me. Her short hair now long—thanks to extensions—and her perfect blonde ponytail swinging side to side above her svelte little hips and toned ass. If I didn’t love her I’d want to punch her for being so damn pretty.
Then there was me, trotting and stumbling along as if someone was tugging me forward by a rope. I fiddled with the controls, setting the speed back to just above standing still.
“So…”
Elle wore ear buds but I was pretty sure she could still hear me as she cranked up the speed and started to jog. There were a lot of men at the gym and none of them wore name tags. I followed her stare to see if she made eye contact with anyone, but she just looked straight ahead.
“So?” she repeated, looking as radiant as a woman in one of those lying tampon ads that portrayed serene females smiling through cramps and the added pressure of a volley ball game.
My eyes narrowed as I studied her. If I stared long enough I assumed I could penetrate this fake façade. It had been weeks. There was avoidance and then there was deception. This was deception and I’d had enough.
Old Elle burped, cursed, ate raw cookie dough, loved celebrity gossip, and even shoplifted once. This one looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, when I knew for a fact it would.
Why was she acting so fake? This superficial phoniness created distance where truth and closeness once existed. Why couldn’t she just be herself around me?
And what the hell was my Netflix sign in? Gah, sometimes I wished we were microchipped so I didn’t have to remember this shit.
Giving up on the television options, I sipped my banana smoothie and stuck to a geriatric pace. Elle continued to bounce along, already closing in on a mile, while I had barely moved.
“So what’s new with you?” I yelled, hoping she could hear me over her music and rapidly thudding footsteps.
She shrugged without losing her rhythm. “Me? Nothing.”
“Nothing? Really?”
“Nope. Just the ushe.”
Glaring at her perfect arm formation as her elbows swung back and forth with every loping step, I lost my patience. I’d given her more than a dozen opportunities to tell me and she still hadn’t said a word. Enough was enough.
Stepping onto the unmoving tracks, I hopped off the rotating tread and stared at her. “That’s funny, because I heard you and Barrett pulled the old Ross and Rachel.”
She frowned. “What?”
“You’re on a break.”
Elle’s finger shot out and she dropped the speed of her machine, slowing down to a walk. “Who told you that? Did Barrett talk to you?”
“He’s going to be my brother-in-law, Elle. We do see each other on occasion.”
She frowned. “I told him not to say anything.”
“Why would you tell him that? We used to tell each other everything. Now you’re lying to me.”
“I wasn’t lying, Rayne. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Hey.” I pulled the plastic safety key out of her machine and it shut down. “Don’t gaslight me. I asked about your relationship and personal life a bunch of times and every single time you basically said you had nothing new to share. That was a lie. I think I deserve to know why you didn’t confide in me when we used to tell each other everything.” It occurred to me that this was no longer about her choices with Barrett but more so about her behavior with me. “We’re supposed to be best friends, Elle.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to cause any weirdness before your wedding.”
But now there was weirdness. “Why aren’t we communicating the way we used to? Even when I text you, it takes a decade for you to respond. What’s going on? Did I do something?”
“Nothing is going on.” I might have believed her if she didn’t sound so defensive and bothered by my concern. “We’re not allowed to carry our phones on the floor when we’re working.”
“Okay, but seriously, what’s going on in your life?”
Her frown deepened. “Nothing. I’m just working.” She hopped off her machine.
Were we done talking? What the hell?
A second later she was back to wipe the treadmill clean. No way was I letting her off the hook that easily. She was obviously keeping secrets from me. I needed to know why.
I followed her to the next row of equipment and climbed onto the step machine beside the one she selected. If she was trying to avoid me through physical activity it wasn’t going to work. I would just have to tap into some inner boot camp mentality and power through whatever routine she had planned.