Page 5 of Nothing But the Truth

Lucy followed Nina’s pointing finger and saw her shoes, in plain sight, sitting beside her couch next to a box labeled Living Room Books. She had walked past them twice and managed not to see them. The realization made her wonder if her signs were less signs and more some subconscious effort to avoid class.

She found herself contemplating spin class as a whole. She woke up early for it, felt like she wanted to die during it, and convinced herself after that she enjoyed it. Sure, it was great exercise, but did she really need someone shouting at her first thing in the morning? Did she really need to punish her body into a mold that wasn’t its natural state, that honestly hurt sometimes, and that she had to fight tooth and nail to maintain mainly for aesthetics?

Really, the only benefit of spin class was that she got to see Nina every morning, and they could just as easily go for a gentle jog instead. She suddenly saw it with such clarity.

“I don’t want to do spin class anymore,” she announced.

Nina laughed like she’d said something sacrilegious. “What? We go every day.”

“I know, and I hate it. I’m always sore, and it’s loud, and Troy is kind of intense.”

“What? I thought you loved Troy!”

A vision of the Ken Doll come to life who led their class, Troy with his cut arms and legs, movie-star smile, flip of sun-bleached blond hair, filled Lucy’s mind. The guy was intense, obsessed, and had barked at her for slacking more than once.

“Do you love Troy?”

Nina hesitated, pinching another lily petal with her long fingers. “Well, I mean, he is a little intense, but that’s part of it. It’s motivating.”

“Is it though?”

They silently stared at each other, the truth hanging between them.

Lucy’s stomach rumbled, and she thought about the thimble of Greek yogurt she was going to eat after her workout and decided that the place down the street that served eggs and bacon sandwiched between fresh, hot bagels gooey with cheese sounded much better.

“Want to get breakfast instead?” she asked.

Nina suspiciously eyed her but, ever easygoing, shrugged. “It’s your birthday.”