The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) (16 page)

“He wants a nun?”

“Very funny. I know this is awkward, but I
felt it was my obligation to warn you about something. So you don’t
make a fool of yourself.”

Pressing his molars together, Miles looked
down and jabbed the speed up again. “That does sound awkward.”

“It’s about Lucy.”

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“More than that, I think. Huntley tells me
she used to be in a doctoral program in biostatistics.”

“Sounds hard.”

Alex gave him a pitying look. “I’m sure it
was. She’s quite brilliant, he said.”

“Guess she wasn’t brilliant enough.”

“Miles, not everyone drops out of school
because of a lack of intellectual power.”

“Like me?”

Alex looked at his hands, shifting his weight
between his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, that’s good. I thought maybe that was a
dig about me bailing after one quarter at Stanford.”

“No, of course not. I meant that Lucy had
realized a master’s was ideal for her corporate career, and she’d
be better served devoting her energies to working her way up in the
private sector since she never wanted to be an academic like her
father.” Alex ran his hand down the front of his button-down yellow
shirt. “You did know about her father?”

He knew very little about Lucy, but Alex
didn’t need to know that. He picked up his water bottle and took a
big gulp. “You’ve lost me, dude. Why tell me all this?”

“Unlike her father, Lucy has goals. Her
father never had the ambition to get tenure, find a management job,
make a salary anywhere near his talents.” Alex sighed, his eyes
bright. “She’s the type to appreciate hard work and long hours,
because she’s done the same and she knows what it’ll get you.”

Miles toasted him with the water bottle. “She
has a nice ass, too.”

“This is what I’m talking about. You
don’t—you don’t understand.”

“Don’t you think she has a nice ass?”

Alex closed his eyes for a second. “I saw the
look on your face tonight. You were hoping your little fast food
offering would get you somewhere. Before you get hurt, I wanted to
warn you that it’s hopeless. She and I have already agreed to start
seeing one another.”

“Exclusively? Seems kind of fast. Didn’t you
just meet yesterday?”

“In person, yes, but our connections are more
complex and go back for years.”

“Meaning your friends set you up.”

“Some of us value our friendships very
highly.”

Miles stared at him, looking for malice but
only seeing a cloud of smug. Did Alex really think he was too
stupid to be insulted? “I value my friendships.”

“Of course. Though you gave Huntley a hard
time about being his best man, I hear.”

“Just looking out for him.”

“Of course, of course.”

Wrapping the towel around his neck, Miles hit
the stop button on the treadmill and let it come to a slow creep
before stepping off. His legs were wobbly, but he held himself up
to his full height and looked down his sweaty nose at Alex. Getting
Lucy the burger had been his version of an apology, not a come-on.
He wondered what Alex would have called the way he’d pulled her
into his lap. A marriage proposal?

He shook his head and sent sweat flying onto
Alex’s cheek. “She mentioned she wanted a burger, I was glad to get
out for some air, end of story.”

“Right. Good. So we understand each
other?”

“I’m trying to understand you, Alex, but
you’re not making it easy.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick here, man. I
just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. She might have seemed
grateful when you helped her down from the zip line, but that
doesn’t mean what you might have thought it meant, you know?”

“She doesn’t want to fuck me, you mean.”

The smarmy concern drained out of Alex’s
face. “Exactly,” he said tightly.

Miles almost said,
Then why did she stick
her tongue in my mouth?
But unlike Alex, he wasn’t an asshole.
He wouldn’t kiss and tell. “Too bad,” he said instead. “She’s
hot.”

The condescension came back into Alex’s
features. “More than that, my friend.” He forced a smile and
slapped Miles on the arm, then drew back and walked to the door,
surreptitiously wiping the sweat on his hand onto his khakis.
“Thanks for taking that so well. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle
it.”

“I’m pretty bummed, actually.”

“There are other single women here. I’m sure
one of them is looking for the same sort of thing you are.”

“Pussy?”

Alex blinked, his face turning red, but he
managed to force another smile. “You never grow up, do you, Miles?
Must be fun.” He opened the door and stepped out with a wave.
“Maybe tomorrow we can talk to Huntley about stripper
alternatives.”

Miles watched the door for a few minutes
after he’d left, more confused than ever. The urge to seduce Lucy
was, as Yoda would say, strong in him. If anyone deserved to be
taken down a notch it was Alex. And he liked Lucy, really liked
her. It would be no sacrifice.

He rubbed the towel roughly over his face and
cursed into the thick organic bamboo fibers. Alex couldn’t have any
influence over him. If he went back on his previous decision to
stay away from her just because Alex had insulted him, he’d be a
loser. He had more spine than that. If the smug little lawyer
wanted to think he was a shallow, womanizing dimwit, let him.

Lucy knew better.

Didn’t she?

* * *

The yoga class was at six-thirty the next
morning. Wednesday was looking identical to Monday and Tuesday:
white sky and damp, cold air, an unlikely August anywhere else in
the country but typical for the northern Pacific coast. Lucy wore
black yoga pants, black tank, black sweatshirt, and black
flip-flops with a large silver rosette over her big toe, wishing
she’d packed her black puffy vest and maybe a black cap to keep out
the chill.

If Krista didn’t like her
palette
she
could bite it.

She hadn’t slept well. The nap after the tree
ceremony had messed up her biorhythms, and she’d stared at the dark
room for hours, burping up McOnions and hoping Fawn and Huntley
were having cathartic make-up sex in his cabin because she’d never
come back after dinner.

She viewed her indigestion as a reminder of
another kind of incompatibility. Something could taste good going
down but would kill you in the long run.

Not that she was thinking about going
down.

“Lucy! You made it!”

Krista jogged over from the path ahead,
looking bright and perky. The Yoga Yurt was in the cluster of spa
buildings to their left, the morning so early and dark the
solar-powered lanterns still glowed from each rounded doorway,
casting off a faint blurry light through the fog.

Lucy waved half-heartedly. “Where’s
Betty?”

Smile turning sour, Krista glanced at the
treetops overhead. “Naked, hungover, and snoring like a
lawnmower.”

“At least somebody had a good night.”

“Why, what happened to you?” Krista looked
her up and down, then grabbed her wrist. “Oh, that’s right, you
totally fainted yesterday. Are you better now?”

“Fine. Just didn’t sleep very well. And Fawn
didn’t come back to the cabin.”

“Well, duh. I wouldn’t expect her to.”

“She’d intended for them to spend the nights
apart this week.”

They walked up the stairs into the yurt.
“Knew that wasn’t going to happen,” Krista said. “The night before,
sure, but all week? He’d never make it.”

Lucy paused at the door. “Did you notice how
standoffish he was yesterday?”

“Just because his parents are a little
conservative. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Krista pulled the door open
and warm light poured out over them, illuminating Lucy’s inky
ensemble. “Didn’t we buy you a pink tracksuit?”

“Did we?” Lucy avoided her gaze and walked
past her into the small studio, relieved to see Alex there, sitting
cross-legged on a mat near the front mirrors. His presence would
stop Krista from giving her a hard time.

Sure enough, as soon as Krista saw him she
squeezed her lips together and gave Lucy an eager, bright-eyed
stare. “You know, I just remembered I promised to have breakfast
with Betty. I’ll have to catch you later.“

She really didn’t want to be alone with Alex
just then. Wasn’t anyone else in the wedding party awake yet?
“Krista—”

“Sorry!” Krista shoved the door and hurried
back outside, leaving Lucy alone inside the quiet, bamboo-floored
studio with Alex. Krista may have been desperate for a man of her
own, but she was a generous person willing to live vicariously
through her friends.

Alex rose from sitting to standing without
moving his feet, a smooth maneuver that had Lucy momentarily
staring. “Feeling better this morning?”

She glanced around, confirmed there was
nobody else there, and got a mat off a rack near the door. She
unrolled it several feet away, parallel to his, hoping her eyes
didn’t give away what she thought of his outfit. His white T-shirt
and navy bike shorts reminded her of the time a Shakespeare company
had performed at her high school and caused a giggle riot. There
was just something about men’s fabric-molded genitals that
bugged-out her modern American eyes.

“Much better, thanks.” She sat down in the
middle of her mat and smiled at him in the mirror, grateful when he
sank back down to the floor and his reproductive organs disappeared
behind his folded legs.

Don’t be ridiculous.
It wasn’t
anything personal, she just didn’t like seeing penises mushed up
with testicles under tight, shiny Spandex. Even if Miles came in
wearing a Speedo that was three sizes too small—

She twisted around to look at the door.

No, of course he wouldn’t come to yoga at
six-thirty in the morning. Or any time of day. He probably couldn’t
even reach the floor from way up there.

Big Mac.

Just then a forty-something woman came into
the yurt wearing Uggs and a big smile, her brown hair tied up in
short pigtails and her long, lean body draped with an off-white
tunic and matching harem pants. “Morning, yogis, I’m Mary. Sorry
I’m late.” She strode over to a rolling stereo cabinet. In a moment
the sound of rushing water filled the air. “Middle of your sticky
mats, please, and I’ll come over and you can tell me about your
practice.”

“Don’t worry,” Alex said to Lucy. “Just tell
her you’re a beginner.”

“You don’t have to tell me what to do,” Lucy
said.

Mary walked over to him, squatted down, and
they began talking so quietly their voices were drowned under the
sounds of synthesized rushing waves. He held himself bolt upright,
hands on his knees with the palms up, and never opened his
eyes.

Lucy felt a huge yawn rise up inside her,
swamping her like the waves in the music, and she had to fight the
urge to lie down and go back to sleep. She heard a squirting sound
and smelled lavender; Mary was spritzing the air with a small
bottle as she walked over to her.

She squatted down and looked into Lucy’s face
with small, amber-colored eyes that didn’t blink. “Tell me about
your practice.”

Alex turned his head without moving his
shoulders, like a doll that could swivel a three-sixty. “She’s a
beginner.”

“I’ve gone to a class at the Y a few dozen
times,” Lucy said, hearing the defensiveness in her voice.

Mary patted her on the shoulder. “If it
hurts, don’t go there.”

“I won’t.”

They began with a long period of closed-eye
meditation that had Lucy yawning uncontrollably. The only reason
she’d said she was coming to the class was to get rid of Alex the
night before, and now there they were.

She opened her eyes a crack and studied him.
He had a nice profile, a strong chin, a healthy body. He had a nice
sprinkling of brown hair on his arms and legs, and strong-looking
hands and feet.

He was well-educated, ambitious, had a good
job, wanted kids. If he’d had drug or gambling or mental problems,
Fawn wouldn’t have set them up.

Perfect in so many ways.

The door opened, bringing in a gust of cold,
damp air and a large, damp man. Wearing a fleece sweatshirt and
jeans, Miles met her gaze from the doorway for a moment before he
bent over to unlace his boots.

Lucy’s heart began to pound. She turned back
to the front of the room and squeezed her eyes shut, but she could
still see him in her imagination—the combed-back hair just out of
the shower, the calm intelligence in his eyes, the hint of a smile
on the lips she’d tasted just the day before.

She had to admit it. Her hormones were
jonesing for the wrong guy. It was like her web browser kept
sending her to the wrong link. No matter how many times she clicked
“Alex,” her body redirected her to “Miles.”

She had to look at him again.

“Nice jeans,” Alex muttered, turning back to
the front of the room.

“Should I change?” Miles asked Mary. “I’ve
never done this before.”

“Well… why don’t you stay and we’ll see. Once
you go, you might be reluctant to come back. Getting here is so
often the biggest challenge.”

“Great.” Miles grabbed a mat and strode over
to Lucy’s other side, ignoring Alex. “Morning.”

She felt her face flood with heat. Closing
her eyes, she ducked her head and told her respiratory system to
calm the hell down. “Morning.”

He unrolled the mat and fell down on top of
it with a grunt. After manually arranging his legs into a
cross-legged position, forcing his knees down with his big hands,
he swore under his breath. “Sorry. Sore from a run. Don’t mind
me.”

“Maybe you need a recovery day,” Alex
said.

“I thought yoga might be the perfect thing to
loosen me up.” Miles looked up at the teacher, excessive innocence
in his gray eyes. “Is yoga good for flexibility?”