Page 19 of Your Pace Or Mine

Stevie has the dirtiest mind of all my friends, and I’m not sure if it’s a gift or a curse.

Laurel:

Anyway, change of topic. What are you guys up to this weekend? Want to have lunch or dinner? I have some news.

Stevie:

Laurel:

And no, I’m not pregnant.

Stevie:

Uh-huh…

News … Given the bed shopping last week, I assume Cal is moving in with her. That would make the most sense; he hardly ever sleeps at his own place. I suddenly feel nostalgic about Laurel’s one bedroom apartment, which is stupid because she still lives there. It’s been a second home for me since we’ve been friends. I even slept on her fold-out couch for a few weeks during the pandemic lockdown when we were both lonely on our own. It’s weird to think I won’t be able to spontaneously show up and crash there, although it’s not something I do regularly. I shouldn’t be so selfish, focused on myself, but somehow the idea of them moving in together reminds me how I’m still on my own.

But I’m jumping the gun. Maybe she’s getting another cat, or she got a new job.

I could do tomorrow or Sunday. I’m supposed to meet Sebastian at some point, but I’m flexible.

Laurel:

Sebastian???

Stevie:

Here comes the third degree.

To talk shop.

Laurel:

Suuuuuuuuure.

Stevie:

Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

Laurel:

Let me know a time and I’ll have you over.

We settle on lunch tomorrow just as I’m getting to my place. I ride up in the elevator feeling disappointed that my promising date turned into a dud. Am I too choosy? Should I settle, already?

I kick off my shoes at the door and grumble as I set my running jacket and shoes out for tomorrow morning. Last year at this time I was in the best shape of my life and hunkering down to train hard for a race that I ended up acing. I felt like I was about to level up in life. Now I’m treading water in terms of fitness but really in most aspects of my life. Laurel has some kind of exciting news, my sister is so happily married that she can’t bother chatting for more than two minutes, and here I am, wondering if I’m too selective because I turned down the chance to sleep with a guy whose mom does his laundry. As I brush my teeth, I can’t shake the feeling that everything is changing and I’m left behind.

After I crawl into bed, I shoot Sebastian a text, even though he’s probably off on a date.

Oof, bad date tonight.

Sebastian:

Oh Lord, please tell me it’s not another dick pic.

No, but I’m glad you understand the trauma now.

Call me and tell me all about your horror story.