Head Over Heels

by Hannah Orenstein

  He exhales, relieved. “Jade Castle had a big birthday party reservation cancel, so they actually have space for us at seven o’clock tomorrow night,” he offers. “Unless that’s too soon, in which case, we can figure something else out.”

  My stomach drops, and it’s not just because Jade Castle was the scene of my disastrous first Tinder date after moving back to Greenwood.

  “Oh! I would, but I actually have dinner plans tomorrow,” I lie.

  I’m not ready to spend time with Ryan outside of work. If I’m honest with myself, I know I’m not fully over him yet. That’s why we’ve barely spoken about anything except for Hallie since our breakup, and that’s why I can’t bring myself to open Tinder again, even though the app sends plenty of reminders that people nearby have swiped right on me.

  “Oh, no worries, we can schedule this for another time,” he says, scratching his ear and blushing.

  “Uh, no, go for it. I don’t have to be there—what matters is that people are raising money,” I say awkwardly. “And maybe I could swing by later.”

  “Are you sure?” Ryan asks.

  I hesitate. “Have an amazing time.”

  Hallie finishes beam and heads to vault next. I’m not her coach for either event, so even though I watch from the sidelines and offer encouragement, there’s unfortunately enough space for my mind to wander.

  I’m touched that Ryan would organize a fund-raiser. I’d worried that I’d trusted him too easily, and felt duped that I’d fallen for a guy who would shove the worst moments of my life under the rug so that he could climb the career ladder. In the aftermath of the breakup, it was easy to boil everything down to simple black and white: he was wrong, he was a bad guy, and so we were over.

  But life isn’t so black and white. People are complicated, and they can grow. I certainly have. I can’t deny that between Ryan turning down Dimitri’s job offer and him organizing this fund-raiser, I’m starting to see him in a better light. He wants to learn and make amends. He’s open to changing his mind, even when it comes at a personal cost. Despite the frost between us ever since Nationals, it wouldn’t be fair to ignore that he’s taken significant strides to earn my approval again. The next step might be forgiveness.

  I sit on the edge of the blue floor and pick at a piece of fuzz coming loose from the fabric. Sixty feet away, Ryan leans over the vault table, explaining something I can’t quite hear to Hallie. He talks with his hands, and she nods along. Hallie’s attention is tightly fixated on what he’s saying; I can tell from the serious way she stands with her hands on her hips, biting her lip. She trusts him, doesn’t she? Maybe I should trust him, too.

  * * *

  SOS, what are you doing tomorrow night? I text Sara on my lunch break.

  I’m eating last night’s leftover tilapia and zucchini straight from the Tupperware in my car. Ryan’s invitation, however casual, made me too jittery to eat within the same building as him.

  I have a friend’s housewarming party at 8, wanna come? she texts back.

  Ryan invited me to drink with his friends tomorrow night at Jade Castle, I write. It’s a fund-raiser for EGF.

  Her response pops up before I can continue typing: ???

  I lied and said I had plans with you. I don’t wanna go alone. But I do think I might want to go. Please come with me? I text.

  It sounds so pitiful laid out like that, but I know Sara won’t judge me.

  How’s this: I’ll come with you for a bit, then head out to the party once you find your footing? she asks. Slash you have two drinks and feel fine.

  That second one sounds about right, I write. Thank you. Love you.

  I finish the fish and text Jasmine to join us. She knows, of course, that Ryan turned down Dimitri’s job offer, but I think she’s still skeptical of him—or anyone who would willingly associate with her ex, to be honest. I can’t blame her. I care about her opinion, and I’d feel less guilty over my storm of conflicting emotions toward Ryan if I had her approval of him. I want her take on this situation. I’m strangely relieved when she texts back that Ryan’s fund-raiser sounds amazing. She says she wants to go.

  * * *

  On Saturday night, I arrive at Jade Castle a little after eight with Sara and Jasmine by my side. The restaurant’s lounge is dimly lit and crowded, filled with vaguely familiar faces I’ve seen around town. I spot Ryan standing with a cluster of people by the window, holding a beer and in the midst of conversation with some guys. He’s in a pair of dark jeans and a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I don’t recognize most of the people he’s with, but I spot his friend Goose with his girlfriend, Melissa.

  I catch Ryan’s eye.

  “Hey! You made it!” he says, choking down beer, looking surprised to see me here.

  He winds his way through the crowd and tentatively gives me a one-armed hug.

  “We finished dinner and figured why not come by?” I say.

  It’s close enough to the truth. Jasmine brought over a bottle of wine for the three of us to share while Sara and I dabbed on makeup and put on sundresses. I felt more comfortable coming here tonight with a little liquid courage in my system.

  “Oh, wow, nice,” he says. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “We can get our own,” Jasmine says, cutting in.

  “All for a good cause anyway, right?” Sara says.

  Ryan gestures to the bar. “Of course.”

  Sara orders a vodka soda, and I ask for the same. Jasmine squints at the array of spirits lining the back shelf of the bar and sighs at the row of draft beers.

  “I’ll have a prosecco,” she says.

  The bartender gives her a weary look.

  “We don’t have that here,” he says, without bothering to check.

  “Jasmine, this isn’t the fanciest place,” I say quietly, nudging her.

  She grimaces. “Another vodka soda, sure.” Under her breath, she mutters, “Great bar.”

  We take the drinks over to the edge of Ryan’s crew.

  “These are Ryan’s friends?” Jasmine asks, looking curiously at the group.

  “Yeah, anyone you recognize?” I ask.

  The gymnastics world is tiny—I wouldn’t be surprised if she had crossed paths with anyone here.

  “No, I’m just… interested, I guess. These are guys our own age,” she comments.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Sara warns.

  I feel uneasy—not sure what to say to Ryan, too awkward to say hi to Goose or Melissa, and too nervous to strike up a conversation with any of his other friends. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But then, the high-pitched ding of a knife against glass cuts through the noise of the bar.

  “Can I have everybody’s attention for a minute, please?” Ryan asks.

  He steps on a chair so he’s high above the crowd. Conversations fade out, and people turn to face him.

  “I wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight. As I’ve mentioned, all proceeds from the drinks go to a really great organization called the Elite Gymnastics Foundation, which supports elite gymnasts like the very talented athlete I’m hopefully taking to Tokyo this summer,” he says.

  “Whoop, whoop!” Goose calls out.

  Ryan raises his glass. “So please, drink up, and don’t worry about how you’ll feel tomorrow morning. Okay? And while I have your attention, the founders of the foundation are here—let’s give a round of applause to Avery Abrams and Jasmine Floyd.”

  He raises his drink in a toast, and everyone else follows suit.

  It’s a strange sensation, having people clap for me. It’s happened before, of course, at plenty of competitions, but that was different. Back then, crowds cheered me on because of what I had been trained to do. Tonight, they’re cheering me on for what I’m doing for others. This is new for me, but I like it.

  Ryan hops down off of the chair and joins us.

  “Hey there. Not a bad turnout, right?” he says.

  “Pretty good,” I say. “I really appre
ciate the effort.”

  “It’s pretty cool that you did this,” Jasmine says. She purses her lips. “Especially now that you’ve chosen to hang around better company.”

  He raises his hands in defense. “I know, I’m glad I turned down the job,” he says. “You’re going to Tokyo, right?”

  “Yep. You haven’t booked your flight yet?” she asks.

  “Nah. It doesn’t really make sense to book it until we know for sure if Hallie is going or not,” he explains.

  I’m in the same boat.

  “Well, I’ll be watching from home,” Sara says.

  “As long as you’re watching NBC, that’s fine by me,” Jasmine says. “Gotta keep those ratings up.”

  “I’m jealous. Visiting Japan sounds amazing,” Sara says.

  “Are you planning to stick around after the Games?” I ask Ryan.

  Ryan runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, my plan is to travel around Asia.”

  “Ooh, fun,” Sara says. “Where? I’ve always wanted to visit Thailand. Amazing food, gorgeous water, not crazy expensive compared to other destinations, you know?”

  “Well, since I’ll be starting off in Tokyo, it makes sense to explore more of Japan first,” he says. “But it all really depends on what happens with Trials.”

  “Fingers crossed,” Sara says.

  Later, after Ryan moves on to chat with other people, we get another round of drinks. When they’re finished, Sara says she has to get going to her friend’s housewarming party. She invites Jasmine and me along. Jasmine, sorely in need of a real girls’ night out, gladly accepts, and so I do, too. I don’t want to put a damper on her night. We all say goodbye and thank Ryan for throwing the fund-raiser. Sara and Jasmine move ahead while I hang back.

  “One sec, guys, I’ll meet you outside,” I tell Jasmine and Sara. Then, to Ryan, I add, “I just wanted to say thank you again for doing all of this. It really means so much to me that you care enough to bring your friends out for our cause.”

  “It’s the least I could do, really,” he says sheepishly.

  “How much money do you think you’ve raised so far?” I ask.

  He scans the room. “Let’s say twenty people, an average of two drinks each, maybe…” He pauses to do the mental math. “Three hundred and fifty–ish?”

  That pays for two therapy sessions, maybe three, tops. But I’m still grateful.

  “That’s awesome,” I say—and I mean it.

  “I’m really glad you came,” he says. “I’d completely understand if you didn’t want to, but it’s cool that you got a chance to see this.”

  The emotions I’ve been feeling all day crest. All at once, I’m grateful and bittersweet and nostalgic for what we had together. I have to leave; I know if I stay any longer, I’ll only be keeping myself in a situation primed to make me miss him.

  “I think the Uber’s coming,” I say. “Gotta go—have a great night.”

  Before I can overthink it, I throw my arms around him in a quick hug. The wave of comfort I get from my body flush against his feels like a shock. It’s overwhelming.

  “Good night!” he calls as I hurry toward the door.

  I join Sara and Jasmine outside, and soon we’re on our way to the housewarming party. It’s a get-together at a condo in Coolidge Corner in Brookline with a sliding glass door that opens the terrace up to a pretty, starry night. Sara introduces me proudly to her friends, and they all go slack-jawed when they hear I’m possibly on my way to the Olympics. A lanky guy in a chambray button-down brings me plastic cups of beer—apparently, the real glasses haven’t even been unpacked yet—and shyly asks for my phone number at the end of the night. He’s so not my type that the request catches me off guard, and even though the prospect of dating someone new still feels too strange right now, I give it to him. Maybe what I need is a distraction that will take my mind off Ryan for good.

  It’s only hours later, when I wake in the middle of the night to get a glass of water to soothe my parched mouth, that I see the text from Ryan. I must have missed it while I was sleeping. I rub at my eyes, not sure if I’m awake enough to read the message properly. But I read it three times in a row, and it seems solid. I can’t believe it’s real.

  It was really great to see you tonight! The fund-raiser was a huge success. We raised $410. But I know that’s not enough to make the kind of difference this cause deserves, and so I’m also donating the money I would’ve spent on my travels after the Olympics. Total, it’ll be nearly $3,000. I know you’re probably going to protest, but I’ve been thinking about this for days. I saved up the money for something important, and there’s nothing more important than this.

  • CHAPTER 31 •

  Team Hallie Conway flies to the Olympic Trials in St. Louis on separate flights: Hallie and her parents in the morning, Ryan in the afternoon, and me and Sara on an evening flight so she didn’t have to call out of work. Hallie insisted that Sara fly halfway across the country with us because she wanted a private yoga session before the big day. Paying for Sara’s round-trip flight, hotel room, and meals probably costs the Conway family nearly two thousand bucks, but they don’t seem to flinch. They’ve already sunk hundreds of thousands of dollars into this dream so far—it’s not worth risking everything and winging it the morning of Olympic Trials by insisting that Hallie practice yoga on her own.

  Sara and I are sharing a hotel room, so at seven thirty in the morning we walk together from our room to Hallie’s, where we pick her up and continue on to the hotel’s fitness center. Sara called ahead and confirmed that the fitness center’s yoga studio would be available for them to use. She has a yoga mat strapped to her back and totes a bag full of supplies: a foam block, a speaker, a bottle of lavender essential oil. Hallie emerges from her hotel room in leggings and a stretchy tank top; she’ll get ready and put on an actual leotard for Trials after yoga and a light breakfast.

  “Morning,” I say. “Ready for the big day?”

  “Ha, no, but it’s here,” she says honestly.

  Sara nudges her down the hall toward the elevator. “Oh-kay, let’s go chill out for an hour and find a more positive attitude.”

  The yoga studio is located at the back of the fitness center, through a door along the far wall of the gym. As we walk past a row of treadmills and ellipticals, through a crew of sweaty dudes working out on weight machines, we cross paths with Ryan, who’s bench-pressing weights. He grunts, sets the bar back on the holder, and removes one headphone.

  “Hey,” he breathes. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” we chime.

  “We won’t distract you from your workout,” Sara says.

  Sara leads Hallie into the yoga studio and closes the door. I’ve never joined one of their sessions, and I wouldn’t dare interrupt now. It’s good for Hallie to have some solo time with Sara to focus on relaxing for the day ahead.

  “So, I, uh, I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you for your text,” I say to Ryan.

  He removes his other headphone and sits up, grinning. “Yeah?”

  “It’s an absurdly extravagant donation,” I point out. “Just, like, way above and beyond. You know that, right?”

  He shrugs. “Eh.”

  “I just want to make sure you’re really sure you want to do this,” I say.

  “Of course I’m sure,” he says seriously.

  I can’t help it—I cover my face with my hands. “Okay!” I say brightly. “I’m gonna take your money and run, I guess, before you change your mind.”

  He laughs. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “When I told Jasmine, you know what she said?” I ask.

  “What?” he asks.

  “That the donation is enough for her to forgive you for almost working with Dimitri,” I say.

  His mouth twitches nervously. “Well, that’s good. And… you?”

  “It’s one thing to apologize, but it’s another thing to make a situation right again. And you did both,” I explain. “So, yeah,
I forgive you.”

  “Really?” he asks, almost like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

  “Yeah, we’re cool,” I say. “Obviously, I know things have been kind of… weird? Between us? For a while now. But I miss how easily we used to get along, and I’d like to go back to that.”

  I can feel my heart pounding as I tell him how I really feel; vulnerability is fucking scary. But then, a smile spreads across his face, and I’m flooded with relief. It’s the exact same exhilarating sensation you get when you’re flying upside down above the high bar on a release move and catch it solidly. It’s a dangerous thrill, but then you know you’re safe.

  “Avery, you have no idea how much I feel the same way,” he says. He looks down apologetically at his sweat-drenched T-shirt. “I’d want to hug you right now, but…”

  “Yeah, no, I’m good without it,” I tease.

  “Your loss. I smell…” He sniffs his shirt and makes a sour face. “…amazing right now.”

  “Please just promise to shower before I have to spend the rest of the day with you today, okay?” I ask.

  “I promise,” he says earnestly.

  “Now, back to work. Don’t slack on those biceps, okay?” I joke.

  He flexes one arm, and the muscle swells. I resist my instinct to look impressed, and instead say goodbye and walk out of the gym with my head held high.

  * * *

  I get some coffee, fruit, and yogurt at a café near the hotel, and then return to my hotel room to make myself look a little more presentable for the day. I know the cameras will catch at least a few glimpses of me, and some concealer and mascara will go a long way. I’m blending the makeup under my eyes when I see my phone light up with an incoming text. My stomach drops when I catch the name on the screen—it’s Tyler. We haven’t spoken once since I left LA.

  Hey. I just wanted to say that I heard you’re doing really well now, coaching and launching that organization. It all sounds really impressive. Congratulations!

  I laugh, dumbfounded. I can’t believe he reached out at all, especially to praise my accomplishments. He never expected me to make anything of myself again; he didn’t think I had the drive to dream, achieve, or succeed anymore. It’s deliciously satisfying to see him recognize how wrong he was. I wish I could travel back in time to that fight, the one a few months before our breakup, when he found me sitting on the kitchen floor with my wineglass in the middle of the afternoon and criticized what looked like a lack of ambition. If only that version of myself could see my life now.