Love According to Science

by Kingsley, Claire

  Nora glanced at me and winked.

  Kennedy turned up the rock music and led us through a warm-up that included deep breathing and basic yoga poses. Other than the music—which, I had to admit, gave the room a great deal of energy—it wasn’t much different from a typical yoga class.

  Until it was.

  We got into warrior pose, with our front legs bent and back legs straight, arms held out.

  “Now it’s time to find the badass energy inside you,” Kennedy said. “Take a deep breath, filling your lungs, and when you let it out, I want you to yell. Here we go. Deep breath in…”

  I glanced around, feeling tentative. We were all going to yell? I took a deep breath and the room erupted with noise. Nora and Sophie shouted beside me. A man in back roared, his voice deep. Everly caught my eye, looking as hesitant as I felt. She shrugged, opened her mouth, and yelled.

  So I yelled, too.

  “Yes, amazing,” Kennedy said. “Let’s step out of warrior and reach our hands up. Good. Now let’s find warrior on the other side.”

  We all moved as instructed.

  “Again, deep breath, and then let loose. Take any pent-up anger or negativity and let it out with your voice.”

  This time, I didn’t hesitate. I took a deep breath, and shouted.

  I felt it low in my abdomen, as if the sound originated there. It traveled through my chest, taking some of the pain I’d been carrying all week with it.

  The longer we continued, the easier it became to fully participate. We sat cross-legged on the floor, put our hands on our stomachs, and shouted our obscenities of choice. Held plank pose, adding a loud fuck you at the end. The heavy metal music drove the mood of the class and Kennedy encouraged yelling, fist-pumping, and head-banging.

  We took a short break for water—and cocktails, wine, or beer. Nora, Sophie, Everly, and I went back to our mats sipping mimosas. After all, it was still morning.

  With our drinks set off to the side, Kennedy led us through more poses. Some were challenging, causing my muscles to clench and burn as I struggled to hold them. She followed those with poses designed to let go of the tension, adding what she called war cries to enhance the release.

  “Now, I want you to think about something that’s really been bothering you,” Kennedy said, walking between the mats. “That one thing that’s been sitting deep in the pit of your stomach. I don’t care if it’s as simple as a broken fingernail, or as serious as a toxic person in your life. I want you to take that thing and visualize it for a moment. Then I want you to flip it some double fist unicorns, like this.” She raised her middle fingers. “And tell it to fuck off. Are we ready? Let’s do this. First, find your breath and visualize.”

  With my bare feet planted shoulder width apart, I closed my eyes and brought to mind the one thing that was eating me alive.

  It wasn’t Corban. I didn’t want to flip him double fist unicorns or tell him to fuck off. I didn’t even conjure an image of Paisley Hayes wearing nothing but Corban’s shirt and her underwear—although for a second, I was tempted.

  And some of the obscenities I’d already yelled had been directed at her.

  What I called to mind was my own stubbornness. My insistence on proving Corban wrong—and my fear of being wrong—had blinded me. It had kept me from experiencing the truth of my developing feelings for him. And now I was paying the price.

  The irony was, my behavior had been completely contrary to the scientific method. I’d gone into our relationship thinking I already had the answers, and I’d ignored any evidence that challenged my beliefs. I’d decided ahead of time what the outcome would be. I wouldn’t fall in love with him. And I’d stubbornly held to that, until it was too late.

  “All right, badasses,” Kennedy said. The music got louder, the heavy guitar riffs and pounding drums filling me with powerful energy. “Let’s get this shit out. Fill your lungs, breathing from your abdomen, and let those fucks fly.”

  I pulled in a lungful of air, opened my eyes, and shouted as loud as I could. “Fuck off!”

  My heart pounded hard in my chest and I realized I was digging my fingernails into my palms. I stared at the floor for a long moment and unclenched my fists.

  “That was amazing.” Kennedy still slowly walked through the mats. “Does anyone have something they’d like to share? No pressure. But if you want to, feel free to let it out.”

  I looked up as if coming out of a trance. “I think I fell in love for the first time. But I messed up, and he messed up. And now it’s just… a mess.”

  Kennedy nodded. “That happens to so many of us. And it’s brutal. How do you feel about it, right now? What’s in here?” She placed her hands over her stomach.

  “I’m angry. I’m angry at myself and I’m angry at him. I’m angry that this isn’t easier. That I didn’t tell him how I felt. That my education and professional experience not only proved to be no help whatsoever, they were probably a hindrance. And I’m pissed off that he might want to be with someone else more than he wants to be with me. Because I’m good for him. I understand him and he understands me and there are so few people who do. For both of us. I’m angry because I should be his penguin.”

  I stopped, shocked at my outburst.

  “Hell yes, you should be his penguin,” someone said behind me.

  “Badass.”

  “That was fierce as fuck, girlfriend.”

  “Let it out, sister.”

  Buoyed by the support of my classmates, I nodded. And I felt… better. Like I’d cleaned out some of the negative energy that had been weighing me down.

  “So fucking awesome,” Kennedy said. “It sucks that you’re going through that, but girl, you are fierce as fuck. And I know you’re going to come out on the other side a stronger woman.”

  A set of arms wrapped around me. Then another. And another. Everly, Sophie, and Nora all hugged me tight. In that moment, they gave me exactly what I needed. I was loved, accepted, and supported. And although neither that, nor yelling fuck in a yoga class, were going to mend my broken heart, they made the hurt a little more bearable. And that was priceless.

  37

  Corban

  “The derivative for my love for you is 0, because my love for you is constant.” ~ Anonymous

  I was up early for a Saturday. It obviously had nothing to do with the fact that Hazel and her friends were running their half-marathon today and it was about to start. I wasn’t fidgeting at my desk, wondering how she was doing.

  That was a lie. That was exactly what I was doing.

  Was she nervous? Properly hydrated? I’d looked up pictures from previous races and knew there were hydration stops all along the route. But had she eaten this morning? Was she replenishing her electrolytes?

  And would there be anyone to cheer for her at the finish line?

  I knew her circle was small. I also knew that was just how she operated. She wasn’t the type of person who needed a huge group of people around her to be happy. She had several close relationships that she valued deeply, and that was enough for her.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to feel at the end of the race. I’d planned to be there. I was even going to make a sign.

  Didn’t seem to be much point in doing that now.

  She’d avoided me for the rest of the week, crushing any hope I’d had that she was just upset and would get over it. That we could go back to hanging out, poking at each other, and discussing all the random topics that seemed to come up when we were together.

  I didn’t miss her for the sex. No, that wasn’t true, I did. Desperately. I craved her body like a junkie. But I missed all of her. I missed being around her. The way she pursed her lips when she was thinking or annoyed with me. The way she pushed her glasses up her nose and the way she got excited about the same things I did.

  A sharp knock on my door roused me from my thoughts. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. Paisley hadn’t been back since last weekend when she’d pranced around
here in her underwear. She was obviously avoiding me too, but since I wanted to avoid her, that worked out in my favor. Was she back? Had she decided to try again, or was she coming over to tell me I was an idiot for turning her down?

  Or maybe it wasn’t her at all. It was hard to believe she cared enough about me to put in more effort than she already had. I was convinced it wasn’t me she’d been after, just the allure of a guy who was different. She’d been burned enough times that suddenly her best friend’s dorky brother didn’t seem like such a bad alternative.

  No thanks. I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, but I didn’t want to be someone’s second choice either.

  Whoever it was knocked on the door again, hard. They really beat on it, like they were determined to get an answer.

  “Yeah, hang on.”

  I got up and thankfully remembered to look down to make sure I was wearing pants before answering the door. I was.

  There was another knock right as I grabbed the doorknob. Seriously, who was pounding on my door on a Saturday morning and being such a dick about it? I opened the door and groaned.

  It was him again.

  This time he wasn’t dressed in a suit, but he still wore a button-down shirt and slacks. He had the sleeves cuffed, and his forearms flexed as he clenched his fists.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Hello, Satan.”

  Shepherd Calloway’s cold blue eyes narrowed. “Nash.”

  “Might as well come in.” I held my arm out and stepped aside.

  Without another word, he walked into my apartment. I shut the door behind him.

  His gaze swept over the room, lingering on the comic books littering my coffee table. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His face was hard and expressionless.

  Silence stretched out between us. I was pretty sure he was waiting for me to break it. So I didn’t. Just stood my ground, crossed my arms, and waited for him to tell me what the fuck he was doing here.

  Finally he spoke. “I thought we had an understanding.”

  “Are you here to insist I make an honest woman out of her? Because I’ll let you in on a little secret. Hazel’s the one who’s going to protest that, not me.”

  Oh god, I’d just said out loud that I’d marry her. Kind of.

  But it was also kind of true.

  Fuck.

  “I’m here because I made it very clear how I felt about someone hurting her.”

  “Yeah, you did. And I didn’t hurt her. Besides, why do you care?”

  “Hazel is my wife’s best friend.” His low voice was almost monotone, yet dripping with threat. “She’s important to Everly, therefore she’s important to me. And you did hurt her.”

  “What? I got annoyed with her, but all I did is walk away. I don’t think that’s bad enough to warrant you giving me the scary dad speech again.”

  “I’m not talking about you being annoyed with her.” He emphasized the word. “I’m talking about you sleeping with another woman.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t reply. Just raised his eyebrows.

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m not sleeping with anyone. I was sleeping with Hazel, we both know that, but obviously that’s never happening again. And you know, maybe that’s better for me anyway. I’m probably just torturing myself. But have you ever been with a woman who feels so perfect you wonder if anything in the world will ever feel good again if you’re not with her?”

  His brow furrowed. “Yes, actually.”

  “See? That’s the problem. She’s fucking amazing and this whole thing sucks.”

  “If she’s so goddamn amazing, why are you fucking your neighbor on the side?”

  “What neighbor? I’m not sleeping with—” I stopped and stared at him for a second. “Wait, are you talking about Paisley?”

  “That sounds right.”

  I cast a quick glance at the wall my apartment shared with hers. “You think I’m sleeping with Paisley?”

  His jaw hitched and he raised his eyebrows again. This guy had a stare that could freeze your balls off. It was pretty impressive.

  “Who told you I was sleeping with her?”

  “My wife. She spent last Saturday evening consoling Hazel after she came here. Your neighbor answered the door in her underwear.”

  “What the fuck?” I blurted out. “I didn’t know Hazel came over.”

  “So now I have no choice but to—”

  “No, what the fuck? I wasn’t sleeping with Paisley. I’ve never slept with Paisley. I probably would have in high school, but what seventeen-year-old kid knows what he’s doing when it comes to girls?”

  Shepherd looked confused.

  “But now? No fucking way. Paisley was here, but I turned her down. And you’re telling me Hazel came over?”

  “You were apparently in the shower.”

  “Oh god. What did Paisley say to her?”

  “I’d assume she didn’t need to say much of anything, considering she was in your apartment half-naked.”

  “Holy shit.” I raked my hands through my hair. “That’s why Hazel was so mad. That’s why she looked like she was going to cry, and why she said she can’t be my friend. She thinks I’m banging some other girl.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Oh my god, Shepherd, I’m fucked. This is a disaster. She’s wrong. This whole thing is a huge misunderstanding. And now… where is she? She’s running. She’s with your wife. Can you call Everly? No, that won’t work. They’ve been training their asses off for this, I can’t interrupt. What am I going to do?”

  Shepherd watched me with that confused brow furrow. “I have no idea.”

  “Come on, we’re smart guys, we can figure this out.”

  “We?”

  I stared past him, the trains of thought in my brain running full speed ahead. For once, they weren’t traveling in different directions. They were all in sync, and in an instant, everything was clear.

  “I love her,” I said aloud, but I wasn’t really talking to Shepherd. It was more like talking to Erwin. I didn’t need, or expect, a reply. “I don’t know if she loves me, but I think she might, and I was too much of an idiot to see it. Molly was right, I’ve been getting in my own way. I have to tell her. That’s all there is to it. I have to take the risk and put my heart on the chopping block, even if that means she might obliterate it. But that would be better than losing her forever because we’re both too fucking stubborn and stuck in our own heads to say it.”

  Shepherd slipped his hands in his pockets and his expression softened. Not by much. But maybe there actually was a human in there.

  “I have to go.” I patted my thighs, looking for my keys, but I was wearing pajama pants with no pockets. And my keys were on the counter. “What am I forgetting?”

  “Clothes?”

  “Right. See, I knew you could help.”

  I left him standing there and went into my bedroom. Threw on some clothes. I came out trying to tuck in my shirt, thinking about where I was going to find everything I needed, and whether I had enough time to pull this off.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready for what?” he asked.

  “What time do you think they’ll be done?” I shoved my feet into my black Converse. “That’s okay, I can make some estimates on the way. Let’s go.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his expression going from mildly confused to completely baffled. “Go where?”

  “Come on, man, I don’t have time to explain.”

  I swiped my keys off the counter, slid my phone in my back pocket, grabbed my wallet, and headed out the door.

  38

  Hazel

  “The best way to be appreciative for your life is to live it; don’t die for any other reason but love. Dreams are what guide us, art is what defines us, math is what makes it all possible, and love is what lights our way.” ~ Mike Norton

  My stomach churned with such a surprising amount of nervousness, I couldn’t stand still. Whether it w
as my own anxiety about the race, or the energy of the huge crowd, I didn’t know. Perhaps some of both. But the net result was a very unsettled stomach and a jittery sensation I couldn’t contain.

  Thousands of people had turned out for the Soggy Seattle Half-Marathon. Despite its name, and Seattle’s reputation for rain, the sky was clear—not a cloud in sight. The temperature had dropped enough overnight that the early morning air was chilly and people blew into their hands, rubbed their arms, or jogged in place to warm up.

  Members of the crowd ranged from serious runners in technical gear and specialty shoes, stretching their legs with focused expressions, to people in costume, each one more elaborate than the last. On the walk to the starting area, we’d passed women in frilly tutus, a bunch of frat boys with neckties around their foreheads, and people in solid-color bodysuits that covered them from head to toe. We saw runners with funny hats and glasses, wigs or multicolored hair, a huge man in a bigfoot costume, and a group of at least twenty men and women with matching t-shirts that read Sloth Running Club… We May Be Slow But We’re Adorable.

  My friends and I were decked out in the Dirty Martini Running Club tank tops Nora had made, our race numbers pinned to our shirts. Although we hadn’t planned to match the rest of our attire, we all had our hair in ponytails and had paired our tank tops with either blue or pink shorts. Blue for me and Sophie, pink for Everly and Nora.

  As predicted, we looked fabulous.

  But the most fabulous runner award had to be the peacock man. He was tall with a spiked purple and teal mohawk that matched his bright teal bodysuit. A fan of enormous peacock feathers was attached to the back of his costume and it rustled in the breeze as he strutted around the starting area. I didn’t know how he was going to manage to run the entire distance in such an elaborate costume, but it did look impressive.

  The cold air made goosebumps rise on my bare arms, but I’d warm up once we started running. I shifted from side to side, my entire body tingling with nervous energy.