Anyone but You

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Careful there, princess.” I wanted to bristle at the nickname because I definitely wasn’t a princess, but I was too busy trying to keep my feet under me and not fall over again.

  “Just get your shit away from my door,” I said, my voice trembling a little. Time to go.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, as the door shut behind me. I had to step over the boxes to get to the door to open the studio up, and I kept periodically checking to see if they had moved. No progress, and it was twenty minutes before my next class and I was not going to have my students stepping over fucking boxes to get to yoga. That was a hazard and it was also ridiculous. Ready to storm downstairs, I looked out again and the boxes were gone. The music also went down a few seconds later. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

  I relaxed and everything went back to normal by the time my first student arrived.

  My mind kept drifting while I was teaching. I’d done enough classes that if I didn’t need to be present, I could check out a little bit and still look like I was completely in the moment. Not the best idea, but sometimes you needed a mental break after teaching so many classes in a week. It was more draining than people knew.

  Tuesday. What was her deal? She hadn’t mentioned anything about the social pages and the midnight following, and I hadn’t commented back to her either. I didn’t know what to do with that. I should just block her from everything, but that would lead to questions. Right now, my strategy was to ignore her. That could totally work, as long as she stopped pissing me off.

  THE PACKAGES WEREN’T in front of my door the next day, but I did notice that there was a new sign in front of the gym. It was opening in three weeks. My stomach plummeted into my feet. Three weeks and I’d have to try her class. She hadn’t said anything about coming back to yoga, so I figured that was over, but it was Tuesday night again and I looked up to find her waiting there.

  “Can I rent a mat?” she asked, and I couldn’t read the expression on her face. She still didn’t look thrilled to be here, but she was.

  “You’re taking class?” I asked. I hadn’t charged her for last time because we offered our first class free, but now she’d have to pay for a drop in, or get a membership.

  “Yeah, I figured I’d give it another shot,” she said, and her eyes were so sharp, they dared me not to comment on any of it.

  “Okay,” I said, handing her a mat. “Do you want to just do the one class?”

  “You’re charging me?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I have rent to pay. To you.” I hated that she was my landlord. It added an extra layer of complexity to this already stacked situation. Thinking about layers just made me think about lasagna. I made a mental note to get the ingredients on my way home and maybe Zee would make one later this week. I needed pasta and cheese and sauce ingredients and fresh basil. Zee made the best fucking pasta sauce in the entire world. I would fill a tub with that shit and bathe in it if I could.

  “Fine,” Tuesday said, pulling a card from her phone case and handing it over. “But I think I should get free classes.”

  “Your comment has been noted, I’ll take it to the management,” I said, swiping the card viciously.

  “You’re the management,” Tuesday pointed out.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, giving her a sweet smile.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, grabbing the card back from me and putting it away.

  “You’re welcome,” I sang, and turned my attention to the next person. Tuesday stormed into the room and the door slammed behind her. People jumped and gave me looks.

  “No idea,” I said as an explanation. How did one explain Tuesday Grímsdóttir? I got everyone else checked in without incident and went into the room to teach. Everyone was stretched out on their mats, some with their eyes closed and breathing deep, getting their minds ready for class. Except Tuesday. She sat on the floor with her knees up and her arms draped on them, showing off her incredible arm muscles.

  For a moment, I forgot who I was and what I was supposed to be doing. Like that feeling when you walked into a room and forgot why you went there in the first place. Tuesday’s arms made it hard to think. I still didn’t know exactly how much she could lift, but I was betting that she could pick me up without much effort. Why did that turn me on so much?

  No lust in the studio, Sutton. Keep that in your yoga pants.

  I cleared my throat and went to the front of the room to welcome everyone. Tuesday had her eyes on me and I pretended not to see her. It wasn’t easy. Good thing I could teach this class on autopilot if I needed to, but I didn’t want to. I had a new flow I wanted to try out after being inspired by something I’d seen online, and I’d even written down a few quotes that I wanted to share throughout the class to enhance the practice.

  This time Tuesday didn’t struggle as much with linking one move to the next. She knew what a forward fold was, she knew how to go from chaturanga to upward-facing dog without crashing her body onto the mat. One thing I could say for Tuesday: she learned quickly. Most students took at least three or more classes to be really comfortable with the moves, but here she was on her second class rocking it.

  I sped things up a bit and mentioned some difficult variations that only a few people in the class could probably attempt. I didn’t meet her eyes, but I hoped she knew I was challenging her.

  She took the bait and fell out of a lot of poses. Tuesday wasn’t as stable and flexible as she thought she was, and I did get a little satisfaction from that, but not much. At least there weren’t fucking packages in front of my door.

  She didn’t chant at the end again, but whatever. This time she was quick to get up from her mat, clean it, and roll it back up. My attention was diverted by someone who didn’t know this was hot yoga and was wondering why we kept it hot, and what the benefits of heat were. I figured she’d gone back downstairs until the studio emptied and I found her lurking in the doorway as I cleaned the floor.

  “Still here?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t so bad this time. Guess I’m better at yoga than you thought.” I finally got a full smirk from Tuesday and it was completely devastating. I had to hold onto the mop and use it to prop myself up so my knees didn’t buckle.

  If I ever got a real smile from Tuesday, it might completely end me. I started at her for a second and then she sighed and looked over her shoulder.

  “I should probably get back downstairs. Lots to do before we open.”

  “Just make sure your shit doesn’t end up in front of my door, thanks,” I said, being a little snippier than I meant to. Whatever, she could take it and give it right back to me.

  “Touchy,” she commented. “I’ll see what I can do.” I made a little growling noise of frustration in my throat and she laughed as she went down the stairs.

  I wanted to scream again.

  ZEE CAME TO TAKE ME out for lunch on Wednesday because they had a rare day off.

  Ellen had just taught a class, so she tagged along with us. She was having a good spine day so we all walked down the street to wait for the banh mi truck to get there. Zee had a tracker on their phone. Ellen sat on the little seat that attached to her walker and was busy on her phone.

  “Stop sexting, it’s rude,” I said as a joke, but Ellen just grinned up at me.

  “Wait, are you seriously sexting right now?” I asked, and she just shrugged.

  “Gotta keep the romance alive.” A little jolt of jealousy went through me at that moment and I had to look away as she typed furiously on her phone.

  A line formed before the truck even got there, but fortunately we were near the front. When the truck pulled in, everyone cheered. Well, almost everyone. Zee, Ellen, and I stayed quiet.

  “I’ll cheer when the food is in my hands,” Zee said.

  “Agreed,” Ellen said.

  We got our sandwiches and walked a little ways away to find a bench to sit on.

  “I’m cheering on the inside,” Zee said, through a mouthful
of sandwich. I was also cheering on the inside. So many times I’d been disappointed by a banh mi that wasn’t the real thing, but this was excellent.

  “Thanks for getting me out of the studio,” I said to Zee and they did a little bow.

  “Thank you very much, sometimes I come in handy.” I scoffed.

  “You’re always handy. Who was the one who fixed the sink, the dishwasher, and the toilet all in the same week?” Zee beamed.

  “Yeah, that was me,” they said.

  “You wanna come over to my house? Tati refuses to hire anyone to fix things because she says she can do it herself, but then the things sort of get fixed, but not really? She gets so excited about it that Carm and I don’t have the heart to do anything about it. So that’s why everything in my house is taped together.” That was so cute I could barely stand it.

  “I would come over and fix everything and put the tape back so she didn’t know, but I don’t think I could deal with Tati’s disappointment if she ever found out. It would be like kicking a puppy.” Ellen nodded.

  “So you see my problem.”

  We talked more about home repairs and relationships and jury duty and the latest streaming show everyone was obsessed with. It was a good break, and I’d needed it. In keeping my head down and working so hard, I’d neglected so many parts of myself that also needed to be nourished. I’d done the opposite of what I preached about in my yoga classes every day. Something about those who can’t do, teach.

  I dallied with Ellen and Zee until I definitely had to go back to the studio. Ellen came with me because she’d decided to take class. I got out her chair and made sure there were others in the back of the room for anyone who needed them.

  “You okay?” I nodded.

  “Yeah, just thinking about how I don’t get away from this place and the business enough. I’m going to work more on that. Maybe cheat and take some yoga classes at another studio.” I hadn’t been practicing on the regular and that was something I absolutely needed in my life.

  “I think that’s a great idea. You need things in your life other than work. Perhaps a new hobby might be good. There’s a gym opening up downstairs you know,” she said with a grin.

  “I’m not joining the gym,” I said. Ellen knew about the dare, but I didn’t want to fuel any kinds of speculation about what was going on between me and Tuesday, even though they were probably already speculating behind my back.

  “We’ll see,” Ellen said in a singsong voice. “I’m going to get set up.” She left me to handle check-in, but I wanted to run after her and reassure her that CrossFit would not be my new hobby. I’d rather take up stabbing myself in the face with knitting needles.

  Irritated, I tried to get myself in a good headspace before class. I shut my office door and put on some music and did a quick meditation, but my mind wouldn’t let go of my thoughts. They just keep sticking. I gave up and went to teach.

  After I locked up for the night, I peered around to see if there were lights on in Tuesday’s gym. There were. The door was open and she had fans going. The place looked a lot better. Now the walls had more decals on them; silhouettes of barbells and people doing squats and purple stars. Way better.

  “You gonna keep staring or come in?” a voice said, and I gasped.

  Tuesday came around the corner from where she’d been working on the retail area near the door.

  “Sorry. I like the decals. They’re a nice touch.” I didn’t know why I kept standing here, but I didn’t want to leave. The building was quiet and I was exhausted from teaching classes all day. I needed food and kitten cuddles and bed. Maybe a sheet mask for good measure. And meditation. I needed that today as well.

  “Thank you,” she said, and I was shocked.

  “How did you like your second class? We didn’t really get to talk.” I’d been too annoyed at her then.

  “It was good. I’m not sure if I’m doing it right, but that doesn’t matter, does it? It’s all about the journey.” Tuesday spoke in a somewhat mocking tone and I was quickly regretting stopping and talking to her.

  “What is your problem with yoga? Seriously? You’ve been to two classes and I think you’ve gotten something out of it, but you keep shitting on it.” Yoga meant so much to me and it hurt to have someone dismiss it like a bunch of silly movements and meaningless words.

  “I just think that people overestimate the benefits and sell it as a cure. Depressed? Yoga. Sick? Yoga. Your house burned down? Yoga. It’s ridiculous. Exercise is good, but it’s not that good. You can’t ‘om’ your way out of a shitty situation.” I’d heard that before and I couldn’t argue with her because she was right. Yoga had been packaged and monetized and turned into a commodity. It was also used as a bludgeon to throw at people who had real problems.

  “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean yoga is bad. I have seen it change people’s lives. No, it’s not going to cure you of anything, but it can help you be more in touch with yourself and your body. It can help you be able to find that inner peace in moments of chaos. It’s also about community. Some of my best friends have been made because of yoga. I’d think someone like you would understand that.” I may or may not have done a quick skim of the official CrossFit site and that was one of the main pillars: community.

  Tuesday rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “I guess when you put it that way . . .”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, satisfied with myself. I turned around to leave, but then there was a warm hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry for insulting you. And insulting yoga,” Tuesday said, and that somehow irritated me more.

  “You didn’t insult me, or yoga. And I’m not that fucking fragile, Tuesday.” I turned around and met her eyes. Those icy eyes melted, just a little.

  “Want to see a picture of the turtles?” she asked, and I almost burst out laughing.

  “Yeah,” I said. I definitely did. She pulled out her phone and showed me a video of them swimming and then one of them crawling on the floor and her cheering them on as they raced each other.

  “You should sell tickets and make a bunch of money. Or livestream it.” People would be all over that.

  “I’m thinking of making them their own social pages,” she said, scrolling through some more pictures. She had a ton.

  “You should,” I said. My irritation had evaporated at the mention of the turtles and I had the feeling she’d done that on purpose. The next time the music was up and she didn’t turn it down, I hoped she didn’t use the turtles to distract me.

  “Is it just you here?” I asked. I hadn’t seen any sort of business partner or anything.

  “Yup, I’m a one-woman show. Didn’t plan it that way, but shit happens. I’m still on track to open on time.” Everything looked ready now, but I didn’t know what else she still had to get in place.

  “If you ever need any advice, I kind of know what I’m doing when it comes to running a business,” I said. Wait, what? Had those words come out of my mouth? I was going to blame the turtles.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it,” she snapped, and then softened a little.

  “Sorry, I’ve had everyone and their uncle trying to tell me what to do and I’m fucking tired of it. I know you aren’t saying that because you just want to tell me what to do.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. My stomach was screaming for food and I needed to get home to the kitties. Of course, Zee was with them, but I didn’t want them to think that I wasn’t ever coming back. That would wreck me.

  “Listen, I need to get going, but I’ll see you later?”

  “Yeah, sounds good. I’m just going to order some pizza and eat it on the floor. Like I did last night.” Bitter much?

  I gave her a look and she groaned.

  “It’s been a long week and I’m tired and my filter is completely fucking gone. Leave before I get even nastier.”

  “I think I will.” I left her with a little wave and then hurried out to the parking lot. Every int
eraction with Tuesday left me even more confused than ever. I was unlocking my car when I heard her voice again.

  “Do you want some pizza?” She stood at the entrance to the building and had the door propped open with her body.

  “What?” I’d been planning what I was going to have for dinner and figuring out what I had in the fridge, so it took me a second to understand what she’d said.

  “Do you want some pizza?” I still couldn’t read her face, but I thought she looked a little shy and wistful. Or maybe that was just the streetlights casting shadows that weren’t actually there.

  I wanted to get home, but something pulled me away from my car and made my lips form one word, “Sure.” I threw my things in my car and locked it again.

  Tuesday seemed unsure when I walked back into the building, but she didn’t ask me if I was serious about doing this. I still didn’t quite know what I was doing.

  “Uh, what kind of pizza do you want? My treat,” she said, pulling up an app to order.

  “First of all, where are you ordering from?” I asked. Pizza was serious business to me, and I wasn’t going to eat some second-rate crap, even if she was paying for it.

  Tuesday mentioned the name and I made a face.

  “Have you had it before?” I asked. She said that she hadn’t.

  “You don’t want to order from there, trust me. It’s a wonder that place hasn’t gotten shut down by the health department yet. You want to order from Boston Brother’s. That’s the best not-so-expensive pizza around. If you like truffles at all, you should get them shaved on top. Will change your life.” That was probably more than Tuesday wanted to spend and when I mentioned the truffles, she made a face.

  “Truffles? Isn’t that chocolate?”

  “Are you serious?” She nodded.

  “Someday, you will eat something covered in truffles and you will fall in love, Tuesday,” I said with complete confidence.

  “Yeah, I’ll stick to my meat lover’s thanks.” Now I was the one making a face.