Free Nothing More Beautiful by Lorelai LaBelle

Danielle and Ashley, neither believing my
encounter with Vince. They also found it hard to fathom the nerve
of Josh for sending such lame and vulgar texts after an appalling
date that ended by splitting the bill. It made for a good laugh for
them, but it doused my enthusiasm for going out on another date,
especially one produced by an online source. After a gym excursion
with Danielle and Ashley—which, in spite of their audible hopes,
was Vinceless—I met up with Bridgett and unloaded the story, asking
her advice. She told me to wait for an invitation and not to worry
over relationships. But then again, this was advice from a woman
who was seeking only sex as a result of a failed marriage.
    In the end I chose to heed it. Before I
crashed for the night, I checked my phone and saw the new message
from ThePortlandPirate. He was actually one of the profiles I’d
bookmarked for later, a top candidate. He wanted to meet for dinner
and a movie, so we set it up for the following Wednesday. It was
the first night in a while that I slept decently.
     
    WEDNESDAY BROUGHT MORE
PRE-DATE jitters. My heart was preparing for another
letdown, and my stomach knotted, making me queasy throughout much
of the morning. After work, I went to the gym and braved the second
floor alone, secretly hoping to bump into Vince. Only a few people
populated the level. The ellipticals were all free, so I chose the
one by the window.
    Fifteen minutes into my workout, another
woman joined me on the machines, taking the one right beside me.
The rest were still vacant.
    I thought my headphones would dissuade her
from conversation, but she turned to me and said, “Hi, I’m Emma.”
She was taller than me with straight, luminous blond hair and
milky-white skin, but she had the same bust, and the same slim,
straight body shape as I did. The paleness of her green eyes held
my gaze for a second, stunned. They were very unusual and somewhat
haunting. She wore a baby-blue racerback tank and supremely short
shorts.
    I removed my earbuds, though they weren’t
very loud. “Maci.” I stuck out my hand in a trained, reflexive
fashion. She gripped it with a soft, delicate touch that bordered
on fragile.
    “I’ve seen you around a few times on the
weekend, so I thought it’d be nice to introduce myself,” she said,
starting up the elliptical on its lowest level, which signaled her
eagerness to carry on our chat, since she was clearly in shape.
    “Yeah, I normally go up to the third floor
during the week when I’m alone.” I slowed down to match her pace.
“My friends like to push me into meeting guys.”
    She snorted. “Yeah, I know how that is. So,
do you do any races? You look like you do.”
    Her topic change threw me off for a
heartbeat, and I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or skeptical.
Backhanded compliments plagued the world of women, and she looked
like the type to sling double-edged words. “I used to,” I answered,
wiping my forehead with the towel I brought from home. I hated
sweating in public. “But I haven’t in a long time. I’m doing the
Hood to Coast this August, though, so I thought I’d get in here so
I don’t look like a total fool out there.”
    She was nodding in a casual,
not-really-listening sort of way. “That’s cool. I’m doing Bridge to
Brews in April and a few after that. I’m not ready for a commitment
like Hood to Coast.”
    I laughed. “I’m not really either, but my
friend talked me into it . . .” An awkward pause
settled in and I thought about putting my earbuds back in, but then
decided I didn’t mind talking. “I’ve heard the after-party is
pretty great.”
    “Where’s that again?” she asked, looking at
the TV with a home improvement show on it.
    “Seaside.”
    “Oh, right,” she said, nodding as if the
information was popping into her brain. “Yeah, I’ve heard that it’s
worth doing at least once, but three legs and sleeping in a
van—brutal.”
    I shot her an all-lip grin, not