The Fastest Way to Fall(67)

“Thanks.” We walked toward the elevator, and Claire pulled two manila folders from her oversize bag. “We can take advantage of the treatments, and there’s just a few things we’ll do together, including floating meditation.”

“Floating meditation?”

“I guess they give us wine and we float on rafts in this cordoned-off part of the lake.”

“Like a lazy river? Did you do that in college? Grab a cooler of beer and an inner tube?”

Ours eyes met, and her face cracked into a smile. “A very expensive lazy river, I guess. Natalie requested we write about it. I guess it’s one of their selling points.” We shared a chuckle as the elevator doors closed.



* * *





I HAD A spacious room with a view of the lake from the balcony. The sky became a deep azure as the afternoon wore on. I lost the battle to be cool and turned to snap a selfie, angling the camera from above my head to catch my face surrounded by sunlight and nature. I looked pretty in the photo, not that it mattered.


Britta: I still don’t have a good adjective for how it smells, but isn’t this view amazing? Do you wish you were here?



I didn’t expect the bouncing dots of his reply so quickly.


Wes: More than you know.

Britta: Do you have fun plans for the weekend?

Britta: Hot date?



I hit send before my thumb wandered to the backspace key. He wasn’t responding, but I braced myself anyway. Worst-case scenario: He’s on his way to her place now with a bottle of wine, a box of condoms, and an engagement ring. Wes was my friend and my trainer, and kissing me didn’t seem to have meant anything. Maybe he did that with women all the time, and he could take wine, condoms, and rings to all kinds of other women. Still, I hoped he was at home in sweats, alone.


Wes: No date.

Wes: [audio file]



I hit play on the voice recording, and Wes’s voice filled my room.

“Pick up the pace.”

“Eyes forward.”

“You’re doing great.”

“One more mile.”

“I know you can do it.”

“Push.”

“I believe in you.”

I listened to it twice, my smile widening with each phrase, and pictured his expression when he was waiting for me to laugh at his joke.


Wes: So you won’t miss me barking at you on your run.



I listened to it one more time, shaking my head and dropping into the chair on my balcony. I scrolled to the latest comments on my Falling and Failing post. I’d been amazed at the initial response, and the comments kept coming.


@MaryJoMazing: Thank you for sharing this story. We do these things to ourselves, and for what? I’m so glad you came to your senses quickly, and I hope you’re healing.


@justhaley91: I read your story and didn’t realize I was crying. I’ve let so many men shape how I feel about myself and what I need to be. Making me think I’m not good enough. Thank you for telling us about your fall—and how you’re getting up. I’m trying to be like you, Britta!


@TheOriginalBL: I love how real you are. I feel like I know you and you get it.


@GrzzldJoeTC: I didn’t realize the damage I could be doing until I read the links you shared at the end of the post.



I wanted so badly to text Wes and tell him how good I felt, how much this meant to me, but it felt wrong now. I never thought I was someone who would so easily compromise ethics, but I never planned on Wes. My mind wandered to the events of the weekend before. Wes’s grin during Spades and the feel of his back against my face when he was telling me about his sister. His mom calling him Chris . . . My head snapped up, mind at attention. His mom called him Chris, and he said that Wes was his middle name. Her name was Shelly Lawson. I scrolled back through the notes I’d gathered when preparing for the start of Body FTW and found my research on the founders and CEOs of the company: Cord Matthews and Christopher Lawson.

Holy shit.



* * *





AFTER DINNER, CLAIRE and I met on the shore for the grown-up lazy river. My mind was still spinning at the revelation that Wes wasn’t just my coach—I’d made out with the CEO of the company I was reviewing. That was setting aside the fact that we’d been moments away from doing much more than making out. He’d been pressed against me, and the memory of his body, the heat and size of him, left a flush traveling up my neck. Knowing how his thick erection felt between my thighs was a lit match on the kindling of my already singed ethics. I balled my fists and tried to put it out of my mind. I had work to do, and thoughts like this were going to get in the way of everything I’d been working toward.

The attendant walked us through the safety information, letting us know a lifeguard was always there, and made sure we were comfortable in the water in the unlikely event we fell in. I’d imagined the rafts like those flat inflatable ones from childhood, but the guides welcomed us both toward the dock, where the rafts floated at the bottom of a small ladder, loaded with cushions and drink holders. “And would you prefer your rafts linked or separate?”

“Linked, please.” Claire surprised me with her answer.

I toyed with the hem of my cover-up before handing it to the young attendant, asking her to hang it up. I noticed the feel of the breeze on my chest and added some extra sway to my hips just for my own benefit.