Chapter 1 #2
I raise my arms. “Welcome to CycleLove! I’m Quinn Ray, and I’m so excited to be here this morning.
I don’t know what the weather is like where you are.
It’s surprisingly cloudy today in Los Angeles.
But it doesn’t matter, because for the next forty-five minutes, we’re going to create our own sunshine right here on the bike. ”
The first forty-two minutes are great. My playlist works, my stories and jokes and motivational words flow. Without in-studio riders, I can only gauge my performance by how it feels, and this ride feels good.
I exhale as we near the end of the final climb. “All you have to do to get through this moment, and any difficult moment, is breathe and keep going.”
I scroll through the leaderboard to choose a few people for shout-outs. It’s then that I see the hashtags below someone’s name: #welovequinn #raysofsunshine.
My fingers tense on the handlebars. I keep scrolling and see the hashtags again and again. They planned this, my regular riders. It’s a show of solidarity, a message telling me they support me. That they think Caleb is wrong.
“Breathe and keep going,” I repeat. “It’s what you’ve always done.”
The thing is, I’m not sure my ride-or-die crew is right.
Four weeks ago, I was heating up homemade lentil soup on Caleb’s stove when he told me he wanted to break up.
I dropped the ladle and broth splattered on the backsplash. “What?” Two weeks prior, he’d painted my name across his forehead to cheer me on while I ran a half marathon.
He was in love with Paige, he told me. He hadn’t really been visiting his parents in Orange County all weekend. He’d been with her, and he’d be going back to her after I left. “I don’t know how it got to this point.” He shook his head. “But it did.”
“You cheated ?” I asked, still a few steps behind.
He had the audacity to look offended. “In my mind, we broke up on Friday.”
“And these feelings you have for Paige magically appeared that day? That’s convenient.”
His eyes went wide. I squeezed the edge of the countertop. In almost two years of dating, we’d never had a fight. “No, I mean—it’s hard to say. You and I have been going through the motions for a while. Remember what it was like in the beginning?”
My chest throbbed. On our first date, in a private dining room at a restaurant owned by one of Caleb’s friends, he’d told me he was going to fall in love with me. So certain, so open about it. After everything that had happened with Nate, it was exactly what I needed.
“I thought we were comfortable,” I sputtered. “We’re good together.”
“There were good things about this relationship. We’re both driven, we’re both focused on growing our brands.
But there has to be more. I mean, are you really content with this ?
” He motioned at the space between us, and I felt small.
I’d thought I’d done everything right this time, but it was happening again: Me, completely misjudging reality.
Me, not being enough. “It’s nothing you did,” he added, like he was reading my mind. “It’s just us.”
Did we, like, yearn for each other when we were apart?
Did we rush to confide in each other first when something big happened?
I guess not. Had we braided our lives together, becoming one unit with two hearts or whatever?
That’s not a real thing. But we got along, we cared about the same things, we supported each other’s goals. I thought that was healthy.
Blood rushed through my veins like river rapids, my chest pounding.
I tried to reason the pain away. This wasn’t the worst thing, I told myself.
He was an untrustworthy shithead, and I was lucky to be rid of him.
I wouldn’t have to care that Michelle hated him anymore.
Everyone at work would be impressed with how gracious I’d be about it.
I can handle anything, including this, I told myself, willing it to be true.
“Are you okay?” Caleb asked.
Fuck you, I thought. “I’m fine,” I said, and walked out the door.
The video popped up four weeks later. Some people are saying Caleb’s words were an attempt to alleviate Paige’s insecurities about the shady way their relationship began. But when I heard them leave Caleb’s mouth— she’s a cold, empty person —I realized they were true.
Caleb was in love with the idea of being half of a power couple.
And I liked that too. The difference is, he realized it wasn’t enough.
I was okay with a relationship that lacked depth because it benefited me in other ways, just like I was okay ditching my best friend, Bailey, for my career and leaving my parents behind. And I don’t know how I became this way.
“Breathe and keep going,” I say again as the cool-down song starts. “It’s what you’ll always do.”
This ride is ’90s R&B–themed. In retrospect, I should have reconsidered the playlist, because the lovely voices of Brandy and Monica crooning “The Boy Is Mine” hit like knives in my gut.
Why are these two women letting this guy consume all their attention and energy?
Why are their relationships with him dictating their happiness?
That red mist I breathed out before the ride fills me back up again like a cloud of poison.
I open my mouth before I know what’s going to come out.
“You know what? I have something else to say. A bunch of people took this class today just to see if I could hold it together. You wanted to know if I’d be a heartbroken mess or if I really am a heartless robot.
And I hope that all of you had a great ride, I really do.
But let me tell you something: I am so much more than my love life.
It’s probably the least interesting thing about me, just like I suspect there’s a lot more to you than the person you may or may not be romantically involved with, and I’m tired of people acting otherwise.
Guess what? The highlight reel of my life wouldn’t contain a single picture of me with someone I dated.
And it’s still pretty fucking spectacular. ”
When the ride ends, the studio is silent. I take my time clipping out and pat my face with a towel, trying to buy some time to figure out how to salvage this before—
“Quinn.” Tracy steps toward me, her hands raised, and for a second I believe, desperately and delusionally, that she’s going to hug me. Instead, she cocks her head and gives me an owlish look. “What happened?”
“I’m not…” I lick my dry lips.
“That wasn’t you,” she says, and it crushes me.
All I wanted was to give her confidence that she could count on me to perform in big moments, and I’ve done the opposite. “It was authentic,” I try, even though the memory of what I said is already an adrenaline-muddled blur. “People like that, right?”
“You give people optimism, levity, an escape. Not rage.”
I know where this is going. If people want catharsis, they can do a heavy emotional ride with Amani.
If they want to cry tears of suffering, they can subject themselves to a punishing set of intervals with Diego.
If they want a light, positive experience and a moderate difficulty level, they choose me.
She’s right, of course. Our riders pick classes based on what they need. Since the strategic changes took effect, Tracy’s been emphasizing that we need to “deepen” our “niches” more than ever.
My niche does not include having a mini breakdown on camera. But sometimes the pressure to be a happy-go-lucky cheerleader day in and day out is a lot. And today, when I knew everyone was wondering if I’d be able to pull it off, I cracked.
“I’m so sorry. The past twelve hours have been a challenge.
What I did at the end won’t happen again.
” My voice is all desperation. Tracy took a chance on me when I was a software sales rep in Philly teaching spin classes before and after work three days a week.
She transformed my life on multiple levels.
I owe her everything, and I may have just fucked it all up.
Plus, if I lose this job—the best job I’ll ever get—I’ll never dig myself out of the hole I’m in. It’s not like I have a backup plan. Lucrative fitness instructor gigs are rare, and going back to sales would mean starting from scratch.
“Between you and me, I know he’s an idiot,” she says, her mouth a disapproving pucker as she shakes her head. “But you went after our subscribers. And it’s not good for the brand to have two of our instructors pitted against each other. Team Quinn, Team Caleb, we don’t want that.”
I wince. “No, of course not.” Although I would like to see Caleb banished to teach boot camp classes on a cruise ship. In the Arctic Ocean, ideally.
“Look. Since Caleb is leaving tomorrow for his Haleakalā trip, why don’t you take time off too? It’ll be a challenge, but we can rework the schedule. You take a vacation. Three weeks, let’s say. Give yourself an opportunity to process everything, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
A vacation ? The idea of a break is tempting, and not just because of Caleb.
For the last few months, I’ve been dragging.
Normally when a ride starts, I get a rush of energy that has me bouncing out of my bike seat, but lately I’ve felt…
flat. I’ve had to psych myself up to get going, and I’m not sure why.
I got bloodwork done and switched my multivitamin.
Late one night in a fit of desperation I even bought a long, pointy crystal, which I’m now using to hold my hair ties.
If I took a vacation, I could rest and refocus.
Hell, with three whole weeks off, I could go to Seapoint for Bailey’s birthday party.
It’s been a couple years since I last visited the Jersey Shore, and I already told her I can’t make it—like last year and the year before.
But imagine if I could ? It might just save our withering friendship.
I’d have to see Nate, though. He’s surely going home for the party.
Doesn’t matter. It’s a ludicrous idea. If I leave for three weeks, Tracy may realize I’m dispensable. Walking away from the mess I’ve made is too big of a risk. “I’d rather push through it,” I say. “Don’t worry about me.”
She sighs. “Please, Quinn. Of course I’m going to worry. I feel responsible for all of you, and your well-being is my priority. But honestly, it’s what’s best for the brand too. By the time you come back, people will have forgotten about the personal drama.”
Ah. So it’s not just for my benefit. Well, she has a point, and I need to do whatever it takes to keep her happy. “Sure,” I say meekly. “Whatever you think. Thank you.”
“Try to relax.” She brings her phone to her ear and steps away. “Get some clarity.”
Clarity. Ha. When was the last time I felt clarity?
Maybe that week I spent driving out here when I got this job, a little over two years ago.
I was about to start any spin instructor’s dream gig.
I was going to live in an amazing city. Nate was the only person I knew here, and I was finally going to have a chance with him.
I knew what I wanted and was taking the steps to achieve it.
That drive, the endless horizon in front of me, the feeling like I was moving forward. I felt like me.
I miss that.
A hand wraps around my wrist, startling me.
It’s attached to an arm tattooed with a full sleeve of foliage.
Michelle. The tension in my shoulders eases, but at the same time, the sight of a friendly face sucks all the adrenaline out of me.
I’m not sure if I want to lie in the fetal position or burst into tears.
“I grabbed your bag,” she says in a low voice. “Let’s get you out of here. We’ll talk at home.”
I nod wordlessly, and she steers me to the exit. Before I follow her out the door, I turn back to glance at the studio. Just in case it’s my last time here.