6. Vada
VADA
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. This feels too domestic—shared mornings, synchronized schedules. The comfort we used to have.
"Focus, Vada." I roll out of the comfortable bed. "You're here for Jared's wedding, not to get nostalgic about college boyfriend mornings."
Activities designed for couples. I'll be paired with my college ex while everyone documents us for social media. What could go wrong?
I choose workout clothes that are flattering but not trying-too-hard—black leggings and a sports bra with a flowy tank top that photographs well in natural lighting. If I'm going to be in Erika's content today, I might as well look good.
My phone buzzes with a text from Maya: "How's paradise? "
I type back: "Paradise is complicated. Will call you later with full debrief."
"Uh oh. Scale of 1-10, how complicated?"
I stare at my phone, trying to figure out how to explain that my college boyfriend is here and we're staying in adjoining rooms and last night he looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle he'd forgotten how to complete.
"Solid 7. Maybe 8."
"VADA. Call me as soon as you can."
I pocket my phone and grab my yoga mat, taking a deep breath before stepping into the hallway. The resort is stunning in the early morning light—golden sunshine streams through the windows. The ocean view from the elevator makes me want to photograph everything.
The breakfast setup on the Sunset Terrace is gorgeous, with elegant buffet stations and seating arranged for optimal social media content. Erika is there with her phone on a small tripod, creating what's going to be a livestreamed getting-ready-for-yoga segment.
"Vada! Perfect timing!" she calls out, waving me over with the enthusiasm of someone who's been awake for hours. "Come say hi to everyone—we're going live with breakfast prep before yoga."
I paste on my brightest smile and approach, where several other gorgeous wedding guests are gathered around the buffet stations. Everyone looks like they stepped out of a lifestyle magazine at 6 AM.
"Good morning, beautiful people!" Erika says to her camera with the kind of energy that shouldn't be possible before sunrise. "We're starting day one of celebration week with sunrise couples yoga on the beach, and I wanted you to meet some of our incredible guests."
She pulls me into the frame with practiced ease. "This is my friend Vada, who's an amazing event coordinator and the sweetest person ever. Vada, say hi to everyone!"
"Hi everyone!" I say to the camera, falling easily into the familiar rhythm of social media content. "I'm so excited to be here celebrating Jared and Erika's love story. This resort is absolutely incredible."
"And Vada has the most amazing surprise connection to our celebration," Erika continues with obvious delight. "She went to college with Emory—you know, my travel blogger friend? They dated for two years!"
My smile feels slightly strained as the other guests turn to look at me with obvious interest. Being introduced as someone's ex-girlfriend on livestream wasn't exactly how I planned to start my morning.
"Small world," I say diplomatically.
"Isn't it incredible?" Erika gushes. "College sweethearts reunited at their exes' wedding in paradise! It's like the universe has a sense of humor."
"Or a twisted sense of irony," I mutter under my breath, but keep smiling for the camera.
"VADA!"
Derek's voice booms across the terrace with the subtle announcing power of a carnival barker. He approaches our little group with a plate loaded with tropical fruit and what appears to be his third cup of coffee.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Derek announces to Erika's livestream like he's hosting his own show, "the famous Vada King! Did you all know that Vada and Erika both dated Emory Wise?!?”
The livestream comments start going crazy—I can see hearts and fire emojis flooding across Erika's screen as her followers react to Derek's oversharing in real time.
"Derek, maybe we should—" I start, but he's already in full storytelling mode.
The silence that follows is the kind that makes you hyper-aware of background noise—waves crashing, birds chirping, and the sound of Erika's followers absolutely losing their minds in the comments.
"That's... a lot of information for breakfast time," I say with a laugh that comes out more strained than I intended.
"Sorry, sorry," Derek says, though he's clearly not sorry at all. "I'm just excited about this whole romantic full-circle situation. It's like a movie!"
"Speaking of movies," a smooth voice says behind me, and I turn to see Emory approaching our group with a travel mug and the kind of easy smile that used to make our professors forget what they were lecturing about.
He looks incredible in shorts and a fitted tank top that shows off chiseled muscles that come from an active outdoor lifestyle. His dark curls are still slightly messy from sleep, and those warm brown eyes catch mine with a moment of shared amusement about Derek's broadcasting habits.
"Morning, everyone," Emory says, joining our circle with the natural confidence of someone comfortable on camera. "Ready for some sunrise yoga?"
"Emory!" Erika immediately pulls him into the livestream frame next to me, and suddenly we're standing close enough that I can smell him and that brings back way too many memories.
"Say hi to everyone," Erika instructs, clearly delighted by the content possibilities of having us together on camera.
"Good morning, Erika's amazing followers," Emory says with practiced charm. "Thanks for letting us crash your celebration week. This place is stunning”
"And you two know each other!" Erika continues with obvious excitement. "College sweethearts who haven't seen each other in eight years, reunited in paradise!"
Emory and I exchange a look that I'm sure communicates our mutual awareness that we're being turned into a social media narrative whether we want to be or not.
"It's been a fun surprise," Emory says diplomatically.
"Fun is one word for it," I agree, which makes him smile in a way that's going to get analyzed in Erika's comments section.
"This is going to be the best content," Erika says, ending the livestream with satisfaction. "You guys are going to be perfect partners for yoga."
The yoga instructor turns out to be a gorgeous woman named Serenity (of course) who has the kind of zen energy that makes you want to buy whatever wellness products she's endorsing. She's set up an elegant studio space right on the beach, with mats arranged in romantic pairs facing the sunrise.
"Welcome, beautiful souls," Serenity says in a voice like honey and meditation apps. "Today we're going to explore our partners, using our connections with each other to deepen our practice and open our hearts to love."
I glance at Emory, who's looking at our assigned mats with the same expression I'm probably wearing, mild panic mixed with resignation.
"Partner yoga is all about trust," Serenity continues, apparently oblivious to the fact that half her class consists of people who aren't actually romantically involved. "We'll be supporting each other physically and emotionally, creating sacred space for vulnerability and connection."
Derek, who's been paired with Jared's cousin Marcus (both single groomsmen), raises his hand enthusiastically. "What if your partner keeps talking during the meditation parts?"
"We embrace all forms of expression," Serenity says with unlimited patience. "Though mindful silence often allows for deeper connection."
The other couples settle onto their mats with the easy intimacy of people who actually touch each other on a regular basis. Jared and Erika look like they're about to pose for the cover of a wellness magazine, all coordinated workout gear and natural chemistry.
Emory and I approach our mats with significantly more caution.
"So," he says quietly as we settle into cross-legged positions facing each other, "this should be interesting."
"Define interesting," I whisper back, acutely aware that we're being photographed by Erika's professional photographer.
"We begin with eye contact meditation," Serenity announces. "Look into your partner's eyes and breathe together. Allow yourself to be seen."
This is a terrible idea. Looking into Emory's eyes for extended periods was dangerous enough in college when we were actually dating. Doing it now, when we're supposed to be "just friends" dealing with our bizarre situation maturely, feels like emotional Russian roulette.
But everyone else is settling into the exercise, and backing out now would create exactly the kind of drama we're trying to avoid. So I look into Emory's warm brown eyes and try to breathe normally while my heart rate spikes like I'm running uphill.
His eyes are exactly the same as they were in college—expressive, intelligent, with those little gold flecks that become more obvious in natural light. But there's something different too. More depth, more confidence, the kind of self-awareness that comes from years of life experience.
"Breathe together," Serenity's voice floats over us. "Match your partner's rhythm. Feel the connection between your energies."
Without meaning to, I find myself syncing my breathing to Emory's slower, deeper rhythm. It's automatic, the same way we used to naturally match each other's pace when walking across campus or fall into synchronized sleep patterns when we lived together.
"Very good," Serenity says, and I realize she's talking about us. "Beautiful connection. You can feel the trust and familiarity between these two."
Heat rises in my cheeks as I realize other people are watching us, probably noting how easily we slip into intimacy despite claiming to be casual friends.
"Now we move into supported poses," Serenity continues. "Partners will sit back-to-back, supporting each other's spines. Feel how you can be strong individually while also leaning on your partner's strength."