The Love Equation

Chapter 3

"Once you're ready, let's meet in shavasana". I find my way to the mat, laying on my back with my hands outwardly splayed towards the back of the studio. It's Tuesday morning, and Morgan is wrapping up her 10am heated flow at one of my favorite workout studios, Chicago Sculpt. After yesterday's debacle at the Buzz, a sweat session was needed - there's nothing quite like downward dog to relieve the tension that's been building up in your spine.

"Two more full breaths in your shavasana, then roll up into a sitting position". We follow Morgan's instruction, meeting her upright. "Bring your hands to heart center and thank your body for all it's done for you today, Namaste".

Everyone in the room bends to meet her as we chant our "Namastes" and end our class. I roll up my mat, tucking it under my arm as I wave goodbye to my instructor, and head out the front door of the studio. I'm greeted by an overcast sky, and an onslaught of humidity, which means my walk home is only going to add to my sweaty workout. The yoga, combined with a solid nine hours of sleep last night has left me feeling my best in weeks. After I'd escaped the "fans" at the Buzz yesterday, I went on a long run - something I don't do often - and tried to relieve some frustration.

While it didn't get the job completely done, the run, combined with a 4:45am wakeup left me tired enough that I fell into a dreamless sleep as soon as I hit the pillow. I woke up this morning feeling refreshed, and admittedly, slightly less manic. Despite my best intentions, I can recognize now that my appearance at the Buzz yesterday was short sighted. I fell off the face of the planet after the Love Equation started airing, and I realize that I can't now just step back out into the world and expect no one to notice.

So for the foreseeable future, my role at the Buzz will be completely behind the scenes. No more helping out the front-of-house workers until people forget about that monstrosity of a show.

Once I'm home and showered, I shoot Celia a text. 'Planning to be in around 1 today. Will I see you?'

She's quick to respond. 'No, but you'll see Miles...'

I feel my heartbeat increase as my brain registers her text. Miles is at the buzz today. I'm not stupid, I knew I'd be seeing him soon, but I can't help but start to feel nervous. We haven't spoken in weeks and even though I haven't reached out to him, he's been avoiding me, acting as if he's the one with the problem.

While initially somewhat peeved that he'd submitted me for the show without asking, my anger lost its luster pretty quickly once I actually started preparing for the show. It was exciting - buying new outfits to fit the vibe of the villa, priming myself with a haircut, manipedi, and facial, and instagram stalking all of the other contestants that were announced on instagram. It wasn't until the show started airing that I felt the anger start to rise up again, and it was easier to blame Miles than myself. That being said, he hasn't once reached out to me to check in, to see how I'm doing. I think I'd be able to let this all go if he would just do that. But he hasn't, and now I'm dreading our inevitable run-in today.

To help calm the anxiety I feel starting to course through me, I distract myself by unnecessarily doing my hair and makeup. When that's done, and there's still twenty minutes before I have to leave for work, I continue the deep clean of my apartment, this time tackling the living room. I drag out each task, making sure each surface is spotless, and each item has a home.

By the time it's time to leave my apartment, I'm feeling more like myself. I pop in my airpods and throw on today's episode of the Toast while I walk to the Buzz. Unfortunately, the commute is over before I know it, and too quickly I'm unlocking the back door with sweaty palms.

The hallway connecting the back door, employee restroom, pastry kitchen, and front-of-house is blessedly empty when I pull open the door. I walk down to the end of the hallway and gaze out the window in the swinging door to the coffee bar. There's a line, albeit small, and Rodrigo is prepping Coffee while Alexa works the register. I take one last glance out the glass, trying to determine if there are any lingering customer's hoping to catch a glance of myself - doesn't seem like it - and pivot towards the office. No sooner do I open the office door than do I come face to face with Miles, who happens to be leading a young woman out of the office. He startles, masking the shock of seeing me here a second too late.