Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Epilogue
Author bio:
Anyone but You is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental. | No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved. | Copyright © 2019 Chelsea M. Cameron | Editing by Laura Helseth | Cover by Alessandra Morgan and Chelsea M. Cameron
One
“Now, everyone relax into your savasana,” I said, turning the lights all the way down. Soft sighs filled the room and I braced myself for the noise. There it was, like clockwork. Every day at precisely four fifty-five, the music would start from downstairs and would continue for several hours. Bass thumping, unbearably loud. Not the best way to end a yoga class.
I clenched my teeth and tried to ignore the vibrations coming up from below. This was unbearable. Pacing the room, I saw a few people wince at an especially loud thump. I wasn’t going to be able ‘om’ my way out of this one.
With a final, “Namaste,” that you could barely hear over the sounds from downstairs, I ended class. Outwardly, I kept a serene smile on my face. Inwardly, I was screaming. I hung around to talk to a few of my students, especially the new ones who were still unsure if they could handle a heated yoga class. I reassured and gave suggestions and tried to ignore the noise by making jokes about it. Once everyone was gone and I’d cleaned the studio, I went back to my office to work on a few things, but my concentration was shot for today.
Two months ago, I’d been informed that my building, which I had been leasing for over a year and a half on the second floor, had been sold and the new owner was putting in a gym downstairs. Somehow, I’d made it through the construction, but that had just been the beginning.
Slamming my laptop shut, I decided to call it a day, for now. I didn’t have to teach again tonight, but I should stay at the studio and make sure everything was functioning smoothly. I’d been running myself ragged for two years to get this business off the ground and I wasn’t going to slow down anytime soon. I grabbed a coconut water from the fridge and angrily unscrewed the lid, dropping the whole thing on the floor in the process.
“Fuck,” I said, grabbing a towel to mop it up. As a rule, I didn’t curse in the studio, but I had been breaking more and more of my own rules lately. The bass from the speakers downstairs turned up, and I could feel it vibrating my bones and rattling my teeth.
“That’s it,” I said, throwing the coconut water in the trash. If I couldn’t control the fact that my inner peace had been violated, at least I could ask them to turn the fucking music down.
I took one cleansing breath before I walked down the stairs and pushed through the glass door to the new gym. It was a punch in the gut to look at what had formerly been an adorable coffee shop and co-working space that had been completely ripped open and laid bare. Thick spongy tiles that alternated black and purple covered the floor, with the walls painted a harsh white and gray that reminded me of a prison. Ropes and rings hung from the ceiling and weight plates were everywhere. The whole thing smelled like lemon and rubber.
Only one person stood in the room. All that noise for just one person. They had their back to me with a weight bar resting on their upper back, giant black weight plates on either end. Slowly, they squatted down and then pressed back up to standing.
I forgot about the music for a second while I watched their legs flex. The person only wore shorts and a sports bra, and their back glistened with sweat in the low light. This place was definitely in need of some more lighting. The dim corners added more to the prison vibe.
The person squatted again, making a little grunting noise as they stood up again. I should probably stop staring, or at least make my presence known. I definitely needed to stop staring at the person’s ass, even though it was a spectacular ass.
“Excuse me,” I said, but they couldn’t hear me over the music, so I stepped closer. “Excuse me!” I yelled, and the person slowly pivoted, weight bar still on their back. Dark hair, tan skin, piercing blue eyes. That was all I got, and I almost stumbled backwards. I’d never seen someone so intimidating in my life.
“You shouldn’t sneak up behind people when they’re lifting heavy things,” she said, popping the bar off her back and letting it slam onto the floor and bounce a few times. She walked over to the sound system and turned the music down. Blessed relief. I could finally hear myself think.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to get your attention. The music was a little loud.”
One dark eyebrow raised.
“Can I help you?” The irritation radiated off her in waves. What if I was a potential customer? Not a very good first impression for this gym.
“Yes, I own the studio upstairs,” I said, pointing upward, “and your music is too loud. It’s messing with my classes.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Is it,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Yes. The bass pounds through the floor and it’s distracting. It was hard enough with the construction, but I thought once that was over, things would go back to normal.” I’d never had issues with my downstairs neighbors before. They’d even given me free croissants every time I’d come in, and a few of their baristas had come to class. I wasn’t getting any free croissants now. Just dirty looks and layers of hostility.
“Look, I’m not asking a lot. Just turn it down. Or get some headphones. Are you planning to make it that loud when you open?” I hoped not.
She stepped over the bar and walked closer to me, but it was only to reach for a water bottle that sat on a bench beside where I stood. I took an involuntary step back.
“I’m planning to do whatever I want,” she said, taking a swig of water. “This is my gym.” I blinked at her. I was not anticipating any kind of resistance. Why was she being like this? If the situation were reversed, I’d be so embarrassed and would have been apologizing over and over. I would have been completely ashamed of letting my music intrude into someone else’s peace.
Not so much with her.
“Okayyyy,” I said, drawing the word out. “So, what do you expect me to do?” She shrugged and took another swig of water.
“Find another building?” Now I was getting pissed. This was ridiculous. Just turn the damn music down and be done with it.
I inhaled angrily through my nose.
“Can you just be a nice person and turn the music down. Please? I’m asking you, as your upstairs neighbor, and as a human being on this planet. Please.” I tried not to let too much begging enter my voice. I wasn’t going to grovel. I might look like a sweet-as-pie yogi, but if you pushed my buttons, be prepared for me to burn everything down.
She sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. As if I was asking for too much.
“I’ll do my best,” she said, and I guessed that was as good as it was going to get. She turned her back on me and started doing pull-ups on one of the bars to my right.
“Nice talking to you,” I said, before I turned on my heel and walked out. What an asshole. I hoped I never had to interact with her again.
“Wait,” a voice said, just as I was about to yank the door open.
“What?” I said, snapping and swiveling around.
“Who are you?” The question was
more of an accusation.
“I’m Sutton. I own Breathe Yoga, and that,” I said, pointing to the sound system, “is really harshing my mellow.”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips twitched.
“Harshing your mellow? Are you a time traveler from 1995?”
“No,” I said. “And who are you?”
“I’m Tuesday, and I’m your new landlord.”
Oh, shit.
“You bought the building?” She looked about my age, or maybe a little older. Who the hell was in their mid-twenties and had building-buying money? In Boston, no less. I didn’t need to be a real estate agent to know what the numbers might be on that.
“Yes, this is my building.”
“And your name is Tuesday?” I couldn’t have heard her right.
“Also true,” she said, her eyes narrowing once again as she glared at me. I wished I could take a step back, but my back was up against the door.
Her eyes dared me to make any comments about her name. I wouldn’t dare. I wasn’t that brave, and I valued my life too much. This girl could crush me without even breaking a sweat. Clearly, she used the gym as well as owning it. My eyes skipped along the acres of muscles on display and I knew I was staring too much, but I had to give her props; her body was impressive. From one fitness professional to another.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, after a tense silence. My gaze found its way back up to her eyes. They really were remarkable. And terrifying. This person could destroy my entire business if she wanted to. I had to tread lightly.
“No,” I said, sounding breathless. “Nothing.” I fumbled for the door handle and it took me a few seconds to realize that I had to pull instead of push. I thought I heard the sounds of a low laugh, but I probably imagined it as I scurried back upstairs and tried to remember how to breathe.
I didn’t get home until late that night because I stayed to take the last yoga class. My body and my brain needed an hour and fifteen minutes of not thinking about my newest predicament, worrying about the future, or thinking about how I was going to move the business forward. Having five hundred tabs open in my mind at all times came in handy, but it was also completely exhausting.
My two kitties, Mocha and Cappuccino, meowed at me as if they hadn’t seen me in five hundred years.
“Hello, babies,” I said, picking up Mocha and nuzzling the little fluffball.
“They’ve been horribly abused,” Zee, my roommate, said as they came out of the kitchen with a bag of chips.
“Hey, aren’t those mine?” I asked, and they just shrugged.
“I’ll replace them.” I sighed and picked up Cappy. There was nothing like cuddling kittens after an awful day.
“You’re home late,” Zee said, flopping down on the couch. We’d been roommates since college and we were so comfortable with one another, living with Zee was the next best thing to living alone.
“Yeah, long day.” I collapsed on the couch and motioned for them to hand me the bag of chips. I grabbed a handful and stuffed them in my face. I hadn’t had dinner yet and I was starving. Zee had already eaten much earlier, and I didn’t feel like heating up leftovers. I pulled out my phone and ordered a late-night pizza before looking at Zee again. Both kittens jumped into my lap and pawed at my shirt.
I thought about telling Zee about my encounter, but something made me say instead, “What about you? How was work?”
Zee worked at a queer youth center and did grant-writing work on the side.
“Good. Had this baby trans girl come in and she was so sweet. Didn’t say a word, but she grabbed a book and sat and read the whole thing. She was the last one in the reading room when I was leaving. I tried to talk to her, but she ran away before I could get any information. I hope she’ll come back.” Zee told me some more stories from the day and my pizza arrived. They’d finished the bag of chips, and their eyes lit up when the doorbell rang and I said I’d gotten pizza.
“Pepperoni?” they asked.
“Yup,” I said, as I walked up the stairs with the box.
“You’re sharing, right?” they said.
“Don’t I always?” I flipped open the box and they went right for a slice.
“Hold on, let me get some paper towels. And maybe a plate?”
“Plates are for losers,” Zee said through a mouthful. I dashed to the kitchen and got two plates and paper towels. By the time I got back, Zee was already shoving a second piece of pizza in their mouth.
“You gonna leave some for me?” I asked as I shoved a plate at them. They took it begrudgingly.
“Yeah, I was only going to eat two pieces.” Zee had never eaten just two pieces of pizza in their entire life. I would believe that when I saw it.
“You seem tense. What’s up?” Zee asked. In addition to eating all of my food, Zee was also too perceptive for their own good.
“Met my landlord today,” I said, staring at my first piece. Suddenly I wasn’t as ravenous as I’d been five minutes ago.
“Oh, do tell,” Zee said, going for another slice of pizza. Of course they could sense that there was something to tell.
“Well, I might have to find a new space for my studio. There was an encounter and I think I’m safe in saying that she’s kind of an asshole. Also, what twenty-something has enough money to lease an entire fucking building in Boston?”
Zee pointed at me with their pizza slice.
“Someone with rich parents. That’s probably it. You know, rich kids who have too much ennui because they’ve been handed everything ever. I guarantee it. Or, like, she won the lottery, but I doubt that. I bet she’s from money.” Ugh. Just what I needed.
“I’m sure it will be fine. Maybe she just had an off day? I’d just keep interactions to a minimum for a while. She might be a completely different person on another day. Maybe she was hangry. You know how I get when I need to eat.” Yes, I did. If Zee didn’t fuel themselves constantly, they got nasty. Normally they were the fluffiest sweetheart, but catch them when they were hungry? Run. Run away. Save yourself.
“I guess. I’m just worried she’s going to want to kick me out.” My brain liked to play out the worst possible scenario in excruciating detail. I could look forward to those thoughts at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep.
Why had I gone downstairs? Why couldn’t I just have let her play her crappy loud music?
On the other hand, why did she have to be so hostile? I wasn’t asking her to do anything outrageous.
Zee pressed their finger to the space right between my eyes.
“You need to stop that right now.” Of course they knew I was spiraling and making this one interaction into something worthy of a movie plot and an award-winning script.
“I know, I know,” I said, putting my plate down. Zee and I had demolished the medium pizza and now all I wanted was to go to bed and bask in my cheese coma with maybe a movie or a podcast and a book.
“Come here, my friend,” Zee said, holding their arms out. I fell into them. Zee had long arms, so they gave the best hugs. I let myself fall into their embrace and closed my eyes. Their short brown hair tickled my cheek. Hugging Zee was the same feeling I had during savasana after an intense yoga class. Peace. Complete and total serenity.
“Let me know if you need me to slice her with my wit, because if she’s a gym rat, I’m guessing she could probably kick my ass,” Zee said into my hair. I laughed as I released them from the hug.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I picked up the kitties and took them back to my bedroom. I needed to be covered in fluffballs right now. Ever since my cat, Mr. Fluffy, died at the ripe old age of eighteen, I’d been desperate for a new cat in my life. As a surprise one day, Zee asked me to meet them at the local shelter because they were overrun with kittens, and told me to pick one since they were sick of seeing me so sad. I came home with two kittens and was close to taking a third, but Zee put their foot down about that. I still had plans to sneak back and maybe smuggle a third kitten home when the
y were at work.
The kitties cried until I made a little nest of blankets on the bed for them and then they curled into little rolls and went right to sleep. I tried not to cry at how cute they were.
None of my podcasts were grabbing me, so I put on an Audrey Hepburn movie I’d seen a thousand times and scrolled through my phone for a new book. I’d finished one last night and it was the last in a series, so I wanted to start something new.
There was a brand-new release that I’d forgotten I preordered, and I made a little squealing noise when I saw that it was in my library. And then I checked to make sure I hadn’t woken the babies. Nope, they were still twitching in their sleep.
Giddy, I started reading, but five minutes in, I realized I desperately needed some tea, so I gingerly removed myself from the bed without waking the kittens and tiptoed to the kitchen as quietly as I could. Zee was already in their room and I could see the glow of the television from under their door.
I grabbed some lemon ginger and popped it in my cup after I’d microwaved the water.
My mind had been drifting, thinking about my new book and how much I loved my kitties, and how I needed to cut my hair, or get some more blonde highlights in it. Nothing in particular. And then a pair of intense blue eyes blocked everything out. I forgot what I was doing for a moment.
Tea. Bed. Book.
I went back to my room and tried to shake the image.
Tuesday. Tuesday with the chiseled arms and hardcore eyes and hostility, who owned my building and could make my life a living hell and who had the greatest ass I’d ever seen on a person.
I was in so far over my head.
Two
The gym was dark when I walked by it on the way up to the studio the next morning. What a relief. Still, I saw a sign on the door that said OPENING SOON and that made me worry. The only person (probably) working out there now was Tuesday, so what was going to happen when there was a whole gym full of Tuesdays? I didn’t even want to think about it.
Instead, I cleaned the studio and tried to meditate for a little while. It . . . did not happen. Sometimes brains were assholes and didn’t want to do what we told them to. Especially when you had ADHD, like me. I tried for twenty minutes and then gave up, but it was fine because my first class was starting. I only had two instructors (other than me), so I ended up teaching most of the classes in a week, and on the weekends. It almost made me want to go back in time and slap some sense into myself when I’d thought, sure, I can totally own and operate my own yoga studio in Boston. No big deal. I’ve got this!
Anyone but You Page 1
