“I’m sure your life has moved on,” she says graciously.

I’m grateful she said that—it makes me feel more confident that’s true.

“I just recently moved back from six years in LA,” I say, as if to prove that I’m not still the girl who grew up in Greenwood.

“I mean, I’m not the person I was a few years back, either,” she says. “I went to UMass for psych, but then I got pretty into yoga there, and that led to me getting my yoga teacher’s training certificate, and here we are. Just couldn’t stay away from this ex-ci-ting town.”

Her tone makes it clear she’s kidding.

“I teach at Mind & Body Yoga,” she explains, naming the yoga studio not far from Greenwood High. “Since I practiced there so often during summer breaks home from college, I couldn’t say no when they offered me a job. I gotta say, I’m jealous that you moved away. I wish I could’ve done something cool like that.”

“I mean, it’s kinda like you said, one thing turns into another, right? And then you wind up in a place you never thought you’d be? After my gymnastics career ended, I moved to LA for school, then stayed because of my boyfriend at the time,” I say, glossing over the manic years of partying. I’m not sure if she’d approve. “And then when that relationship ended, I didn’t have much keeping me there. So I moved back, and luckily, a coaching job opened up at Summit.”

“Okay, wait a sec,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially, even though we are the only people around. “Your boyfriend. You dated that football player, right?”

As soon as she mentions Tyler, it hits me that I haven’t dwelled on him in a week. I feel a little proud of myself for beginning to move on.

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” I say, trying to downplay it.

I turn toward the closet and hang up my parka so I don’t have to face her.

“That sounds totally major,” she says. “What was that like?”

Her tone sounds hungry for gossip, but I’m not in the mood to give it. I get why some people might be starstruck by the prospect of dating a pro football player, but having actually done it, the sheen is lost on me.

“Uh, lots of muscles, lots of sweat,” I say quickly. “But underneath all that, just the same old, same old.”

“Huh,” she says, chewing that over.

“We just grew apart,” I explain slowly, testing out her reaction. “We both changed. We wanted different things.”

She dramatically closes her eyes and places her hands together in prayer. “Preach, girl.”

I laugh.