She takes her position under the high bar. Ryan grabs her by her waist, and she jumps; he helps her reach the bar. She does a move called a kip to swing up so the wooden equipment is flush against her hips, then screws up her face in a look of pure concentration before launching into a handstand, giant, and finally, a Tkatchev followed swiftly by a Pak Salto. Her compact body flings over one bar, then between the two, and it’s magnificent. Once the final move is complete, her knees bend, and her shoulders sag into a relaxed swing. She knows she’s nailed it. She drops down and jogs over to my spot on the mat to watch the playback.

“I look pretty good, right?” she muses.

“You do,” I admit. “I’ll text this to you.”

“Thanks!” she says. “Okay, now I can head out. I just wanted to nail it once.”

She strips off her grips and heads across the gym to pack up for the night. Ryan jumps up to the high bar himself, swings back and forth, and drops back down to the mat.

“You leaving, too?” he asks.

I shrug. “I mean, I guess? My new roommate, Sara, invited me to another yoga class tonight, but I told her practice might run late.”

“We never run late,” he points out.

“Yoga seems boring. But I can’t tell her that,” I say.

He laughs. “Gotcha.”

Ryan meanders around the bars and leans against one of the silver poles holding up the apparatus.

“So, if you’re not doing anything, then, would you want to get dinner?” he asks. He clears his throat and hastily adds, “As friends.”

If only he knew how I regret saying that I only wanted friendship.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” I say. “It’ll be cool to catch up outside the gym again.”

“Yeah? Awesome. Maybe a bite at Stonehearth Pizza?”

I know the place. Wood-fired pizza with surprisingly healthy toppings, which is a plus, but brightly lit and full of kids—less than ideal.

“I was actually planning to cook tonight. I could make us dinner?”

Too late, I realize that inviting Ryan over might feel too intimate.

“You love to cook, I love to eat,” he says, like the decision has been made.

Maybe I’m overthinking it.

“Perfect.”

“Cool, I’m just gonna go grab my coat from the office, then,” he says.