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Tiler rounded the corner of her street, expertly piloting her beast of a motorbike past the hole by the curb that caught almost every motorist who’d wandered into their dead end street, mind on “auto-pilot” as she subconsciously bemoaned the coming loss of that initial high of working her muscles to the bone in the gym over the past two hours. She ignored almost everything around her now, as she questioned her decision to cap her workout off with an intense couple of rounds of mixed-martial arts sparring — maybe to extend that “dope high” of pushing her body to its limits? Her reward for all that punishment was coming in a minute though, because all she’d be feeling would be a dull, all-consuming muscle ache down to her bones. “Can’t wait for that warm, languid soak in the custom-made Jacuzzi,” she muttered to herself.
Yeah, and while you soak, it’s time you made up your mind about her.
You’re grumbling because she turned down your invite for a night out tonight, right?
Yeah, and it was only because it was time I repaid her for that amazing night out.
The night after Jia had crashed into her, or, as Tiler preferred to remember it, after she’d rescued Jia from certain harm by plucking her from out of the sky as she fell, she and Jia had gone out to dinner in one of the swanky restaurants by Columbus Circle that overlooked that corner of Central Park by 59th street. They’d been taken aback by the breathtaking view, and it had been a head-spinning dining experience from beginning to end, overseen by a chef that even Tiler’s picky mom considered to be one of the best in America.
As they’d been seated, in a private corner table by the glass windows that overlooked Columbus Circle, Jia had explained that dining in the chef’s original outpost in Napa Valley, The French Laundry, had been the scene of some of the most memorable dining experiences of her life, especially the meals that she’d enjoyed with her family.
While one of the waitstaff silently poured them sparkling water, Tiler had darted a quick glance at her dining companion, who’d been perusing the menu that another waiter had handed them, feeling touched that Jia had picked Tiler to be her companion for her first dining experience in that chef’s New York spot. “Maybe this’ll be one of those memorable dining experiences, too. Who knows?” Tiler had blurted out as yet another wait staff poured the first of several wines they were about to enjoy.