"And I thought I was limber."

The sweet, awestruck voice brushed over Amila like a serene, refreshing wave. She began to smile before she peeled her fingertips away from her sock-covered feet, lifting her torso out of the stretch. Her muscles thanked her for the extended minutes of cooling down after the extensive Barre fitness class.

"It's not my first time doing barre," Amila informed with the quirk still lifting her lips as she gracefully rose off the mat, pulling in her abdominals as she stood with poise even though they were burning.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't miss that feeling. It was an exhilarating, motivational feeling. It meant she was strengthening her body, toning her muscles so she could hone her skill better, and execute them with precision. Unfortunately, she no longer needed those skills nor the precision of a former ballerina; it was still comforting to know her body was still strong.

"You've taken a barre class before." Renna Davis, a petite brown-skinned woman with locs pulled up in a top knot stood a couple of inches shorter than Amila but gave off a nurturing aura that made her feel comfortable in her presence. "I knew from the way you caught on fast you weren't a newbie."

"Oh, no." Amila shook her head. "I'm a newbie to this...as an exercise but I took ballet classes."

She knew it was an understatement of what she actually did and was but she felt uncomfortable flat out saying that she was a ballerina. Sometimes it felt elitist as she remembered the hundreds of dollars her parents spent on her lessons, dancewear, shoes, and the physiotherapist. She even noted the way they bragged about her being a ballerina to their starchy, posh friends even though they had rarely been to her performances; granted they were busy earning money and supplying the comfortable life she and her sister lived but they weren't bragging about her skill.

Sometimes she would say she was a dancer and most people assumed she was a stripper. And she most definitely wasn't a pole dancer; she didn't have the arm strength to hold her body up on a pole. She applauded their skill; it was straight-up athleticism. They deserved more respect and money.

"Well, I'm glad you joined us," Renna said, beaming as she clasped her hands together and held them close to her chest. "You get to meet some of our neighbors."

Amila nodded, taking an inquisitive glance around some of the women that still lingered after the class was over. Most of them didn't look like her or Renna but they seemed friendly and a few of them helped her gather the equipment that was needed before the class started.

"Usually, I'd direct new people to Miki in the front to sign them up for a membership," Renna said gesturing to the girl that looked like a younger version of her. "But since we live on the same street I'll forgo that and invite you to dinner."

"Dinner?!? Wow. Um." Amila's hand went to her chest as she smiled warily. She had reservations about going over to the houses of people she just met; what if their house was dirty, what if they couldn't cook, what if they weren't the same person they were when she first met them? There were a lot of what-ifs but since Renna seemed pleasant and they were neighbors she said, "Ok. Sure."

"Fantastic," Renna said as if she was actually happy. "Just give me your number and we can work out a time and I can work around a menu; do you have any dietary restrictions? Are you vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian..."

"I'm an omnivore," Amila interjected before she could continue. There had been that time when took dairy, meat, and carbs out of her diet but those days were long gone. She liked potatoes. Pasta was divine and bread and splendid. All things were good in moderation. "And I love all things spicy. I hope that helps."

"It does." Renna nodded, taking her phone out of the hidden pocket of her yoga pants.

While they were in the midst of exchanging numbers a chipper, brunette whirled over to them.

"You must be the new girl." The woman's bright eyes swept over Amila as if she was studying her for an examination.

"I'm not a girl." Amila shook her head feeling a slight shift in the energy around her. "I'm a grown woman."

"This is Victoria Yarrow," Renna informed, narrowing her eyes at the woman as if to scold her. "Victoria this is Amila."

"You can call me, Tori." She patted Amila on her hand before Amila could swipe her appendage away. "All the girls in the neighborhood call me Tori."

Amila nodded warily even though she knew she would be calling the woman by her government name if she had to ever be in her presence again.

"I always wondered who would be the person to take the modern Tudor off the market. We..." Victoria placed her hand on her chest while wiggling her ring finger so she could show off the chunky diamond ring and wedding band. "Richard and I looked at that one first but it was on the wrong side of the street from us. I like the sun to set on the same side of the kitchen."

Amila's eyes widened. "That's riveting information."

Renna let out a sigh. "I thought you were getting a smoothie..."

"How old are you?" Victoria interjected, keeping her eyes on Amila.

"That's none of your business." Amila let out a faint laugh as she squatted down and gathered her gym bag, shoes, and keys. "I'm not answering that."

"It's just that you look like you're in your early twenties and that house is over one point three mil." Victoria tilted her head in a questioning way. "Are you a trust fund baby...sugar baby?"

"That's enough." Renna swatted Victoria's arm and the woman finally snatched her eyes away from Amila. "Too far. I'm sorry, Amila."

"No. You don't have to apologize to her." Amila pleasantly said to Renna as she stood then she turned to Victoria. "If I was a vapid, basic unbalanced bitch I'd be rude to the pretty girls, too. But I'm not."

Victoria gasped, shock painting her simple features. Renna smirked and Amila winked at Tori before twisting on her heels and strutting out of the studio. She slid in her car feeling a little upset with herself for letting the woman and her words get to her. As she eased at the red light she let out a breath of frustration and as a song began to stream through the speakers she grinned remembering how good the stretch felt after being at the barre. Sure, it was a fitness class but her hand on that barre seemed so natural; almost like going back home.

The street light turned green and she fed the car some gas with a shake of her head trying not to entertain the thought of becoming reacquainted with a passion she abandoned. It was too early for that; wasn't it? 

Should Amila feel upset with herself for telling Victoria off?

What thought do you think Amila is trying to not entertain and do you think it's too early?