"Disgustingly sweet," Katie agrees, pulling her auburn hair into a messy bun. "Like a touch-starved octopus,"
"Leave her alone," I say, unable to hide my smile. "She's in love. It's cute."
"It's your fault," Amelia points at me accusingly. "You had to play matchmaker with those movie tickets. Now we've lost her to the dark side of relationship bliss."
"Next thing you know she'll be posting those 'my person' captions on Instagram," Katie adds with an exaggerated shudder. "With heart emojis. So many heart emojis."
The studio fills gradually, mats unfurling like colorful islands across the bamboo floor. The instructor, Jazmine, glides in with her usual serene presence, all long limbs and perfect posture.
Her voice carries through the room. "Let's settle in, everyone. Find your center, close your eyes."
The lights dim to a soft glow, and the heat kicks up a notch. I try to focus on my breath.
SLAM!
The door crashes open with enough force to rattle the zen right out of the room. My eyes fly open, and for a moment, I'm sure I'm hallucinating.
Because there, standing in the doorway, like some kind of sweaty fever dream, is Caleb. In basketball shorts, and a T-shirt that's seen better days. His hair is already damp at the temples like he ran here, and he's wearing the exact expression of someone who's realized they've made a terrible mistake.
Amelia chokes on her water. "No fucking way."
"Uh," Caleb's voice cracks slightly. "Is this the hot yoga class?"
Jazmine doesn't even blink. "You're in the right place. There's a spare mat up front."
Which is directly in front of me.
Lucky me.
Caleb's eyes meet mine as he makes his way forward, and that familiar dimpled grin spreads across his face. He looks ridiculous and adorable and completely out of place.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss.
He glances over his shoulder, all fake innocence. "Just craving a good stretch. Very into the mind-body connection lately."
"So you're saying this isn't about me leaving you on read?"
"Nope." His grin widens. "Here for the endorphins and sweat."
Someone behind us shushes loudly. I catch Katie and Zara exchanging looks that are going to turn into gossip later.
"Eyes forward, please," Jazmine calls out. "Let's begin with some gentle neck rolls."
What follows is an exercise in secondhand embarrassment. Caleb's Warrior II looks like he's trying to hail ataxi while having a leg cramp. His broad shoulders are working against him as he tries to twist into positions his body isn't used to.
"Find your center in Tadasana," Jazmine instructs, and I watch Caleb wobble in what should be a simple standing pose. His T-shirt is already soaked through, dark patches spreading across his chest and back.
He keeps sneaking glances at me between poses, and every time Jazmine catches him with her hawk-like vision, she calls out, "Eyes forward, please," with increasing exasperation.
"Does she have eyes in the back of her head?" he mutters, and I bite my lip to hold back a laugh.
By the time we hit our Sun Salutations, his curls are plastered to his forehead. The rest of us flow through our Chaturangas, while he does something that looks more like a full-body spasm.
Then comes Adho Mukha Svanasana—downward dog.
Jazmine moves through the room adjusting alignment. When she reaches Caleb, her hands guide his hips into proper position.
He yelps. "Whoa! Lady, at least buy me dinner first."
