“You’re earning a kick.”
“A promising start to a love story.”
She sighs, exasperated. “It’s not a love story; it’s a yoga lesson.”
“Have you never heard of multitasking?”
She turns towards me, hands on her hips.
The light filters through the window and illuminates her skin.
She seems designed to make you lose concentration.
“What is the problem, Becker?” Hands on her hips, eyebrow raised, the look of a woman contemplating murder.
Honestly? The problem is you, Sloane Heart, and that damned ass in plum-colored leggings.
“I just have an instructor with sadistic tendencies.” The voice slides out lightly, like a provocation that doesn’t demand a reply.
“I suggest you stop making my life impossible, or you’ll truly test just how sadistic my tendencies can become.” Her answer arrives slow and particularly deliberate.
I just want to grab the lower lip that's trembling a little from anger, nibble on it and suck it…
Instead, I answer in a light tone. “I love it when you talk to me like that.”
She crosses her arms, her jaw tightens. She looks at me as if she’s taking inventory of all the qualities she hates about me. Then she decides to ignore me and signals me to proceed with the lesson.
I mimic her and lie down on the mat, hands behind my head. “You should relax, Angel. Yoga is supposed to calm the soul.”
A shadow passes over her eyes, like:“I’m going to kill you with a smile today.”But she decides to ignore me again.
“Inhale,” she says. “And… exhale.”
Exactly seven different ways I could ruin her composure come to mind, and none of them are legal in a fitness center.
“Should I be doing that too?”
“If you want to stay alive, yes.”
I smile. “I like it when you worry about me.”
“Cohen.” Her voice growls with irritation.
“Sloane.” I, on the other hand, am very Zen. I’m starting to like this side of yoga.
Our voices clash, warm, too close.
I hear her hold her breath, and I know it’s not for concentration.
She stops.
She moves away slightly.
Then, against all logic, she moves closer than before and gets back to work.
“Alright,” she finally says, coughing to mask a smile, or a scream… I’m not entirely sure. “Let’s try a couple of balancing poses. You stand behind me, imitate my movements. But don’t touch me.”
“You’re asking the impossible.”
