“Becker.”
I sigh and give up a little. Yes, sooner or later even I get tired of being a complete idiot. “I promise to try.”
“No, just promise.”
“I usually only promise when I’m totally sure.”
She spins around abruptly, our faces just inches apart.
Her cheeks are pink, her lips slightly parted.
She’s looking at me in a strange way; I can't decipher it.
“One more inch,” I whisper, “and it would technically be an accidental touch.”
“Accidental like your insolence?”
“Exactly like that.”
She turns away, determined to ignore me.
I follow her with my eyes.
The fluid movements, the curve of her back, the way her hair sways slightly.
It’s all so… perfect. And so forbidden.
“Becker, if you keep staring at me, I will make you do the crow pose until you pass out.”
“I like birds.”
Her laugh surrenders, escapes.
It’s sweet, genuine, almost intimate. It sounds so… beautiful, musical.
“I can’t believe you actually said that,” she finally says, with a tired but softer sigh.
She looks at me, her eyes betraying a thousand things she will never say.
“Listen,” she adds, pushing a rebellious lock of hair from her forehead, “yoga is meant to free the mind, not make it race towards… inappropriate thoughts.”
“I am freeing it. From all the clothes you’re wearing, for example.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t mean to say that out loud… or maybe I did, her reaction is too entertaining.
Her mouth drops open, and she remains speechless for about three seconds. Then her voice rises almost shrilly. “Becker!”
“What? I’m just participating in the experience.” I burst out laughing; I can't hold it back.
And I have to admit that it's not just provoking her that I find fun right now.
I mean… I know she’s completely irritated with me and that she can’t wait, surely, to be rid of this assignment, but she seems like a strong person.
She’s stubborn, obsessively precise, works herself to exhaustion, but she’s also funny.
I don’t remember having this much fun lately.
“You have your own concept of mindfulness.”
