I glance at my buddies for backup, but they are absolutely no help. This was supposed to be relaxing. I was supposed to be ogling her ti—
“This is only a forty-minute class—hurry it along.” She stands back waiting; now the entire dock is watching me like I’m about to perform solo in the Super Bowl.
“Are you always this bossy?”
“Yes.” She chuckles. “Quit stalling.”
“Fine,” I grumble, straightening up and shaking out my arms like a boxer stepping into the ring. “Watch and learn, people.”
I hinge forward, lifting my arms out in front of me. I’m sure I look elegant—graceful, even.Like a damn swan.Lift my back leg carefully, feeling the dock creak beneath me. The wood feels suspiciously wobbly all of a sudden, but I focus.
This is warrior three.
I am the warrior!
Until my front foot starts shaking, the weight pulling at my hamstring, and my arms are stretched so far they might dislocate. My back leg wobbles dangerously, and I’m basically a human seesaw.
“Would you like some help?” Instead of waiting for my reply, she gently nudges my back arm upward. “Your arms need to be in line. Not drooping like you’re holding up bags of concrete.”
“Is that what it looks like?” I glance over at Elijah for an answer.
Quinton—who is also on the dock but not doing yoga—has his phone out, angling it like he’s preparing to film my impending disaster. Traitor.
Lucy ignores the other guys, shifting her focus to my front knee. “That’s okay, you’re here to learn. Try to center your weight.” She presses a hand lightly to my back to adjust my posture, and I freeze.
I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“You got this,” Lucy says, but there’s laughter in her voice now.
I don’t.I absolutely do not got this.
My back foot swerves, throwing my whole center of gravity off, and in slow motion—like a movie car crash—I flail. “Whoa, whoa—”
It’s no use. My arms windmill, my mat skids out from under me, and I stumble sideways with all the grace of a drunk giraffe. I try to recover, feet scrambling against the dock, but physics has other plans.
Splash!
I can’t see the bottom, and the water is so fucking cold. Bone-chilling, breath-stealing cold.
For a second, all I hear is the dull roar of the lake in my ears as I sink beneath the surface. When I come up for air, gasping, all hell has broken loose on the dock. Elijah is doubled over, absolutely losing his shit.
Miles and Quinton are laughing so hard they look like they’re crapping themselves, and—of course—they have their phones out, recording the moment for posterity.
I glare up at them, water streaming down my face.
“Did you take my picture, you asshole?” I sputter, lake water dripping from my hair and onto my face. “Delete those.”
“Make me,” Miles chokes out between laughs.
Lucy’s at the front of the dock, hands on her hips, staring down in the water at me with wide eyes.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think y’all knew each other already.” She laughs, trying to sound concerned, but doing a miserable job at it. “But are you okay? Did you hit the dock on your way in?”
“I’m peachy,” I deadpan. “So refreshing. Highly recommend.”
I needed that, actually.
“Glad to hear it,” she says, her voice light and teasing as she steps to the edge of the dock. Her ponytail catches the breeze as she crouches down, her face coming into view above me. “Do you need a hand?”
