“Are you feeling bonded?” he mouths quietly, eyebrows up. Well, down. His face still looks perfect despite being upside down.
I stifle a smile. “My arse is feeling pretty bonded with yours right now.”
He bumps into me playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Speaking of, nice leggings, by the way,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “I didn’t choose them, they were the only ones they had in my size.” My face goes red owing to all the blood rushing to my upside-downedness, and not because of how the compliment swept through me like a gush of summer wind.
“Remind me to send Christoph a thank-you note,” he deadpans and I roll my eyes.
“Maybe send him a painting instead. You love to do that.”
“Time to switch into a new position. Please slowly bring your hands up like this until they are above your head and inhale in mountain pose,” says Crystal, demonstrating a wide sweeping motion with her arms.
We copy her, breaking our rigid grips on each other’s hands, swinging our arms up and turning to face each other. We’re standing close, but come on, it iscouples’yoga. This is fine, totally normal. This close I can make out the dark blue lines in his eyes, chasms of depth in a vast ocean exaggerated by his flushed face. His face is as red as mine feels but somehow he still looks good. We take deep breaths in unison, releasing them slowly.
“I reserve sending paintings to very special recipients.” His tone is a cold martini on a hot day.
“Stop it,” I plead. Our arms lower and I have nowhere to put them except my hips.
“What?” he says, mimicking my movement and stepping imperceptibly closer.
“It.” I look him up and down, leaning forward. “The trying-to-get-back-in-my-good-books Bancroft Charm thing.”
“There’s a ‘Bancroft Charm thing’?”
I raise my eyebrows in his direction, giving him a look that I hope says “don’t act like you don’t know.” He smirks, wetting his lips and confirming he does, in fact, know.
“Yeah, and I’m not gonna fall for it this time.”
His chin tilts, eyebrows furrowing in confusion for just a second before softening as he realizes to what I’m referring.
Shit. Why did I just say that?
“Not that I was thinking about when we—”
“Now we move into our penultimate pose.” Crystal’svoice bounces around us like an angel trying to save me from saying something stupid.
Bancroft lies on the mat, holding my legs in the air as I plank above him, gripping his calves for support. His firm but supportive hold on my ankles turns my blood molten.
“So,” he says with a grunt, pushing my legs higher, “in the spirit of ‘togetherness and honesty,’ on a scale of one to ten how much do you hate me right now?”
His question comes out in his usual blasé tone but in between the strands of hair falling over my eyes I see his throat bob as he asks. He’s not just talking about the fact that he is getting dangerously close to dropping me on my face.
Shifting my hands further up his legs for better purchase, I say, grunting, “Probably about as much as you hate me. Urgh—did you have to be so tall? This position doesn’t work.”
“Sorry.”
I sigh. “I forgive you.”
“For being tall?” He pushes and I can hear the smile on his lips.
“I forgive you for William and for Jeffrey but I can still be hurt by how you handled everything. I can be really fucking sorry about the Christmas party and also mortified. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
“True,” he says, straining to hold me in place as I re-adjust my grip.
“I get why you kept William’s profile from me...but you knew something important about my life that I didn’t.” My right arm shakes so I move again, trying to get a better purchase on his thigh to steady myself. “It was a huge violation of privacy.”
“Ummm, Grace?” His voice is strained, lips twisting inward.
