She clears her throat gently. “With all that chat about classes, I hoped we’d be sitting cross-legged, omming our way to enlightenment—or engaging in a high-stakes staring contest.”
“I’d pay to see that,” I chuckle, enjoying the lightness between us. “But tonight’s agenda is a bit more ... interactive.”
Her eyes widen just a touch, curiosity sparkling there. “Interactive?”
“Yeah, trust me, it’ll be fun,” I say, leading her inside, my brain scrambling for solutions before she decides her outfit won’t work.
The gym is quiet in the current evening lull and her class at the back is a tranquil space that will seem like worlds away from the clanking of weights and the hum of treadmills.
Curiosity dances across her features. “And what is it we’re doing?”
“Yoga,” I say, hoping she’ll be game. “It helps a ton with the muscle soreness and flexibility. There’s also a lot of functional strength training.”
She nods softly, contemplating as we continue towards the studio.
I’d planned this to be simple—she’d be in the yoga class, I’d be on the sidelines, offering tips. However, when I open the door, it’s clear fate has a sense of humor.
Instead of solo participants, partners are intertwined in synchronized poses as they begin their pre-yoga stretches.
My gut twists with an unexpected jolt.
Partner yoga.
“Uh, we might have to improvise a bit,” I say, turning to her and rubbing a hand across the back of my neck.
Carlie peers through the glass, her eyes now wide green orbs. “Are those couples buddying it up together in there?”
“Seems like it.” Caught off guard, I nod—all the while, my brain is a whir of sirens. I should let her go home. Tell her we’ll try again. Instead, I hear myself say, “Since I’m the one who dragged you here, looks like you have me as a partner.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I don’t exactly have yoga clothes with me ...” She sweeps her hands over her body.
“There’s a shop just around the corner. They’ll have everything you need.” I offer, knowing I can charge it to my work tab. “My treat, since I sprung this on you.”
We stand there for a moment, a strange buzz of unexpected excitement hanging between us.
Then, in the absence of a rebuttal, I gesture for her to follow me. “Let’s get you geared up so we’re not too late.”
She nods, allowing me to lead the way.
As we head towards the shop, I can’t shake the feeling that tonight might just stretch both of us in more ways than one.
Twenty minutes later, we’re facing each other on adjacent mats. We were a few minutes late, but welcomed in like we were the long lost Dalai Lama.
Now that we sit here, I realize Carlie’s hastily chosen yoga gear fits her a bit too well for my peace of mind. Keeping it cool pushes itself to paramount in my alarm-sounding brain.
The instructor, a serene woman with a voice as smooth as silk, starts the class with a simple meditation, guiding us to connect with our partners through synchronized breathing.
I have to smile a bit, remembering what Carlie first said before we entered this space. Yet, even despite her teasing, she’s taking the meditation in stride, settling right into it like she’s done it her whole life.
Her eyes are closed, long dark lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, as I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath. Oddly enough, there’s nothing relaxing about watching it. If anything, it makes my insides jumble.
“Now, open your eyes and maintain the connection,” the instructor murmurs in her sing-song voice.
Carlie opens her eyes and our gazes lock. It feels like a silent conversation happens—one I’m all too keen to continue.
“Ready?” I whisper, half teasing, half challenging.
She nods, her lips curving into a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
