She smiled, her hands landing on her hips. “You mean the text about what I was wearing.” She glanced down at herself and what she had on right now. “I didn’t know how to respond. But you didn’t offend me.”
“You sure?” Relief flooded through me. “I didn’t mean to sound anything other than– complimentary?” I knew how weak it sounded.
Amber laughed. “It was nice.” She nodded, colour gracing her cheeks. “It’s been a long time since someone gave me a compliment, even if it was a pervy one.”
I rubbed my face with the heal of my hand. “Yeah. But not going to lie, your yoga pants look fucking awesome on you.”
She laughed, the embarrassment clear as she also looked away from me. “I’m going to take it as a compliment and we’ll park it there. Are you definitely coming to class today?”
I nodded. “Just need to check in with Coach first. But I plan to be there.”
“That’s good. I don’t think Jude’s coming today. Genny is.”
“I heard Guy was too.” Jesse had mentioned that our manager was joining in, which I definitely wanted to see. The man was formidable, a footballing genius as both a player and now a manager. He was a legend who was possibly going to be reduced to a crying mass of sweat in a hot yoga studio, and I didn’t want to miss that.
Amber nodded. “Apparently. Genny mentioned he was joining us.”
She wasn’t flustered at that. I’d heard Amber once giving Guy hell for playing Rowan when he had a niggle with his thigh. She hadn’t given a shit who he was.
“I’ll be there. You’re okay with that?”
Her smile contained something wicked. “As long as I can make comments on what you wear.”
She did as well.
An hour after I’d left the studio, feeling like a mess of sweat and flesh and stretched muscle, I received a text. I’d been sitting with Ryan in the café we frequented, one which managed to get hold of Neva’s smoothie recipes and make them palatable.
Ryan hadn’t even broken a sweat during yoga, which hadn’t surprised me. The man was a machine in more ways than one.
I tried to ignore my phone, knowing that it was Amber who’d sent a message, until Ryan shook his head.
“Check the fucking thing.” He shook the glass with his smoothie in it. “Then tell me what it says.”
“I’m not going to do that, man.” But I did check my phone.
Amber: Your shorts showed off your ass when you were doing the forward fold. You can keep coming to my class if you keep wearing them :)
I read it three times.
“Nate, you have to tell me what that says.”
I shook my head and pocketed my phone. “I don’t need to tell you. But I am leaving you with the bill.”
Ryan shook his head. “Noted. I will remember this when you’re begging for my advice in a few weeks.”
I laughed. “Probably, man. Catch you later.” I patted his back as I left, heading to my car, thinking about what I was going to send back.
Amber was gorgeous, scary in some ways because she didn’t let us get away with anything, which I supposed she had to do because she was a woman very much in a man’s world. Holding her own was a necessity, but she definitely owned it at Manchester Athletic.
I got in my car and locked the door, pulling out my phone again. I’d decided not to overthink it.
Me: Only if you continue to show off how many pairs of those yoga pants you own.
I didn’t have to wait long for her response. The magic dots at the bottom of the screen started to move, pausing for a few seconds, leaving me spellbound as I waited for the words.
Amber: You haven’t seen the booty shorts yet…
Me: Whenever you want to model them, let me know. How much do you squat?
