“So, he’s okay with you two hooking up?” she asks, and I’m really starting to wonder when we are going to shift positions. The instructor seems content to just leave us like this forever.
“Well, not exactly,” I say, pedaling my feet to get some blood back into my legs and out of my head.
“Meaning?”
“He knows we are together, but he doesn’t know we are togethertogether,” I say.
“In English, please,” she says.
“Ladies, please!” the lady hisses before having us step out of downward dog.
I wait another moment before mouthing the words to her. “He doesn’t know we’re sleeping together.”
Her mouth drops open. After that, she waits until the end of class. Once we have sat cross-legged, closed our eyes, and thanked the universe for the day, she turns to me again.
“Namaste. Okay, what do you mean he doesn’t know you’re sleeping together? Isn’t that what you told him?” she asks. Luckily, other women are talking now too, so my sex life isn’t the center of attention.
“No. We told him we are dating,” I say.
“Which for anyone over the age of seventeen means you are fucking,” she states.
“Not for me,” I argue, rolling up my mat and standing up.
“But you slept with him,” she says. “You told me all about it.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then you’re lying to your brother,” she says.
“I’m not lying to him,” I nearly shout as we walk out of the studio. I flash a very fake, mildly apologetic smile at the instructor. I make a mental note to check the schedule for any other available class. That instructor is way too much for casual yoga. I go back to the conversation at hand. “We told him we are together. What that implies in his head is…in his head. Do you want a smoothie bowl? I want a smoothie bowl.”
“If he took it that well, I think he is under the impression nothing more has happened outside of second base,” she says as we make our way to Rush Bowls.
I let out a pained sigh. “Enough with the bases. I don’t even understand what they mean.”
“But you do understand what I mean, don’t you?” she asks, growing more serious. “Harper, I love you, but I’m worried that if you aren’t being honest with Jaylen now, he’s going to be even more upset when he finds out the truth. Telling him that the two are together was probably already a sucker punch to him. Finding out that you’ve been lying about the other part…”
“Who says he’s going to find out?” I ask. “It’s not like I casually bring up my sex life in conversations with my brother,” I say.
I can tell Darlene wants to press it more, but she decides not to. It’s best she doesn’t. I’m done talking about Jaylen, my virginity, and everything else. So, we get smoothie bowls, and I eat strawberries and chia in peace. Sort of.
Of course, her words stick with me. That evening Ash comes over for dinner, and I can’t stop thinking about what Darlene said.
“You’re quiet,” he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind. We are having chicken alfredo made from scratch, and I’m in the middle of making the roux, blending butter, heavy cream, and parmesan together. He kisses me on the neck. His lips are soft, warm, and smell like red wine.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I admit.
“Oh? Why don’t you tell me about it?” he asks, nibbling on my neck.
“It’s kind of hard to talk when you’re doing that,” I giggle, and he pulls away.
“My bad. What’s on your mind?” he asks, leaning against the counter, his feet crossed at the ankles. He’s wearing gym pants and a gray t-shirt; his hair is ruffled. He also let his facial hair grow out a little, just enough to show the salt and pepper colors on his chin. I can’t say that I hate it.
“I went to yoga today with Darlene,” I say. “I told her about Jaylen.”
“Okay,” he says, taking a sip of wine.
“She thinks we need to be honest with him,” I say.
