Ryan:Did you find a ride home for Thanksgiving break?
Maya:Yeah. My last class is on Monday, and I don’t have work. Reagan and I are road tripping down to New Haven early on Tuesday and I’ll catch the train there when she drops me off. You can still bring me back on Sunday, right?
Ryan:Your roommate won’t be back at the same time? Heston Lake is like an extra two hours out of my way from Elmwood.
I roll my eyes when he follows up with an unimpressed emoji.
Maya:That’s what you get for being the one who got to take our car to college. You said you’d do it when Mom asked. Should I tell her you’re bailing on me?
Ryan:Fine, I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll stop by the rink to see if your boyfriend’s around.
Maya:What?
Ryan:Bag of dicks.
Maya:Ugh, stop. Maybe if you weren’t just as much of a dick, I wouldn’t have left with Easton when you were here.
He doesn’t answer after I send him a middle finger emoji because he knows I’m right. He’s only joking about how I left the bar that night, but him calling Easton my boyfriend sends a mix of jitters and warmth rushing through me.
It gets worse when the latest message from him appears at the top of my screen.
Hat Trick King:What are you doing today? Let me take you out for something to eat.
Maya:I have work. But next time the donut truck is around, you can buy me donuts again.
Hat Trick King:Nice. I’ll buy you as many as you want.
He continues talking to me while I get ready for work, and we’re still texting back and forth on my way to the farm for my shift.
Maya:I have to go. Just got to work.
My stomach tightens as I impulsively tell him I’ll talk to him later. He replies with a winking emoji.
I curse when I realize I’m about to be late. I jog across the farm to reach the pavilion, darting inside to meet this morning’s group Marnie scheduled me for.
I freeze inside the door, gaping at the sight before me. What. The. Hell.
Hockey players.
There are hockey players everywhere.
This can’t be happening. How is this real?
Easton Blake and the entire team of Heston University Knights are at Merrywood Farms, in the yoga pavilion. Waiting for me.
“Hey,” he greets when he spots me hovering in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
“Goat yoga.” He grins, waving an arm at the guys. “I think they’re actually looking forward to it.”
“Goat yoga,” I repeat faintly.
“You should’ve been there when I suggested it to our coaches. Most of the guys lost it. They thought I was kidding.”
“I don’t blame them. I can’t picture Mr. Macho hockey captain—” I give his arm a friendly push. “—and a bunch of hockey players doing yoga, let alonegoatyoga.”
He lifts a shoulder. “We’re here to limber up. Did you know yoga is great training to help improve stability and range of motion?”
