"Stop what?" I glance at her, all innocence. "I'm just saying, if you wanted to leave, you could've at least woken me up. Said goodbye. Or at least maybe left a note."
"I did leave a note—"
"No, Nattie, I left a note, telling you I was going to the gym… what you left? That was a goodbye," I pause, letting that sit. "Or maybe you're one of those people who doesn't like the morning-after part. Which is fine. I get it. Things get messy in the light of day."
She turns her head sharply, eyes blazing. "There’s nothing messy about it. It was once."
"Right." I nod slowly. "That's why you left a ‘Dear John’ sticky note. Because it was all straightforward?"
"It wasn’t a ‘Dear John’ sticky note. And yes, everything that happened last night was straightforward."
"So if I told everyone here what you sounded like when you—"
"Luka." Her voice comes through threatening. There's panic underneath it. "Don't."
I grin. I’m not here to embarrass her, but if she thinks I’m going to buy that last night was a clean break, then her reaction proves it wasn’t.
The next pose is something called Warrior Two, and I settle into it, arms extended, gaze forward. "Relax, Natalia. I'm just making conversation."
"You're being an asshole."
"I'm being honest."
She shifts into the pose beside me, and I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
Fine… Let her squirm. Like I did when I returned to the chalet to see her, and she was gone.
The instructor's voice drones on about breathing and centering, and I lean just slightly closer.
"You know what I think?" I say quietly.
"I don't care what you think," she muffles out, looking around to make sure no one around us is listening.
"I think you're scared."
Finally, somewhere between tree pose and whatever the hell comes after it, she breaks.
She straightens out of her pose and grabs my arm, pulling me toward the door.
"Excuse us," she says to the instructor, voice tight and too bright for the death stare she just gave me. "Emergency."
The instructor nods, almost looking relieved that we’re leaving.
Natalia pulls me into the hallway. Not because she can drag a man my size anywhere, but because she doesn't have to. This is what I wanted.
The corridor is dim with amber sconces, the kind that make everything look like a ski lodge in a movie. The smell of eucalyptus still clings to the air like it followed us out. Behind the closed door, I can hear the instructor's muffled voice guiding the class through more torturous stretches that I’m grateful not to be a part of.
Twenty feet. That's all that separates this from being completely insane.
Her grip doesn't loosen until the studio door feels like a different country. Then she spins on me.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed.
"You left," I say flatly. "What’s wrong with you?"
"I told you—my room opened up."
"And you couldn't wait for me to get back from the gym before you packed all your shit and disappeared?"
