Sexy.
As a matter of fact, I am concentrating very hard onnot farting. Fromanyhole.
Sage leans over on his mat, whispering, “Are you okay?”
He looks annoyingly perfect. There’s not a drop of sweat on him.
“I think I hurt my back,” I whisper back.
He nods sympathetically at first, then ruins it. “Well, you’re almost thirty, right? A woman’s body slows down at that age. It’s natural.”
Everything inside me goes still.
Oh no.
He did not just say that.
My spine might be dead, but my rage is alive and ready for violence.
I push myself upright an inch, just enough to deliver justice.
“You know what, Sage?” I say loudly.
Everyone looks over.
“What kind of date is this?” I ask. “Seriously, explain this to me. I shaved my entire body for this. Forthis. You invited me to a room designed to cook humans. I’m sweating out trauma I haven’t even lived yet.”
He blinks. “Madison—”
“No.” I point at him from my half-collapsed position. “Don’t ‘Madison’ me. We could’ve gone anywhere. Dinner. Drinks. A walk. A normal human date. But you chose this torture chamber to see if I could ‘match your frequency.’ Sir, the only frequency I’m matching right now is the sound of my hamstring snapping.”
Someone in the back snorts.
“And another thing,” I continue, fully committed. “Don’t tell me my body is slowing down at thirty. Yourbody will slow down, too. I pray I’m there to watch it. And for the record,” I add, “these moves are amateur. I’m just used to doing them on a mattress.”
“Madison—”
“Forget it, Sage. I’m done. I’m out of this hell room. You enjoy your journey to inner peace or whatever. Me? I need ice and probably a priest.”
I grab my water bottle and attempt to stand, but my back screams like a banshee, so I pivot and drop to my hands and knees.
Then I start crawling.
Yes.
I am crawling out of hot yoga.
Sage reaches toward me. “Do you need help?”
I refuse to look up and acknowledge this moment exists.
“No,” I say, crawling like a wounded animal. “I’m fine. Have a nice life with the rest of these masochists.”
Moon, or Jupiter, or whatever the instructor is called, gasps.
I keep crawling.
Someone tries to offer me a towel.
