"What about me?"
"Any pets growing up?"
Pink chimed in before I could answer. "I feel like you're a cat person. I can just picture it—you sitting in a plaid arm chair, smoking a pipe, surrounded by five or six cats."
"What am I, eighty?"
Tuck and Roman snickered while Matty mustered a smile. That's practically all he could do. Any other sound or movement might wake the dog stretched across his neck like a wool scarf.
"And no," I told Pink. "My grandmother was allergic. By the time she passed, we were all out of the house anyway. My sister, Sadie, has a couple of dachshunds."
I liked dogs as much as the next person, but I had never considered getting a pet of my own. Not with my lifestyle. Then again, there were several things I'd been thinking about lately that, until meeting a certain blonde, had always felt like a pipedream.
Starting with buying a house.A home.Planting roots in one place with one woman—and maybe one dog?—hadn't seemed like a feasible possibility six months ago. Yet here I was, cuddling a basset hound and browsing Zillow listings before bed. I had even made an appointment to meet with a local realtor next week.
Rose City was beginning to feel like home.
There was only one thing missing . . .
"Alright, friends," our instructor said, her dulcet tone barely louder than a whisper. "Thank you for sharing your love, light, and energy with me today. I hope to see you again next week. Namaste."
"Namaste," we echoed, bowing our heads. Well, those of us who could. Matty was still trapped under Mo.
I slowly extracted myself from the floor so as not to disturb Eenie. When I climbed to my feet, relishing in the looseness of my muscles, I was pleased to see that Eenie was still fast asleep. He'd toppled onto his side which meant I wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. If Eenie needed to rest his little head and oversized ears on my yoga mat, then I guess I'd move into the studio.
"God, I feel amazing!" Dani announced to the room, stretching her arms toward the sky. "And taller. Do I look taller?"
I bit my lip, fighting back a smile. Our sprite like social media director was barely scraping the five foot mark. She was a tiny little thing, especially next to her so called BFF, Pink, who could undoubtedly wear her like a backpack if he wanted.
"Sooo much taller," he said, goading her. "At least an inch or two."
"How about you, Clarke? Do you feel taller?"
My attention shifted to the woman beside Dani. I tried to focus on her fresh, makeup-free face rather than the hint of cleavage peeking out of the top of her tank top. Or the sweat pooling between her breasts. Or the small strip of exposed skin between her tank and yoga pants.
Just friends, just friends.
I'd been repeating the mantra to myself over and over for a week now. Hopefully, someday soon, I would start to believe it.
"I don't know about taller," Clarke said. "Definitely more flexible."
Fuck, is she trying to kill me?
Pink and Tuck shared a not-so-covert smile. If we were anywhere else—and there wasn't a phone livestreaming our every move—I would have smacked them. Instead, I crossed my hands in front of my crotch, just in case something . . . came up.
"Here, Sinclair." I turned just in time for Roman to deposit a puppy—Eenie, again—into my arms. "You dropped this."
"Er, thanks."
Eenie wiggled into the crook of my arms before rolling over to expose his belly.
"Aw, he's so cute." Clarke exclaimed. She stepped forward—close enough for the familiar fragrance of peaches to invade my senses—and reached out to scratch Eenie.
Lucky bastard.
"Have you ever had a dog, Clarke?" Tuck asked.
"No," she said, smiling sadly. "We were never allowed. My parents aren't exactly pet people."
