“Marissa and I are coming to your class tomorrow morning.”
“We are?”
“Yeah, we have to check this guy out—and be good wingwomen for our girl here. Give this guy a little kick in the basketball shorts if he needs it.”
“Don’t you dare. I don’t want to go out with him.” After flipping the last sandwich out, I set the empty frying pan down on oneof the cold burners with a clatter. “I need to make it clear to you how I feel about men, Ana. They’re not like the heroes you read about in books. In real life, men are?—”
Just then, Marissa’s phone rings loudly, censoring the end of my sentence.
“Ooh, it’s Todd.” Marissa prepares to tap her screen to answer the incoming call as she heads out of the kitchen. “Go ahead and start eating without me.”
“I’ve been meaning to try yoga,” Ana says in a not-very-convincing tone as she hands me a bowl.
“You need to be a member at the club to attend the class.”
“I’m sure there are guest passes available, and who knows? I might want to sign up after I see all the men working up a sweat lifting weights. I’ll bet there are some pretty big beasts there.” Her eyes go distant. “Ah, yes, sounds like a great way to start my day tomorrow.”
I snort. “If you say so. Better get there early. My class is pretty popular all of a sudden.”
CHAPTER 6
CALLIE
Iwas hoping Ana was all talk, but both bathrooms in our condo are occupied when I head out the door with my early morning caffeine in hand, and shortly after I open the yoga studio to students, Marissa and Ana come strolling in, yoga mats under their arms.
“I let her borrow my spare mat,” Marissa explains.
Ana’s eyes immediately roam the room, but I save her the trouble. “He’s not here yet. He usually rolls in right before I start.”
“Pity,” she says. “Where should we set up?”
“Anywhere you’d like. People used to generally stick to the same spots, but as the class has grown this week, it’s a free for all.”
Ana nudges Marissa. “Let’s stay in the back. Might be easier to watch him from there.”
“You’re supposed to watch the instructor,” I tease, pointing to my chest, before turning to go back to my mat.
The room fills up quickly, and is as crowded as predicted. When Mr. Hot & Cold finally strolls in, he stops just a few feet inside the doorway, unsuccessfully looking around for an open space.
I go over to ask a few women to adjust their mats to help create a spot for him, and they happily do so, seemingly delighted that he’s going to be their neighbor. In response to my assistance, the man offers me one of his Stone Age grunts.
He’s in a snug army green tank top today, and his shoulders are a sight to behold. His pecs do an incredible job of making his shirt look like the best piece of clothing that was ever crafted.
But then there’s his scowl. Unlike Ana, I’m not a fan of a grumpy demeanor, though I do have to begrudgingly admit that if a frown looks good on anyone, it’s him.
On my way back to the front, I steal a glance at my roommates. Marissa’s eyes are still fixed on the man, while Ana’s fanning herself and mimicking wiping drool from her mouth. I never should have mentioned this guy to them.
I think the only reason I brought him up is because his behavior at the sandwich shop was so puzzling. And I have to admit, the incongruity of his actions irritates me. Even though I don’t want him to flirt with me, and I definitely don’t want him to ask me out, it’s rude that he’s all charming one day and barely acknowledges me the next.
I get class started by having everyone close their eyes as I guide them through a few rounds of deep breathing. My goal is for them to go inward, but it’s a struggle. I catch several women peeking, covertly checking out Mr. H&C as he sits there looking like he’s being tortured.
He’s handsome, sure, but what’s all the fuss about?
Next, we move through a flow series, starting out slowly and gradually picking up the pace, occasionally lingering in certain poses to fine-tune them and go deeper. For each, I offer a couple of modified versions, so that practitioners with different ranges of flexibility can find what works best for them.
Not surprisingly, the one man in the class, probably the person with the least flexibility, persists in struggling through the advanced variations of each of the poses, as if he’s an expert after one week. The size of men’s egos never ceases to amaze me.
We’re currently in a standing pose, a wide-legged forward bend. Some of the women have taken hold of their big toes as their heads dangle close to their mats. Others who aren’t as flexible place foam blocks on the floor, so they don’t have to stretch as far to make steady contact.
