Page 130 of All Packed Up

Grif resumed the downward dog position and matched his breathing to the others’. Tate was a really good instructor.

“If you’ve never done this pose before, it can be a little tricky. Face your partner…”

His heart did a little flip in his chest as he watched Nic’s shoulders stiffen before he slowly turned to face Grif.

“Hey,” Grif mouthed.

“Hi,” he returned.

That was a start.

But they didn’t have much time to do anything but listen to Tate as he brought them up for another stretch and directed them into the beginnings of warrior two.

“Nice, dude,” Tate said, and Grif glanced up to find Tate admiring him. Grif tried to keep his cheeks from heating as everyone’s gazes landed on him. Even Nic lifted his head to appraise his form, all at the sacrifice of his own.

“Don’t look so easily impressed, everyone,” Grif drawled.

Nic fell out and caught himself before huffing and lining his feet up again like Tate instructed.

“It’s just ’cause you’re so beefy,” Nic murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Griffith whispered, hyperaware of the others around them listening.

“It means you look like you think yoga is a waste of time,” Nic explained.

A snort came from the front of the room, and Grif glanced up to see Tate covering a laugh. “It’s true. But you’re surprisingly limber.”

“Well, I actually did a lot of yoga in pr—” He snapped his yap shut just before he blurted prison. Unbidden, his gaze leapt to Arlo, who nodded discreetly in understanding. Nic got the memo too, with a wide blink, lips curling into a soft O.

“In practice. Uh, training. For fights, you know,” he recovered. Smooth.

Grif swore his cover was blown, that his lie was so transparent they’d all see through him and figure out his secret before he had a chance to properly tell—

“Cool,” Tate interjected. “Maybe you can help Nic with his placement then,” he suggested.

The beta in question stiffened before lifting his head to turn toward Tate. Griffith didn’t know for certain what their little exchange was about, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, not with the way Tate met Grif’s gaze and offered him a wink.

“My placement’s fine,” Nic argued quietly.

With a grin, Grif stepped closer and shrugged. “Teacher’s orders.”

Nic huffed but planted his feet in a similar fashion to the one Tate explained… but not quite.

In seconds, Grif knew he needed a better angle in order to show him how to move. If that happened to be from right behind Nic, well, that was pure luck.

“You’re wobbly because your feet are in line with each other,” Grif pointed out, tapping Nic’s ankle with his foot. He could feel the heat of Nic through their clothes. “Move this one over, so each foot is on its own track.”

As Nic shifted his front foot over, he steadied, resting his hands on his hips. The barely there floral scent of spring, so gentle for such a large beta, filled his senses. Grif wished he could cover Nic’s hands with his own, move even closer and dip his head to the beta’s neck, but now wasn’t the time for that.

But that didn’t mean Griffith couldn’t tease him… right?

Grif missed the days when he could run his hands down Nic’s sides without guilt, without worrying whether it would make Nic shiver or piss him off.

But he was willing to risk it.

He pressed his palm into Nic’s right hip, pushing his weight forward. “Your knee should line up with your ankle,” he said softly. “And balance. Knife edge of your right foot,” he corrected, tapping Nic’s ankle before showing him the placement.

Tate called out something in the background, then dropped into his warrior two pose effortlessly, arms outstretched.