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Emerson…
Emerson…
Me: What
Emerson: Nothing. I’m glad
Me: It took that long to write three words?
Emerson: Sorry. Got distracted by the kids
I don’t know whether to believe her or not. Not that I exactly have a choice, considering she’s halfway across the city and I can’t see her face or hear her voice right now.
Emerson: So when do you see Shawn again?
Me: In a couple hours. For YOGA
Emerson: Excellent!!!!!
Emerson: Take a photo of his downward dog, will you?
Me: You are a dirty old woman
Emerson: It’s one of the things Hunter loves about me
Emerson: But I wasn’t being pervy
Emerson: I was thinking blackmail
Me: Wow
Me: You make it sound like that’s better
Emerson: Tell me how it goes tonight
Me: I already told you how it’s going to go
Me: We’re doing yoga
Emerson: Getting all hot and bendy together
Me: Yoga isn’t a synonym for sex
Emerson: Mmmmm. It should be
Emerson: Gotta go
Emerson: xoxoxoxo
And then she’s gone. Which is just like Emerson—she drops in, stirs everything up and then disappears right before the fireworks go off. Not that there will be any fireworks in this situation, because there won’t be. Absolutely no fireworks.
Just two people doing yoga.
Instructor and student.
Trainer and athlete.
Oh, who am I kidding? Hot guy and woman who wants to lick him all over.
