Page 55
Shilo
“Relax your shoulders. Sit as tall as you can, and take deep breaths.”
From the back of the yoga class, I follow KC’s instructions, my legs crossed and my palms pressed together. Supposedly calming music drifts from the speakers, but the heavy smell of incense makes my head pound.
“Now, let’s take a moment to connect with our heart space, dropping our heads forward to stretch our necks.”
Next to me, Carpenter mutters something too low for me to catch, his black beanie pulled low over his thick brows. He doesn’t look thrilled to be here, but like me, he follows the rest of the class begrudgingly.
Coming to yoga wasn’t my idea. Apparently, my attitude was starting to bring everyone down, so KC dragged us all to participate in his class today.
Not that I mind.
Maybe two months ago, I would’ve minded, but KC’s grown on me. Like a fungus. Or a mole.
“As we exhale, let us open our eyes and reach our arms up toward the ceiling, letting our fingertips kiss. We’ll do this twice.”
Glancing at Carpenter, I whisper from the corner of my mouth, “Why does he keep saying we?”
He snorts softly. “My name is Legion, for we are many.”
A snicker escapes me, but I cut it short when Tina throws us a chastising look over their shoulder. I’ve been spending a lot of time with all of them lately, especially the last few weeks since Thanksgiving. Mostly to distract myself from texting Ryann.
I haven’t seen or heard from him since he transferred me to the R&D department. Not even at work.
Liza’s great, she’s super nice and has me running diagnostics on CalTek software, which is cool. But… she’s not Ryann.
I know I made the right decision ending our arrangement, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss messing up his coffee every day or inventing new ways to irritate him. I miss the things he did to my body. Wish I could say I missed how he made me feel, but the truth is, he didn’t make me feel very good. Not after the clothes came back on, anyway.
At the front of the class, KC unfolds his legs, leaning up. “Now, we’ll move onto all fours as we arch our backs into a stretch.”
“His favorite position,” Carpenter mutters, rolling over to his hands and knees. I’m not sure if he means yoga or something else, so I keep my mouth shut.
The stretch actually feels good on my lower back after being hunched over a keyboard all day, and the outfit KC lent me is surprisingly comfortable. The shirt hangs loosely while the pants hug all the right places. If I weren’t so worried about Dad freaking out, I’d probably wear stuff like this more often. He nearly had a coronary the day Paige gave me a pedicure, and that was bad enough.
As the class goes on, my headache worsens, but I do my best to keep up, even though I’m nowhere near as flexible as KC. Carpenter notices, too, judging by the little comments he keeps making. There’s a curious look in his eye when he watches his roommate, though, and I can’t help wondering if he’s as straight as he claims.
Not that I’m interested in him or anything. I’m not interested in anyone, despite KC’s failed attempts to find me a boyfriend at various gay bars. Crowds aren’t my thing, and I spent the whole time anxious I’d run into Ryann. I’m self-conscious enough knowing he and KC used to sleep together, I don’t need to see him touching or kissing someone else.
I was so naive, thinking I could give him my body without my heart.
“Now for our last stretch,” KC continues, his voice soothing. “Let’s spread our feet apart and slowly bend forward, touching our palms to the floor.”
I follow his lead but only make it halfway down when Carpenter whips his head toward me, his amber eyes wide with panic.
“I think I have to fart,” he whispers.
A laugh bursts out of me, loud enough to distract the class. Carpenter’s shoulders start to shake as he cracks up too, and then we’re both losing it like a couple of middle schoolers. He wobbles on his mat, his long arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance, but he’s nearly a foot taller than me and ends up dragging me down with him.
We hit the ground hard, my body landing squarely on top of his pelvis.
Wheezing loudly, he grimaces, his broad nose wrinkling in pain. I plant my hands on his chest to push myself up, my face burning.
“Crap, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
He coughs into his fist. “No, you landed on my nuts. Get me some ice.”
For whatever reason, that makes me laugh harder, especially when Carpenter admits that he hoped the sound of our fall covered the fart. Luckily, everyone’s gathering their things to leave, but I’m so busy snickering that I completely miss the tall figure looming over us.
