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“We’ll see. I’m a natural born athlete, kid. Maybe by the time this is all said and done, I’ll be teaching you.”
“When pigs fly,” I shoot back.
“Oh, man, Luc. Don’t dare me. I can’t say no to a challenge.”
He’s been calling me “Luc” since the day he fished me out of the pool. Everyone shortens my name. But somehow, on Reece’s lips it sounds special.
“I don’t have time to argue, I have a writing team to wrangle and I don’t want to be late. Same time tomorrow?” I say as I start toward the house.
He calls over his shoulder, “Yeah, handle your team.” It’s the only reference he’s made to yesterday’s debacle. “See you tomorrow, same time. Bring your A-game. I’m going to make that headstand my bitch.”
I sing in the shower, and as I make breakfast, and then on the way to the office. It’s a good day.
10
Reece
It’s our second week of yoga practice and I’m so fucking sore, I can barely walk. Lucía’s constantly fighting her laughter when we see each other around the office. I’m practically limping. Yoga uses different muscles than swimming and my thighs feel like they’ve taken a beating.
I’m still trying to master the fucking headstand. At this rate, it will take me another week to get comfortable enough to move on to the next Asana. She makes it look easy.
It crushed my ego when I told her that maybe I was just too big for the poses she was trying to teach me, because then she showed me YouTube videos of these huge football players resting like bosses in the headstand. So now, I’m determined.
I get to her house a little early so that I can be on the deck when she gets there. I want to spare myself the laugh she’ll have at my expense when I hobble up the stairs.
I hear “Crush on You” by the Jets blaring over the outdoor speakers.
Ah, she has good taste in music. Another check in the “characteristics of a perfect woman” column. I see her through the glass doors, standing in front of her blender. She’s dressed for yoga in these tiny, sexy-ass hot pink yoga pants and her sports bra. Her hair is still loose, and flying as she moves to the music. She hasn’t put on the T-shirt she always wears when we practice together. I can see her stomach and sides. Her skin looks like satin. I rub my palms together at the thought of touching it.
These mornings are starting to be my favorite part of the day. We laugh a lot. And she’s a good teacher. She acts like every single inch of progress is amazing. I leave feeling relaxed and ready for whatever bullshit the day brings. We’re becoming friends. Real friends. I look forward to seeing her. And although the attraction is there, I’ve managed to keep it in check and focus on what she’s teaching me.
She whirls in surprise when I knock. A wide smile spreading across her face as she sees me. Shit, that feels amazing.
* * *
“You’re early,” she says good naturedly as I join her in the kitchen. She grabs two glasses from the cabinet, and holds them up to me. “Want to share my breakfast?” she asks as she pours the dark green liquid into two glasses.
“Ugh. It looks disgusting. Like what I used to drink when I was training, but worse,” I say as I take a sniff of whatever vile concoction she’s just handed me. “And it smells awful. No thanks.”
“It’ll help your muscles. You can barely walk.” She laughs as she grabs her glass and gulps it down.
“You talk a lot of shit, you show off. I bet you couldn’t walk when you first started, either.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t an Olympic athlete.”
“I’m not an Olympic athlete anymore. That was more than ten years ago.”
“Excuses, excuses,” she tsks. “But given your advanced age, some soreness should be expected.” She cackles.
“Keep laughing. I’m going to come early tomorrow and have my video recorder ready to catch you in the act. You’ve got those Paula Abdul moves down pat. It’ll make excellent blackmail material.”
She laughs at me, throwing her head back in delight. “As if anyone would care about a video of me dancing.”
“You haven’t seen yourself. Believe me, they would care.”
She stops laughing and gives a playful swat on my arm. Her laughter softens to a smile and her eyes turn nostalgic.
“That was my brother’s favorite song. We used to dance to it all the time. In fact, we wanted to grow up and join the Jets.” Her face falls slightly, but then she forces a smile.
