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A weirdsomethingwells up inside me. It’s a warmth that I don’t recognize and it startles me. It seems too serious. And right now, at this point in our relationship—if we even have one?—shouldn’t we just be having fun? So why did I spend the night talking to the woman instead of making her scream my name between the sheets? And why did having her fall asleep in my arms feel just as good?
Summer lowers her gaze, pulling on her ponytail in a way that has me itching to reach out and pull down on her hair until her throat is exposed to me, until I can make her knees go weak with my mouth on her slender neck.
There goes the weird warmth surging in me again. I should run. I should turn on my heel and run as fast as I can. But I can’t help it. I’m drawn to her in a way that’s turned me into a fool. I act like a dumbstruck idiot half the time I’m around her. I don’t even recognize myself.
Then Summer looks up and her smile turns flirty.
I stumble and almost fall face-first into the gravel, but luckily recover my balance with the next stride and manage to reach the cabana without making a complete ass of myself.
“Morning?” I say, underlining the greeting with a questioning tone:“Are we okay?”
“Morning.” Summer nods in what I suppose to be a,“Yep, we’re good,”unspoken answer.
Miranda, the same yoga teacher from yesterday, is confabulating with a small group of the other students in the class. She looks up, seemingly taking a headcount, and finally walks up front to the center of the space.
“Hello, class,” she greets everyone. “I was just talking with a bunch of you who have expressed an interest in trying out more Acro Yoga poses. Since we’re an even number again, I wanted to check if everyone would be okay with a slightly different class?”
I look at Summer. She shrugs, so I shrug right back.
“Everyone good with it?” Miranda asks, and when no one objects, she continues, “Great. We’re going to do a quick warm-up and then work on some new poses.”
A few sun salutations later, Miranda asks us to divide up into pairs. The same couples from yesterday form, and we wait for the next instruction.
“Okay,” Miranda encourages, “for the next pose we’re going to start with a position you’re already familiar with but take it to the next level. We start in plank press. Bases, please lie on your backs facing your flyers, knees bent.”
I get down on the mat and stare up at my partner. I love how Summer blushes whenever she meets my gaze and tries to hide it.
“Flyers, place your feet in between your partner’s. Perfect. Now bases,” Miranda continues. “Like yesterday, set your feet on your flyers hips.”
I never thought of yoga as foreplay, but this Acro thingy sure feels like it.
“Let’s practice a basic plank press a few times. Flyers, open up your arms in a T shape and keep your bodies straight and remember to keep a strong core. Bases, bend your knees toward your chest and receive your flyer’s weight and then push back slowly. Flyers keep your feet on the floor and trust your weight to the base.”
Take this move, I’m basically using Summer as a bench-press weight. It shouldn’t feel hot. But it does. It’s in the way she looks at me. In the way her ponytail swishes forward wherever I bend my knees, in the way her lips slightly part as if she was coming up for air.
“And now let’s move on to the next level,” Miranda says. “Flyers, reach forward and clasp hands with your bases, keeping your arms straight and creating a straight line from your shoulder to your bases. And now the hard part: flyers, you have to push off the ground. Bases, you have to lift your flyers, straightening your legs. Flyers, once you’re airborne, engage your core and straighten your legs. If and when you feel stable enough in your balance, you can let go of your bases’ hands and pull your arms back like bird wings in front bird pose.”
Okay, this pose and the next ones require enough strength and concentration that I don’t have much time left for dirty thoughts. Still, already compared to yesterday, Summer’s and my movements seem to be much more fluid. Like we already have that extra confidence in each other. Is that why she bailed this morning? Was spending the night in each other’s arms too much? And why? We agreed that this thing between us was a week-only deal. So, is she afraid we’re getting too close? Is she getting too close? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman I’d agreed to have a casual relationship with wanted more.
And, then, out of nowhere, the scariest thought I’ve ever had pops into my head: what ifIwanted more?
The idea distracts me, making me lose concentration and causing my legs to wobble. Which, in turn, causes Summer to tumble down on top of me, her face landing ridiculously close to my groin. She stares up at me, shocked at first. Then, when she realizes where her pretty head is, her expression turns to embarrassment.
“Are you all right over there?” I ask.
Summer blushes and scrambles back, sitting on her heels.
Miranda comes next to us. “Is everyone okay?” she asks, and when we both nod, she adds, “It’s perfectly normal to fall a few times when you’re trying out these new poses for the first time. Class, I think we’re done for today. How about a final stretch before I let you go have breakfast?”
Good,I think. A cool-down is exactly what I need right now.
Once the class is over, I almost expect Summer to walk off, leaving me behind as she did yesterday. But she lingers instead, and we walk together toward the breakfast room. To an outsider, our attitudes would come across as completely innocent, but, again, the shift compared to yesterday morning, when all Summer wanted to do was to shake me off, is incredible. Now she doesn’t have a problem being at the croissants table at the same time as I am, brushing her shoulder against mine. At the coffee machine, she lets me lean into her from behind, my chest pressed to her back, as I reach for the creamer. Yesterday, she would’ve bolted like a startled deer.
We sit at the same table as yesterday, with the same companions. But again, Summer’s stance couldn’t be any more different. Instead of trying to avoid my gaze at all costs, she gives me flirty eyes from across the table for the whole meal.
It’s the sweetest torture. Makes me want to skip the bachelor snooze fest—err… party—and bring her back to my room. She knows it, and she knows I can’t, and she’s messing with me, playing a little game of hide and seek.
We all get up to leave together, exiting the breakfast room and then lingering in the hotel’s lobby. Tucker swears; he’s forgotten his phone at the table and goes back to pick it up.
