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After standing, I walk off my mat and reach for my water. I take a long drink, mentally kicking myself for chugging so much coffee this morning, but I slept terribly, so it was that or be a zombie for angry yoga.
When Sebastian’s voice fades from his conversation with Yuval, I glance toward him, finding his gaze on me. He lifts his eyebrows, a smirk on his mouth.
He’s so darn aggravating, sitting there in his black joggers and a muscle-hugging silvery sage-green shirt that brings out his eyes. His dark hair’s tugged back, just the pieces that fit, the rest falling onto his already sweaty jaw and neck.
I’m frustrated with myself, with how aware of him I am. He’s my pretend friend, mercilessly egotistical, self-absorbed, and he only sees me as his best friend’s little sister who’s only worth his time because I’ve proved myself useful for this season in his life. That’s all this is. I just need my body to get the memo.
“Right,” Yuval says, stretching their legs wide on their mat. “Ready to move on?”
Sebastian nods.
I force a smile as I plop back down on my mat. “Yep.”
“We’ll keep it low impact, since Seb’s healing his foot, and, Ziggy, you’ll be exercising lots later on today.” Darn Yuval, being nice, making it harder to resent them for flirting with Sebastian.
Not that I care who flirts with my pretend friend.
When Yuval instructs us to begin with breathing exercises that involve lying down, I flop onto my back and glare up at the ceiling.
“And you were lecturing me about grunting and glaring?” he mutters out of the side of his mouth.
“I’m just tired,” I hiss-whisper.
“You’re pissed, is what you are.”
I glare at him.
Sebastian points a finger at me. “See? Pissed.”
“I’m fine.”
“The fuck you are.” He rolls onto his side, facing me. “The whole point of this is for you to find that spine of yours and be your badass self, so how about you do it for goddamn once?”
“Everything okay?” Yuval asks, eyes darting between us.
“Not quite, Yuval,” Sebastian says. “If we could get right to some of those anger-release exercises, I think we’ll be in better shape, though.”
Gracefully, despite his bruised food, he stands, then extends a hand to me.
Yuval smiles at him. Of course they do. “Sure. Fine by me. So, you can face each other, and this can be an exercise of mutual support and presence as you process whatever you need to, or you can face away—”
“We’ll face each other,” Sebastian says, holding my eyes.
My throat feels thick. I don’t know why. Why it feels like a pinch in my heart and a perfect hug—hard, squeezing, tight. Why, when I take Sebastian’s hand and he yanks me up, I feel a rush of something comforting and safe.
“Deep breath,” Yuval says. “We’ll go through a sun salutation, using ujjayi breath. You’re familiar with sun salutation?”
We both nod.
Yuval tells Seb, “I’ll model a modification of each pose that could strain your foot as we go, okay?”
Seb shakes his head. “I’ll be fine doing the traditional sequence. I need to move my ankle around. It’s too fucking stiff.”
Yuval seems nervous about that, but under the spell of Seb’s charming smile, they settle for saying, “Well, just please be careful.” First bringing their hands to their chest, they then lift their arms wide overhead. “Remember, in through your nose, out through your nose. If breathing becomes groaning, grunting, sighing, cursing, let it. Just let it all out.”
I lift my arms, feeling my chest open, an ache sharpening in my heart. My eyes prick with warning tears. I blink them away, then fold over, my nose touching my knees. A hitch catches in my breath as I do a halfway lift. The hitch becomes a groan as I fold back down.
Back up to a halfway lift, I open my eyes, trying to blink away tears, and find myself face-to-face with Sebastian, something fierce tightening his expression.
