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“That was for Danielle’s benefit. We’re trying to make her see Cole as desirable.” Maggie laughs again, though as far as I know, I haven’t made a joke.
A gong rings through the air.
She stands up and grabs her empty glass. “Well,someonearound here is seeing Cole as desirable alright. I’m not talking about Danielle.” She walks away.
I swipe up my glass and scamper after her. That gong sound means it’s time for the next activity Skye’s leading: Airing Grievances.
“Who, me?” I call out. “You thinkIsee him like that?”
Instead of answering me, she pushes the pavilion’s back door open.
I follow her inside.
Chapter 12
Cole
Maybe there’s something to this yoga thing after all.
For the first time in years, my knees don’t protest when I bend them to get to the floor. I may be hard-headed about lots of things, but even a guy like me can see that all those bendy positions Skye put us in this morning probably did me some good.
Got my blood flowing.
Warmed up my tendons.
Stretched ligaments, or something like that.
Hopefully, this Airing Grievances exercise won’t be torture, if I can figure out a way to sit comfortably.
Skye handed me a blanket a couple of minutes ago and told me to put it under my “sit bones”.
I might as well give it a shot.
I position the folded woven blanket on the wood floor and then sit on it, crisscross-applesauce.
If I put my hands on my knees and sort of straighten my spine, my lower back stops screaming at me.
Olivia, beside me, eyes me with a grin. “Getting into this, hm?”
“There might be something to this blanket trick. I don’t feel like throwing myself over a cliff right now.”
She rolls her eyes. “Wow, Cole. Way to set the bar high.”
“Sitting on the floor for hours at a time isn’t easy.”
She reaches out and squeezes my knee. “Hang in there, Stud. We’re gonna have you doing Down Dog like a champ by the end of this.”
My whole being rolls and then I feel like I’m floating.
Probably because she’s still touching my knee.
Also, because she keeps calling me Stud, and Baby, and every time she does that, I forget for a second or two that she’s acting.
Her mother’s an actress. Her dad’s in show business, too. She probably inherited the gene.
She’s so good at pretending we’re together. It’s really messing with my head at this point.
All around us, couples are settling into a circle on the polished wood floor. There’s flute music playing. Skye’s lighting incense over in the corner and chanting something. Then she pads over toward us in her bare feet and claps twice. “Settle down, my friends!”
