Page 100 of The Sidekick

When I walk into class, I look for her right away, sighing in relief when I find her sitting off to the side with her eyes closed.

She looks stressed. Now would not be a good time to approach her, especially with half the class clamoring for my attention. I want to know what’s wrong, but I actually have to introduce myself to her before I can interrogate her. It’s a ridiculous inner fight to come to that conclusion and make it stick.

I get everything started, and my frown begins to grow. She’s not into this at all today. Whatever is going on is keeping her from reaching that headspace she needs. What did Max do? Did the people who bullied her start back up again?

It’s only minutes later, while I’m stewing that her shoulders relax, and she starts smiling. A tension I didn’t even notice was building in my body releases suddenly. We’re in sync now. It feels so right. My mood lightens, and I continue the class. I’ve got it bad.

When it’s time for meditation, I can’t resist throwing out a test.

“Sukhasana.”

She doesn’t even hesitate, and I can’t stop my grin as I slide into the pose at the same time she does. The rest of the class flounders for a second before mimicking my position. I don’t make the rounds today. The temptation to stop in front of her again to see that tiny smile up close is almost overwhelming. I’m better off keeping my ass up here.

“Open your eyes.”

When I stand, the class stands with me and begins to swarm the platform. Frustration eats at me. I didn’t say they were done.

I push the feeling down because this isn’t the place for my particular set of rules. It isn’t fair for me to hold them to the standards I would set for a partner. I’m usually in a better state of calm when I run this class. It’s unusual that my kinks are showing now. I know just who to blame, too. Myself for lusting after a woman who has never spoken to me.

I rub a tired hand over my face as the questions start. When I drop my arm, I look around the group for her and grit my teeth when she isn’t there. Did she run again?

My breath catches in my throat when I look at her spot, not finding it empty at all like I thought. She’s still sitting in position, hands palms up on her knees, looking around in confusion. My heart gives one painful squeeze and then starts racing. I keep staring until I realize she’s getting upset, trying to figure out what she should do. Shit.

“Namaste,” I call over the chatter going on around me and bow. Her shoulders drop in relief, and she returns the gesture, mouthing the words to herself. The rest of the class returns the salutation as well. I stare as she rolls up her mat calmly and slides into her shoes.

Come on. Come to me.

She walks out with her little smile, perfectly relaxed and leaving me so wound up I want to chase her down. Because that wouldn’t terrify her at all. I rub my face again, hiding my grimace.

Babygirl,

Max is pissed at me again. You’re back, and I’m not making any moves to keep you here. He’s in your face, balls to the wall, won’t give up. That’s not my style at all. There’s also the fact that I know you want nothing to do with me right now. You made that clear without having to say a word.

That’s our problem.

Talking.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Max

I need Asher’s advice so badly right now. I’ve been waiting since Monday to talk to him and too chickenshit to text.

Tera is cutting me off again, and I’m struggling with a new way to get her back. She’s too embarrassed by her outburst, even though I found it funny as fuck that she ripped Trev to shreds. I need to make sure and tell Asher that part. I like that he supports Tera, no matter the situation.

I walk in with determination and freeze in place with sudden dread.

Asher is glaring at me. Holy shit he’s actually pissed about something. I’m not sure how to handle this.

“Hello, Max,” he says grimly.

I feel sweat start to roll off me as I take in his aggressive stance and crossed arms. It’s the weirdest fucking reaction I’ve ever had to a person. It doesn’t help that he seems like he could easily kill me in over a hundred different ways and knows exactly where to bury my body. He’s that kind of scary motherfucker, even if he’s smaller than me and covered in flower tattoos.

“Are you ok?” I ask hesitantly. I’m not even ashamed of the fact I’m ready to run. Fuck standing my ground against this guy. I know my limits.

His eyes narrow on me, and I swallow hard.

“How are things going with your girl?”

---