Page 99 of The Sidekick

Maybe it was just a one-time thing, and the real teacher called out sick that day. I start praying that some supermodel of a woman walks in and takes over. I don’t think it’s going to happen, though, because the ladies up front are buzzing again.

One hour. Just one hour twice a week. Of sensual torture.

I hate Shade so much right now. Blaze, too, now that I think about it.

Max called this morning, and I watched as it rang and rang. By the time I decided to pick up, it went to voicemail, and I didn’t have the courage to call him back. If I don’t talk to him, I can stay in the fantasy zone of us being together without any problems. Reality can take a mini vacation until it finally catches up with me.

I’m being selfish. It’s going to end up hurting him. I hate myself for not just ending it. Every time I think about it, the nausea and self-hatred well up until I’m sick. Avoiding him it is, for now.

I set up and sit to really start praying. I know there’s no one up there listening when the squeals start.

Oh no.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to block out the excited chatter and questions getting thrown out. Once it sounds like everyone is all ready to go, I open my eyes and stand, ready to get this over with.

This time, his shirt is black. I zero in on it like a heat-seeking missile, refusing to look at anything else. When he starts the warm-up in his husky voice, I do my best to ignore the tone and follow his instructions.

My movements feel jerky, and it makes me sad. How can I enjoy this when I’m so stressed about embarrassing myself? Maybe I should ask if there’s a different teacher I could sign up with.

With that saving thought in mind, my body finally begins to loosen, and the poses become easier, my smile coming back as my body warms. His voice can seduce me all it wants. I only have twenty more minutes with it. Then I can see the front desk and freedom.

By the time we get to the meditation pose, I’m free-floating again.

“Sukhasana.”

“What did he say?” I hear someone whisper distantly.

I sit with my legs crossed, one foot placed in front of the other, with my knees touching the mat. The pose makes me feel grounded and is one of my favorites. It’s easy to slip away, feeling like a pillar standing strong despite the looseness of my body.

There’s a lot of muttering and shifting in front of me as he explains the pose, but I don’t open my eyes, sinking into myself for peace. I let go of all the problems in my life and just be for a few minutes.

“Open your eyes.”

My eyes snap open at the command, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he isn’t in front of me again. He’s standing at the front of the class, looking at the ladies seated at his feet.

For a second, I’m disappointed that I don’t have his attention. Then I mentally slap myself out of it. I don’t want his attention.

Do I?

Ugh.

Everyone starts to get up, and I frown in confusion. Hello? He didn’t say Namaste. As they swarm him I’m left sitting like an idiot, waiting for the final word so I can get up. Did he forget? How can he know all the poses by name and forget Namaste? Is he just going to leave with me sitting here? Should I get up?

“Namaste.” His voice says clearly.

My shoulders relax. Maybe he saw the only idiot still in a meditation pose and remembered.

I don’t rush to roll my mat this time, feeling a lot better about the whole class. He isn’t perfect, he messed up. He’s just a normal person. There’s no reason for me to be intimidated by the way my body reacts to him. I’m just like everyone else in this class.

I slip my shoes on with a smile and leave to meet up with Shade.

Asher

Thursday comes, and I stick to my office with the door closed so no one can witness the battle I’m having with myself over a woman I’ve seen once and haven’t spoken to. I almost have myself convinced I’m back to normal when the ten-minute alarm for the first yoga class of the day goes off. I snatch it up and rush out the door like my ass is on fire.

I guess I have a new normal.

Fuck me.

---