Page 31 of Unclench Me Softly

“Unclenching part two?” he asks.

I glance over my shoulder. “That’s not what it’s called.”

He grins. “Should be.”

God. His voice shouldn’t be legal.

“Come on,” I say, picking up the pace and internally smudging myself. “We’re doing... something. Group bonding. Vulnerability work. Possibly interpretive emotional charades.”

He follows, easy and unbothered. “Sounds intimate.”

“I’m spiritually celibate during activities,” I snap.

He chuckles. “That sounds like something someone says before they break their own rules.”

I walk faster. Because if I don’t get him to that dome and away from my ovaries, I will end up surrendering something tonight, and it won’t be just his ego.

They’re all here now.

All five of them.

Sitting in a wonky circle like a reverse harem fever dream that crawled out of my manifestation journal and into my linen-clad reality.

Jax, shirtless again, legs spread, already chewing on a toothpick like he’s auditioning for “Emotionally Unavailable: The Musical.”

Asher, vibrating like a guilt-ridden hummingbird, clutching his reusable water bottle and a notebook labeled “Softness Log.”

Seb, still silent, arms crossed, staring at the bowl of rocks like it personally owes him closure.

Miles, posture perfect, expression unreadable, probably drafting a review in his head titled “Why This Ritual Would Never Be Approved by a Board of Ethics.”

And Jonah Vale. Smiling. Calm. Gorgeous. Like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, and that’s what makes him the most dangerous of all.

“Okay,” I say, standing at the front of the dome with a wildly unnecessary cowbell in one hand. “Welcome to our second sacred exploration. Today’s activity is about connection. Authenticity. Letting your inner self be seen.”

I pause dramatically, because that’s what real leaders do when they’re stalling.

“It’s called... Vulnerability Charades.”

Asher claps. Like, earnestly. “Oh my god,” he says. “That sounds both terrifying and so important.”

Jax groans and flops back onto his elbows. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You’ll love it,” I say with a sweet smile that’s absolutely a threat. “Everyone draws a card from the bowl and acts out an emotion or an experience. No words. Just movement. The rest of the group guesses what it is.”

Miles tilts his head. “So you’re encouraging theatrical emotional expression... in a group setting... with no training?”

“Yes,” I say.

He looks unimpressed. “Unorthodox.”

I turn to Jonah. “Would you like to go first?”

He gives me a slow smile that makes my knees contemplate surrendering. “Ladies first,” he says.

Jax snorts. “You’re gonna regret that.”

I ignore them and reach into the bowl, draw a card, and read it silently. “Being left on read by someone you loved.”

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