Page 13 of Moonshot

I look up, wondering what’s interrupted this person’s inquiry, when I notice Luigi standing beside our table. His expression is unreadable, but I’m aware he could be trying to place where we’ve met before.

“Luigi, hi. It’s Ava. We met recently when Michael… I mean, Mick brought me here for lunch. I was telling my cousin, Carson, about it.” I’m sure I’ve shared this detailed information too quickly, pointing at Carson as I rattle on, but I don’t want to risk Luigi thinking I’m on some date with another man.

What appears to be relief now crosses his face as his serious expression relaxes into a kind smile. “Ah, Ava. I remember. It’s hard not to remember such a beautiful girl. Thank you for joining us tonight.” Luigi turns to Carson, extending a hand.

“It was fantastic, sir. Always is,” Carson adds.

“Can I bring you a coffee or some dessert?”

“Oh, none for me. I need to be getting home.”

“Well, speak for yourself. Could I have some tiramisu to go? I’ll enjoy it this evening.” Carson grins past Luigi at Tabitha, who is twirling her hair, making goo-goo eyes at him as she stands next to the hostess station.Oh, good grief.

“Of course, sir. I’ll have Tabitha bring it right over. It was good to see you, Ava.”

“Thank you, Luigi. You too.”

As Luigi walks away, I reach over to grab my purse. “Do you mind terribly if I head out? I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. It’s okay. You were just being concerned. You’re right. I have a habit of being a bit too naïve and trusting sometimes. The reminder is appreciated. I think the week’s just caught up with me.”

As I start to stand from my chair, I see Tabitha coming toward me with a white to-go box in her hand and hear Carson whisper, “Like taking candy from a baby. Think I can get her to feed it to me when she comes over later?”

Good lord.

* * *

I wake the following morning feeling out of sorts. Not only could I not shake the conversation I’d had with Carson over the ‘local girl’ possibility, I just didn’t like feeling so out of control. I’m a strong, independent, modern-day woman. I don’t need to sit back and wait for some prince to ride up on a white horse and pronounce that I’ve been selected as his significant other. If Michael is interested, he should say it. Carson’s right. There’s no reason he couldn’t have reached out by now to the office. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to call and ask to speak with me long enough to get my number.

I’ve showered and dressed, had a cup of tea, and still feel agitated. I consider my exhausting weeks of late and realize my routine has fallen to shit. I used to be very regimented about meditating and going to yoga. When had this stopped?

Grabbing my phone, I look through my contacts for my favorite yoga studio. The Hot House. They offer barre yoga for all skill levels. I enjoy the hot barre yoga. It could be the sensation that I’m cleansing my aura. But then again, I’m always cold, so there’s that. Quickly hitting the button before I come up with an excuse not to, I pour another cup of tea as the phone rings.

“The Hot House. This is Liza.”

“Hi, Liza. I know it’s last minute, and a Saturday no less. But by any chance, do you have any yoga classes with availability today?”

“Hmm. Let me look.” I can hear her tapping away at her keyboard as I sip my peppermint tea. “Yes, you’re in luck. There’s a hot barre class at 10. It’s an advanced class. Is that okay?”

“Yes, I think I can handle that. I’ve been doing yoga for a long while. I’ll be there. Thank you,” I reply, disconnecting the call. Looking through my phone’s calendar, I decide to schedule my next appointment before I leave to ensure I keep this healthy habit going. I feel much better when I meditate daily and include yoga in my regular routine. I’m not sure how I let this slip, but I decide it’s mandatory if I’m to continue working with Stark and letting hot men play with my head.

* * *

Arriving at The Hot House, the place seems busier than I recall. Although, I don’t usually come on a Saturday morning, opting instead to come before work when the studio’s more serene. I check-in at the counter and head toward my class.

I still have several minutes before the lesson is underway, so I find a location in the center of the room and place my mat on the floor. Pulling my arms up over my head, I do a few stretches to prepare my limbs for the poses that will be occurring amidst the high heat of the space.

As I twist my trunk to elongate my spine, I catch a glimpse of an odd sight. It’s rare to see anything beyond women clad in various shades and styles of lycra in this area. But at the rear of the room, a male, in his mid to upper thirties, I can only describe asholy hell is he hot,is sitting on a yoga mat. He’s sporting a five o’clock shadow, dark inky hair, and deep blue eyes that would almost rival mine. I realize I’ve been caught staring when I witness an eyebrow rise in my direction and a tantalizing dimple pops from beneath his dark whiskers. I quickly spin around to face the front of the class before my imitation of a human tomato returns.

Reaching for my water bottle, I take a large gulp. Not only has seeing this Adonis behind me gotten me flushed, but the temperature in the room is starting to affect me. The class hasn’t even begun, and I’m already a hot mess.

“Good morning, class. I’m Jade. Welcome to advanced barre yoga.”

We offer good mornings in unison before Jade thankfully gets the class underway. At least I’ll have something positive to focus on while I’m here. I assume the first pose, watching Jade closely. The heat is starting to really catch up with me. With each new position, I can feel the intense stretch as the sweat trickles down my skin.

Over and over, as if on repeat, I contort my body in ways that should feel unnatural, then release the pose to allow increased circulation while ridding toxins from my body. I love how I can get lost in the experience, focused only on my breathing and the pull of my taught muscles instead of the constant stressors and insecurities at war with my brain.

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