Page 15 of Love, Take Two

"Very good," Serenity says, and I realize she's talking about us. "Beautiful connection. You can feel the trust and familiarity between these two."

Heat rises in my cheeks as I realize other people are watching us, probably noting how easily we slip into intimacy despite claiming to be casual friends.

"Now we move into supported poses," Serenity continues. "Partners will sit back-to-back, supporting each other's spines. Feel how you can be strong individually while also leaning on your partner's strength."

This involves scooting closer together and pressing our backs against each other, which means full body contact in a way that feels both innocent and incredibly intimate. Emory's back is broader than it was in college, more muscled from years of adventure travel, but the way we fit together feels achingly familiar.

"Perfect alignment," Serenity says, adjusting our position slightly. "See how naturally they support each other? This is what partnership looks like—individual strength creating mutual stability."

I can feel Emory's breathing against my back, the warmth of his skin through his thin tank top, the way our bodies automatically adjust to support each other's weight. It's muscle memory from four years of shared beds and study sessions, but it feels dangerous now in a way it never did then.

“From here we move into trust poses," Serenity announces. "One partner will fall backward, trusting the other to catch them."

"I've got you," Emory says quietly as I prepare to fall back into his arms, and something about the certainty in his voice makes my chest tight with memory and current awareness.

When I fall backward, his hands catch me under my shoulders with perfect timing, strong and steady and completely reliable. For a moment I'm suspended in his arms, looking up at his face against the backdrop of sunrise sky, and the intimacy of the moment feels breathtaking and terrifying.

"Beautiful trust," Serenity says. "Switch positions."

When Emory falls back into my arms, I catch him with the same instinctive precision, and the smile he gives me when I help him back up is soft and grateful and something more than friendly.

Every pose feels natural. When Serenity demonstrates stretches that require one partner to support the other's weight, Emory's hands fit perfectly on my waist like they remember exactly how to hold me. When we do poses that require coordination, we sync up without verbal communication.

"Final pose," Serenity announces. "Heart-opening partner stretch. Sit facing each other, hold hands, and lean away from each other to create a gentle backbend. Look into your partner's eyes and breathe love and gratitude."

This pose requires us to sit close enough that our knees touch, holding hands while creating a stretch that opens our chests toward each other. It's intimate in multiple ways—physical touch, eye contact, and the vulnerability of opening your heart chakra or whatever while staring into someone's face.

Emory's hands are warm and slightly callused from outdoor adventures, familiar in the way that makes my heart skip even though I don't want it to. When we lean back into the stretch, thepose creates a private space that feels separate from everyone else despite being completely public.

"Breathe love and gratitude," Serenity repeats, and I find myself breathing something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Emory's eyes are soft and focused entirely on me, like I'm the only person on this beach. The way he's looking at me now is the same way he used to look at me during quiet moments in college—like he's seeing something in me that no one else notices.

"Perfect," Serenity whispers, though I'm not sure if she's talking about our form or the expression on our faces.

When the pose ends and we release each other's hands, there's a moment of lingering contact that lasts longer than necessary. Neither of us moves immediately, and the awareness between us feels electric in a way that's definitely not just friendly nostalgia.

"That was beautiful, everyone," Serenity says as we all settle back into final meditation position. "I can feel the love and connection radiating from all of our couples."

As we roll up our mats and other people start chatting about breakfast, one of the other male guests approaches me with a smile that's a little too interested.

"Great session," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Brad, friend of the groom. You're Vada, right? Jared's mentioned you."

"Nice to meet you, Brad," I say politely, shaking his hand.

"I have to say, you're handling the whole ex-boyfriend wedding thing really well," Brad continues with what he probably thinks is charm. "Very mature. Most women would be total messes about watching their ex marry someone else."

I feel my smile freeze slightly. "Actually, I'm completely happy for Jared. We work much better as friends."

"Sure, sure," Brad says with a knowing look that suggests he doesn't believe me at all. "But still, available and gorgeous at a destination wedding? That's got to be rough. Good thing you've got options here."

The implication in his tone makes my skin crawl slightly, but before I can formulate a polite response, Emory appears next to me with a friendly, but questioning smile.

"Hey," he says to me, then nods at Brad with the kind of polite coolness that suggests he heard enough of the conversation to know exactly what's happening. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Absolutely," I say, grateful for the rescue. "Brad, it was nice meeting you."

As we walk away from Brad toward the breakfast setup, Emory matches my pace with the same protective presence I remember from college when he'd seamlessly extract me from uncomfortable social situations.

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