Page 24 of Reptile Dysfunction
“Monday at 4:30,” I say gently. “Stretchy clothes required.”
“I’ll be there.” Sterling bobs, practically luminous with excitement.
“Ready to face more market dangers?” I stand, gathering our empty wrappers. “I hear Olga’s soap stall is particularly treacherous. She’s been known to trap unsuspecting shoppers in thirty-minute conversations about essential oil blends.”
“Lead the way, Whitaker.” His snakes arrange themselves into what I’m starting to recognize as their “casual but alert” formation. “I’ll protect you from overzealous soapmakers.”
“My hero,” I deadpan, but my heart gives a traitorous little flutter when he falls into step beside me, casual and close. One of his snakes—of course it’s Sterling—brushes my shoulder again, a silent, silky little promise.
I pretend not to notice.
Monday is two days away.
And I already know I’ll be counting every minute.
Chapter Ten
Thad
“This bad boy,” Sloane pats one of the deceptively benign-looking machines in our Pilates room, “is called the reformer. It’s just a sliding platform with springs for resistance,” Sloane explains, demonstrating the machine’s basic movements. “Thad, we’ll start you on light resistance since it’s your first time.”
My snakes bristle at the implied challenge. First time. Like I haven’t been teaching swimming for five years, maintaining peak physical condition. Like I need to be handled with kid gloves just because I’ve never done this before.
“I don’t have to start with baby steps.” The edge in my voice surprises even me. “I can handle more resistance.”
I get distracted for a moment, as Sloane’s fitted workout gear commands all of my concentration—as well as my snakes’, who keep trying to get a better view when she demonstrates positions.
She arches an eyebrow. “It’s not about strength. It’s about control and proper form.”
From their spots along the south wall, the Silver Swimmers exchange knowing looks. They’ve been suspiciously eager, given none of them had touched this machine before today.
“I know about control.” My voice drops lower, remembering how her lips felt against mine when we kissed. Several snakes sigh dreamily, completely ruining my attempt at nonchalance.
“Prove it.” She pats the sliding carriage. “Light resistance first. Unless you’re scared?”
That does it. I lay back on the platform, trying to ignore how the machine creaks under my size. My snakes arrange themselves around my head, several watching Sloane with unabashed interest as she adjusts my position.
“Shoulders down,” she instructs, her hands briskly clinical but still managing to send heat through my tank top. “Engage your core. Now push out slowly—slowly, Thaddeus!”
But I’m already extending my legs with more force than necessary, the carriage sliding back with a metallic clang. See? Easy. Just because I’m bigger than their average client doesn’t mean…
“Holy shit,” I mutter as muscles I didn’t know existed protest. My snakes flail like startled eels—one dives behind my ear, another hisses betrayal.
“I said slowly.” Sloane’s voice holds equal parts amusement and concern. “This isn’t about powering through. It’s about controlled movement and proper alignment.”
“Iamcontrolled.” But even my snakes know that’s a lie.
“Again,” she says. “This time, actually listen to my cues.”
For the next twenty minutes, I manage to follow instructions—mostly. Turns out, once I stop fighting it, the machine stretches all kinds of neglected muscles.
When Sloane demonstrates something called a “long stretch” for the class, she practically folds in half while pushing the carriage. My competitive instincts kick in.
“I can do that,” I declare, even as my snakes express doubts with worried hisses.
“Thaddeus.” Her tone carries a warning. “That’s an advanced move. You need to build up to—”
But I’m already positioning myself, determined to prove I can handle whatever this overpriced sliding board can throw at me. I mean, I used to keep entire communities in line through sheer intimidation. How hard can one Pilates move be?
