Page 25 of Reptile Dysfunction
The answer is, as it turns out, very hard.
The first push goes okay—my strength compensating for lack of technique. A dull ache reminds me to be careful, but I push through it. However, on the return, the twinge explodes into sharp, debilitating pain. My snakes all cramp simultaneously, creating a crown of distressed serpents above my head.
“Shit,” I growl, trying to straighten up. But my back has other ideas, spasming in a way that makes even breathing difficult.
“Don’t move.” Sloane is beside me instantly, her hands supporting my lower back. “This is exactly why we start with the basics.”
The Silver Swimmers cluck sympathetically, though I swear I hear Iris whisper something about “stubborn men” to Mabel.
“I’m fine,” I insist, but despite my denials, my snakes droop pathetically. One particularly dramatic one actually plays dead, flopping limply over my forehead.
“Yes. Fine. Clearly.” Sloane’s dry tone does nothing to hide her concern. “Can you make it to the mat area? We need to assess the damage.”
Through sheer stubbornness, I manage to get off the Reformer without embarrassing myself further. But each step sends shooting pain up my spine and deep into my right butt cheek.
“Lie face down,” Sloane instructs, gesturing to a mat in the corner. “Carefully.”
The other students have moved to different equipment, though I notice the Silver Swimmers keeping a worried eye on me. Great. By tomorrow, the whole town will know the former enforcer was taken down by a piece of exercise equipment.
“This might help.” Sloane’s hands are surprisingly strong as they work the knotted muscles in my lower back. “Though you really should see someone about this. I know a great massage therapist who works with monster clients.”
“Not necessary,” I grunt, though her touch is already providing some relief. “Just need to walk it off.”
“Right. Because that macho attitude worked so well five minutes ago.”
She pauses for a beat, her fingers pressing into a knot more gently. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” Then, quickly, “Especially when I warned you first.”
Her fingers remain gentle as they find particularly tender spots. “Your snakes are still cramping. All of them.”
She’s right. My hair is a mess of twisted, uncomfortable serpents.
“Drama Queens,” I mutter, though if I could moan in pain without totally humiliating myself, I would. They’re just manifesting the pain I’m trying to hide.
“They’re honest,” Sloane says softly. “Unlike someone I know who’s too proud to admit when he’s hurting.”
Before I can respond, another spasm hits, making every snake on my head curl into defensive positions.
“That’s it.” She stands, wiping her hands on a towel. “Class is over for you. Can you make it home?”
“I have swimming lessons—”
“Not today, you don’t.” Her tone brooks no argument. “I’m calling Sebastian to cover your classes.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Too late.” She’s already typing on her phone. “He says he’ll handle it.”
Sebastion. Wonderful. Now my entire family will know I was defeated by a sliding platform with springs. Some scary enforcer I turned out to be.
“I have some muscle-cramping cream in my swimming bag,” Iris offers.
“I can still ride my bike,” I insist, trying to sit up. Every snake on my head immediately protests with alarmed hisses.
“Like hell, you can.” Sloane’s eyes narrow. “That back spasm isn’t something to ignore. The doctor will want to see this—muscle injuries like this can take weeks to heal properly if you don’t rest them. For now, I’m driving you home. No arguments.”
“In what? That tiny sports car you drive?”
“My car is in for maintenance. I have my dad’s SUV today. It even has heated seats that recline.” She helps me stand, ignoring my wounded pride. “Unless you’d prefer I call your brother for a ride? I’m sure he and the Silver Swimmers would love to discuss your form.”
