Chapter Nine
“This seems like an absolutely horrible idea,” I say, nursing my cup of coffee as I force my feet through the sand. The beach is still hazy, the sun not even up yet. Jodie, of course, is practically skipping through the sand, her neon yellow workout tank way too loud for this time.
“It’s going to be great! New day, new you. You’ll thank me.”
“It’s way too early.”
“Not my fault you had a steamy, late-night date.”
I brush my bangs out of my eyes as I grin. I can’t even deny it.
Last night with Jesse was wonderful.
Okay, let’s back up. It’s not like anything crazy wonderful happened—there was no wild time on the sand, which is perfectly okay with me. Sex on the beach never did seem appealing.
Not that I would want that anyway, I remind myself, wiping the smirk off my face. It’s just my drowsiness and the early hour that has me thinking crazy, has me reminiscing about last night like a love-drunk teenager.
There was simply a moonlight walk, the tide lapping against our toes as Henry and Jake met for the first time. As our dogs greeted each other in the typical ways, Jesse and I ambled down the beach, talking about the basics, covering all of the favorite color and favorite holiday and favorite everything kind of talk.
As friends, of course.
“It wasn’t a date,” I argue, still clinging to my cup of coffee like it’s my life source.
“Yeah, okay. Because Jesse meets with tons of girls with Jake on the beach. You know, hanging by the sea late at night, languidly strolling down the beach… nope, nothing romantic there.” Jodie rolls her eyes, smiling in her endearing way. I scowl back at her.
“Our dogs were sniffing each other’s butts. So no, not quite romantic. Plus, Jake tried to hump Henry.”
Jodie squeals with laughter. “How did that even work? Never mind, I don’t need the visual. Anyway, maybe you two could take a hint.” She makes a terrifying gesture, one suggesting lewd activities, and I scoff at her craziness.
“We’re just friends,” I remind her, the tone of my voice reminiscent of a whiny teenager. We’ve been through this so many times.
“Well, that’s stupid if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you. Plus, I’ve been burned before.”
“Not by a sexy tattoo man, though. Come on. He’s different.”
“I don’t even know him, Jodie. Besides, I didn’t come here to fall in love.”
“Well, dearie, I hate to break it to you, but sometimes you can’t choose when you fall in love. Sometimes it just comes for you. Ask Henry. He apparently knows a thing or two about that.”
I roll my eyes, laughing at the thought of Jake and Henry, at Jesse’s embarrassment, and at the memory of falling into the sand laughing at his dog trying to violate mine.
Letting go of the “not a date” date with Jesse for the time being, Jodie and I stroll toward the group in the sand, the only other people insane enough to be up at this time. A few elderly ladies wearing way too tight yoga pants bend over, stretching their mats on the sand.
“Did I need a yoga mat for this?”
“No, it’s fine. We can go all natural. A little sand never killed anyone, right?” Jodie says, shrugging. I feel pretty doubtful as I eye the group.
Beside the elderly ladies, a few fit twentysomethings are already warming up, contorting into crazy poses that look painful. They make it look easy.
Suddenly, I realize Jodie dragging me to beach yoga was more than just a mistake. It’s going to be an epic failure, a true disaster.
“Jodie, I’m not flexible. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.” Nerves creep in, and I start thinking about the million ways this will end in my utter embarrassment.
Jodie stands calmly beside me. “Because you’re trying new things. Come on, it’s fun. It’s rejuvenating. The sound of the ocean, the feel of the sand, your body getting stronger.”
“Oh trust me, it’s electrifying,” a wheezy voice whispers from my left.
I jump a little, not realizing someone else was listening in.
Beside me, a middle-aged man stands closer than feels comfortable. Apparently, he never learned about personal space. He, like the elderly women, is also wearing rather tight yoga pants—except his are leopard print. To go with his leopard print pants, he’s picked out a black muscle tank that is leaving very little to the imagination—not that I would have really wanted to imagine his hairy chest anyway. I try not to stare at his pecs, nipples out and all, as I offer a polite grin.
I don’t say anything, not really sure how to respond to a man twice my age who has just used the word “electrifying.” Jodie exhales with a little snort.
“I’m George, by the way,” the man says, extending his hand. I remind myself to be polite as I extend my hand to shake his.
He doesn’t want a handshake though. Instead, he hunches slightly, kissing my hand as his eyes stare into mine.
I fight the urge the shake off the feel of his chapped lips on my hand and simultaneously to kick him in the crotch of his leopard print pants.
“So how old are you?” he asks, winking.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Yoga is not only an epic disaster. It’s going to be epically disturbing.
I try not to think about the amount of sweat on his hands or the fact he’s standing way too close.
“In my twenties,” I say, snapping my hand back from his grasp. This will hopefully be enough to dissuade him. God, this guy must be over twice my age. My new haircut isn’t doing its job if he thinks hitting on me is a good idea—or in the realm of possibility.
“Oh, a young one at yoga. Nice. I bet you’ll be all kinds of flexible.”
I’m pretty sure I make an audible vomiting noise. I turn to Jodie for assistance, but she is just giggling into her hand, trying to stifle down the sound.
“Oh, George, she is all kinds of something.” She winks at him, and then yanks me to the other side of the elderly ladies, beside the fit yoga attendants.
“Oh my God. Where have you brought me?” I whisper harshly, watching George like a hawk to see if he’s heading our way.
“George is pretty harmless,” Jodie says. “Creepy as hell, but harmless. However, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him give such a suave kiss upon meeting someone. You are lucky, I guess.”
I elbow her in the ribs as our instructor comes up to the group.
I shrug off the thought of George, although he’s still making eyes at me from across the group, offering me a sad little wave as he jogs in place. I’m not sure if the waving or jogging is more ridiculous looking at this beach yoga class. Of course, the leopard print pants make everything he does seem ridiculous. Still, with class starting, I let go of the fact creepy George is still staring. Jodie comes to attention, and once I get a look at the instructor, it all makes sense now.
The early wake-up. The sand in her toes. The dealing with creepers like George.
The yoga instructor is a man, but that seems like too ordinary of a word for the being before us.
Shirtless, tanned, and toned in all the right places, the gorgeous hunk doesn’t look anything like the yogi I imagined teaching the class. His crystal-blue eyes seem to sparkle as he takes inventory of his group. I turn to Jodie to see her ogling him quite obviously, a huge smile painted on her face.
“So you’re purely a yoga fan, huh?” I ask, grinning.
“It’s good for the mind, body, and heart,” she says.
“And not too bad on the eyes, I guess, huh?” I say. Jodie just shrugs.
“I told you beach yoga was pretty worth it.”
“Talk to me after class, if I haven’t broken a pelvic bone.”
“Don’t worry, I think George will help you if you do,” Jodie whispers as the instructor, whose name is Darren, instructs us to quiet down.
I make a gagging sound over the now-silent group, and everyone turns to look at me. “Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “Sand in my throat.”
My fit entourage shake their heads and then return their attention to Darren, making things like downward dog and warrior two look simple. I try to not fall over in the sand from my clumsiness, and from laughter as I spot George, who looks more like he’s doing disco moves than yoga.
Jodie mostly just stares at Darren, fanning herself—from the warmth of the sun, of course.
An hour later, I’ve managed to pull a shoulder muscle, laugh out loud at one of George’s poses—which led to more glares from the “fit” crew—and sweat more than if I’d gone for a jog. When I feel like I’m going to pass out on the sand, the class finally comes to a close. Thank God. I don’t want to think about George rushing over to resuscitate me, and if the class hadn’t ended when it did, it was looking like a very real possibility.
“Namaste,” Darren mercifully says, and we chant it back. I’m thinking more like Nama-no at this point….
“Wasn’t that a blast?” Jodie asks. I raise an eyebrow.
“Glad you liked class today. It’s so good to see you back. It’s been a while,” Darren says, brushing past the ogling fit girls to talk to Jodie. I smile, give Jodie a wink, and head down to the water. I glance back every now and then to read the body language.
Oh, yeah. They’re definitely into each other.
Staring at the gentle waves, I’m thinking about how much of a hard time I’ll give Jodie when we get back to the apartment when I hear a voice behind me.
“You did great today, buttercup.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I can zap him away with my mind.
I turn to face the music. Or George’s loud pants, whichever you want to label it as.
“So, can I take you for breakfast?” he asks, grinning as he stares at me.
“Can’t. Sorry. I’m working today.” And every single day for the rest of my life in order to avoid you.
“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe next time. Have a good day,” he says, winking and rushing off to catch up to the elderly ladies, perhaps hoping his breakfast date chances will work out with someone.
I turn to head back to Jodie, who is still flirting with Darren. After a few more minutes of making eyes, the two part ways, and I walk with Jodie back toward the apartment.
“Okay. You need to ask him out already.”
“What? No. He’s not interested in me like that.”
I eye her in disbelief. “Are you serious? He’s crazy about you. Ask him out. Then we can stop pretending to like beach yoga. We can avoid creepers like George, and I can sleep in again.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.”
I freeze in my tracks in the sand. I eye Jodie for a minute, debating what to do. Then, I think about George’s creepy wink and his “maybe next time” comment.
Oh, no, George. There’s not going to be a next time.
I grab Jodie’s hand and yank her back toward the beach yoga area, where Darren is cleaning up his mat.
“Hi, Darren? Jodie wants to know if you would like to meet her for drinks tonight, say, eight o’clock?”
I hear Jodie inhale sharply. Darren smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Great. She’ll meet you in front of Midsummer Nights. Thanks so much,” I say, pulling her after me again, not giving her time to back out.
“Are you crazy? I can’t believe you just did that,” she hisses, but she’s smiling behind her fake anger.
“Me neither. But if it means no more beach yoga, then I’m game.”
“Oh, this is exciting. I need to go get my writing done so I’m ready for tonight. He’s gorgeous. And flexible. And just so perfect.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, pulling her toward our apartment, where I fully intend on heading straight back to bed.
Beach yoga checked off the bucket list. I think I’m good with taking it off completely.