Page 54 of Hiding from Hope

Asking Jessie, though, felt easy. I hadn’t even thought about it, really, just knew he’d come through and that it’d be comfortable with him, like everything else is.

A tight frown forms and he makes some noise that is a mix between a scoff and a grunt.

“So you could press up against and bend over in front of some other guy?” he grumbles, and I just innocently shrug, biting my bottom lip, knowing it’ll make him insane.

“Over my dead body.” His response is quiet, almost growled, but I catch it. I love it and hate it. Because who is he to get jealous of someone else? It’s confusing as all heck and yet I’m still not complaining.

“It’s going to be fun, you’ll see.” I watch him roll his eyes and shift again when the hot yoga class starts filing out of the room.

After a couple of minutes, letting the room cool down and air out, the couples file in. There are twelve of us, being six couples, and we each find the mats and take a seat. Elle takes this one, too, with her husband, who is also an instructor but doesn’t work at our studio. He just comes in to assist this class, but otherwise works as a PT for one of those flashy gyms that trains celebrities.

Jessie and I take the front. I do this as a courtesy, as I am obviously comfortable in a yoga class and can assist in demonstrations.

Jessie is still shifty, though he has tamed it down now that we’re in class. He is probably also shifty because we haven’t spoken about last week. The counter, the dinner, the kiss. We’ve seen each other sporadically. I’ve popped into the café for a new coffee blend, and each time he’s refused my payment. Sometimes he’d drop a coffee off to me here at the studio, he’d invite me over for dinner and ask me to make him something from my mom’s cookbook again. We’d sit in silence in his apartment reading, almost snuggled on the couch together.

Snuggled, literally legs intertwined, a shared blanket over our laps and whispered words–snuggled.

It has been… wholesome. That appears to be the only word I can seem to come up with. There have been no other sexual interactions, but it isn’t from a lack of tension because, my god, was there tension. It feels like we’re both in a constant state of panting. But it’s comfortable, there is no awkwardness. It just feels… right. Like it’s exactly where we’re meant to be.

I know Addison and Rosie are my best friends, but we all have busy lives. It’s different with Jessie. He fills a space I hadn’t realized felt so empty. He just fits, and now I don’t remember a time before him.

Before us.

We get walked through individual warm-ups before we start moving into the pair work. The moment Elle announces the first one, my stomach sinks. The yogi box. It isn’t that it is overly intense; it is that it is close. And requires some strength and trust. I don’t know what I was thinking, doing this with Jessie.

“You done this one before?” Jessie whispered as we move into the starting position.

“Yeah, but just with the girls.” I nod back at him.

“Partner A, lie on your back, with your hands in the air, as we demonstrated, and Partner B, ready to grip the shins just above the ankles,” Elle instructs, and she walks the room to check form and assist as I focus on Jessie. Partner A requires more strength and is better for the larger of the couple, so naturally, that is Jessie. He takes the mat, lying flat on his back and lifting his arms. I swallow and take a deep breath. Centering my mind, I try to do everything I can to focus on the exercise and not on Jessie’s strong legs. On the way his exercise shorts are practically gripping his thighs and the way his T is giving away every single muscle. Every dip of his cut torso and rippled stomach.

I try to swallow again, but my mouth is suddenly dry.

“You going to start soon or just stare at me?” Jessie’s deep timbre voice pulls me from my staring competition with his body, and I try to shake myself. Focus. Focus on the movement, not the body.

When I look to his face, he has the audacity to hit me with a smug smirk. He knew I was checking him out.

This is the dance we’ve been doing all week. Catching each other ogling the other. Knowing that we are both a breath away from tearing clothes and lighting each other on fire. But we’ve also both been comfortable in the almost touch, content to not be the one that takes the next step.

It takes edging to a whole other extreme, and I am ready to lose my mind because of it.

I reach down and grip the space just above his ankles and lift mine one at a time and place them in his hands.

This is the moment I realize my mistake. We’re in a glorified sixty-nine-plank position, with me suspended above him, and I feel my skin heat where he grips my ankles.

“Umm…” I try to breathe through the feelings that are flooding my system, trying to shut down the screams of Little Casey as she begs me to take Jessie home and cross the final line I keep trying to draw in the imaginary sand. “So, from here, we need to jack-knife up.” My voice is a pant and from the way Jessie has his eyes scrunched closed and the grip on my ankles tightening, I’m not the only one affected.

“Okay. Great,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

His eyes snap open, and lord, if I wasn’t already a hot and sweaty mess, that look of hunger in his eyes would do me over.

“Your ass and pussy are basically in my face right now, Ace. I’m not sure okay is the way to describe anything right now.” I stumble between a pant and a laugh. Thoroughly enjoying his pain, but also, I just really want to be naked with him right now.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with. Maybe it was a bad idea,” I say between giggles, and he just shakes his head, a delicate smile gracing his handsome face.

I haven’t seen one of those devastatingly stunning smiles since that night on the counter. I keep trying to get one, but he keeps them locked up tight. I won’t give up, though. I’m determined to get another.

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