Page 63 of Tight End

I’m assuming that bynormal, she means she and Oliver go back to their apartment, and I stay at mine. Alone. Without them.

I hate to be the one to break the news to her, but that’s not going to work for me. I’ve spent so much time trying to get June out of my head and squash all the inconvenient feelings I have for her, I’m giving up. Throwing in the proverbial towel. Waving the white flag. There’s no way I can do this for the rest of my life, and I’m damn sure not going to sit by and let her go on any more dates.

We all know how that went.

I really thought my football career was going to go down the tubes the minute I shifted my focus elsewhere, but that hasn’t been the case. Granted, we’ve only had the first game of the season, but I played better. I feel better. Don’t tell a soul, but I think the yoga helped too.

Which is one of the reasons I’m pulling up outside Hot 4Yoga with at least a quarter of the football team behind me. It didn’t take much to get them to agree to a session. I can be very persuasive when I want to be. The hot yoga challenge I made didn’t hurt, either, and while I’ve not done this particular class myself, it can’t be too bad.

Plus, the first one who taps out buys drinks after the next away game. And has to arrive in the outfit of our choice.

My money is on Theo.

He’s a big guy, and I don’t exactly see him being able to touch his knees, let alone his toes.

But as I step into June’s studio, my confidence drops a bit. It’s like a fucking sauna in here. What the fuck? Is her thermostat broken?

Please don’t tell me “hot yoga” means it’s actually supposed to be like this. I’m not sure I can hold all those poses on the surface of the sun.

“Holy fuck.” Gunner comes in behind me, whistling under his breath. “You didn’t tell me it was going to be this fucking hot.”

“It is hot yoga. What did you guys expect?” Theo comes in right behind him, letting the door shut right in Silas’s face, a move I fully endorse. I sure as hell didn’t extend him a formal invite to this event, and it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if he turned around and went home right now. In fact, I might rejoice.

Unfortunately for all of us, Silas doesn’t get the hint, joining us seconds later with Isaac hot on his heels. I guess assholes tend to stick together.Oh, joy.As long as the two of them don’t say a word to June, we’re good. Otherwise, they may be limping to practice on Monday.

“I don’t know.” Gunner shrugs, already pulling his shirtout repeatedly, fanning himself. I doubt it’s going to help. “I’m new to this. What if it’s hot yoga full of hot ladies?”

“Trust me, that would take boner-gate to a whole new level.” I chuckle, swiping away the sweat already forming on my brow. “You don’t want to be going through half these poses with a hard dick.”

“I’d hate for someone to get poked in the eye.”

Maybe Gunner will be the first one out instead of Theo. Either way is fine with me. He’d look great in a lovely pink dress. I’m thinking of sparkles and lace. Matching heels, of course. Maybe a touch of lipstick.

A few of the other guys filter in, most of them commenting on the heat, which I’m pretty sure is only getting worse.

Well, all of them except Vaughn Westgate, one of the senior guys on the team.

Not sure how he’s not dying inside right now. It’s like going outside for a run in South Florida in the middle of August. Like hanging out in Death Valley among the animal skulls and rocks. You get the idea. It’s hot as fuck.

He stretches his arms out and gives me a lazy smile. “Y’all are in for a real treat. I hope you’re ready to sweat your asses off.”

“I’m already sweating. I’m pretty sure my sweat is sweating. You’ve done this before?” I raise a brow at him, taking in his joggers, fitted moisture-wicking long-sleeve athletic shirt, and bright-yellow yoga mat. He certainly looks it.

And he’s the only one who brought his own accessories.

His smile widens. “My ex-wife thought it would be good for me to loosen up a little. It was about the only positive thing that came from my marriage aside from giving me my girls.”

Before I can respond, June jogs down the stairs, and everything I’m about to say dies an instant death on my tongue. In fact, I nearly swallow it.

My eyes are glued to her, every inch of her. She’s wearing those teal leggings that hug her thighs like a second skin, and I’d be lying if I said my dick wasn’t already twitching in my shorts. Her tank top hangs loose around her torso, giving me—and the guys here—a direct view of her purple floral sports bra along with some of her side and abdomen.

A low growl rumbles in my chest, realizing I should have given each and every one of these football players—guys who are no longer friends—a warning. They better keep their fucking eyes and hands to themselves or they may no longer find them attached.

Someone behind me whistles and my growl deepens. This was a mistake. A big one.

Last night after the date that shouldn’t have happened, I had an idea. I thought bringing a bunch of pro football players to the yoga studio, buying out her morning session, and plastering it all over everyone’s social media would be a huge win for June. What I didn’t consider was that would mean a bunch of dudes with way too much testosterone would be in very close proximity to my girl. Looking at her. Talking to her.Flirting.

I can’t do this.

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