Page 86 of King Of Order

‘Rio,’ she hissed, shooting me a sideways glare. ‘Be quiet.’

I let out a deep growl of frustration, narrowing my eyes at the instructor as he demonstrated the subsequent stance.

It was some kind of impossible twist that made it seem he’d been practicing circus acrobatics since birth.

The other people in the class—most lithe types with ridiculous flexibility—mimicked him without a second thought.

‘This is not normal,’ I grumbled, bending into an awkward pose that strained my muscles, which ached in ways I hadn’t thought possible. ‘Who the hell enjoys this?’

Chiara sighed beside me. ‘You’ll like it if you let yourself relax.’

‘Relax?’ I scoffed, shifting into another clumsy stretch. ‘This is the least relaxing thing I’ve ever done.’

She glanced at me, lips pressed, trying not to laugh. ‘You’re doing fine.’

I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. But as the class dragged on, and I ran out of things to complain about, I realized there was no escaping it.

I was here, in it.

As much as I hated to admit it, my body was starting to loosen up, and the tension in my shoulders was easing.

I stopped muttering underhanded comments about the instructor’s zen-like attitude and the classmates who seemed born to contort themselves into pretzel shapes.

Instead, I focused on getting through the next pose without thoroughly embarrassing myself.

By the time we were halfway through, Chiara was grinning at me, that infuriating, knowing smile. ‘Would you believe it? You’re not dying.’

‘Shut up,’ I muttered, though I’d no argument in me anymore. ‘I still hate it—don’t get me wrong—but it isn’t as bad as I imagined.’

‘Fancy that,’ she pushed, with a wink.

Perhaps it was the fact that I stopped resisting it. Conceivably, the movements forced me to slow down and focus on the simplicity of inhaling and exhaling.

But by the end of the class, I wasn’t fighting it anymore. I relaxed into the flow.

We finished with a cobra pose.

Finally, something that didn’t make me feel like a contortionist. As we lay on the mats, deep breathing, the tension in my body melted away, even if just a little.

After the class, as we rolled up our mats, Chiara turned to me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

I glared at her though my baleful expression had no bite left. ‘You’re lucky we’re engaged.’

She laughed, slipping her arm through mine as we headed out. ‘Next time, you might even enjoy it all.’

I snorted. ‘Don’t push it.’

I said it softer, less annoyed. Maybe because, deep down, I’d enjoyed myself. Hell, as more time wore on, I liked being around someone like Chiara—who didn’t take my brooding to heart or shushed me like a misbehaving kid in school.

I was also partial to Chiara’s camaraderie and our back-and-forth banter.

Likewise, the idea of a ‘next’ time.

I enjoyed her company.

She provoked me, got me to laugh, with intense belly roars that ached, and between loving that had me growling, she kept me yearning all day long.

We were meant to be playing a part, but the lines between pretend and real blurred.

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