Page 12 of Inflame

“Hi everyone,” I say as a test. Several of my clients wave and smile. “Testing.”

When all the members seem situated, I turn on the meditation music and lower myself to my mat. I’m about to start the class when out of the corner of my eye I see a man jog up to our area. It isn’t until he takes up a spot in the back of our gathering and unrolls his mat that I notice who he is.

You have got to be kidding me.

I ungracefully get up and walk to the back of the class.

“What are you doing here, Nic?” I hiss, stooping down to his level.

“Shhh,” he chides, giving me a dirty look. “I heard the yoga instructor is super anal about maintaining the structure of her class. One of those Type A personalities. You know, the rigid and unbendable kind? Have you met her before?”

I stare at him blankly, trying to figure out if he is for real or not. “I. Am. The. Instructor.”

“Oh snap.”

I turn away and look out toward the water, trying to contain my frustration. “No one says that anymore, you fool.” I am starting to see that Nic likes to make me feel agitated and off-kilter.

“I feel like you have some pent-up aggression that you need to work through during this class,” he comments. “If we’re going to work together at this whole wedding planning thing, I need you to help foster a good working relationship. Because right now, I sense some hostility. Oh, and you are making a scene.”

I narrow my eyes at him and huff out a breath. “No, you are.”

“Claire Bear, is everything okay?”

I rise from my stoop and find Blake looking at me expectantly. I never even noticed that he arrived at class. Usually he texts me a heads-up, but I either missed it or he decided to attend last minute. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

He eyes me with suspicion but thankfully takes his place on the lawn. Blake has known me most of our college years, plus our time working at the gym. Thus, he can sense when I’m lying—like right now.

Nic glances around at the other members, who are obviously trying hard not to stare. I can even see a few smirks, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why anyone would be entertained by our little dramatic tiff.

“Told you so,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “I just want to feel at peace and let go of some of my mental struggles. It’s hard being the cornerstone for the planning. It exhausts me.”

My mouth drops. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm?”

“You heard me.”

“Huh?”

“Quit baiting me!” I snap, and then quickly hush.

“Can you repeat the question?”

I prop my hands on my hips and lean over farther, my shadow covering all of his features. The lights have kicked on and the intro part of the meditation soundtrack has restarted. “How can you be exhausted when I’m the one doing all of the labor and organizing? Huh?”

Nic has the nerve to try to look innocent. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. All this animosity you are harboring inside is messing with us. We both need this class,” he says with enthusiasm. For the past month, I have only ever noticed two emotions from Nic Hoffman—annoying or not annoying. He pretty much stays in the “annoying” category on the daily. He points to the front of the class. “So go up there and do your thing, before you start to develop an even more colorful reputation.” He stretches his arms above his head and then bends his body forward so he can touch his toes. His back muscles pull beneath his shirt, and I can use my imagination to visualize the definition and strength he must be hiding underneath the fabric. “Quite frankly, your hovering is kind of hampering my moment.”

I let out an exaggerated exhale and stomp to the front of the class without another word spoken. I turn up the meditation music, probably a few decibels higher than my norm, and switch to the next track.

“Good evening,” I say, bowing to my students, “namaste.” I sit down on my mat and crisscross my legs. I try to keep my attention on anyone but Nic, but he is the tallest person. Despite being in the back, it’s like he has a spotlight on himself. “Welcome to Yoga at the River. I am your instructor, Claire Nettles. Tonight I’ll be leading you through a series of breathing exercises and walking you through the flow method. As always, I try to keep this class fun and do not label any of the poses I’ll introduce to you with the typical professional names.” Several of my clients giggle. It is part of my trademark of keeping things fresh and making members want to return. “I hope that you find some relaxation and are able to center yourself and declutter your thoughts.”

I allow the oxygen to flow in through my nose and out through my mouth in deep cleansing breaths. Once I have calmed down from the initial shock of Nic showing up, I instruct the class to follow my rhythm of breathing. “In through your nose, hold for a count of three, then release out through your mouth. This is the type of deep breathing I want you to do during every movement I will lead you through. Just listen to the music and become one with the flow.”

I close my eyes and listen to the moving water from the river. “Now, let’s get into ourlazy starfishposition,” I instruct, modeling the movement gracefully. “From that move, you are going to get into theI’ve been kneedpose and hold it there for one minute.” I roll onto my back and bring my knees up to my chest. “Just let your thoughts drift with each exhale. Let go of any tension in your neck. Relax your shoulders. If it is more natural to roll to your side, do what feels best.”

I typically am not nervous while teaching a class; however, this class is so different with Nic’s penetrating gaze following my every movement from the back of the group. I don’t even need to look at him. I can feel his judging eyes on me anyway. When I do sneak a glance at him, he doesn’t even fractionally look to be meditating. He looks charged and ready to pounce. I feel my stomach knot.

Why does he need to be so intense?

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