Page 82 of Relationship Goals

“I don’t know what to do,” Abigail moans, finally splaying out like a starfish.

Starfishwas the wrong word to think, and I snort, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Don’t laugh, don’t laugh,” Abigail mutters, and that does it.

I collapse onto my side from the force of my amusement.

Abigail makes a sound like an angry hippopotamus, her cheeks blowing out as she tries to hold her glee in.

“Your anus, Abigail. Holding your pelvic floor correctly is no laughing matter.” Lauren’s tone is crisp and unamused, and I see the exact moment Abigail loses it.

She rolls over to her side, and we face each other, laughing hysterically. “I’m gonna pee my pants,” Abigail wheezes.

“And that is why proper form is so important,” Lauren snaps. “Now get back in position and focus on your anus while you pull your core in.”

“Please stop saying that,” Abigail finally manages, wheezing.

“FOCUS ON YOUR ANUS,” Lauren bellows, and Abigail forces herself onto her hands and knees, shaking with laughter as she crawls to the door of the room, then practically sprints from it.

“You should probably stop sayinganus,” I tell Lauren, forcing myself to flatten my expression.

“That’s the proper name for it.” The Pilates instructor frowns.

“We can’t concentrate on our form while we’re laughing.”

“No one made you laugh.” She sniffs. “It isn’t my fault you both came here with the maturity level of preteens.”

I sigh, stifling the urge to roll my eyes. “Right. Why don’t we leave, then?”

“You two are my only clients right now,” she says, her eyes going round in surprise. Her ponytail swishes as she shakes her head. “No. You can’t leave.”

“Then stop sayinganuslike that,” I grumble, “and we’ll stay.”

“Okay.” Abigail breezes back into the room, her cheeks red from laughing. “Okay. I’m ready to focus on my anus,” she says seriously.

I snort.

“We’re done with your anus,” Lauren says primly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I counter mildly.

Abigail crumples to the floor, laughing hysterically.

“Class is dismissed,” the brigadier general of Pilates says tartly, and with that, she flounces from the room.

“I can’t,” Abigail moans, tears streaming from her eyes, her entire body shaking. “I can’t with you.”

“You can, and you will,” I tell her, unable to keep the smile from my face. “Is she always like this?”

“Yes. Yes, she is, and I usually hurt so much I just concentrate on getting through the class, but then, I looked at you when she said it, and—” She bursts into a fresh bout of laughter, holding her stomach. “Oh my god, this is about as intense as the hundred.”

“Fucking hundred.” I shake my head. “Why is that such a god-awful exercise? The team would probably sweat bullets trying this out.”

“Probably because of the position of the moons around Uranus.”

“Shut up,” I tell her, laughing roughly as I shake my head. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

She hesitates, watching me carefully.

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