Page 27 of Fresh Start
“Of course. I’ve been into it for the past ten years,” she said, and someone else joined the line behind me.
Yaya looked at the person and then at the front of the line and raised her voice.
“For heaven’s sake people, move along.”
“Yaya!” I reprimanded her, but it was impossible not to laugh.
Grandma was a natural and very experienced cat herder at home, and she couldn’t help herself in public, either. As soon as she spoke, the line started to move, and we soon found ourselves in the backyard which hadn’t changed at all since I was last in town. If anything, it’d probably become even tackier.
Everyone stood in front of a yoga mat, and I picked one at the back. I didn’t want to steal anyone’s limelight with my experience, especially if I didn’t know the instructor. As my grandma went to chat with some other women, I grabbed a spot for her next to me and put on an earphone with some soothing music playing and sat down on the mat to do some leg stretches.
I got so lost in my own world, content and happy that I’d found a little spot of heaven to be at peace in, that I didn’t notice when everyone else stood up and started working on the first exercise.
I rushed to get up and looked around for Yaya, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
“You’re doing it wrong, Tina. It’s the other way,” someone said, and I looked at the front.
I found my grandma. And it turned out she was teaching the damned thing.
“Yaya, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Hush now, sweetie. If you can’t keep up, just copy everyone else,” she said.
She got into the next position, which looked wrong, but I didn’t have time to challenge it as another person walked in and took my entire attention.
Dawson Eldred.
What on earth was he doing here? Was he stalking me? He must be stalking me. There’s no way he’d come in this exact class out of the dozens of events and classes taking place in town. Dawson looked around the garden, and I followed his gaze myself. The entire place was full.
Except, of course, for the spot next to me.
My fucking luck. Of course, it would be. Dawson realized it, too, and headed toward me. And then he saw me. He bit his lip in a cute, almost kissable way and ruffled his hair as he stood on the mat next to me. I did my best not to acknowledge him, but it was impossible not to sneak glances his way.
I didn't appreciate the games fate was playing with me.
Focusing on my grandma was the only logical thing I could do, and that was exactly what I did. Everyone was now standing with their legs stretched apart and their arms pointing up to the sky doing the warrior pose. Dawson kept shuffling his feet and waving his hands in an effort to keep his balance.
It wasn’t that hard. Why was he making it harder than it was?
Yaya assumed the next pose, which she called the flagpole pose, but which I knew as Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana, and she balanced on one foot, bringing the other one up to her side and holding her toes with her fingers. When did grandma get so flexible?
As I brought my own leg up, something jabbed my arm, and I turned my head to find out what it was. Dawson's foot, followed by the rest of his body, landed on me, bringing both of us to the ground.
"Are you stupid?" I whisper-shouted.
Yaya continued to hold her pose as did everyone else who was attending the class, so I dusted the grass off myself and got up.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," Dawson replied as he got up too.
"Whatever," I muttered under my breath and returned my concentration to my grandma, who introduced a new position. The Drag Queen's Split Prayer.
She almost made me laugh. I was starting to question her actual qualifications as there was no such pose, but also, since when did Yaya know what drag queens were and how they split? I did follow her instructions, however, and found the pose familiar.
I sat down on the mat and stretched my legs. When I realized I was sitting face-to-face with Dawson, I had to take a deep breath and remind myself that yoga was my escape.
It became hard to ignore him, though, when we both had to lean forward on our elbows and stretch out because I found my nose buried in Dawson's blond hair that smelled of the guesthouse’s peach shampoo and Dawson's hands resting next to mine.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" I said, and Dawson lifted his head only inches away from my face.
