Page 37 of Gym Bros
“Sure.”
Calyx sits on my mat and takes my hands off my knees. Holding onto them, he applies some traction, pulling me a few inches further down. I feel the backs of my legs engage. “There,” I tell him.
“Good?” he asks.
I look up, and he’s right there. Face to face with me. Our eyes meet, and something in me gets stuck again. I swear to God, I could probably stare at him for an hour straight. But in an effort not to make this anymore awkward than it already is, I drop my gaze to the mat. “Yeah, that helps,” I tell him.
“Let’s hold it for a few more breaths then.”
“Okay,” I say and breathe. I feel his exhaled air on the back of my head, gusting softly over my scalp. I’m hyperaware of his presence. The tenor of his voice. The pressure of his thumbs on my palms, his light, cool scent.
“Can you get yourself into plank?” he asks finally, affording me an opportunity to get my distance.
“If I bend my knees.”
“Go for it.” He lets go of my hands and moves out of the way.
I lumber my way into the plank position, and Calyx mirrors it beside me. “Now do like a half push up and hold that for a second…this is on an exhale, then inhale sliding forward into cobra.”
The way his body glides smoothly into the back bend gets my attention. The side holes of his shirt are gaping, and I can’t help taking a peek at his nipples. I’ve seen them on Instagram—he’s not shy about being shirtless on camera—but I have toadmit the effect is different in real life. My cock reacts predictably.
I may be slightly attracted to my yoga teacher. I’m not ready to define it yet—I’ve enjoyed exactly one blow job from a man, and I didn’t reciprocate it, but Calyx does something for me.
His body is sexy—slim and lithe and graceful. His face is…well…he’s gorgeous. When he turns to see me still holding my plank, he lifts his perfect brows. “Stuck?”
“Maybe,” I mutter, wishing I could cool these sudden too hot thoughts. I shouldn’t be thinking abouthimthat way. It feels moronic. What the hell would he want with me?
Twenty bucks says I’m not his type, although I wonder who is, which is also something I shouldn’t be thinking about when he’s trying to teach me something. I roll through the half push up into cobra and feel my tailbone screaming at me again.
“You don’t feel this in your ass?” I gasp out. “Ever?”
He huffs a soft laugh. “No. Have you ever had one of those massages where the little ladies walk on your back and smash out all the knots with their heels and toes?”
“Jesus. No.”
“You should. It would probably help.”
“Any other professionals you recommend I see?”
He grins. “No—just those.”
“Send me some numbers, I’ll set it up. How long do I have to stay like this?”
“Downward dog is next.”
“Oh.”
“So whenever you’re ready.”
“Show me?”
I hold my pathetic version of cobra while Calyx pushes himself backward into a geometrically perfect triangle. His feet are flat on the mat, legs long and straight. His arms balance hisweight perfectly. I also have a full, unobstructed view of his chest.
So. Fucking. Pretty.
Before I start imagining licking him or something and tenting my shorts, I push myself up.
My hamstring puts a hard stop on the movement. “Nope,” I say.
