Page 87 of Gym Bros
“Awesome,” he says. “Because this stretch is no joke. Great job.”
“Great teacher,” I say.
“It probably helps that you worked out all day.”
“Or you could just say thank you,” I tell him.
He stops leaning on me, and I sit up. A quick glance at the clock tells me we have a half hour left.
The torture is real.
“I guess we should work on your quads,” he says.
All business again, he introduces me to chair pose, which I instantly hate with every piece of my soul.
“I miss the goats,” I say, my thighs shaking.
He lets out a short laugh. It’s the first time I’ve heard it since I was tickling him yesterday.
It’s not really an opening, I get that, but while he might be okay with yesterday being a one-off, I want him to know I’d rather it not be, in case that wasn’t clear with all my questions earlier. “Plans later?” I ask.
His eyes widen. “Um. I—it’s Monday.”
“Is that a no?”
“Doyouhave plans?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Then why do you ask?”
I look at him likeseriously?“Have you had dinner?”
“I have food at home.”
“Yeah? So do I.”
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “What did you mean?”
“Nothing.”
I shrug and drop down into plank, sick of torturing my legs.
He lets out a breath. “While you’re there, bring your right leg forward and step into warrior one.”
I do, and he walks around me, turning and balancing my arms, and then he reaches my face, which he places his hands on and positions just so. We’re eye to eye like this.
His gaze drops to my mouth. I look at his, too.
“Were you asking me out?” he asks softly.
“You never said whether you were available or not.”
“If I said I am?”
“Then I might ask you out.”
