Page 53 of Bonus Daddy
Cal squatted deeply, his ass nearly grazing the floor.
Jesus, my hamstrings could not do that, so I settled for a traditional gym squat. Sully, likewise, bent his knees at a ninety-degree angle, glowering at me like he was not going lower.
“Now watch as I walk through the beginner progression for crow,” Jess said.
She flowed through a sequence, then pushed forward onto her arms and tucked her knees behind her elbows, balancing on her bent arms. She pointed her toes, her spine curving gracefully.
Holy fuck. I couldn’t stop staring at what her body could do.
Not only did she balance on her arms, all twisted up like a pretzel, but she stayed there, holding perfectly still, while we all stared. Her strength and control were mesmerizing, as well as the pure joy on her face, like sharing this insanity with a room full of people truly fulfilled her.
She rocked herself back, her feet gently hitting the floor, and pushed herself up to stand. When she was on her feet, she encouraged us to give it a try.
Several people around me eased themselves into the position, including Cal and Lo, managing to hold it for a few seconds.
“For more support, try a one-legged crow,” Jess said, walking around the room, wearing a relaxed smile.
How was it possible for her to look so pretty and relaxed when it was hotter than the ninth circle of hell in here?
My muscles were screaming at me, but I wouldn’t take the easy way out. I wouldn’t give up. I was strong. I lifted weights and had been boxing since I was fifteen. I could do the crow.
Several attempts in, I realized that I could not, in fact, do the crow. I lacked the flexibility to tuck my knees up close enough, and suddenly, I discovered I had no balance.
I’d get it, though. I swore I would. Like everything else in my life, I’d muscle through.
After several more tries, I contorted into a position that somewhat resembled it. My arms shook violently, and I had to use every muscle in my body for balance, but I’d done it.
Take that, you dumb crow.
Just as I silently cheered myself on, I lost it. And instead of rocking back onto my feet as she’d shown us. I went down, face-first, into the floor. In an attempt to catch myself, I twisted, but that only caused my forehead to take the blow. I landed with a loud thump, and as I scrambled to regain my dignity, I was certain every set of eyes in the room was on me.
Keeping my attention on the floor, I picked up my water bottle, and when I tipped it back, I tried my best not to die of shame. This was so fucking hard.
“You okay, Counselor?” Jess loomed over me, her expression compassionate. Maybe it was a dehydration-induced hallucination, or maybe it was the blow to the head, but the candles created a soft halo around her blond ponytail, making her look like a bendy, sporty angel sent to earth to save me.
“Good.” I grunted, shifting back into a seated position.
Lips quirking, she nodded. Then, without another word, she moved on, launching into an explanation of something called pigeon, which sounded just as painful as crow.
Hips were not supposed to do this. I was certain of it. Humans had not evolved to torture themselves this way. How the hell were the people around me not tearing ligaments? Was it the heat? I guzzled more water, and when I was finished, wiping at my mouth with the back of my wrist, I discovered Jess watching me with a concerned look on her face.
I looked over at Sully, who was wincing, his face red as he sank into pigeon pose.
“You okay?” I whispered. The tendons in his neck were tight, his eyes squeezed shut as he extended one leg behind him, the other bent in front of him, stretching his groin in an unnatural way.
He shook his head. “Tell my wife I love her,” he whispered as he slowly tipped onto one side, like a felled tree.
I stifled a laugh as he flopped onto his back and stared.
But I was determined to push through. I peeled my soaked T-shirt off and wiped my face, then rejoined the sequence. I would not disgrace myself any further. I was on the wrong side of forty, but I wasn’t dead, for Christ’s sake.
Jess guided us through a few seated poses that were twisty but doable, then brought us back to child’s pose, which was becoming my favorite.
“Well done,” she said, her voice somehow soothing and energetic at the same time. “Now we’ll move into shavasana. Also called corpse pose. This is how we end our practice. While you focus on relaxing, letting go of all the tension in your body, I’ll come around with cool cloths infused with essential oils for your foreheads.”
I lay back on my mat in what felt like an inch-thick puddle of sweat, my muscles burning.
Fuck, I’d certainly never underestimate yoga again.
