Page 67 of Lovebug
“Likewise,” she says.
I return my attention to Wallace and whisper, “You, uh… you do yoga?”
“I do,” he says. “Big time. Mostly on my own down by the water. But when I lived in the city, I was one of Dawn’s regulars.”
“He did his teacher training with me too. The way he dove into his practice so fully during his recovery was inspiring.”
I turn to Wally. “Youare a certified yoga instructor?”
“I am.” Somehow he says it with a straight face. I, however, burst out laughing.
“He’s very good,” Dawn says. “Gives excellent adjustments.”
“Oh my gosh, you were serious?” I gasp, and instantly feel terrible for laughing. “And you were recovering? Recovering from what?”
He bats the air like he doesn’t want to address that topic any further.
Dawn is apparently lost in a yogic reverie. “Oh yes, Wallace is very serious about his practice. When he sat on my pachimottonasana this spring, I almost passed out. You know, in a pleasurable way.” She gives me a subtle wink at that, then softly shuts her eyes and breathes out a single word. “Sukha.”
“Sorry, what-uh?” I ask.
“Sukha,” Dawn says again in that sultry yogic voice she’s clearly perfected. “It’s Sanskrit for pleasure.” She gives him a look that even I, inexperienced, have-only-ever-slept-with-one-guy Mabel, recognize as lust.
Okaaaaay.
“I really should find somewhere else to sit,” I say as I try to rise from my chair. Operative word
being “try” because he places his hand on my shoulder, and without so much as an ounce of pressure, I slowly sit back down beside him. Like he has some kind of power over me.
“Thank you, Dawn,” he says. “You’re a sweetheart.”
“Well, I only speak the truth. Satya.”
“Sayta.” He whispers to me, as if I’d asked for clarification. “It’s Sanskrit for truth.”
“Ah,” I say, leaning back and settling into my seat, acting completely uninterested.
“What’s that look on your face?” he asks quietly.
“I don’t know. I can’t see my face.”
“It looks like this.” He scrunches his eyebrows together and protrudes his bottom lip.
“My face is not doing that,” I protest. I make a point to soften my expression before continuing.
“I think I’m just… kind of surprised you teach yoga.”
“Why is that?”
“I guess because…”
“Because…?”
“Because you’re kind of a dick.”
“Wow.” He laughs.
“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry!” I whisper and cover my mouth with both hands.
