Page 11 of Riding Pine
I joined the circus because I loved acrobatic performances. From a trampoline in the backyard, to gymnastics and eventually to aerial silks and hoops, I didn’t just bloom into who I am. I fucking exploded. Performing wasn’t just a means to an income; it was, and still is, a part of who I am.
After finding the music on my playlist, I connect it to the Bluetooth speakers in the studio and pull myself effortlessly into the fabric. Looping and twisting my body with the silk, I welcome the feel of my muscles working through my routine. Silk in my palms calms me, and with that comes the quieting of my mind, and I lose myself in the routine.
Focusing on the movements and feeling the silk on my skin takes me away from the reality that I’m starting over after losing my dream job. That part is gone, but I’m coming back stronger than ever. New leaf and all that.
Aerial performances are like a dance in the air with the most intimate of partners. Maybe that’s what I love most about it. Intimacy without another person. Just me and the music, with no fear of rejection or judgment. Certainly, there are no worries about losing my job because I let a boss get a little too close.
My muscles burn, my stamina is pushed to the brink, but sometimes the burn grounds me. That sharp pain reminds me I’m alive and awesome. No matter what life throws at me.
The music crests, and my routine nears the end. My favourite part.
Releasing my hands, I fall out of the silk and roll towards the floor. It’s fast and, to the untrained eye, a death spiral. But on thefinal tumble, my leg kicks out, wrapping around the silk behind me and, like water from a pitcher, I slide to the floor.
Fuck, that felt good. My chest heaves from the adrenaline more than exertion, and over my panting breath, there’s a new sound.
Muffled clapping.
Then a knock on the studio door.
Grabbing a towel, I walk to the door while wiping the sweat off my face and stop short when I see the face in the glass.
It’s Lukas.
At my studio door, clapping. Holy shit.
Flicking the lock, I open the door to invite him in.
“Now I know why you’re so amazing at handstands. That was incredible.”
There’s a definite awe in his voice, and it excites me to know he appreciates my performance.
“Thank you. How long were you watching me? And why?”
I’m still breathless from the routine, and Lukas’s gaze roams over my body before settling on my face.
“Most of it. I, ah, tracked down the only male yoga teacher in the city who’s younger than forty. I came here hoping it was you, and that you didn’t lie about your name.”
Oh, he’s had me on his mind, too. My ego likes that more than him watching me perform.
Lukas is still incredibly hot. My memory wasn’t mistaken. A tight T-shirt fights to fit across his broad shoulders, and the tattoos James mentioned flow down his arm. I didn’t get enough time to explore them the first time.
Flowers and vines and, I think, a few birds in intricate grey-and-black sketch work. I wonder if he likes the outdoors?
“No, I didn’t lie, and since you looked for me, I’ll share that I went by your motel room and was very disappointed when an older woman and a kid came out.”
Lukas gazes at me, and it’s hard to get a read on him, but his lips finally lift in a smile. A super cute smile that doesn’t beam innocence.
“I was going to ask you for your number, and then the guy outside heard us and…”
He trails off and clears his throat. Hopefully, he’s replaying the activities of that night because I sure have been.
“I was going to ask you too, but then… I left to get a hot dog.”
We both laugh and stare at each other, a charge in the air between us that can only mean one thing.
Reaching behind him, I flick the lock on the studio door and pull the blind down. Lukas tracks my movements and reaches for me. His paw of a hand grips my arm in that possessive but gentle way he had about him the first night.
“Ben…” His voice is hoarse, and I tilt my head back to look into his handsome face. “Tell me we won’t be interrupted here.”
