Yoga is not Levi’s thing. Surprisingly, I’m not half bad.
Our teacher comes over more than once to critique Levi on his position. He is not a fan of Julie or her helpful suggestions on how to be more flexible.
But I’m proud of us. The class is thirty minutes long and we make it through the entire thing. In fact, on minute thirty-one, we’ve been in Shavasana for six minutes and Levi isn’t budging from his spot on the ground.
“Hey,” I say, crossing my legs and facing him on my mat. “I know Julie said to take all the time you want, but I’m pretty sure another class is coming in five minutes.”
His mouth parts, ever so slightly, and an audible moan slips through his lips. “I’m not sure I can get up.” He swivels his head, just an inch, so that he’s looking at me.
I can’t help it, I laugh at the pained expression on his face. “Sure you can.”
“That was intense,” he says, eyes back on the ceiling. “My body isn’t supposed to bend like that.”
“Next time,” Julie says from the front—we are the last stragglers in the room, “take a beginners class.”
“Are you trying to kill me, Mer?”
Warmth blooms in my chest and spreads throughout each of my limbs with my nickname on his lips.
“Nope. I still need a cycling teacher. Remember?” I laugh to myself, then stand, holding out a hand for Levi. “Come on. I’ll help you up. I’m buying you something chocolate, and then we’re doing something fun.”
“Somethingfun? How specific of you.”
“We aren’t wallowing today, Levi. You get to wallow for a day and then you move on. You’ve had a whole lot of days over the past I don’t know how many years. Your time is up.”
He blows out a raspberry and slaps his hand into mine. But the fact is, I’m small—especially compared to Levi. And I’m exhausted. That was a workout. He’ll only pull me down on top of himself. And he knows it. He props up on his elbow without any assistance from me, though I’m very aware of his hand still snuggled in my own. He peers up at me. “I’ve never used my muscles in that way before.”
“Me either,” I say—only he has a whole lot more muscle than I do.
Pushing off with his left hand, Levi gets to his feet. His hand slips from mine, which feels so off, so wrong. “Chocolate?” he says. “I need protein.” He starts for the door. And while I’ve been last-minute planning this day—you know, just in my head, since the moment I learned that it’s a hard day for Levi—I don’t mind letting him take the lead.
We walk to a café just a block away from the yoga studio.
A man sits next to the window, a large stack of pancakes in front of him, and my stomach decides to cry out for joy in response.
“Hungry?”
“I am.” I set a hand to my stomach. “You?” I mean, he didn’t eat the oatmeal I made for him, so I’m guessing he is. He has much more body to feed than I do.
He pushes his way through the café door in answer.
Maple syrup and bacon engulf my senses, drowning out the breezy summer scent that seems to follow Levi wherever he goes. He passes two empty booths, leading me to the counter where he sits on one of three vacant stools.
When the server approaches, he holds up one finger. “Have you ever had a crepe?”
I give a small head shake along with a shrug. It’s not like a crepe is some exotic dish, I’ve heard of crepes. I know what a crepe is. But he guessed right. I haven’t tried one.
“We want a steak and mushroom crepe and a berry with Nutella.” He peers back at me. “Juice? Milk?”
“Chocolate milk,” I say. Oh yeah, living on the edge.
The girl scribbles on her notepad, then rips the top sheet off, passing it back to the cook.
“I was going to get pancakes.”
“But you, Meredith Porter, are all about trying new things. So, trust me when I tell you that you’re going to like crepes.”
“I also like fluffy pancakes drenched in maple syrup,” I say, but I’m only teasing him.