“Perfect,” she said when he complied. He was acutely and uncomfortably aware of her hands leaving his body.
He had to admit, the pose felt better with her corrections. But it only lasted another second before she had them plunging through the sequence on the other side. Over and over he careened toward the floor praying his arms would hold him. The sweat was flowing so freely it was tickling his legs. A drop gathered on the tip of his nose and splashed to the mat as he swooped down.
Are my eyeballs sweating? he wondered.
He chanced a glance to his left. Taneisha’s flawless skin was dotted with beads of sweat and she was smiling her way through another sun salutation. Next to her, Fitz had stripped off his shirt and was now only wearing his ridiculous briefs.
There’s a picture he wouldn’t be unseeing anytime soon, he thought. But maybe the skinny hippie had the right idea in this situation. Beckett used the thigh-quivering chair pose to yank his t-shirt over his head. It landed with a wet thwack on the floor behind him.
Gianna had returned to her mat and flowed with the class on another round. She moved with ease and grace, as if she’d been born flowing through yoga poses. He hated her gorgeous, graceful guts.
Something was nudging his foot.
Beckett opened an eye and swiped at the sweat that rolled into it.
Like a siren, she appeared in his line of vision. A shimmering mirage of evil beauty. Gianna grinned down at him.
“What was that?” he groaned, flopping his arms out to the sides.
“That was hot power flow yoga,” she answered, sinking down next to him in a move as graceful as ballet.
“How do you move like that?” Beckett asked, studying her. She had a dimple in her chin and mischief in her eyes.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re dancing. Everything you do is like dancing.”
She was starting to look concerned. “How about we get some water into you?” she suggested.
Beckett rolled to his side and slowly worked his way into a seated position. The studio was empty except for the two of them. He vaguely remembered everyone bowing and saying “nama-something,” but he didn’t really recall the mass exodus.
Gianna handed him a bottle of water and a towel. “How do you feel?”
“Like I was steamrolled, wrung out, and hung up to dry.”
She laughed then, a husky music. She patted his shoulder. “That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel.”
“You win,” Beckett sighed and drank deeply.
“You hung in there for the entire class. I’d say this one ends in a tie,” Gianna decided. She rose to her feet and reached a hand out to him.
Beckett debated not taking it, but worried his legs would betray him. He let her pull him up to standing and glanced down at the mat.
“You’re going to have to burn this one,” he said, eyeing the body-sized sweat stain.
She grinned up at him. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve got some industrial cleaner in the back somewhere.” She headed over to the shelves and Beckett picked up his still-sopping t-shirt.
Gianna returned with a spray bottle and another towel. “I don’t think you’re going to want to put that back on,” she said, wrinkling her nose at his soggy t-shirt.
“Yeah,” Beckett agreed, pulling on his sweatshirt instead. He picked up the block that he had ended up relying on like a lifeline and put it back on the shelf.
“Is this your last class tonight?”
She glanced up from his newly laundered mat, eyes trailing a little slower over his bare chest. “It is. You are free to go shower and drink several beers.”
“Is that what you do after class?” he teased.
“Shower, yes. One beer and usually a giant dish of mac and cheese or something equally unhealthy.”
Beckett’s stomach growled in response. A shower beer and dinner were in his future, he decided.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Beckett offered. Now that he was recovering some of his energy, he was reluctant to leave her. Especially since he’d be leaving her with the image of him barely conscious drowning in a pool of his own sweat. He could do better and perhaps recover a bit of his pride.
“Thanks, but I walked,” Gianna told him, grabbing her bag from one of the cubbies along the back wall.
He felt a pang when she tugged a hoodie over her tank top. She had a beautiful body. One that demanded attention, even from the near dead. “I’ll walk with you.”
She eyed him for a moment. “Okay. That would be nice.”
Beckett waited by the front door while she turned off the studio lights and together they exited into the cool October evening.
“Which way are you?” he asked.
She slid her key into the lock and pointed to the left.
“Me, too. We must be neighbors,” Beckett commented, as they started down the sidewalk.
“Imagine that,” Gianna said, with an amused look.
Beckett threw his sweaty t-shirt over his shoulder. “How do you like Blue Moon so far?”