Her words are laced with innuendo, whether intentional or not. Especially with where my traitorous mind keeps pulling me to.
We continue through the poses, and with each one, I find myself admiring her more—not just for her physical grace, but for her ability to laugh at herself when that grace slips.
As we end the session with Corpse pose, lying flat on our backs, the distance between us is now pronounced. I close my eyes, and the afterimage of red hair fluttering against my skin lingers.
It blurs the lines between past and present.
Between what’s real and what’s simply a ghost.
Is that why I feel so connected to her? Because I want to see in her what I felt with the woman at Nocté?
The chime signaling the end of class pulls me back to reality, but I remain on the mat a moment longer, caught in the throes of a memory that feels both too close and too far away to grasp.
By the time we roll up our mats, I find myself actually disappointed it’s over. Not because of the similarities to another redhead, but because ofher.
In fact, I wouldn’t mind coming back for another session—another chance to discover more about the woman who’s crashed into my life.Literally.
“I didn’t make a complete fool of myself, did I?” Carlie asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“Far from it,” I assure her, my words sincere. “You were ...impressive.”
As we walk out of the yoga studio, a shared silence enveloping us, I can’t help but steal glances at Carlie like I’m seeing her for the first time.
She’s unaware, caught up in her own thoughts—perhaps mulling over the evening’s unforeseen closeness, too. But then, she turns to me, a question in her eyes that she hesitates to voice. Instead, she shakes her head and we continue on our way.
Just as we reach the street, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
A flicker of irritation crosses my mind—now isn’t the time I want to be pulled away from this moment. Yet, reflexively, I pull it out and glance at the screen.
It’s a text, but not just any message—it’s from an unknown number— and what it says chills the post-yoga warmth right out of my bones.
Crossing some lines, don’t you think?
I stare at the message, the words a jolt of cold water down my spine. It’s too pointed—toointimateto be a coincidence.
My gaze lifts to scan the parking lot’s dim light as a niggle of paranoia creeps into my mind. However, there’s nothing out of place—just the gentle hum of the city at night.
“Everything okay?” Carlie’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Yeah, all good.” I lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket, offering her a reassuring smile that feels like a lie. “Just an odd message from a wrong number, I guess.”
Her eyes hold mine, a flicker of doubt there, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she offers a tired chuckle, “Well, if it’s someone telling you that you’ve won a million dollars, just remember who sweated through an embarrassing round of yoga with you tonight.”
I laugh, the sound, unfortunately, feeling forced. “You’ll be the first to know, promise.”
We walk together, both lost in our thoughts until we reach her car.
The evening feels like it’s reached its end. But the text’s echo lingers with me. It’s a nagging whisper that tells me sleep will be elusive tonight—chased away by the shadows of unanswered questions and the silhouette of a woman who’s quickly becoming more than just a client.
CHAPTER8
Carlie
Iflop onto my couch with all the grace of a fainting goat—which, coincidentally, is also how I’d describe my current yoga skill level.
The session with Adam left me feeling like a pretzel—a slightly overheated,very confusedpretzel—who can’t figure out if it wants to be in a bakery or doing naked downward dog with my personal trainer.
My body’s still buzzing from the surprise yoga session with Adam. Not to mention the memory of his hands guiding my hips, and his breath warm on my neck as he adjusted my posture.