Page 15 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
He’s dressed in gray joggers and a long-sleeved black tech shirt that hugs his upper torso. He gives me one of those poker face up-nods I’ve had to get used to this week. “Hey,” he says when he’s close enough for me to hear.
“Hi.”
“You cold?”
“I mean—” I laugh. “A little.”
He glances down at me shivering, and I watch his fists clench. “I’d do some jumping jacks with you, but...”
“No, I’m fine. You look good. I mean—you’re walking great.” Jesus, Calyx. Learn to talk.
“Yeah. Ready to kick some shit,” he says.
I grimace. “Maybe stick with punching?”
“I’ll be fine. Are your friends coming?”
“They’ll be here,” I say, scanning for my party girls. “They never miss Saturday yoga.”
He looks over at the goats. “This is…interesting.”
“You ask, I deliver,” I say.
“Beauty may freak if she smells goat on me.”
“How’s she doing?” I ask, sensing an opening and leaping at it.
“Good,” he says, shutting himself down immediately.
Not ready to give up yet, I ask, “What would her freaking out look like?”
“Going to her crate and ignoring me.”
“Has she done that?”
“She pouts when I’m gone more than an hour.”
“Really?” I ask. “My cat is like that when I’m gone for more than a night, but I didn’t realize dogs did that, too. ”
“I mean, I’ve never had a dog, so I don’t know what’s normal for all of them.”
God, I’m still fucking this up. Or maybe it’s not me. Maybe he’s just a man of few words. I need to keep reminding myself he showed up. He can’t possibly hate me if he’s here, right?
Finally, I see Rachel and Priya straggling up the hill.
In their defense, they both look better than they normally do when they show up at the gym after a late night, but the hangover effect is obvious.
Sunglasses on, green smoothies in hand, they walk slowly through the grass, occasionally bumping up against each other as they make their way over to us.
“Saber,” I say, having decided to use his fighter name out of respect for his personal choices, “This is my friend Rachel, and this is my other friend Priya. They had a late night.”
Rachel’s sunglasses aren’t dark enough that I don’t catch the look she shoots me. She holds out her hand, and Samuel shakes it, softly saying, “Nice to meet you.” He does the same with Pri who’s lowered her glasses and is giving him a full appraisal.
“Saber totally fits,” she says.
“He doesn’t usually call me that,” Samuel says.
Pri shoots a disapproving glance my way. “Have you told him your name?”
“Yes,” I smile sweetly. “It’s the same one you know.”
“Uh-huh.” Pri turns back to Samuel. “We don’t know it either. I have my guesses though.”
“Calvin is not my name,” I tell her.
Samuel huffs a surprised laugh. “That was actually my guess, too.”
“You all can keep guessing, but you’ll never get it. You’re wasting your time.”
“Is it that bad?” he asks.
“No,” I say simply. “It’s just not me. Let’s find some spots.”
We venture into the space where people are spreading out and sitting on yoga mats, placing the four of ours in a row. I’m on one end, Samuel is next to me, and Rachel is on his other side next to Priya.
Rachel’s already got him talking about how he got into fighting and what his goals are. She knows how to flirt, even hungover, I’ll give her that.
This morning, Samuel is a weird combination of nervous talking and clamming up. I have my legs crossed beneath me, and I’m folding forward, stretching my back with my arms extended into the grass. I’m resting my head on the mat, facing them while I listen.
Samuel glances at me from time to time, and I keep a faint smile on my face. The goats come out as the instructor takes her place at the edge of the area we’re gathered in. We’re several rows back, so the goats are a ways away.
Samuel turns to me and asks quietly, “You’re not gonna correct me out here, are you?”
“What?” I ask. “No. We’re just taking a yoga class.”
His jaw tenses, and he nods. “Okay.”
“Sam, just—try to have fun.”
I can see the swallow he forces down as I sit up. Then he turns to the instructor and doesn’t say anything else.
We start in cat-cow, a hands and knees breathing exercise that absolutely gets the goats climbing.
Girls in the front are already collapsing in giggles as they’re mounted by baby goats. I wonder how much they weigh as I bow my back like a mad cat, then sag into cow with my ass stretched out. This one I do feel in my tailbone, and it’s fabulous.
Samuel clears his throat beside me, and I check in on him. He’s moving through the stretch slower, but he’s doing fine. His cheeks are pink, though, like he’s already exerting himself. “Tailbone?” I ask.
“Uh. Yeah. ”
“I feel it, too,” I assure him.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, and then in a stronger voice he says, “It’s fine.”
When we sit back into child’s pose for a few breaths, I feel the first goat sniffing around my hair.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to be in the moment, but the little guy is really getting in there.
I turn my head the other way, but then it hops onto my back, and I let out a minor scream.
Priya’s got one, too, and hers just looks pleased to have climbed something, but I swear to God, mine is trying to eat my hair.
“Dude,” I say, wiggling my back to try and get it to move.
Samuel snorts beside me. “Need some help?”
“Is this normal?” I ask.
“I’m not a goat whisperer.”
“He’s chewing my hair.”
“I don’t think he is,” Samuel says. “It probably just smells good.”
We’re told to move into downward dog, and surely that’ll shake the beast off me, but no.
It scrambles for purchase as I move too smoothly I guess and winds up atop my ass.
Rachel’s taking pictures and smiling wide, but Samuel’s grin is what I notice most. Also, the fact that his downward dog is coming along nicely.
He’s still bending his right leg, but when he pedals his heel, he’s leaving his leg extended for longer periods of time, his arms easily managing to compensate.
“There’s a goat on your ass,” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask. “Is he hot?”
Samuel busts out a laugh. “I think it’s a she.”
“Ew. How can you tell?”
“Pink collar.”
“Pshh. Means nothing. I wear pink all the time. I’ve got on pink underwear right now.”
His arms buckle, but he catches himself .
“You all right?” I ask, concerned. Maybe he’s got too much weight on his arms after all.
“Yep.”
He trains his gaze on his knees. Priya’s goat climbs over Rachel and then gets in Samuel’s face.
When we move into plank, my goat stays, and his pounces onto his back.
“Feel that?” I ask. “It’s a mere preview of what the Thai ladies can do.”
Miraculously, he laughs again. I wish I were keeping count.
“Saber, do some push-ups,” Rachel says, and I’m pretty sure she’s filming this. She’s totally not doing yoga.
He obliges, and it’s fun to watch. The goat on him is practically preening. Mine climbs off at last and moves to the lady behind me, but there are more.
They keep on coming. The yoga class, in fact, seems specifically designed to provide the goats with ramps and hills. There are like three standing poses—only enough time for the goats to find a new person.
It’s a ridiculous experience, and I massively undercounted the amount of goats. They’re fucking everywhere. My face, my hair, my legs and yes, my ass.
“I feel used ,” I cry out, mainly to Rachel and Priya who are managing their own goat situations. At this point, Samuel’s not doing yoga anymore. He’s got two goats in his lap and he’s laughing and petting them as they sniff at his face.
Corpse pose—final relaxation—is an actual joke.
I don’t know how many goats climb on me during it. No one can stop giggling.
“If everyone could please bring your nearest goat back to the pen, we’ll call namaste!” the instructor says.
Samuel manages to carry three at once. Rachel grabs one, and I would, but there are more than enough people too excited about carrying baby goats around that I don’t have to.
Priya grins at me with her head tilted back to soak up some sun. “I think he likes you.”
“They all liked me,” I say.
She scoots over to Samuel’s yoga mat and leans in. “Dumbass, not the goats. I mean Saber .”
My heart thuds, and I look at her with what I’m sure is pure horror on my face. “What?”
“Rachel noticed it, too. We have video.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She waves me in even closer. Scowling at her, I allow her to whisper in my ear. “He had a boner.”
“Oh my God,” I say.
“Gray sweats,” she says. “They hide nothing.”
“There’s literally thirty people here—and I’m not including your tits. What the fuck makes you think his twenty-year old hard on had anything to do with me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The way he kept looking over at you.”
“I had goats crawling all over me.”
“So did we. So did everybody.”
“Bitch, please. You’re still drunk.”
She laughs. “Okay, but what if I’m right?”
“You’re delusional.”
“I said what if.”
“If what?” I ask. “He got a boner from watching goats jumping on my ass?”
“Yeah. What if?”
I squint at her. “What are you asking me?”
“Would you hit that?”
“Dear fucking God.” I stand up and immediately start rolling up my mat.
“That’s not a no. ”
“That was a complete and total dismissal of your crazy.”
“Why crazy? Rachel and I can both totally acknowledge you’re hotter than us. We’ve come to terms with it. Honestly we’re secretly glad when you won’t go dancing with us because you steal all the attention.”
“Ouch,” I say, meaning it.
“No offense. It was a compliment.”
“ Ouch ,” I say again with emphasis.
“I’m just saying, straight or gay or curious or whatever he is, he’s got his eye on you.”
“Only because he thinks I’m judging him all the time.”
“Are we still going to brunch?”
Do I want to? “Yes,” I say.
“Pay a little more attention, then,” she says. “You’ll see.”