Page 33 of The Retreat

Talia followed Imogen through the glass doors of the conservatory. Soft, ambient music played, the kind of thing Talia hated to her bones. A long row of mats was laid out in neat little pairs. A woman with a clipboard approached, all floaty linen and forced serenity. Her hair was scraped into a messy bun so artfully chaotic it must have taken twenty minutes and two mirrors.

‘Ah, our final couple!’ she said, beaming. ‘Talia and Alex, yes? Find your mats.’

The woman (Lorna, according to her laminated name badge) ushered them to their mat. There were rolled towels, a tiny bottle of something called “heart-opening mist”, and an instruction card about aligning their auric fields.

They passed everyone else who had rushed in here eagerly while Talia and Imogen had dawdled to a frankly preposterous degree.

Imogen sat down cross-legged. ‘Big Gwyneth Paltrow on Temu energy,’ she muttered.

Talia stopped herself from laughing. ‘Welcome to corporate wellness,’ she said.

‘Everyone find a spot,’ Loran chirped as she clapped her hands together.

‘This is fine,’ Talia whispered under her breath, willing her heart rate to calm. She was OK. She could do this. She could definitely do this without making it weird.

She sat down on her mat, alive to the tension between her and Imogen. They had both been trying not to touch all morning, but it kept happening. All through breakfast and yet again, when they’d bumped into each other walking in here, hip to hip. It was getting silly. And now this? Was the universe angry with her about something? Did it want her to suffer?

‘Now, let’s start with something simple,’ Lorna said.

How about a lobotomy?

Imogen glanced over at her, eyes narrowing slightly. Talia knew they both were mentally calculating the odds of making it through the next hour without enforced nestling.

Lorna clapped again. ‘Let’s begin with a simple stretch. A forward bend. One of you will support your partner’s back as they lean forward and then switch!’

Talia’s fingers twitched, and her mind reeled for an escape. Could she fake an embolism? A sudden, dramatic clutch of the chest, a fainting spell… Anything to get out of this?

But, instead, she glanced at Imogen, trying to convey the words, ‘I didn’t choose this’ with her eyes alone.

‘Is there something in your eye?’ Imogen asked.

Talia tutted. ‘No, I’m just… forget it.’

She turned her attention back to Lorna, who had found herself an enthusiastic volunteer in Jade and was demonstrating how to support a partner’s back with an alarming amount of physical intimacy for such a professional environment.

‘Go ahead, partners! Let’s do this together! Trust each other!’ she cried, bent double with Jade’s pelvis basically welded to her arse.

Oh, good. Trust. That was exactly what Talia needed to be doing with Imogen right now.

Imogen cleared her throat and asked quietly, ‘You’re... OK with this?’ Her voice sounded strangely calm, considering the depth of their shared discomfort.

Talia met her gaze, narrowing her eyes. ‘Do I have a choice?’

Imogen shrugged. ‘You tell me.’

Talia looked over her shoulder. Celeste was already in the position being demonstrated, doubled over while Mitchell held her hips and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Man, she was limber. This was not her first rodeo. If Talia couldn’t match her skill, she had to have a go at reaching the enthusiasm.

‘Fine,’ Talia said, whispering sharply. ‘Fine. We’ll do it. But no extra touching.’

‘Agreed,’ Imogen replied with a dimple pop that caused Talia’s pulse to race. A wonderful start to things.

Imogen leaned forward first, bending at the waist, while Talia was very careful not to look at her perky bottom with anything but casual attention. Talia’s hands hovered just behind her lower back.

Just do it.

She rested them on Imogen’s spine, feeling the soft give beneath her fingertips. The contact was so fleeting, so simple. Yet it sent something hot and electric shooting up her arm.

Imogen exhaled deeply, and Talia bit her lip, fighting the urge to pull her hand away.

‘Switch!’ Lorna chirped.

Talia’s hand was already off Imogen’s back before she even registered it.

Imogen straightened and turned, offering Talia a stiff smile. ‘Your turn.’

Talia bent forward, just focusing on not falling over. She didn’t let herself wonder at all if her bum was in as good shape as she hoped. Nor did she fret that Imogen would find it displeasing in any fashion. Those things couldn’t have been further from her mind.

She felt Imogen’s hands slide onto her hips, strong and steady, the faintest breath of a sigh escaping from Imogen’s lips as her fingers made contact.

The whole thing felt like a slow burn of too much proximity. Too much something. Talia tried not to lean into it. Tried to ignore the pulse of heat spreading through her chest, her stomach.

Imogen helped her back up with a casual pull, and Talia turned as she stood, eyes catching for a split second. That same magnetic, unwelcome pull. It made Talia feel like her brain had just short-circuited.

How much more of this was she expected to tolerate? Had anyone ever died of sexual tension?

If not, she might be the first.