Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous teaching a yoga class, not even my first time.
I don’t understand why Ezra and Silas being here even made me so nervous.
It’s probably just because I was surprised. I never imagined my two jobs would collide. I mean, why would rugby players come to a yoga class at a random studio? They work out enough as it is, anyway. I know yoga isn’t part of their work out plan, so there was no reason to expect them to show up.
I didn’t tell Ezra which studio I taught at, only that I did. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him, but I decide against it, not wanting to assume anything.
After I show Ezra how to sanitize the mats, we work in comfortable silence to get all of them cleaned and squared away in record time. Usually it takes me half an hour to do it by myself, but we knock them out in fifteen minutes.
When we’re done, I slip on my sweatshirt and grab my purse.
Ezra stands at the door with a soft smile on his face that makes my stomach flip from nerves.
It was doing that all during the class, too.
Every time I had to touch him to correct his form, it felt like birds flapping their wings in my belly.
I know from a medical standpoint he’s in peak physical health. He takes excellent care of his body, and it shows in the sinuous muscles of his arms and legs, and the strength of his shoulders. But I have to admit, from a non-medical standpoint, Ezra is hot.
The kind of hot that means he could have any woman he wanted.
So why didn’t he seem interested in Jane or Carrie? They’re gorgeous. Fit and lean with naturally pouty lips. They’re kind, too, from what I can tell. They should probably be moved up to the next level of class—
“Ready to go?” Ezra asks, interrupting my train of thought as I shut off the lights in the studio.
“Yep. My car is parked out back.”
I lead him to the back door of the studio, and push out into the late February evening, shivering when the cold air hits my legs. Ezra seems unaffected, even though he’s only in a thin t-shirt and athletic shorts that are clinging for dear life to his thighs.
Don’t think about his thighs.
Since Saturday, I’ve been thinking about Ezra more than I should, trying to reconcile all the new parts of him I’m learning about. I knew he wasn’t the same teenager I knew before, but now that I know the man I heard on the other side of the wall is him, my imagination has been running wild.
There hasn’t been as much noise coming from his apartment lately, and I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t been hooking up with anyone recently.
Not that it’s any of my business.
Ezra folds himself into my little red Honda Civic. It’s a 2004 coupe that is probably on its last legs, but it’s gotten me this far, and I don’t want to give it up.
“I think your car was made for ants,” Ezra teases as he slides the front seat as far back as it will go. His legs spread to accommodate his height, but he’s still cramped and his knee knocks into the gearshift.
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Maybe I should have let Silas drive my car, huh? He would have fit just fine.”
“Guess that’s a plus to him only being two inches taller than you.”
“Shortness has its benefits. Smaller car, better—”
“Gas mileage? Yeah, who would’ve thought children’s cars apparently get really good gas mileage?” He deadpans.
I gently punch his arm, which probably feels more like a brush of my fingers to him. “I’ll make you walk home if you keep making fun of my vehicle.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Your car is wonderful and so spacious. Could fit the whole rugby team in here.” He holds his hands up in surrender, humor dancing across his face.
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Yeah, but you like it.”
And I have to laugh, because I really do.
By the time we get back to the complex, my face hurts from smiling and I don’t want to go our separate ways.
“Hey, do you want to come over for dinner?” I ask before I can talk myself out of it.
“Depends. What are you having?”
“Bologna and cheese sandwiches and a side of sweet potato fries.” Ezra really tries to keep his face from scrunching in disgust, but he fails spectacularly. “I’m kidding. Miso glazed chicken with rice and broccoli is on the menu for tonight.”
“Oh thank god. I didn’t know how to turn you down gently, or tell you that your food choices are abysmal.” He says on an exhale, and I swear I can see the color come back into his face.
Drama queen.
“Oh come on, sweet potato fries are delicious. There’s a place in Midvale that drizzles them with honey and salt, and it’s amazing.”
“Tell you what,” he says. “You can take me to get those some time if you come with me, and try the sushi place Kendall rants and raves about.” He crosses his arms and smirks thinking he’s got me.
My nose crinkles. I’ve only tried sushi once, and it wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. But that was over fifteen years ago, and isn’t this what I want? I want to try new things, and having someone like Ezra, someone I'm comfortable with, to do it with makes it more appealing.
I hold out my hand. “Deal.”
Ezra looks surprised but shakes it, sealing our bargain. “I would love to come over for dinner. I don’t think I’ve ever had miso glazed chicken. Let me grab my keys from Webby, then I’ll meet you back at your place?”
“Sounds good. I’ll leave my door unlocked. You can come right in.” I say, mirroring what he said to me the other night.
He agrees and we make our way inside the building. In the elevator, he pushes the button for Silas’s floor, and I push the button for ours. When I get inside my apartment, I set my purse on the hook by the door and glance around my living room to make sure I haven’t left out anything embarrassing.
I already had the rice prepped and ready to go, so I click the button on the cooker to start it. While the oven preheats, I drizzle the broccoli with olive oil and season it, massaging each floret. I won’t put the chicken in the air fryer until the rice is halfway done.
After washing my hands, I debate changing my clothes into something less revealing, but decide against it. I need to shower, and I don’t want to dirty another outfit. I opt for leaving my baggy sweatshirt on, deciding that’s cover enough.
Ezra knocks three times before the door cracks open and he pokes his head in. “Wow, it smells really good in here.”
“Thank you, that would be the broccoli.” I don’t know why a wave of nerves washes over me, but having Ezra in my apartment feels almost… forbidden.
I have to remind myself that Ezra and I are friends. Friends hang out.
“Have a seat.” I motion to one of the two barstools at the island. “Do you want anything to drink besides water? I have pink lemonade, and sugar free Dr. Pepper.”
“Plain water’s good.” Ezra glances around my kitchen, taking in every pop of color and the little signs I bought to make it more homey. Then, he turns around on his stool and surveys the living room area.
I can’t see his expression to know what he thinks about the dark green velvet couch, or the gold and rose pink throw pillows meticulously placed on it.
Does he think my thrifted coffee table, that doesn’t match the TV stand, is tacky like Jace did?
Is he judging my stack of Disney DVDs, and thinking they’re childish?
Does he think the art in mismatched frames is silly?
The smile on his face when he turns around says I’m overthinking it, and his next words confirm it.
“Your place is nice. Very you. I might need you to help me decorate my place since I’m clueless when it comes to that stuff, as I’m sure you noticed.”
“Your place isn’t that bad,” I hedge, turning away to check on the broccoli so he can’t see the lie on my face.
“You’ve always been a bad liar, good to know that hasn’t changed.” We laugh at that and he continues, “I know it’s boring. You don’t have to save my feelings.”
“It’s not boring! It’s… simple. Understated.
” He snorts. “Hey, at least your coffee table and entertainment center match. I bet you even have a matching bedroom set.” Oh god.
Now I’m thinking about what he does in his bedroom again.
Redirect. “But if you want to go shopping for some decor, I’m happy to help. ”
“I’ll take you up on that sometime.” His eyes snag on my fridge calendar. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the week?”
“Not much. My Wednesday and Friday evenings are free now that I’m single, I have therapy on Thursday. Saturday we have a game, but you already knew that.”
“Why are you only free on Wednesdays and Fridays now that you’re single?”
Shit, did I really say that?
I sigh and just give him full transparency, “Those were usually our date nights. Unless he had a work thing, then we would skip the night.”
“You wouldn’t reschedule?”
“Uh, no. He stuck to a pretty strict routine.” In and out of the bedroom.
“Huh. Interesting. I can’t imagine not wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.”
I feel my cheeks heating at his response.
“Well I guess my ex didn’t feel that way.
But it doesn’t matter now.” I shrug, turning to check the timer on the rice cooker.
When I see it’s halfway done, I preheat my air fryer and toss the chicken thighs in.
When I turn back around, I rest my forearms on the counter.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you.
It’s been a long time, I’m sure lots has changed. ”
“Not much has changed, honestly. I still love sour gummy worms and indie folk music, and hate bologna and sweet potato fries.” He looks my way when I snort.
“I like to play video games in my spare time, and try new hobbies. I haven’t picked one up in a while, though, since I’ve been so busy with rugby. ”
“What hobbies have you tried?”
“I attempted crochet, but realized I didn’t have the patience for that.
Resin art was too messy for the space I was in.
Let’s see…” He taps his chin as he thinks.
“Oh! I tried my hand at cross stitching, but I kept stabbing my finger tips and decided I didn’t want to continue.
I tried to play the recorder, but I was sharing a dorm room and my roommate didn’t like it very much, so I had to quit.
I want to try something artsy next, like watercolor or—”
“Pottery?” I interrupt excitedly.
“I forgot that was a thing. Have you ever done pottery?”
“No, but I really want to take a class. I found one at a studio nearby on Wednesday nights, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“You don’t have anyone to go with you?”
“No,” I shake my head, trying not to get too heated about the conversation I had with Jace about it. Again. “I wanted to go with my ex, but he said it was too messy, and we were too old to start new hobbies.”
“Well doesn’t he sound like a winner,” He grumbles. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re never too old to start a new hobby.”
“My friend Dakota would probably go with me, but she has enough on her schedule right now, so I don’t want to ask.”
“Well, if you want someone to go with you, I will.”
“Really?” I try not to sound too overly enthusiastic, but hope flutters around in my chest anyway.
“Of course,” he says, like it’s a silly question. “Honestly, it’s a win-win. We both get to try a new hobby, and I get to spend more time with you.”