Chapter 15
Fifteen
ADDIE
If you told fifteen-year-old me that I would be in what some might call a routine with the worst boy to ever exist in my universe, I would have punched you in the face.
But at nearly thirty, that is what Eli and I had.
A routine.
We had breakfast together. Usually in near silence because neither of us were really morning people.
He would then go to Vivi’s, and I would think about whether there was any way to jazz up the age-old argument of Ophelia only existing in Hamlet for the male characters.
I would eat lunch at some point in the early afternoon, then think about how Rosalie was fucked over.
Then, the afternoon quiz shows would start, and I would be horrified when I got a question wrong, while in the back of my mind, I thought about Viola and Katherina and how they were the basis for two great modern-day film characters.
By which point, it was dinnertime, and I buried my imposter syndrome about cooking for a chef and made us dinner. We’d talk about our days, watch one episode of Sight Unseen and then go to our respective bedrooms. Rinse and repeat.
For the last two weeks.
In a change to the routine, Lucy and I were finally checking out the hot yoga place Eli had recommended.
“Why did I agree to this?” Lucy asked. She was sitting on the floor in the reception area outside one of the yoga studios, eyes closed, head tilted back to rest against the window behind her.
It was a good question. I had sent out a blanket invite to all the girls.
Clara didn’t want to wake up that early, Rachel had a long run to do (she seemed to always be training for marathons.
She tried to get the rest of us to sign up for them, but so far, I didn’t think she’d been successful) and Becky didn’t answer.
For some reason, Lucy said yes. Maybe she drew the short straw.
“How is this different to rock climbing?”
Lucy blinked an eye open. “I like rock climbing. I am good at rock climbing. I am not good at yoga.”
“Pretty sure a yoga practice meets you where you are. Good or bad.”
“My hamstrings are not built for yoga,” she offered.
“That’s because of all that rock climbing.”
Both Lucy’s eyes opened to glare at me before they softened into something like recognition as she looked beyond me. “Isn’t that your Eli?”
My head snapped in that direction, following her line of sight.
Sure enough, Eli was there. Black yoga mat rolled up under his arm. Black shorts that hit mid-thigh, showing off some truly impressive calves and hamstrings. A black vest top with arm holes so large, I could almost see his hip bones, which I chose to focus on more than the cut of his obliques.
I guess this was one of the places he went once he walked out of our front door.
The instructor, a petite blonde woman who reminded me of Tori, called us into the studio, and Lucy sprang into action, standing up and grabbing my hand to lead us both in, a smirk on her face.
I thought she was going to direct us to the back of the room. A place that would have put us as far away from Eli as possible. Because, of course, he was a front-of-the-class person.
What Lucy actually did was wait for Eli to roll out his mat before selecting two spaces in the row behind him, and by the time I realised what she was doing, it was too late. Pretty much all the other spaces were taken.
So I had no choice but to roll my mat out with Eli in my peripheral vision.
I knew the exact moment he clocked me in the mirror because he frowned and then turned his head to look at me.
The room was already starting to warm, and I felt my skin prickle under the heat.
I vaguely registered Lucy telling the instructor about an old wrist injury that sometimes got mad if she put too much weight on it, but mostly I just thought about how low-key horrifying it was that not only did I have a routine with the worst boy in the world, I also might have a crush on him.
The intention I set at the start of the practice was to focus on my own mat.
I failed miserably the first time we pushed into updog.
My eyes fell to the long line of Eli’s legs and the way the muscles were tensed, before he pushed into downward dog.
Then they ran down the length of his arms and how they flexed to support his weight in the pose.
The instructor came round and gave me a gentle reminder to let my neck relax.
A.k.a. don’t gawk at someone else while they’re practising.
I didn’t want to be gently told off again, so I kept to my intention for forty minutes, focusing on my breath and the way my muscles moved and supported me throughout the movements.
I was incapable of meditating in my day-to-day life.
I felt like I was failing at it every time my mind wandered, no matter how many times I tried to remind myself that it was okay, just as long as I brought it back.
It was a much more stressful experience than I think it was supposed to be.
Instead, I had yoga. A moving meditation where, yes, my mind did wander sometimes, but I had no choice but to bring it back because I was moving my body in a way that demanded intention.
I had no idea why I then moved on to doing it in near sauna-like studios, but it worked for me.
Nine times out of ten, I thought about nothing else but flowing.
Then, sometimes, the flow led to the set-up for a crow pose, and instead of focusing on my own mat, my eyes drifted again.
Eli was dripping with sweat. I could see it sliding off his chin, and there was one strand of hair flopping over his face that had a bead of moisture just waiting for the opportune moment to drop.
His triceps were glistening, his vest top plastered to his back, and his already short shorts were plastered to the bulge of his thighs as he tipped forward into the balance.
My knee slipped off my arm where I was hanging out in a squat, pretending I was going to go into the balance, and thudded onto my mat.
Eli’s eyes flicked over to me while he maintained his pose, concern lining his face.
I waved a hand vaguely and dropped back into child’s pose to try and regain some kind of composure.
I stayed in that pose for five minutes before I flipped onto my back for savasana.