5. Aida
As much asI’ve enjoyed the view of Ben shirtless, I’m certainly not going to hang out with him at his party pad. Living next door to that chaos is enough for me, and anyway, I’ve told myself I’m here to relax and that means going to bed at a decent hour.
It’s been too long since I’ve hit the sack before two in the morning with all the studying I was doing. Now it’s time to get things back under control by getting enough sleep so I don’t look like roadkill, which is what I’ve felt like for the past several months.
“Another time,” I reply, smiling at him, and seeing as he knows he’s charming, he’s clearly shocked that he hasn’t won me over. “So, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it down tonight. I would hate to see you have the police called on you again.”
Ben lets out a deep laugh, all throaty and sexy, and I want to smack myself for thinking about him as anything but my annoying neighbor.
“I’m going to hold you to it,” he says, winking at me.
“Hold me to calling the cops on you?” I hit back, smirking, although I haven’t come right out and admitted it was me who called them on him last night.
“Hold you to showing up at one of my parties this summer. They’re known for creating the kinds of stories you’ll tell your grandkids.”
I laugh, not surprised by this comment. After what was going on last night, I’ll be telling my grandkids about the summer I was trying to just chill out before starting law school and had to call the police on the out-of-control neighbor and his love of pyrotechnics.
“We’ll see,” I quip back. “I have yoga early tomorrow, so staying up past my bedtime and missing it, is not something I’m up for.”
“You mean your YouTube lady? You know that shit is recorded, and you can do it whenever you want,” Ben says, and I think about this morning, finding him sleeping on the deck in his underwear. “Fuck, her voice couldn’t have been more annoying.”
I shake my head, the irony of his comment completely lost on him. “No, not the video. There’s oceanfront yoga tomorrow at seven and I plan on going.”
“I’ll try to keep it down tonight,” Ben says, and my mouth drops open. Is he really trying to be polite? Normally it seems like he doesn’t give a shit about anything but partying. “Anyway, we ran out of fireworks last night.”
Now that admittance sounds right on track given everything I’ve learned about him so far. It has nothing to do with me or respecting his neighbors and everything to do with not having the fireworks at his disposal. Besides, I thought fireworks were illegal in South Carolina, but I might be wrong there.
“I knew there was a real reason. God forbid you do something nice for your neighbors, like toning it down a bit,” I say, sounding far more bitter and snarky than I intend.
Hopefully, I can start to find my way back to the person I used to be before I became obsessed with getting into law school. I used to be fun. Now I just feel more like a crabby old lady and this conversation with Ben is really driving that home.
“Guessing the party will last all summer?” I now question, feeling a little guilty for calling the police, which pretty much reinforces the crabby old lady thing.
“Hell yes, unless the cops shut us down, but I think I’ve taken care of that,” Ben replies coyly, hitting me with another wink that has my stomach fluttering in a way that it hasn’t done in a while.
“Then I’ll take you up on an invite another time. I hope you have a nice night, Ben. I had fun today. Maybe we can do it again sometime,” I say, smiling, but also looking forward to the quiet house by myself.
“Again, I’ll hold you to that, Aida,” Ben says, and we stand in silence for a few seconds, this strange connection passing between us. I can feel it and judging by the look on Ben’s face, he feels it too.
It’s this strange electricity tingling through my body, something I’d love to explore, but not this soon because if it goes south, we have to live next door to each other.
“Good night, Ben,” I quickly say, needing to walk away before I give in and end up at his party, and possibly in his bed.
I sleep like a rock, Ben holding to his word about keeping things down, and when I wake up the next morning, I feel like a new person.
It was good to get out in the sun yesterday, playing volleyball and feeling active, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, it was nice hanging out with Ben and his friends.
Opening the blinds, I look over at Ben’s house. All is quiet, the blinds drawn, the driveway empty, which makes me think things ended pretty early last night. That would explain why I fell asleep so quickly and slept like the dead.
I change into some workout clothes and grab my yoga mat. The class is taking place just a few houses down from me, right on the beach. It’s like something out of a movie, but I am all for it.
Walking down there, I enjoy the ocean breeze and the calm of the beach, not yet crowded with people and tourists. Being up this early allows for experiencing this small beach town without the craziness of families and visitors. It’s nothing like it is during the day.
I unroll my mat, greeting the teacher and introducing myself to some of the people around me. Most of them are old, like older than my parents, telling me they are retired and live here permanently. They probably hate me, thinking I’m a typical tourist here to disrupt their peace and quiet. Turns out I’m more like them than I am anyone here visiting. I want the quiet.
We start by lying on our mat, focusing on our breathing. Taking in a slow breath and letting it out as the instructor counts for us.
Just as I’m beginning to relax, I hear a whispered voice ask, “So do we just lay here? I thought this was supposed to make me look like Jared Leto with his shirt off.”
I turn my head to the side, not needing to open my eyes to know who is next to me.
It’s Ben.
And I don’t know whether to laugh or get up and leave. I should have known he’d show up here after I told him I had early yoga.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper back, moving into child’s pose as the instructor continues.
“I want to look like Jared Leto with my shirt off,” he replies, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He’s being dead serious.
“Ben, you already look good with your shirt off,” I say, not catching myself before it comes out. It’s the truth, but I didn’t need to say it out loud. His ego doesn’t need any more stroking.
“Oh really?” he comments back, pretending to pull his shirt over his head.
“Stop. I’m trying to concentrate. Notice how you’re the only one talking,” I huff out, pushing up into plank position.
“You’re talking too. And anyway, I thought this was supposed to be hard.” He looks over at me, his plank pretty solid, acting like he could do this in his sleep.
The best part? This isn’t a beginner’s class and it’s about to get much more difficult. Like yesterday, I can’t wait to put him in his place.
“Move into side plank,” the instructor says, talking about how to modify the position if it’s too difficult.
“You should be listening to this,” I tell Ben, moving my head toward the instructor. “She’s giving tips on how to make it easier.”
“I don’t need it to be easier. I need it to be harder. I can totally kick your ass at this,” Ben quips, and I try not to laugh out loud.
Nothing like a little friendly competition to wake you up in the morning.
“Bring it on, Ben.” I look over at him, my brows going up as I wait for his response, the instructor telling us to return to plank and then move into peacock.
I shift into position, my eyes watching as Ben struggles a little but eventually finds his balance. “Boom, take that, Aida,” he whisper-shouts.
“Oh, just wait,” I reply and when she tells us to move into wounded peacock, I know he’s going to fall on his face.
The instructor goes on to talk about modifications, telling some of the older people to follow along with her assistant and again I motion for Ben to do the same.
“You don’t get to win this,” he mutters, his arms shaking as he continues to try to find his balance and hold the position. He’s beginning to sweat now, the peacock pose really taking a toll on him.
“It’s not a competition, Ben. It’s yoga.” But even as I say it, it’s a lie. It’s totally a competition and I’m going to win.
“How are you not dying?” he asks, his words coming out breathy and strangled. “I’m going to fall on my face if I don’t stop.”
“You’d better stop. We wouldn’t want you to bruise that face of yours. It feels like it’s the only thing you’ve got going for you, because you are not good at yoga.”
It’s all in good fun, but he needs to know that I win.
“You can bet your ass I’m going to be here every morning. I’m going to kick your ass at yoga by the end of the summer,” Ben grunts out, collapsing on the mat while I continue to hold my pose.
The instructor continues on, moving through a few more poses before we begin to wind down. The poses get easier and more relaxing as we near the end of the class, but I’d say Ben definitely got a workout in that he wasn’t expecting.
“Let’s move slowly into happy baby,” the instructor says. “Modify by grabbing your feet, ankles or shins. Gently pull your knees to the sand.”
And that’s when I hear it. Someone just passed gas. I know it happens during yoga, but I’ve never experienced it.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Ben, trying not to sound accusatory. I add, “Was it you?”
“No, it wasn’t me,” he whispers. “It was that old man over there.” Ben motions with his head toward the older guy next to me. His eyes are closed and he’s in full-on happy baby position, rocking back and forth which seems to be loosening all the gas.
It’s like a damn machine gun, puttering out of his ass in rapid succession and Ben and I are the only ones who seem to notice.
Biting down hard on the inside of my cheek, I try my best to hold in the laughter, but as soon as I look over at Ben, I can’t help it.
Giggling hard, tears begin to stream down my cheeks. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, really needing to control myself, but I just can’t.
“Holy shit,” Ben whispers, his face scrunched up, his eyes pinched closed. “You’d think the smell would dissipate quickly outside, but it smells like rotten eggs and a dumpster fire.”
And just when we think it’s over, the old man lets out a fart that rivals a middle schooler who just learned how to play the trumpet. If we had been inside, it would have echoed, but here out on the beach, everyone within a mile is preparing for the tsunami warning with the way it shook the ground.
Here Ben and I are, laughing uncontrollably, our faces covered, trying to protect ourselves from the noxious gas that is being released from this man’s behind.
“What the fuck did he eat?” Ben mutters, his face now buried in his yoga mat.
“I think something died inside him,” I retort, the laughter now spilling from me without control. The man seems to be completely unaware that he’s ripping off some seriously deadly ass bombs.
Not to mention that the instructor and everyone but Ben and me are carrying on like this isn’t happening. I’m not sure how, because the smell is like a punch in the face, hitting you like a wall of stink.
At this point Ben and I are laughing so hard that everyone is looking at us, and instead of addressing it, the instructor closes out the class with a peaceful and calm, “Namaste.”
More like, nah, I’m not gonna stay.