Chapter 32 Naked Yoga
Thirty-Two
Naked Yoga
Miles
Whenever we have a sleepover, which is happening more and more lately, I wake up with nothing but a sheet because Nora steals the blankets.
Every time. But she always stirs sometime before morning, tugs them back into place, and curls against me before drifting off again.
Every morning, I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, smiling to myself, thinking, Yeah. This is my life now.
I still catch myself marveling at how much everything shifted in such a short span of time.
How I’m no longer the guy who fumbles through dates.
Sure, I still offer an interesting fact or two, but only when it fits, or when Nora actually asks.
I’m not just a virgin anymore—I’m a boyfriend.
Officially. Hers. And that feels even bigger.
Nora’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever known—smart, complex, beautiful, and most importantly, brave in ways that steals the air from my lungs.
I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I know this: I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of the way she chose me.
Even when work pulled me out of state for the first two weeks of us finding our way back to each other, she showed me that distance doesn’t mean disconnect.
She introduced me to the magic of FaceTime, late-night laughter, and how to be intimate without being physically present.
It was hot. I even proposed the idea of more FaceTimes even when we’re in the same house. Twice as hot.
And now I’m here. With her. We’re building small habits that are turning into promises. Morning coffee. Lunch dates. We’re choosing each other every day. She’s my everything, and this time, I’m not letting her run. And I forewarned her: if she does, I’ll chase her.
I pull open the door to the yoga studio and hold it for Nora and Diane. The scent of eucalyptus and rubber mats hits me immediately, along with soft instrumental music and lighting dim enough that—hopefully—no one can clearly witness my impending humiliation. Which is comforting. For me.
I glance around and lower my voice. “Okay. Just so we’re clear. This is group stretching.”
Diane grins as she unrolls her mat beside Nora’s. “It’s mindfulness, Miles.”
I nod. “I’m extremely mindful. I think about things constantly.”
Nora bites her lip, clearly fighting a laugh.
We settle onto our mats—Diane on Nora’s left, me on her right—and my body stiffens. Every joint locks into place as if my bones have been swapped out for two-by-fours.
The instructor glides to the front of the room, barefoot and serene. “Welcome, everyone. Today, we’ll focus on breath, balance, and releasing tension.”
I exhale. “Breathing: check.”
Nora leans closer. “Relax. No one’s grading you.”
“That’s worse,” I whisper. “I thrive on clear expectations.”
We start with deep breaths, arms overhead. Simple and straightforward. I follow along with the concentration of someone running a preflight checklist. Then the instructor cues a forward fold.
I bend at the waist, and my body immediately enters an error state and refuses to proceed. “Oh no,” I murmur.
Nora glances over. “What?”
“I think my hamstrings just shut down.”
Diane snorts.
The instructor flicks us a look before cueing the class into plank. I lower myself toward the floor, elbows trembling. I glance at Nora. “How do you make this look effortless?” I mutter.
“You’re doing great,” Nora whispers.
“Are you lying to make me feel better?”
“Yes. But also… kind of no.”
When downward dog arrives, I give it an honest try. Unfortunately, I look nothing like Nora, who’s forming a perfect V. My heels hover several inches off the mat, and my back curves into something closer to a question mark than a straight line.
The instructor passes by and murmurs, “Bend your knees if you need to.”
I nod. “I need to.”
Between the constant position changes and my muscles giving up, I lose my balance. My foot slips, and I tumble directly toward Nora.
She grabs my arm on instinct. “Whoa. I’ve got you.”
I freeze—look at her hand, then up at her. “Thank you.”
Warrior pose nearly takes me out, and tree pose is a full-blown catastrophe. I wobble, arms windmilling as I do my best not to draw attention to myself.
Diane laughs. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart.”
“I appreciate the encouragement,” I say, immediately wobbling harder.
By the time we reach seated stretches, I’m sweaty and sore, but proud of myself. “I don’t understand how people look peaceful doing that,” I mutter. “My stress level was at a ten.”
“You survived.” Nora smiles at me.
Diane leans back on her hands. “I’m proud of both of you.”
I glance between them. “So is this a regular thing?”
“Yoga?” Nora asks.
“Being gently humbled in public.”
She laughs. “Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
At the end, we lie back in Savasana. The lights dim further and the music softens. Diane sighs contentedly beside us. I lie perfectly still. Too still.
Nora peeks over. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m just… aggressively relaxing.”
She bites her lip again, and it’s sexy. I’m really going to enjoy yoga if she keeps giving me that look.
When class ends, I sit up slowly. “I think parts of me have unlocked that were previously inaccessible.”
Diane pats my shoulder. “That’s growth.”
As we roll up our mats, I turn to Nora. “Thanks for inviting me. I liked doing something… normal. With you.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
We head for the door while Diane’s already deep in conversation with the instructor about next week. Outside, the summer air is warm, humming against my skin. I step closer to Nora, lowering my voice. “So… same time next week?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re coming back?”
I smile—soft, a little sheepish. “Yeah. Plus, I did some research. Apparently, yoga can help men with, um… performance. Erection and ejaculation control.”
She laughs, slow and delighted. “In that case, we should probably sign you up for an extra day or two.”
After dropping Diane off, we drive back to my place. I barely get the key out before Nora leans in, her lips brushing my ear. “I think we both need a shower.”
My pulse kicks. “Together?”
“Yes,” she murmurs. “Together.” Her finger trails down my chest.
“Whenever we end up naked together,” I start, voice already rough, “we always—”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” I tilt my head, smirking. “So is this naked yoga?”
“You can call it whatever you want.” She smiles and loops her arms around my neck, drawing me in. The kiss is slow, but absolutely perfect. I push the door open without breaking contact, her lips still on mine.
“Hey, kids!”
I go still and pull back. With Nora’s arms still looped around my shoulders, we both turn our heads at the same time. My dad is sitting on the couch. In his underwear. Legs crossed. Completely relaxed.
“Dad,” I say faintly. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Mom were on a plane to Florida.”
“Plane got delayed until tomorrow. So we’re hanging out for one more day.”
“And you’re doing that in your underwear?”
“Yep.”
“Hi, Greg,” Nora says politely, shielding her eyes with one hand while waving with the other. “So good to see you again.”
He glances down at himself. “Well, isn’t this awkward. But, hey, now that you’ve seen me in my underwear, and I’ve seen you in yours, I guess we’re even.”
“That’s something I never wanted to be even in,” she mutters, then rises onto her toes and whispers in my ear, “I’ll meet you upstairs.”
As soon as the bedroom door closes, I turn slowly to my dad. “Okay. I need you and Mom out of the house.” I pull a fifty from my wallet and hand it to him. “Take her to lunch.” I pause, then add another fifty. “Actually, make it dinner too. On me.”
Dad rises from the couch and claps my shoulder. “Proud of you, son. Really embracing adulthood.”
“Please leave.”
He strolls to the basement door and yanks it open. “Honey, how do you feel about Mongolian BBQ?”
Next to-do project: install their own entrance.
When the water turns on upstairs, I don’t hesitate. I take the stairs two at a time, grinning like an idiot, because nothing is keeping me from naked yoga.