Date Me Like You Mean It

He doesn’t say anything for a really long time.

I think he might have fallen asleep; that’s how little he cares about my sex life. To him, the information I’ve divulged is a glorified sleep aid.

So I roll over and pretend to go to sleep too.

Eventually he whispers my name, but I stay quiet and keep my eyes closed, ready for this weird night to be over.“Up and at ’em,” a voice says from outside our door. “The sun waits for no man!”

It’s Stephanie with a wake-up call for us, and I blink my eyes open to see that it’s very early. The sun has barely begun to rise.

Aiden groans beside me, sits up, and then swings his legs off the bed. I glance over my shoulder to see his tan back. Muscles pull taut as he wipes sleep from his eyes, and I let my gaze fall along his shoulder blades, lower, along the curve of his spine. No love handles for this one, just a tapered waist and Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He looks back at me and I hop up to answer the door.

Stephanie is standing outside in workout gear, wearing a huge smile.

How is she so put together already?

“Hurry up, we’re doing sunrise yoga.”

Is this a joke?! What is it with everyone and sunrise yoga! What about midafternoon yoga, huh? What’s so great about the sunrise anyway?

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, or you don’t get any donuts afterward. Now hop to it.”

Aiden and I dress quickly in athletic attire then set off toward the main house. When I see Stephanie, I mention those donuts she promised, but she shakes her head and prods me along the path to where the group is set up on yoga mats, all arranged in a circle around a brass bowl.

“We’ll eat later. Yoga’s always better on an empty stomach.”

Yes, that way everyone can listen to the grumbles coming from my hungry belly.

“Here, you’ll sit beside Dante,” the instructor says, directing Aiden before looking back at me. “And you’ll have the spot by Stephanie so you can feed off each other’s energy.”

Oh good. Maybe that will keep my hunger pains to a reasonable level.

I want to hate sunrise yoga. It’s the opposite of how I usually spend my free time and it’s led by Janessa, a slow-talking child-of-the-earth type who’s dressed in loose-fitting linen pants and a tank top made from some dark cotton material, probably hemp. She tells me to close my eyes and connect with nature. At first, in a silent act of rebellion, I close my eyes and envision different types of breakfast foods: fluffy buttermilk pancakes, warm croissants, crackling bacon, yogurt parfaits. At some point, though, I run out of items on the McDonald’s breakfast menu and my mind starts to wander off in other directions. It jumps from work, to Aiden, to my sister and my parents as we move through the poses. Then, nothing really…sort of vague nothingness as if I’m floating in a zero-gravity chamber. I don’t even realize I’m actually enjoying it (not just pretending!) until Janessa starts to roll a soft mallet around the edge of the metal bowl, reawakening us for the day.

What. The. Hell. Was. That?!

Afterward, breakfast is served on the covered porch overlooking the pool. Aiden joins me in the buffet line.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” he admits.

“I know, right? Does this mean we’re going to start using essential oils and making our own kombucha?”

Dante pushes in between us. “Oh my gosh, I have a great kombucha recipe I can give you guys.”

Aiden and I exchange a private smile before continuing down the line. Fortunately, the staff at the house has taken the liberty of giving us lots of options for breakfast, pretty much everything I was envisioning at the start of yoga. I take a donut and some eggs and a heaping mug of coffee over to the table.

Stephanie beams at me as I sit down beside her. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. We have a jam-packed day ahead, so eat up.”

She’s not lying. After we eat, we all shower and get ready to drive out to visit Donald Judd’s contemporary art museum just outside of Marfa. I had no idea the small desert town was such a mecca for artists, but as I ride in a Range Rover with Stephanie and Dante, they tell me all about it. I wish Aiden were with me, but Elliot scooped him up to talk shop and we’ve been separated ever since. Dante insists on driving into town for another round of coffee before we go to the museum, and that takes longer than expected because he and Stephanie both want to stop at a bookstore afterward.

“Shouldn’t we meet up with the others?” I suggest.

“There’s no rush,” Stephanie tells me, flipping over a paperback to read the synopsis on the back. “It’s not as if they need us to help them look at the art. Everyone can go at their own pace.”