I keep my goddamn mouth shut.
“Oooo, a newbie. Nice! I’m Destinee,” she introduces, holding out her hand, and I shake it as she uses the other to pull the door open for all the other women to file into the room, the shameless hussies doing everything they can to catch Neil’s eye, but as I look up at him, a frown pulling down my brows and lips, I see he’s only watching me, a little smirk on his face.
Great, the asshole knows I’m jealous.
I face Destinee once more. “I-I’m Astrid. I uh. I used to be a dancer, but I—”
“Bup-bup. No, ma’am,” she cuts me off. “Once a dancer, always a dancer. Now, continue.”
I smile, loving how this tiny girl seems to be a force to be reckoned with. “I’ve been out of practice for about a decade.”
She nods. “Normal workout routine?”
“None.” I wince.
“Got it,” she replies. No giving me shit. No making a face of disgust or disappointment. No judgment whatsoever. Just… got it. “So this will be a great introductory class for you, because there’s lots of stretching and warm-up in the beginning before we really get into the more challenging stuff. And then once that begins, I’ll show the class all sorts of modifications—or ‘mods’—for each move. There are usually three levels to every move, a beginner, intermediate, and advanced version of the same exercise. You do what you feel comfortable with. And if you need a break to catch your breath, then get some water or do child pose, or whatever you want. I ain’t gonna call you out for it. That’s not how my class works. I encourage; I don’t break down.”
My God. I. Love. This. Girl.
She’s married. To the woman at the front desk, remember?
But… she looks—
Before I can finish the argument with myself, she pulls her black beanie off her head and uses it to gesture us to precede her through the door. And at the crown of her head is a thick light-gray streak that stands out against the rest of her ultra-dark brown hair. So now I have absolutely no idea how old she is. Looks twelve but old enough to have gray hair?
I don’t have time to think about it before I feel Neil’s hand on my back once more, leading me over to where the equipment is. When I look around, everyone is setting up their places along the edges of the huge room. All the walls are mirrored except for the back one that is floor-to-ceiling windows treated to keep the room from getting too hot. And running along all the mirrored walls is a double dance barre at two levels of height.
“You’ll need a yoga mat and one set of hand weights. Threes if you’re beginner, and fives if you think you can handle it. They. Will. Get. Heavy. Even for you, big guy,” Destinee calls to Neil, and all the women giggle, making me stabby.
Neil pulls me toward him, holding out a set of the three-pound neon-green weights and leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Use it as motivation, goddess.” When he stands back up tall, I stare up into his eyes, trying to figure out what he’s trying to tell me without so many words. And it’s not until a tall brunette woman with big fake tits “accidentally” bumps into him, brushing her chest across his arm, that I realize what he means.
“Oh, excuse me,” she says breathlessly through her equally big and fake lips. “Sorry, just trying to get my weights.” She shoves between us, knocking me back a step, and I watch Neil’s nostrils flare and his brows lower when he sees it, pissed on my behalf—or is it more?
Shockingly, my normal automatic response to just take it, to cower, to apologize for something I didn’t do doesn’t take over. Instead, I make us both feel better, stepping up to him and raising up on my toes to place a kiss where I can reach—the side of his neck—and take the weights from his hands. “Thanks, baby,” I chirp, and the stunned look on his face would make me laugh if I weren’t trying to mark my territory in front of this bitch.
My territory?
“Places, everyone,” Destinee calls, ending the all-out cat fight I’m suddenly willing to throw down for at this moment if it were to escalate any further.
Neil grabs us two yoga mats off the wall, and we make our way to an open spot big enough for the two of us. When I take the place closer to the back of the room, sliding out of my flip-flops, he takes hold of my hips from behind and lifts me into the air, making me squeak before setting me back on my feet on the mat in front. As I spin around to glare at him, he spreads his feet wide on the black mat and crosses his huge arms, challenging me with the lift of his brow to try to move him.