Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

River

I ONLY SEE CLARK briefly the next few days. His group is more focused on the business side of things, seminars and trust falls and team building. I have to focus on other groups, other students, ones who are actually here for yoga more than work.

I hate it.

That second glimpse of Clark was even deeper than the first. I’m pretty sure he was learning as much about himself as I was learning about him, but there’s nothing we can do about our circumstances here at the retreat. We have to go down our separate paths.

He could come back though. He knows which cabin is mine. He knows I’ll open the door if he knocks. The night after the massage, I lie in bed awake for hours, hoping to hear a soft tap at my door. It doesn’t come that night, nor the next.

Worse, I barely get a glimpse of Clark over the next few days. I see him once during his group’s trust fall exercise. He’s as stiff and straight as the trees rearing up around him, and I almost laugh. A trust fall. No, that’s not the right exercise for a guy like him. You don’t tell Clark to fall and trust. You command him to let go, and he sinks willingly into your hands.

I turn away quickly after that and hurry on my way, but I spot him again in the cafeteria that night. Our eyes meet across the tables full of chatting groups. We hold each other’s gaze just a beat too long, a beat longer than would be normal.

“Hey.”

An elbow nudges my side. I’m sitting with the other retreat staff. The woman next to me is Luna, the singular other yoga instructor. She’s raising her eyebrow at me, which reminds me that I’ve done nothing but push my soup around in its bowl. It’s probably cold by now, and I haven’t eaten a single spoonful.

I shake myself, slapping on a smile. “Sorry, what did I miss?”

Luna smirks at me. I met her at a previous retreat where we were also the only yoga instructors. We bonded over hating the very sort of team building business stuff that Clark is enduring right now.

“Not very present tonight, are we?” she says.

I run a hand through my blue hair, which I neglected to tie up tonight. It spills loose and wavy to my shoulders. “No,” I admit. “My head is all scrambled.”

“I can tell.” Luna leans closer and lowers her voice. “Your aura is all over the place.”

It’s been a comfort to talk to someone else about things like energy and auras. I know a lot of people see it as silly nonsense, but it helps me make sense of the world. Whether it’s real or not, it gives me a starting point, an anchor. Whatever Luna sees — literally or figuratively — she’s picking up on something real. My mind is a mess, and the turbulence has my whole body out of sorts.

“I’m a little unsettled,” I confess.

“Did something happen during the retreat?”

Well, yes, but not in the way she’s implying, and I can’t tell her about Clark, as much as I may like and respect Luna. There’s still the matter of me being his instructor and our interactions crossing the line.

“Come on,” Luna says with another elbow jab. “Something definitely isn’t right. I can tell. The energy coming off you is mega fucked. You’re usually so steady.”

“I think I’m just tired,” I say.

The retreat has been going on for days. It’s not an unreasonable excuse. Even that brings my energy down, however. It serves as a reminder that the retreat is winding toward its conclusion. The uncertainty looming on the other side of this experience terrifies me. Will I ever see Clark again once this is over? Or will he go back to his normal life, his work, his stress, all the things making his body so tense, and leave me behind? I could never match his fancy, professional life. I could never fit into that world, as my family has been only too happy to make clear over the years. I don’t care when it’s my siblings and parents saying that stuff, but if Clark rejects me the same way they have, I’m not sure what I’ll do.

Luna clearly doesn’t believe my excuse, but she doesn’t push, either. My desperation must be painted all over my face.

“I’m here if you need to talk,” she says. “You can always knock on my door.”

I smile. Genuinely. Because what she’s saying is true. I could go to her cabin any time, knock on her door and pour my heart out, and she’d listen to every word. She’d pass no judgment about my indiscretions.

It almost makes me want to tell her the truth.

I don’t, of course. I merely force down my soup and excuse myself from the table where the other staff sit. I clean off my tray and head out of the lodge as quickly as I can, retreating to the safe seclusion of my cabin.

It’s even messier than the night Clark was here. As the days have passed without another word from him, I’ve lost my motivation. Each day, I simply go through the motions, teach the classes I’m supposed to teach, say the words I’m supposed to say. When I get back here at night, I strip right in the entryway and head to bed.

I only do the first half of that tonight. If Luna can see it, my energy is getting really messed up. I can’t let myself soak in this storm of negativity for another night. So I strip off my shoes and socks and shirt, leaving my baggy drawstring pants on and clearing a space on the floor for my yoga mat.

Sinking into the familiar motions of a sun salutation instantly clears some of the cobwebs cluttering up my head. The first few deep breaths leave me lighter. It’s not that I’ve stopped thinking about Clark or don’t wish things were different between us, but my yoga practice is getting me back into my body and out of the part of my head that’s in full meltdown because of this thing with him.

I flow into more demanding movements, using the physical strain to steady my mind further. Warrior poses open up my chest. Then I plant my hands on the mat and set my knees on my elbows for a full crow pose. As I pick my feet up, going into a sort of crouching handstand, my arms strain and sweat prickles my back.

By the time I come back down, the effort of balancing has pushed all else from my mind. I sit back on my yoga mat, breathing, sweating, sinking into my body so my mind can rest after days of uncertainty and spiraling doubt.

Then a knock sounds at my door.

My heart leaps, but it’s probably Luna checking up on me. She’s kind and considerate that way. I could throw on a shirt for her, but we’ve taught together enough times that my bare chest won’t be a shock to her.

Except when I throw open the door, it isn’t Luna standing on the porch.

“Clark?” I say.

His eyes flicker over my bare chest, and I’m suddenly keenly aware of the sweat glistening on my skin and my loose hair falling over my shoulders.

Clark swallows visibly. He forces his eyes back up to mine, and determination shines in those dark depths.

“Can I come in?” he says.

“Of course, but what are you doing here?”

I step aside, and Clark enters my cabin, closing the door behind him. We’re wedged into the narrow entryway beside the bathroom. Clark pries off his shoes, and my stomach flips. Does that mean…

“I’m here to even the score,” Clark says.

The way he looks me up and down leaves no doubt about what that means. My dick twitches, far from immune to the hunger in his eyes, the scratch of his voice when it drops in pitch, but I force myself to think clearly through the haze.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “I didn’t massage you with any expectation th—”

“Will you shut up,” Clark says, “and let me touch you already?”

It would take a far stronger man than me to say no to that.