He offered Ben a strained smile, and more embarrassment flooded through Ben.
It wasn’t bad enough that he’d made a fool of himself—he’d made one of the instructors feel as though he had to take pity on him and add more to his own plate. An instructor he found incredibly attractive…but was now too damned humiliated to even broach the idea of getting to know him better.
Fuck my life.
Oliver’s salutation to the sun the next morning was more muted than usual. He was totally distracted by the thought that in a few short minutes, he and Ben Beaufort would be alone together in the yoga room. Ben…who was exactly the type of guy Oliver would have loved to explore flexibility with, once upon a time. You know, in bed. Or against a wall. Or hell, over a table—he wasn’t picky.
But no. Not anymore. Oliver was done getting involved with guys who were all brawn, even if that body type worked for him—and boy, did it. He just hoped Ben was focused on the poses and wouldn’t notice that yoga pants really didn’t hide anything.
Too soon, Oliver was in the yoga room, watching Ben edge past the door. “Good morning,” Oliver called across the room.
Ben jerked, as though Oliver’s voice surprised him, then gave Oliver a small smile. “Hi. I mean, good morning.”
Oliver waved to the mat he’d set out for Ben, and Ben sat down, trying—and failing—to mimic how Oliver sat, with his legs crossed. Oh boy. This might be tougher than Oliver had anticipated.
Ben gave up, his legs not quite tucked together, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to and I appreciate it.”
Oliver’s smile widened. “You might not be saying that after our class.”
Ben glanced down at his legs. “Heh. Yeah. Maybe not.”
“I thought your logic was…well, obviously not perfect, but I could see where you were coming from, yesterday.”
“Yeah?” There was a hopeful tone to Ben’s voice, as though he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t crazy. Oliver was happy to provide it.
“Sure. One of the things they want recruits to do is think outside of the box. You did that. I think Simon was more pissed off that you’d wrecked his course, not at your thinking.”
“But he was right—I’m not going to be smashing through walls in the real world, or pushing cars out of the way.”
“No, but you shouldn’t dismiss the creativity you used to solve the problem that faced you. You didn’t follow expectations, and that can be a good thing.” Oliver clapped his hands, signalling the end of that conversation, and unfolded to his feet. “Let’s get started. We’ll do the Mountain Pose first.”
At first glance, the Mountain Pose didn’t seem like much—just standing. But Oliver walked Ben through extending his toes and pressing them into the mat, through imagining a string pulling his spine straight as it extended up through his head, and so on. When he felt that Ben had gotten himself good and grounded, he moved on to Downward Facing Dog, which was a little more difficult for Ben to achieve.
“Can you feel how this pose stretches your spine?”
“It’s stretching something,” Ben grunted.
Triangle Pose.
Oliver squinted at Ben’s spread legs. “A little wider.”
“This is as wide as they go.”
“You can do a little wider.”
Ben huffed, but shifted his feet out a bit more, his arms straight out to either side. “There.”
It wasn’t quite one leg’s-length, but Ben’s legs were just as long as the rest of him, so Oliver gave it a pass. “Now turn your right foot ninety degrees…lean over that leg…” He winced inwardly at the very awkward, very not-flexible picture Ben was painting right now. His face was red from exertion, his stubbly scalp damp from sweat, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa leaned further than he did.
“How’m I doing?” Ben panted. Oliver hesitated an instant too long and Ben’s expression fell. “That good, huh?”
“It’s your first class.”
Ben straightened and wiped a forearm over his brow. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he muttered.
Oliver eyed his student, then gave a decisive nod. More yoga wasn’t what the doctor ordered today. “Come on, walk with me.”
4
He led Ben outside to the walking track. The sun was barely up, and mist gathered here and there along the ground. The scent of the pine trees at the edge of the FUCN’A compound had become a fragrance that meant home and safety to Oliver—two things he’d once wondered if he’d ever find.
“I