A Modern Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,90
Sutra, babe.”
…
The afternoon intermediate class at Spirit Yoga was packed to the rafters. Lauren had no idea how Nat managed to walk between the mats. If someone fell over in tree pose, they were going to take down half the room.
She and Jamie were communing in the back row with all the other yoga delinquents. Form and flexibility definitely improved as you got closer to the front of the room.
However, Jamie didn’t look lost anymore, and when Nat said “triangle pose” or “downward dog,” he moved along with everyone else. You only improved that much in three weeks when you did yoga every day. That was love for you.
It wasn’t until they hit the dreaded hip openers that Jamie started to show signs of rebellion. Lauren tried the minimalist approach—look like you’re working hard.
Nat wasn’t as gullible as her high school history teacher, unfortunately. Either that or she knew better than to leave the back row to their own devices during hip openers. Under her steady eye, even Jamie managed to find some room in his pelvis, whatever that meant.
A few minutes of lying on their backs in dead man’s pose, at which the back row excelled, and class emptied out. Jamie and Lauren stood with Nat as people headed out the door to food, home, and slumping on the couch.
“That was a huge class, Nat,” said Lauren.
Nat looked slightly worried. “I know. I’m not entirely sure what to do about it. That kind of crowding isn’t really the best environment for yoga.”
“It’s easier not to fall over in balance poses,” Jamie said. “Always somebody to hold on to.”
Nat laughed. “Cheater. You back-row types are incorrigible.”
Jamie poked Nat in the ribs. “What, did you eat a dictionary?”
Close, thought Lauren, and wondered how many yoga teachers had graduated with a 4.0 in English lit and linguistics. “You could move to a bigger space. I can get listings from the commercial guy at my office if you want to look at some possibilities.”
Nat sighed. “It’s either that or offer more classes, but our schedule is already pretty packed. All the after-work classes are like this now. A couple of days ago, I had to share mats and do partner yoga all class, because we couldn’t fit everyone in any other way.”
“So, consider a bigger space,” Jamie said. “Lauren’s right—that’s the obvious next step.”
Nat looked around the studio. “It would be so hard to part with this place. Lauren, do you remember when we first came to check it out?”
“Yeah. The monthly rent nearly made you throw up, but it was the right location.”
“So you drilled into my head. And obviously, you were right.”
Lauren grinned. “I told you so.”
Nat looked at Jamie. “That’s how Lauren got her first job. She impressed the agent when she talked me into this place. In a way, we both got our start here.”
“If it matters,” Jamie said, “then keep it. Open a second location instead of moving.”
Jamie really gets her, thought Lauren. His nonchalant confidence would chase away the self-doubt Nat sometimes still pulled out from under her childhood bed.
“I don’t need to decide right now,” Nat said. “Lauren, can you find a few places near here to check out?”
“Sure thing. I know one that’s vacant. We can probably do that one tomorrow morning, if you want.”
Nat nodded, and reached for Jamie’s hand. “Just tell us where and when.”
It was really serious, if Nat was bringing him shopping for a new studio. She’d been keeping a bit of an eye out for Jamie’s precog house. It sounded like it might be time to start paying closer attention.
She’d do some research later. Right now, they needed food before heading off to amateur witches’ night.
…
It might not be awful. Sure, and snails might taste good if you gave them fancy French names. Jamie had no idea how he was letting Lauren drag him to some coven meeting. She’d obviously caught him at a very weak moment.
He actually didn’t have a lot of experience with covens. One very earnest group had tried to recruit him at university, but in general, covens didn’t do a lot of outreach.
Intellectually, he understood that not every witch had the benefit of growing up in a family where power was more common than freckles. He wasn’t a solitary witch; the teamwork of circles was far too ingrained in him. Teamwork with strangers was a different matter, however.
As they approached the Witchery shop front, he eyed the front window. There were the expected displays of books