She flicked her fingers at me. “You know I was blond in my past life, right? That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it. I don’t have shit for brains, but man, you’re up there with NASA.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
She slurped the last of her milk shake and did a free throw into the garbage can. The cup bounced on the rim and fell to the ground, spilling its contents like pink vomit.
“Shit!” she hissed.
“That’s littering. You’d better pick that up,” I said when she started to walk away.
But before she could respond, someone else snatched the cup off the ground.
“I don’t want anyone getting fined for littering,” a male voice said, laughing. “Hi.”
He was tall, with a military haircut that emphasized his strong facial structure. Deep-brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. A shadow of beard covered his square jaw, making him look very masculine, and tattoos decorated both his muscled and toned brown arms. It was obvious he went to the gym—there was one next door to the yoga studio. He wore a black muscle shirt that showed all of the dark, intricate tats, and there were a lot of them.
“Hi,” Kara choked out.
“I’m Theo.”
“Kara.”
I spotted a tongue ring when he spoke. I glanced at Kara and almost laughed at the expression on her face. Her mouth was slightly open in awe, her big hazel eyes rounding.
Theo looked at Kara curiously as he dropped the milk shake in the garbage. I elbowed her inconspicuously. She blinked several times before she started to wake up, but it was too late. A car had stopped in front of us, and Theo was already waving goodbye and sliding into the car.
“Shit, Ver. I think I found the guy who’s gonna pop my cherry.”
I laughed. “Memo for you, Kar. Your cherry has already been popped.”
“Pop my second cherry?”
“Unless you sprouted another vagina, I don’t think you have a second cherry.” Kara didn’t respond, staring at the car as it drove away. “Let’s go. Yoga releases tension, which you really need right now.”
“Pizza can do that, too, girlfriend. Or getting laid.”
I smirked, grabbed her hand, and dragged her inside the building.
When we entered the yoga class, the heat felt like a slap in the face. The hot air encased every part of my body like a bodysuit. We were about ten minutes into the class when I threw a glance at Kara. She looked green. Uh-oh.
“Kar,” I hissed. “Are you okay?”
We weren’t allowed to talk, but she looked ready to pass out.
She shook her head, whimpering, “Can we leave?”
We weren’t allowed to leave either. The instructor wanted us to lie down and get our breath back if we felt dizzy. Screw it.
“Let’s go, Kar.”
Sympathetic eyes darted our way as I helped her up. The instructor came to check on us, but Kara told her she was fine. In the hallway, the rush of air-conditioning greeted us like a taste of ambrosia.
“Fuck, yes!” Kara said breathlessly, disentangling herself from my arms and dumping her limp, sweaty carcass on the floor, spread-eagle. “It smelled like old vagina in there. Someone farted while doing those exorcist dance moves. I swear, if you pull me back in there, I’m going to slap you to kingdom come, my friend. Right down to purgatory.”
Kara had never done yoga before, and the expression on her face cracked me up. Loud peals of laughter echoed in the hallway.
When the instructor opened the classroom door and reprimanded us with a glare, I pulled Kara up and we stumbled to the lockers.
Pictures of Buddha and Asian gardens hung on the orange walls. Three bathroom stalls were installed on the right half of the room and the lockers on the left.