Control Yourself

Shae pulled into the secluded lot of the fight club Greg was a dedicated member of. The thought of how many hours Greg spent here instead of at their apartment, with her, pressed a hot button in her mind. She had dug Greg’s ratty, lucky gloves out of her trunk earlier that morning, having every intention of dropping them off, giving a name, and never returning to the stupid club.

Since she was on a tight schedule that morning between returning Greg’s gloves and a private, morning yoga session, she slipped out of her Prius wearing a pair of short, black yoga shorts, as well as a black, Fila camisole with an oriental, floral print. In her hands, she clutched Greg’s gloves, while she crossed the parking lot with poise in her blue and white specialty yoga shoes. Though it was early, the parking lot was partially filled with cars – all belonging to dedicated fighters, Shae assumed. She slipped in through the front door, braced by cool air immediately.

There was no desk to check-in too, or to consult. Shae gulped.

She looked around the club for a moment, seeing guys dripping with sweat, beating the life out of bags hanging from the ceiling. There were a few guys training with instructors; the instructors held pads up and called out combos, while the trainees punched and kicked at them with fury. Shae gulped yet again, suddenly feeling very out of place.

“You lost?” Someone asked from behind her. Shae jerked around, nearly colliding with the sweaty male behind her. She smiled sheepishly; watching as a droplet of sweat ran down the side of the guy’s chiseled face.

“Uhm, I hope not,” Shae said. “I came to drop these off,” She held up the gloves. “They’re Greg’s.”

The guy smirked smugly.

“As in Antonio?” He asked in a slightly slurred voice. She nodded.

“Yeah, you know him?” Shae said, shoving the gloves into the guy’s sweating, muscular chest. “I’m running a little late for my class, though, if you don’t mind…”

He didn’t take the gloves; he just stared down at Shae, making her feel more awkward as she pressed the gloves into his defined abdomen. She cleared her throat.

“Please?...” She giggled nervously.

The guy rolled his eyes, snatching the gloves from her hands. His dark eyes locked on Shae’s before tracing her body, head to toe. She felt uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Okay, great,” Shae said abruptly. “Thanks.”

As she went to turn away, ideally bolting for the door, the guy’s rasp voice stopped her.
“I would’ve thought you’d at least wish your man luck…” He snorted. Shae rolled her eyes, turning back to the mysterious – yet sort of ‘cute’ – stranger who seemed to insist upon making her late for her lesson.

“Uhm, ex-man,” Shae clarified with a gesture of her index finger. “And I have to go – I have a private lesson to teach.” She placed her hands on her hips.

The guy seemed amused.

“A teacher?” He mused. “What’s your major?”

Shae huffed.

“Yoga, now if you don’t mind just giving those to Greg – I’d appreciate it,” She finally said, bee-lining for the door before the guy had another chance to stop her. What Shae didn’t realize as she trotted across the parking lot was that the guy’s eyes stayed fixed on her until her car pulled out of the lot, clutching Greg’s gloves in his hands.

Shae shuddered as she zipped off down the road, remembering the cocky, cool smirk on the guy’s face. It was a mildly thrilling start to her day; better than waiting in line for a soy, chai latte at Starbucks, getting eye-fucked by the pre-teen clerk. Beside, he was attractive – in a ruthless, awkward sort of way. Greg wasn’t deep or dreamy; he was the boy next door, someone you could look right through…

Shae failed to realize she ran a red light as her mind tauntingly flashed images of the bead of sweat creeping down his cheek, his chiseled abs, his dark eyes that seemed to go on forever. She practically drove past the parking lot of her studio, having to make a turn-around in a strip mall parking lot at the next intersection.

Shae grumbled curses under her breath about stupid fighters as she parked in her designated parking space for staff, slinging her tote bag and her gym bag onto her shoulder with a sigh, climbing out of the car and hurrying inside.

“Ms. Dawson…” Gretchen, her attendant at the front desk addressed her, looking startled with wide, baby blue doe eyes. “Mrs. Henderson’s been waiting for ten minutes.”

Shae rolled her eyes.

“I had business to take care of,” She mumbled as she breezed past the desk and up the granite staircase to the upper level studio. Sure enough, the middle-aged woman with dried, auburn hair in a tight bun in the grey yoga pants and coral pink halter was sitting cross-legged on a violet yoga mat in the middle of the wooden floor. Shae groaned.

“Mary, I’m so sorry I’m late,” Shae apologized, setting her bags on the floor by the cubbies. “I had some business matters to attend to…” She lied.

Mary Henderson’s fair face looked rigid, her cold green eyes casting sideways glances at Shae as she rolled out a mat next to hers, starting in hero position.

“Okay, Mary, if you just want to take this position, your legs tucked under you, take in a deep breath…” Shae said calmly, inhaling deeply herself, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. “And breathe out.”