I smoothly lift my foot and press it against my thigh, hands in prayer position. Ivy, to her credit, does the same—wobbling slightly but keeping herself upright.
She grits her teeth. “I swear if you say anything—”
“Nothing at all,” I say innocently, though I can’t hide my grin.
She narrows her eyes at me but stays focused, determined to not fall on her face.
“Now,” Safiya says, moving to the next exercise, “I want everyone to line up along the wall. Place one foot against it, so we can work on our Virabhadrasana II—Warrior Pose.”
We all move into place, and I find myself directly opposite Ivy as we stretch into position.
And that’s when it happens.
Her eyes meet mine.
I don’t know how long we stand there like that, close to the wall, staring at each other. Her lips part slightly, her breath steady but just a little shallow, and something shifts in the air between us.
The studio fades away. The sounds of breathing, shifting mats, and even Safiya’s instructions blur into the background.
I don’t know what it is—maybe it’s the focus, the way her eyes soften as she holds my gaze, or the ridiculous fact that we’re locked in some kind of accidental yoga standoff.
But I don’t look away.
And neither does she.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear a voice.
“Hello, you.”
It’s faint. Barely noticeable.
“Hello?”
Ivy doesn’t react. Neither do I.
“Hello?”
Still nothing.
Then, on the fourth repeat, someone behind me clears their throat.
“I think she means you,” a man laughs.
Ivy blinks rapidly and whips her head around, realising that she is the only one facing away from the instructor.
The entire class is turned the opposite direction, all watching Safiya.
And Ivy?
Ivy has been staring directly at me.
Her face goes bright red. “Oh. Right. That makes sense.”
“Lost in the moment?” I whisper. I can’t help myself. My heart is still racing and somehow, I am willing her to just give me a sign that this was also… something to her just like it was to me.
She glares at me, mortified. “Psst.”
I grin, shifting effortlessly into the next pose.