For the Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  “And make sure Uncle Mark and Dad sit down with Grandpa and Chelsea,” JP adds.

  “If they don’t…we’ll need to get involved. Are you all ready for that?” Everly asks.

  We all speak up in the affirmative.

  “Okay. We’ll check in with each other in a couple of weeks. No need to meet unless things don’t go right.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I lift my beer bottle to my lips.

  Everly pulls her phone out and starts tapping the screen with her thumbs. “Texting Wyatt,” she says. “Telling him he can come over now.”

  Her boyfriend Wyatt lives in the same building, a three-unit condo.

  “He could’ve been here,” I say.

  “He wouldn’t.” She sets down her phone and lifts her wineglass. “He says it’s family stuff, and it’s awkward that he plays for the team.”

  I respect that.

  Lacey heads to the kitchen and Théo goes outside to get the barbecue going. They offered to make dinner for us. Wyatt arrives and heads straight to Everly, sliding a hand around the back of her neck and kissing her forehead.

  She closes her eyes briefly, smiling.

  I’ve never seen my sister like this. It’s weird, but nice. I’m happy for her.

  When we’re not talking about our family issues, we all get along pretty well. Riley offers to help in the kitchen, JP and I head out to the patio to stand with Théo around the barbecue in a manly fashion while drinking beer, and Taylor and Everly come sit outside and start talking about their yoga classes.

  Yoga. Damn.

  “Don’t remind me about yoga class,” I tell them. I was crushing on the sexy yoga instructor until I accidentally knocked her into the water. Way to make a good impression. The humiliation still burns every time I think of it.

  They grin. “I’m sure you want to forget that,” Taylor says.

  “I’ll never make you come to class again,” Everly adds.

  “You seriously went to another of her classes after that?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” Everly shrugs. “I considered changing to a different class, but she’s a great instructor. I really like her classes.”

  “Same,” Taylor says. “She’s really down-to-earth.”

  “Or down-to-water,” Everly says.

  They both laugh.

  “So funny,” I mutter.

  Riley, Noah, and Ash haven’t heard the story, so Everly entertains them with an exaggerated version of it. A little exaggerated.

  Hey, I’m a good sport. I can laugh at myself.

  Théo starts flipping burgers on the grill and it smells amazing. Lacey sets out bowls of pretzels and nuts, and I grab a handful of cashews.

  “Hey, you guys hear what happened to our mascot last weekend?” Noah asks. He plays for the Eagles’ farm team, the San Diego Hawks.

  Riley starts laughing. Apparently, she’s heard.

  “What?” I ask.

  “He was at some kids’ event and decided he was going to run at the glass window. He thought it was like the glass on the ice, and he could just throw himself at it and bounce off it. But he smashed the glass.”

  “Oh my God!” the women all exclaim.

  We’re all laughing and shaking our heads.

  “Is he okay?” Lacey demands.

  “Yeah, he’s fine. The costume protected him, I guess. It’s on video. Wait, I can find it.” Noah pulls his phone out and we all gather around to watch the big hawk throwing himself through a glass window while the kids all freeze in shock.

  “That’s hilarious. Who’s in the costume?”

  “Guy named Ian.” Noah shakes his head, grinning. “He’s a nut, so this doesn’t surprise me.”

  The shared laughter has totally changed the vibe, and I don’t even care that some of it was at me. Everly’s right—family’s important.

  * * *

  —

  “Okay,” Gary, our strength-and-conditioning coach, announces in the dressing room after our morning skate Sunday. “We’re trying something new, starting tomorrow.” We have a game tonight against Florida.

  “Oh shit,” Scotty says. “Now what? Some new kind of torture?”

  Gary grins. “Yoga.”

  Some of the guys groan, some stare in disbelief, others shrug.

  “I can do yoga,” I say. I’ve been to a couple of classes.

  “Yeah, me too,” Bellsy adds. We exchange mirthful glances, remembering our experience.

  Gary spouts off about the benefits of yoga. “Never mind the woo-woo stuff,” he says. “There won’t be any meditation and aligning your chakras.”

  I snort out a laugh.

  “It won’t be like that. This is about increasing your balance and flexibility. Lots of you guys are hurting this late in the season. We need to try to gain every advantage we can heading into the playoffs.”

  Ugh. I’m not sure I buy it, but whatever. I know other teams are trying it.

  “Tomorrow morning, in the weight room, nine o’clock sharp.”

  I make a face as I toss my practice jersey to Joe to add it to the laundry. Great, an even earlier start time. But what the hell. They want every advantage we can get, and so do I. If a yoga class is part of it, so be it.

  * * *

  —

  I’m picturing the weight room with dim lights and some kind of new age music playing softly when I arrive at the Coliseum the next morning.

  I’m tired and sore and haven’t managed to down my giant Starbucks coffee yet. We won last night again, but it damn near killed us. We let things slide in the second period and ended up down by two goals. I was pissed and lectured everyone else before the third period because I wasn’t about to give up, and somehow we pulled it off with three unanswered goals, the last one with five minutes to go. That last five minutes were intense; the Panthers were throwing everything at us. It was a taste of what playoff hockey will be like. After coming back like that, there was no way I wanted to blow it in the last few minutes, so with grit and determination we hung on. Luckily Bergie was playing outstanding, making some incredible saves. Bellsy threw himself in front of the puck a few times and I bet he has the bruises to show for it. He’s nuts. In a good way.

  The good thing was, Coach moved me up onto the second line, playing with Eddie Rintala, our superstar first-round draft pick, and Pavel Volkov. I played more minutes, and it felt like the three of us could really read each other.

  I walk into the weight room. A few guys are already there. Space has been cleared on the floor for us, and they’re arranging colorful yoga mats.

  I start toward the corner where Gary is talking to a woman…and I stop dead.

  Arya. From Makara Yoga.

  My mind blanks for a moment, thrilled to see her but not sure why she’s here. Then it clicks. She’s our yoga instructor!

  Fan-fucking-tastic!

  Chapter 5

  Harrison

  I’ve been thinking a lot about Arya since that disastrous class. I fucking hate that I pushed her into the water like that. It was a stupid accident, and I was so pissed at myself after. I couldn’t really blame Wyatt, who made the damn smart-ass comment. It was totally my fault.

  She looked so shocked, coming up with water streaming down her face, blinking those long eyelashes. Then the way she stared at me kind of made my balls shrink.

  I probably didn’t make a good impression on her the first time I went to her class either, when I deliberately knocked JP into the water. And I don’t think she appreciated my yoga jokes.

  I just wanted to impress her.

  She’s seriously gorgeous, just the type of woman I love. I know, I know, I have a type. I can’t help it. I’m not saying I could never be attracted to a woman with a different appearance; I’ve gone out with all kinds of women. My last girlfriend actually h
ad short, dark hair. We were together for three years. So it’s not like I only date blondes. But I have to admit I’m attracted to them.

  But it’s not just the way she looks. It’s the calm, confident way she gets in front of a bunch of people and leads them through the poses, obviously knowledgeable and proficient. She’s clearly good at what she does, apparently with waiting lists for her classes. It’s the way she regarded me, with glints of humor and a spark of interest in her eyes that encouraged me, even though she turned me down.

  Anyway…here she is! It’s a sign! And the perfect chance to make up for being an idiot.

  I make a beeline toward her, smiling.

  She glances up as I approach and her mouth drops open, her eyes widening.

  “Hi!” I greet her happily. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  Her eyes pop wide open and she blinks. “Harrison. Uh…hi.”

  “You two know each other?” Gary looks back and forth between us.

  “I told you I’ve been to yoga classes,” I say. “Arya’s a fantastic teacher.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up skeptically. “You’ve been to two classes. And you disrupted both of them.”

  I grimace. “Yeah, about that…I apologize again.”

  Gary closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “No disruptions,” he snaps. “The team has hired Arya and you need to pay attention and do the class.”

  “Of course.” I put on a serious expression. “No fu—” I stop. “No joking around.”

  “You play for the Condors,” Arya says, still wearing a bemused expression.

  She didn’t know who I am.

  “Yeah.” I grin. I don’t assume everyone knows who I am. California is a big state and a lot of people here aren’t into hockey. I guess she’s one of them.

  I step over and pick up a mat, then walk over and lay it on the floor between Wyatt and Scotty.

  “What a coincidence,” Wyatt says in a low voice. “Of all the yoga instructors, in all the yoga studios…”

  “Yep.”

  “She thinks we’re idiots,” he adds.

  Dammit.

  When I asked her out, it was only partly to try to make up for what I’d done. The very first class of hers I went to, when Everly dragged me there so JP wouldn’t be the only guy, I was attracted to her. She didn’t pay much attention to me, despite my attempts to show off. The second time, I knocked her in the water, but after her initial shock, it seemed like she found it funny. When I asked her out, I definitely felt a vibe like she wanted to say yes, like she was struggling. I just don’t get why.

  I scrunch my face up in frustration. I need to pay attention and focus on yoga, not the hot instructor.

  Soon we’re all there, sitting on the floor of the weight room. Arya and Gary move in front of us.

  “This is Arya Ross,” Gary says. “She has seven years of experience teaching yoga.” He looks at a paper in his hand and reads haltingly. “She earned her RYT 200 Yoga Alliance certification five years ago, specializing in hatha and vinyasa. She’s studied with some world-renowned instructors to further her education. She teaches at Prana Yoga in Venice and has her own stand-up paddleboard classes at Makara Yoga in Marina del Rey. She creates a safe, noncompetitive space for her students to find deeper meaning and inspiration. Her classes emphasize the importance of proper alignment, pranayama breathing techniques, and mindfulness.” He looks up. “Welcome, Arya.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones.” Arya smiles at him, then at all of us. “I’m honored to be here today. I know firsthand how much yoga can restore balance, awareness, health, and happiness—yoga was and still is a healing force in my life. I love bringing that to others. I have to be honest and tell you that I have never taught a class like this, to professional athletes. I know all of you are in top physical condition, but I believe that yoga can help fine-tune your bodies by optimizing any structural inefficiencies, improving your stability and range of motion. So, let’s get started.”

  Music begins to play. The kickass sound system in the weight room usually blasts a lot of hard rock and rap music for us to work out to. I cringe, waiting for the tranquil sounds of some kind of new age music, but that’s not it. The first song is slow, yeah, but it has a country music sound.

  “Lie down on your mats,” Arya instructs us. “Legs apart, palms facing the ceiling.”

  She teaches us how to breathe as we each lie there with a hand on our abdomen, feeling it rise and fall as we breathe deeply. “Breathe in new energy,” she says. “Exhale and feel the relaxation.”

  Then she has us do a wide-legged Child’s Pose, our foreheads to the mats. We did this one on the paddleboard.

  “Take those same deep breaths,” she says. “Right into your belly. Drop your hips down to your heels.”

  We stay like that for a while, the music playing, nobody talking. This is weird.

  I know flexibility is important, and I force myself to stretch, but I’ve never really liked it. It’s too…static. I like to be moving.

  Eventually we move onto our hands and knees. This is good. Now I can see her. Today she’s wearing cropped leggings and a modest tank top. She has us rolling our spines, arching our backs then letting them curl down. I watch the way she moves, sinuous and graceful. And sexy.

  I follow along. The music changes, becoming a little peppier, a guitar opening joined by a harmonica. This is cool. Soon she has us in a pose that’s like a side plank, one arm in the air.

  “Float your right leg up off the matt,” she says.

  Whoa. Okay.

  I thought doing these poses would be easier on dry land than on the water. I was wrong. I really need to focus, as I’m balanced on one hand and one knee. On dry land, Arya has the benefit of being able to move around as we follow her direction and hold various poses, and she’s apparently very picky, adjusting a foot, a hand, the arch of a back. But the way she describes how to perfect the poses is actually bang on—like, when she says to press firmly into one foot, it really does help with balance.

  As I’m in what she just called Puppy Pose, she approaches me and, still talking in her serene voice, she places a hand on my back. “Keep your hips directly over top of your knees,” she says in that mellow tone. “Your chest melting down to the mat…you should be feeling an opening in your armpits. Maybe your pecs.”

  Awareness jumps along my nerve endings. Her touch is gentle yet firm, and my skin tingles everywhere. If I keep screwing up, will she keep putting her hands all over me?

  I can see her toes…I don’t have a foot fetish, but they’re really pretty, with shiny purple polish on her nails.

  She moves away. “Keep pressing your fingers into the mat.”

  She stops by Bergie and murmurs, “Good work. You’re really flexible.”

  Huh. She’s praising him? Shit. I need to do better. I sink my hips lower.

  The class lasts about forty-five minutes.

  “Let’s find Savasana,” Arya says. “Final resting pose.” She lies on her back again. “Stretching out our arms and legs, palms to the ceiling, eyes closed.” Her tone has become softer, and the music is another gentle but still lively song.

  Lying still is usually hard for me to do. I have a ton of energy, and doing nothing makes me antsy. But I let the music fill my head, focusing on what she says.

  “Take note of how your body feels now, compared to when we started,” Arya says. “Focus on your breathing. Take your time. When you’re ready to get up, please do so slowly. Namaste.” Then she lets things go silent, and this is hard too. I can sense the guys wanting to jump up and talk.

  If anyone disrespects her, they’ll have to deal with me. But it doesn’t happen. Gradually some of the guys slowly sit up, then stand.

  I stand and roll up my mat to take it to the corner of the room. I drop it off quickly, then hustle over to A
rya as she picks up a backpack. “That was a great class,” I tell her.

  She fixes her gaze on me and says nothing. My instinct is to fill the silence, but that hasn’t gone so well in the past as I spout off stupid bullshit, so I make myself wait for her to respond.

  Finally, she says, “Thank you.”

  “I have really tight hip flexors,” I say. “I was surprised at how that one pose…the…”

  “The Bow Pose?”

  “Yeah. It felt great. Do you have other ones that would work on hip flexors?”

  “I do. I’ll be sure to include them in our next class.”

  “Oh. I was hoping you could show me….”

  She shakes her head slowly, her lips pursing in a near-smile. “I’m pretty sure you have a practice to get to right now. But like I said, I’ll include that in our next class.”

  She slings her bag over her shoulder and makes her way out of the weight room.

  The other guys are shooting me looks as we head to the locker room to change into our gear. I lift my chin. “That’s the woman I’m going to marry,” I announce. “Everyone else stay away from her.”

  A bunch of guys laugh.

  “Riiiiight,” says Scotty.

  “I’m serious.” I pull open my locker door and yank my shirt off over my head.

  “Not sure how to tell you this,” Wyatt says. “But I don’t think she’s into you.”

  “Not yet.” I shove down my shorts. “She will be.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, Harry,” Jabber says.

  “What’s not to love?” I grin, stretching my arms wide, standing naked.

  “Uh…does she have small hands?” Meals on Wheels—Milo Foster—asks.

  I frown. “What? Why?”

  “Small hands make your dick look bigger.”

  The guys hoot and I ball up my T-shirt and chuck it at him. He ducks, laughing.

  “Joke all you want. You’ll see.”

  I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but I do now. Obviously, the first time I met her, I thought I was merely attracted to her, but now…pretty sure I fell in love.