Page 34 of The One Where They Fall in Love

“For those of you who are new, my name is Elle. I am by no means a master yogi—”Yogis! That’s what the yoga people are called!“—but I like to flow my own way and I hope you have some fun today.” She smiles and instructs everyone to take a seat on the mat.

I fold my legs under me and sit in the middle of the mat. I don’t think I’ve sat like this since fifth grade. Mainly because my legs are so long that I look like a contorted pretzel when I try to cross them. When I sit down, the mat curls up under me, so I shift to fix it, lining it back up with the line of one of the planks on the wood floor.

“Let’s take a moment to settle and arrive on the mat,” Elle says, folding her hands over her chest. The rest of the class mimics her movements. I just can’t get on board with the group“ohmmm”mentality, so I watch silently from my corner.

“Let’s take stock of our expectations for this practice. I want you to release any ideas or preconceived notions of what this is supposed to look like.” Her voice is monotone, gentle and calm, and I get the feeling she’s talking to me specifically. “Let’s just move our bodies and be open to failure. But let’s also have some fun. Some of us are beginners. Some of us are just taking time for ourselvestoday. I think this is going to be an awesome class.” She opens her eyes and shoots me a wink. “Take a deep breath in, and as you exhale, flutter your eyes open and let’s get this thing rolling.”

She prompts everyone to come to all fours. I move at a beat behind the rest, watching to make sure I’m doing everything right. We do things that are called “cat cows,” which I don’t fully understand. How is sticking your head and butt up in the air similar to a cow?

We go into a downward-facing dog, which surprisingly doesn’t suck because it stretches out my hamstrings and my calves. I awkwardly turn my head to see what everyone else looks like in this position, to make sure I’m not the onlyschmowith my butt up in the air.

“Take a few moments to pedal out here,” Elle says, and I watch as she moves her heels up and down off the mat. That must be pedaling. “Feel where you are in your body. If anything I cue is not working for you, please feel free to modify and do what is best for you in your body.”

She takes a breath and I can hear her shallow exhale through the microphone. “Now find stillness in your downward dog, and stay with me because I like to do some funky sun salutations. Because, well, it’s my class and I can do whatever I want,” she says with an airy laugh. A quiet ripple of laughter moves through the room.

Elle guides us through a series of movements. They get repetitive after a while, but five minutes later, sweat is starting to bead on my skin. Is this hot yoga? Is that why I’m sweating? I didn’t realize I could sweat from stretching.

We’re back in downward dog again, which seems to be our home base. Apparently these sun salutations are just awarm up? I hope there’s less down-dogging in the rest of this, because my shoulders are tired already.

I take a break from the next down dog and stretch out my wrists. Elle continues, “Let’s flow. Inhale, lift your right leg up and back.”

I watch as she kicks her leg to the ceiling behind her. I can see every muscle in her leg working, and she points her foot gracefully as she bends her knee towards her face and comes down into a lunge.

“Crescent lunge,” she pronounces, lifting her arms over her head. She looks like a statue. A beaming, bubbly, blonde statue that could care less how she looks in front of all these people. She is flowing to her own rhythm. Even the music she is playing is…sexy. I expected there to be chanting or soothing white noise in the background. But these sound like songs I would hear on a Spotify playlist. They pair perfectly with the intensity of Elle’s movements.

This whole scene could be such a turn on. But Elle is my friend. Who is currently dating my other friend. No turning on allowed here.

In my daze, I don’t notice that Elle is staring at me. Her hands are still raised and she flicks her wrist as if to say, “What are you doing?” I’m the only one in the room that is still sitting on his heels, so I stumble to mirror Elle’s position. I make a face at her, and I hear a hint of a chuckle in her microphone.

When Elle says “warrior two,” which for some reason makes me think of ancient Chinese warriors with samurai swords, she actually looks like a goddamn warrior. Her arms are taught when she stretches them out, her bum is flexed and her legs look so strong beneath her. I try to shakethe image of those thighs clenching around my waist from my head, but I lose my balance admiring her. I try to be as subtle as possible as I find my footing again.

“If you feel yourself falling, come back to your breath. Find thatujjayibreath, focus on one thing, find yourdrishti.” She looks at me directly when she says that word. “One thing that’s constant, not moving. Focus on it and don’t let go.”

When she finally blinks, she loses her balance and teeters to the side. She laughs immediately. “And know that if you fall, that’s your muscles learning. Just get back into it.”

The crowd laughs with her, a few of them losing their balance as well. I think my expectations of this class were very misguided. I expected… more of a facade, I guess? Serious chanting and vogueing and shit. But Elle is soreal. She is authentic to who she is, and she’s just trying to enjoy the movements. The people in the room gravitate towards that energy. They love her.

“Drag your right hip back and straighten your right leg, triangle pose,” Elle instructs. I watch her lean forward with both of her legs straight, her body so stealthy and lean, she looks like she’s moving through water.

“Touch down to your shin, the floor, or a block on the inside of your foot.” She holds her position for a moment and then stands up and starts wandering around the room, critiquing the poses of the other people.

I study the women around me, who are literally scoffing under their breath at my attempts to mirror their positions. I try to match my legs to the legs of the woman next to me, but when I spread my legs that wide, the mat shifts. I step off of it to line it back up with the wood plank on the floor.I spread my legs again, but closer together this time, and keep them straight as I try to touch the ground near my front foot. I notice that the woman in front of me has a foam block under her hand. I grab one that is lying next to my mat and stack it as high as it goes to alleviate the stretch in my legs. Elle’s voice gets closer, but I know if I move my head to find her, I’ll lose my balance, so I let out my best inconspicuous exhale and try not to move.

“Your left shoulder should be in line with your left hip,” she says softly.God Almighty, this is like a game of Twister.

“Lift your left hand up and twist slightly.” Her voice sounds closer now. I see two bare feet out of my peripheral vision, and I resist the urge to stand upright.

Elle comes in front of me, and reaches a hand out towards my body.

Okay?she mouths. I nod.

And then, Elle is touching me.

Her touch is like a feather, gently grazing my arm. Her hand is warm, but it feels electric against my skin. She takes hold of my wrist and guides my left hand into the air. Her hand traces a line down my arm and she gently cups my hip, guiding it towards her. Her touch is so light, goosebumps rise on my skin.

“Imagine yourself as one long line, from the crown of your head to your hip,” she instructs to the group. I feel Elle move towards my head, and I wonder if she realizes what this is doing to me.

“Let this feel good,” she says, trailing her finger down my neck to my shoulder.