Free Searching for Someday by Jennifer Probst

holding our asanas for longer periods to really dig deep.”
    Oh, goody.
    Meat scowled at Arilyn, and Slade figured all those muscles weren’t too good for continuous, rapid stretches because his foot got stuck by his leg and didn’t make it to the front of the mat. He groaned and tried to inch it forward, looking pissed off and irritated. Slade waited for the explosion, patting himself on the back that they wouldn’t break him.
    Kate appeared at Meat’s side and whispered something in his ear. She eased his leg and placed a purple block under his hip. Meat grunted, closed his eyes, and breathed.
    Slade decided to amuse himself by mentally reciting landmark cases and the court judges’ briefs. His leg was on fire. So was his skin. He’d never been so uncomfortable or hot in his life, and when he glanced at the clock, he realized he’d only been in the room for fifteen minutes.
    They moved out of that torturous position, where he gave a silent prayer of thanks, and Arilyn announced they’d do balancing. Piece of cake.
    He’d seen warrior pose in some photos before, and it did look pretty manly. Slade followed her lead, lifting his foot and leaning forward with strength, agility, and confidence.
    Then fell on his ass.
    Meat and Trent didn’t seem to notice. They held the pose like statues. Kate appeared by his side. “Do you need some help?”
    Slade scowled. “Of course not. Mat’s slippery from the heat.”
    “Balancing is difficult. Concentrate on your breath and relax.”
    He glared. Relax when he now knew what being in the center of a roaring volcano with hot lava was like? They should be arrested for torture. But he didn’t say a word. Just sucked it up and redid the pose. Over. And over.
    “Moving into deep backbends, gentlemen. Follow my lead. Go slow, no reaching or pushing ahead. This is not a competition.”
    She did something erotically graceful, bending way back and gripping her ankles. Chest up, hair streaming, he figured that was easy enough. He glanced over and saw Trent and Meat a quarter of the way there. Slade hid a smirk and went for it, pushing his back as far as it would go and grabbing his heels.
    Which he couldn’t find.
    He toppled to the right, off balance, and fell over. Meat snickered in manly competitive code, though he pretended to be deep in the moment with his eyes closed. Trent had a proud smile on his face, his bare, gleaming chest arched in symmetry.
    Bastards.
    He tried it a few more times and kept falling. Usually he would’ve lied or faked weakness to get Kate’s hands on him in any intimate way, but since it was real he was too stubborn to enjoy her touch until he got hot yoga right.
    “Let’s fire it back up and then cool down. Sun Salutation, Ashtanga style. And begin.”
    With each round, his mind roared with a bunch of emotions all mingling together in a complete mess. Anger and frustration. Physical discomfort. Ripped pride. A sense of loss. And slowly, something else.
    Quiet.
    The last five minutes, his body wept sweat, but his mind cleared and seemed almost . . . empty. How odd. His muscles stretched and moved to the music, beyond listening to any rational thought or yelling demand, and sank into the rhythm. As he was guided into some dead pose, lying flat on his back, wondering if he’d ever be able to walk again, a lightness flowed through his body and his breath came way deep.
    For the first time in his life, a feeling he’d never experienced invaded his body and soul and mind.
    Peace.
    Slowly, Arilyn brought them back and they sat in a circle. Sucking down water, exhausted, he waited for some weird type of chant, probably an om, and then he was getting the hell out of Dodge.
    “It’s sharing time. Trent, will you go first?”
    Slade choked on the water. This was going to get him a relationship? If he had an ounce of energy left, he’d tell them all exactly how nuts they really were and walk out. And he would, as soon as his calves stopped