Free In Touch (Play On #1) by Cd Brennan

the door and turned back to Gillian. “Thanks.”
    And then he was gone, and Gillian was still breathless.
     

Chapter 8
     
    When Padraig stepped into the locker room on Thursday, there was a buzz of activity around the bulletin board, the boys pushing and shoving to get a look at the one piece of paper tacked under an announcement for the season’s fundraiser.
    He ignored the commotion and turned toward his locker. In passing, Rory stopped him with a comment. “She’s having us do yoga today in groups. You’re in the first one.”
    What the fuck? Padraig knew the she to whom Rory referred. Who else would have them take precious time out of training for something so incredibly stupid? Magic hands she might have, but he hadn’t signed up for this. Hell, he didn’t really want to be here in the first place, and this was only making it worse. Plus, he had his bloody interview with the woman after training so couldn’t even escape home.
    “Brilliant,” Padraig grunted as he passed Rory straight to the toilets. There had been no opportunity to take his pill this afternoon. Del had them out the door as soon as Padraig, who had been running late from the gym, stepped into the kitchen. What he needed to do was keep a glass of water in his bedroom, but he’d forgotten that, too.
    He threw his gear bag at the wall of the bathroom and shut a cubicle door firmly behind him, turning the privacy lock. His anger and pain shook his hands so that he struggled with the cap. He had to squeeze both sides while turning, the childproof mechanism catching every time he almost had it opened.
    “Fuck!” Padraig stopped and drew a deep breath, then let it out slow. Tried again with the cap, and he got it on the first go. He rattled a pill out of the bottle and swallowed it dry. He flushed the toilet even though he hadn’t taken a piss. After grabbing his water bottle out of his gear bag, he drank deep, then headed for the lockers.
    Most of the lads were outside already so the locker room was quiet, only the soft mumble of a few in the area by the white board. He took his time stripping off his tracksuit bottoms and hoodie before donning his rugby shorts and jersey. He pulled his change of clothes from his bag and neatly refolded them on the top shelf, then placed the pill bottle in the front left pocket of his jeans for later.
    “You comin’, Padraig?” He heard over the tops of the lockers.
    “Sure, be right there.”
    When he rounded into sight of the others, his throat seized, and his body tightened in response to the view of Gillian’s backside. Here he’d been stripping down to his underwear only a few rows over. Bending at the waist, she fiddled with a portable CD player. She was dressed in tight leggings to her knees and a tank top that finally revealed her perky breasts. Even with the top sporting an owl. The way the boys stood, hands over crotch, they were having the same reaction as Padraig. No glasses, and she had braided her hair to the side, again showing off her fair neck. Underneath all her crazy, she was most certainly edible.
    In front of Gillian was a single yoga mat, and then five other mats in a row facing hers. There were four others, including the left wing, Dick, all of them huddled together laughing too loudly at a joke he had told. Some slow willowy music started, and she turned toward the group of lads.
    The boys shifted about, trying to jostle their bits imperceptibly. Gillian didn’t seem to notice as she stepped to the front of her mat. “Ok boys, today we are going to start one of the oldest practices in both body and mind management.” She paused. “Yoga. If you didn’t get it by now.”
    The hooker with a beard said, “My wife goes to yoga on Wednesday nights. She loves it.” He stepped forward onto a mat and mirrored Gillian’s stance. The other three reluctantly followed, Dick and another young one elbowing each other as they waited. Juvenile. He wasn’t sure about this new-age shite