Page 119 of Someone Like Me
“You still worked up about your parents?”
She shrugs, her arms still outstretched. Evie’s young, but the motion makes her look younger. Almost childlike. She may be strong and stubborn and magical and amazing.
But she’s vulnerable too.
“Would telling me what happened help?” Again, I don’t want to push her, but I also don’t want her to take her worries to bed if I can offload some of them.
Evie rises and then swings her legs out in front of her, making her body an “L”. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she says, sounding doubtful. Before my eyes, Evie folds over, sandwiching her torso over her legs.
My eyes bug at the sight of her.
“What?” she asks, resting her cheek atop her right shin and watching me from this unnatural position.
“My hamstrings are screaming just looking at you.”
I think it’s my horrified tone that makes her laugh.“Paschimottanasana.Seated forward fold. Great for stretching the posterior chain and lower back. It helps get the body ready for hours lying down.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She giggles again and sits up before sprawling onto her back and raising her knees. “And this one is Bridge Pose. Whenever I have insomnia, this is my go-to.” Her feet stay planted on her mat as she lifts her hips. Then she clasps her hands beneath her, tucking her shoulders under her. She tilts her chin toward the ceiling, and her spine seems to follow, as though she’s doing an abbreviated back bend.
The hem of her tank rides up, exposing the pale skin of her taut abdomen. Every line of her is lean and strong. But still somehow soft. Inviting. I’d love to run a hand all the way up her body and back down again.
Maybe she’ll let me do that when she comes to bed. For now, she looks pretty focused. And who am I to mess with her concentration?
“Do you have insomnia a lot?”
Without turning to look at me, she speaks to the ceiling. “Sometimes. I try not to get stressed out, but I can’t sleep when I do.” Evie releases her hands and lowers herself to the mat, from neck to hips. Then she turns to face me. “If I weren’t with you tonight, I’d definitely be stressing.”
She’s been hinting about the dinner with her parents all night, but not telling me straight out. “Tell me what happened.”
Evie crosses her ankles, grabs one in each hand and rocks herself one… two… three times and is then standing at the foot of her mat. As usual, I’m impressed, but I stay quiet, wanting her to know I’m listening.
She does a little pirouette, bends over, and starts rolling up her mat. “It’s not so much what happened as what it means,” she says cryptically.
I scoot over, making sure she has room to come to bed. Again, I say nothing. She wants to tell me. That much is clear. But something is holding her back. Without looking at me, she stuffs her yoga mat back into its sling.
She totes it to the corner by the bathroom where she’s left her backpack and returns to me. I reach for her as she climbs into bed, claiming her. Already needing to touch her again.
Evie lets me tuck her against me.
And it feels so fucking good.
She snuggles into me and gives a contented sigh that tells me she agrees. And I realize she’s the first woman I’ve slept with. Like this. Curled up in bed with her secure in my embrace.
I might have passed out beside a girl I was making out with at a party, both of us drunk and senseless. But I wouldn’t have needed to press her against my heart in the most fundamental of claims. The pleasure — the power of it — is shocking.
Humbling.
Because the way she’s hitched up against me, folded into my embrace with her legs tangled through mine, she’s claiming me too.
Really, it all comes down to that.
She’s here because she wants to be. She wants to be with me. I can’t imagine why, but I’m so goddamned grateful I could die of it.
“Mmmm,” she moans softly, nuzzling my neck. “I wish I could stay right here for about a year.”
I press a kiss to her cheek. “I’m game, but I don’t think you can stay still that long,” I tease.
