Yoga replaces painting in [Name's] life for the next month and a half. Four days out of the week, she wakes up early to indulge in Neji's time. He spends an hour with her as promised, stretching and strengthening every muscle she has while also fucking her until her voice gives out. As the weeks pass, [Name] finds the stress from Luke's betrayal slipping off her shoulders. She finds peace and her center as she listens to Neji's voice. 

"Breathe in. Hold it for eight seconds---one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight---now breathe out. Let your entire body relax," Neji instructs. Eyes closed, [Name] focuses on breathing, counting to eight, and feeling every tense point in her muscles loosen. "Yoga is not an exercise, it is the natural state of mind, the natural state of the body. It is the quietness of the soul, the peace of the spirit and mind. When you indulge in the chaos of the world, you lose your natural state. Through yoga, you can master the inner discord, and feel the subtle energies that course through the world you're grounded to."

[Name] breaks into a smile, a laugh bubbling in her throat. Her eyes open. Immediately, she spots Neji, half-naked, lounging on his yoga mat, carelessly staring up at the high ceilings. 

"Bullshit," she laughs. "Are you a damn infomercial?"

Neji rolls his head in her direction and smiles fondly at her. "Just practicing what I'm gonna say to the class of soccer moms and milfs that're gonna waltz in after you leave."

"They believe that nonsense?"

"If they wanna fuck me then, yeah, they do believe it."

[Name] snorts out a laugh. If only those women were in her position, they'd see that Neji isn't as perfect of a person as they think he is. Sure, Neji lives by the yoga and dies by the yoga, but he's a caffeine addict who runs off of coffee or energy drinks. He's particularly proud and cocky with the skills to back it up which not only boosts his ego but also feeds his competitive spirit. He eats once a day because he's too lazy to cook, and when he does eat, it's something from a food truck. It surprises [Name] that he's in good shape at all. But then again, the universe usually blesses the ones who don't deserve it.

[Name] smiles, peering at the man who just blew out her back half an hour ago. Although Neji isn't perfect, she likes that about him. He's very human in the weirdest ways, and although their class status is on opposite ends of the scale, he's closer to understanding reality than any other rich person she's had the pleasure of meeting.

"You know," she starts, standing to her feet, "We've known each other for a while."

He shrugs his broad shoulders. "Kinda. Yeah."

She rolls her eyes, pulling on the clothes that were pretty much discarded the moment she stepped into the building. She has about ten minutes before she has to bounce out of there. "Okay, maybe not a while, but we know one another enough, right?"

"I know your body pretty well," he says with a smirk. She scoffs as she walks up to him, lowering her body to straddle his waist.

"Don't be a perv." Playfully, she swats at his glistening chest, suppressing the grin that wants to crop up. "Anyway, I was hoping---like, maybe, if you want to, if not it's totally fine---"

"Out with it."

For a moment the words hesitate in her throat before spilling out all in one go. "Doyouwanttogoonadate?"

He blinks. "Sure."

With a bit of disbelief in her voice, she confesses, "That was easier than I thought."

Neji chuckles as he holds onto her hips. "If you weren't gonna ask me, then I would've asked you."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I mean you're cute, we have a lot of sex together, you're funny, you make me smile," he pauses as he thinks. "We have a lot of sex together."

"Oh shut up!"

"I like you. It would be fun to hang out more, as like, friends or something without the sex."

[Name] cheeses at him. Their brains think so alike, even though they are completely different. She's glad Neji thinks of her as a friend rather than a lover or something because she thinks the same of him. They're companions with the prospects of becoming something more. If they go their separate ways, or if one of them finds a beau, no feelings will be hurt; they'll stay friends and probably laugh over it one day.

She wants to confess all of this to him, but her mind hones in on his lips. 

"I don't think I've ever really kissed you before," she says absently.

"I was thinking the same," he says, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek. "Maybe we should wait until our date."

She nods. "I was thinking Friday."

"Sounds good."

"Six o'clock."

"Great."

"My place."

"I remember where."

[Name] leans in close. Her body presses flush against his. She's all soft, plush curves, and he's hard edges and sharp corners. Her nose brushes against his, lips a breath away from each other.

"I really want to kiss you," she whispers, smoothing her hands up his body until they tangle in his silky brown locks. His eyelids droop, mind reeling on everything they've done today and everything else they could do today if he just clears his schedule. With a glance at the wall, he checks the time---they only have three minutes left. He sucks his teeth.

"I should punish you for teasing me," he grumbles.

"Maybe you should." She hops up, watching his hands lifelessly fall to his sides. It's so easy to fluster him, and [Name] finds delight in it. She steps over him, sashaying her hips as she walks to her yoga mat. She rolls it up, knowing Neji's eyes follow her every movement. "Shouldn't you get ready, Mr. Yoga Guru? You have a class in like thirty seconds."

She giggles as he languidly stands, tossing on his shirt. "Fuck. I hate seeing you go."

"Aw? Getting sentimental?"

"Shut up." He chuckles, pulling her into a hug. "I'll see you on Friday."

"See you Friday!" 

...

Thursday comes and goes, and [Name] sits on pins and needles waiting for Neji to arrive come Friday. She paces around her room which she cleaned spotless. In fact, her entire house is sparkling with a newness it hasn't seen in a while. Her nervousness is gratuitous at best. To worry about Neji's arrival is like worrying lightning will strike on a sunny day---unnecessary. She's already labeled him as a friend, so there is no need, unless... she thought of him as more than just a friend. [Name] shakes her head, ridding herself of the thought.

Neji's just a guy. A friend. That's it, she reminds herself as she plops down on her bed. She pulls out her laptop, shaking it alive as the old thing beeps out its defiance. She tries to busy herself by checking her work emails---which is a mistake. Her latest client messages her, and although the email is cordial, it screams impatience.

The email reads:

"Good morning,

The Lady of the house would like you to contact her through this email whenever her commissioned piece is ready. A date, time, and location will be set up once the commissioned piece is confirmed, and the final portion of your deposit will be wired to your bank account post haste.

Thank you for your time.

- This is an automated message -"

The past month and a half flashed through her mind. She remembered the torn-up painting in her basement that sat coldly and flayed on the easel. She hadn't looked at that thing since Luke left and had no intention of returning to it any time soon.

Automated or not, the email leaves a cold lump in the pit of [Name's] stomach. Asking for more time will warrant her a justified scolding and possibly a hit to her reputation. Her name isn't fully out there yet in every artistic circle; she's not big enough to wave off wealthy clients and request six months of "inspiration" before even looking at a canvas. She's still small time. She promised this woman she'd finish the piece in three months---a mistake on her part---and she has spent a month and a half taking yoga classes and being raw-dogged. 

Her eyebrows pinch together as she tries to think of a solution. She has two weeks to replicate the piece on a different canvas. However, the joy of painting has seeped from her body like a drying-out sponge. The inspiration is gone. Withered and crusty like week-old flowers. 

[Name] stands from her bed. A flicker of determination burns within as she marches down the hallway toward the basement. The dark brown door looms in front of her. She can feel the draft rush from beneath the door to tickle her toes. A shiver runs up her spine. That flicker dies with a puff of air. She turns away from the door and heads to the kitchen instead.

"The painting can come later," she tells herself. "Neji will be coming over soon and I haven't even prepared dinner yet."

To occupy herself, and to escape the impending deadline, [Name] begins chopping vegetables and scouring through her refrigerator for ingredients to put together. She doesn't know what she's going to make yet, but she knows it has to be balanced. Usually, she'll pair carbs with carbs, or eat something plain like bread and cheese. Men can't survive off of that kind of stuff. They're so hellbent on having meat with every meal, it's mindboggling for [Name]. 

She finds fish but ultimately baffles herself with how to cook the darn thing. Fry, bake, flambe, raw, grill, pickled, or roast? She ties herself into knots over it, pulling out her phone to search for the best ways to cook fish. A million recipes pop up on the little screen and now a new dilemma arises: what seasoning to use. Lemon garlic butter, honey-glazed, miso, citrus and herbs, spicy rub, ginger cream, or plain?

At some point, she gives up scrolling through the endless Mommy Blogs and Recipes and goes with her intuition. She pairs the fish with the King of all carbs---rice---, and roasted vegetables. The moment she finishes taking the vegetables from the oven, her doorbell rings. Quickly, she wipes her hands on a kitchen towel and rushes to the door. With a big grin, she swings open the door.

"Hey!" [Name] greets. Neji stands before her with a few flowers, looking casual in a simple blue cardigan but still looking put together. With a fake gasp and astonishment, she says, "Flowers for me? You shouldn't have!"

He chuckles. "Hey, good to see you."

She invites him in, taking the flowers from his hands and finding a vase to set them in. As she does this, Neji gives her a once over, tilting his head innocently. "You know, it's weird seeing you with clothes on."

"I was gonna say the same to you, honestly," she confesses. "But you look good. You should wear clothes around me more often."

He chuckles, finding a place on her couch to relax. [Name] heads to the kitchen to plate up food. "It smells good in here. What did you make for me?"

"Wait and see!" 

While he waits, Ace makes herself known, the bell on her collar jingling with every step. With a gasp, Neji scoops the cat up stroking her soft fur. "I didn't know you had a cat!"

[Name] emerges from the kitchen holding two plates, a bottle of wine, and two glasses masterfully. "She likes to keep to herself, really. She's quite shy. Only likes to bother me when it's convenient for her."

Ace purs while in Neji's hold, but slips from his grasp once [Name] begins placing the food down on the coffee table. Curiously she sniffs at the edge of the table, pink nose nudging the plate's rim.

"Be careful with her," [Name] warns, plopping next to Neji, "She'll steal your food right from under you."

"Duly noted."

They turn on a movie without much discussion. It's a romantic comedy. Something easy to watch without them needing to pay attention too much to it while they eat. Neji snorts at one of the romance scenes. He opens his mouth to complain about how sappy it is. But the moment [Name] leans her head on his shoulder, he shuts up immediately. He glances at their plates---his nearly gone but her's hasn't been touched at all.

"Not hungry?" He asks. She settles into his side more. Naturally, he wraps around her.

She shakes her head. That ball of worry sits in her empty stomach, making her nauseous. "I feel sick. Not like contagious sick, just like... I dunno."

A slew of memories flash through Neji's mind. He knows they've had unprotected sex quite a few times, but she always said she'd handle it. He sits up straighter, positioning himself to see her face fully. Her expression holds a contemplative sadness to it like it's been there for a while.

"Are you... Are you pregnant?" A coldness encases his body as his eyebrows pinch together. He doesn't mind having a kid, but it would be such a curveball to their lives. A million thoughts and questions race through his mind. Is that why she invited him over? To tell him the news? What if he gets attached to the idea of being a bachelor? [Name] is a friend, and it would be shitty of him to leave her to fend for herself and the baby. He considers himself more noble than that. What if he's overjoyed with the idea of being a father and she doesn't want it? It would break his heart to have to argue over such a life-altering decision. "I'll take care of y---"

"What?! NO!" A boisterous laugh erupts from her. Her body shakes as she tries to contain herself. Tears prick her eyes when she sees the look on his face---so serious and ready to commit. "Oh my god, you should see your face! Pregnant? Where did that even come from?!"

Neji relaxes with a sigh as her laughter continues. "Well, damn! We've been going at it like rabbits for a month! You said you were sick! So, I-I just---I got worried!"

"Aw! And you said you were gonna take care of wittle ol' me and Neji jr?" She teases, pursing her lips.

"Shut up!" His cheeks flush pink as he pushes her kissy lips away. "Just tell me what's making you sick."

Her laugh simmers to a giggle then to nothing. She rubs her aching cheeks, remembering the deadline that looms before her. "You know how I said I was taking a break from painting?"

Neji nods.

"Well, that break turned more into a vacation. I have a deadline coming up for this commission. I have two weeks to complete it and well," she sighs, running a hand over her face, "I kinda sorta messed up and I don't know how to fix it."

Her eyes dart away from his face as her leg bounces nervously.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you didn't fuck up that bad."

[Name] tries to conceal the grimace on her face as she coaxes Neji from his seat. She leads him to the door of her basement, the drafty air trickles out sending shivers up her spine. She bites her lip as a shaky hand reaches for the doorknob and opens the door. She flips the light switch and the bright lights of her studio blink to life. They walk down the stairs, and nothing but the chilly, stiff air comes to greet them. 

At the center of the room, where it was all those weeks ago, sits the torn canvas. Four large gashes cut through the middle of the canvas. Neji sucks his teeth. "Yikes. What the hell happened?"

The sting of Luke's abandonment comes back to bite her yet again. "A stupid argument."

She won't elaborate further and Neji doesn't pry. He sits on a dusty stool, staring at the canvas with such bewildered curiosity. 

"I don't know how you're gonna fix this," he states. She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Very helpful." Every bit of her words drip with sarcasm, but she truthfully wants his guidance on this. He may not be an artist, but he deems himself a connoisseur of it. Some circles even ask for his critiques which he gives dutifully and without bias. And being her friend, he has to help her, or she'll die. Figuratively. Maybe not.

"I mean, you could probably, like," he touches the clean slices of the canvas, grimacing. A few ideas crop up into his head but the damage is so extensive, he can only give her the advice of redoing the entire thing. "I don't know, [Name]. This thing is ... Fucked, for a lack of a better word."

"Noo!" She whines, stomping her feet like a child. "Neji, I'm gonna be ruined."

Neji studies the art piece a little further. A lot of plain geometric shapes overlap one another, creating a busy but uninteresting piece, the torn canvas slices through some of the shapes evenly, and some unevenly.

"Abstract art?" He asks.

"Yeah."

He hums, staring at it a bit longer. The silence from him makes [Name] feel uneasy. She knows she's fucked if Neji is this pensive. A growing despair finds itself in her chest, making her doubt every decision she's ever made.

"Gah! I should've never done this! I don't know why I did it but I was so mad!" She complains, dropping herself to the floor. "I could've had time to fix it if I didn't give up so easily! You should've told me no when I came to your door! Then maybe I would've gone back home and finished this damn thing!"

Neji disregards everything she says and gestures to her to come closer. On her knees, she crawls to him with a pout on her face. He puts one comforting hand on her head and says, "You'll be fine."

"No, I won't," she doubts bitterly. "There's no way to fix this."

"There is, you just have to be a good salesperson."

She tilts her head, staring up quizzically at him.

"You know those speeches I practice, that you call infomercials?" He asks and she nods. "Bullshit your way through this, babe. It's abstract art! It can be anything. But, you know, make it look intentional."

[Name] stares at the canvas long enough that the rips come together thoughtfully. In her mind, the shapes stand for the vapidness of the day-to-day grind, and the tears are a metaphor for ripping through it. All the piece needs is a little more color to it and she'll be set. Perhaps a corporate color scheme of unoffensive primary colors.

She puts her hand on her chin, seeing the vision Neji placed before her. "I get it. I just gotta fake it til I make it."

"That's right. And you have two weeks to finish it." He pats her shoulder and stands up. "Also, don't forget to call it modern. For some odd reason, it makes buyers go buck-wild for it."

[Name] stares at the piece a little longer, standing as she does so. An epiphany begins to blossom in her head, the petals nearly opening. The speech she's planning in her head repeats itself over and over until it's perfect. The worry she feels in her stomach is but a tingle now. Slowly, she turns to Neji who stuffs his hands into his pockets. A smile, bright as the sun, stretches across her face.

"You should probably start now, so you'll have a little more time," he says with a shrug. And although she wants to respond, thank him, and express how grateful she is for his direction, she doesn't say a word. They sit in her throat and bounce around in her head. Instead, she cups his face, rubbing her thumbs against his cheeks. She thinks about what she said to him two days ago, how she never kissed him properly. She feels her lips tingle and leans into him. Their lips touch. Slow and sensual. Like a tiny sip of steaming hot cocoa on a snow-like blizzardy day---too shy to take a full drink and never brave enough to scorch her tongue. Their lips meld together as their eyes droop and close. Her hands glide down his face and across the expanse of his broad shoulders. His breath fans across her cheek as they pull away slightly. 

There is a second of pause. It feels like forever as their eyes open, and convey to one another their intentions. Neji releases his hands from his pockets and coaxs one to the back of her head, pulling her in once again. Their hearts thud against one another, in sync, in time with the beating of the universe. Her lips part with a moan, welcoming Neji's tongue, and deepening their passion for each other. She drinks him in like water, no longer afraid to gulp this kiss down, but more unsure of what this kiss implies.

In the heat of it, she pulls away. His lips chase after her, stealing little sipping kisses from her hot lips like flaps of a butterfly's wings. With a shaky inhale, she stops him with a hand on his chest. She can feel his heartbeat thrumming against her fingertips. His eyes hold something indescribable. She can make out the curiosity, passion, and mirth in them but there is something else behind it all that she fears is in her eyes as well. So, she glances away from him and takes a step back. His arms reluctantly release her.

"A thank you," she says, referring to the kiss.

"Heh, that's a hell of a way to say thanks."

They return to normal, or something akin to it, and finish out their date. After a second movie, Neji leaves, gifting her a chaste kiss goodbye. And when the front door closes, and she's alone, she takes ahold of that epiphany from earlier and returns to work. She spends a week perfecting the canvas. The torn lines look too clean, so she frays them more, snipping at the edges to seal the anger into the piece. She dulls the corporate colors of the shapes to invoke the numbing life of being a capitalistic slave or whatever the fuck bullshit line she'll say to sell her work. The following days after that, [Name] spends her time in her studio, emailing the soon-to-be proprietor of this canvas, and setting up a location for her to hand off the piece. 

Nerves jitter endlessly inside her once the day comes. She calls Neji to accompany her, just in case the situation goes awry. She worries this person might be a scammer, and having a friend in high places can help her sniff out who's legit and who's not. Also, having him beside her might up the price of the ruined canvas. Despite her worries, everything goes exactly as planned. The original commissioner doesn't join them, rather, she sends a lackey to fetch the thing for her. The man raises an eyebrow at the torn canvas, but recognizes Neji as an artist expert, and takes it anyway.

As the man walks away without a word, Neji pats [Name's] back with an amused smirk. "Don't worry. They'll love it."

However, his words of confidence don't stop the adrenaline from pumping through her body. The black car the man arrived in scurries off down the road the moment her phone pings with a new notification. With a quick check, her heart nearly stops.

"Neji, catch me, I might faint."

She shows him the new number in her savings account: 241,879.

...

A/N: Trust me.