I wasn't sure Alyssa would agree to what I offered, but if her excitement over getting to continue with the series for the newspaper was any indication, I had a feeling that she wouldn't say no. I just wish she would have fought me a little, I like it when she plays back.

I have to be careful though, I remind myself. Even though she was mine for one night, she is still currently Anderson's. I don't know what she sees in that pudgy asshole, but I can't question it yet. Not until I've spent more time with her, until I can get a real read on where things stand between them. But if I hear him call her his pocket rocket to the guys one more time I'll knock his ass out.

I mean I can tell she hasn't told him what happened, although I thought for sure she would break up with him afterwards. She's just that type of girl. She's loyal and has a good heart. But maybe I misread her, because when he walked into my apartment to visit her as soon as he got back to Ohio I was pissed. Pissed that he is somehow a person that she would rather continue to lie to than risk hurting.

But she still showed up at my apartment even though I could practically see her skin crawling. She may not own up to how much she liked it, but she's not afraid to face it. If anything, it means that Anderson doesn't completely have control over her. Thank fucking christ.

I open my door to find Alyssa wearing exactly what I told her to wear. But I'm even more satisfied to see the bright pink color of her matching sports bra and biker shorts. I make sure to tell her so.

"No flirting," She says, holding a hand up to me. I ignore her though and high five the hand that she quickly swats down to her side. I have to bite my lip from laughing.

I don't bother letting her into my apartment, instead I walk us to my car and help her inside. Once I'm behind the steering wheel she begins to ask for hints as to where we are going.

"Uh uh, no questions!" I say, continue to shift the gear between us.

When I pull up in front of the studio I race to Alyssa's side of the car and attempt to open her door for her, but she makes a quick exit and beats me to it, shooting me a smile as she closes her own door behind her.

She raises her phone in her hand and opens the voice memo app. As I begin leading her to the building she says, "Pregame ritual begins by coming to a nondescript building in the middle of the arts district of the city. Perhaps a speakeasy? It doesn't explain the workout attire though, unless the inside has a theme."

I nudge her with my shoulder and tell her to put it away. That she won't need to record any voice memos. I know she will remember every detail. Her eyes flash to mine for a split second. I use it as a chance to give her a smile, a genuine one.

I hold the door open for her and she lets me, before entering the building. The heat from the rooms hits us as soon as we do.

Talia greets me, and I quickly introduce her to Alyssa. I had already called to let her know to expect one more, and she was thrilled. Alyssa greets her back before turning to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Yoga? This is your forty-eight hour preparation?" she questions.

"Hot yoga...But Talia also specializes in guided meditation. I like to let my body relax even further after a long week of workouts and practices and before the beating it will take in the game."

This is on the newer end of my rituals. I didn't start it until this past off season. I took yoga as an elective course last semester thinking that it would be an ace and a way to fill a few credit hours. I was wrong, it challenged my body and mind in a whole new way. But it was one that I welcomed. I finally had a break from football while still exercising the parts of myself that need to be exerted physically and mentally.

Alyssa doesn't say anything else as Talia leads us into an unoccupied room. Normally she guides a whole group, but once a week since the beginning of the summer I have rented this room for two hours, allowing me to learn more about the practice alone.

There are already two mats waiting for us. I let Alyssa take the first pick, and settle in beside her on the left one. Talia wastes no time in engaging us in our first pose.

We flow through the entire ninety minutes in near silence. The only sound that can be heard in the room is the soothing tone of Talia's voice and the sound machine she keeps playing at a low volume in the corner of the room.

Alyssa seems as if she has forgotten that I exist, every glance I steal in her direction is met with closed eyes. Her focus is solely on finding her breathe and calm place. I'm normally better at this too—at allowing my body to be given over to the stretching and breathing of each hold—but I can't with her next to me. Not when I can hear the exhale of each breath, a quiet hum falling from her lips every few minutes.

Talia moves us to our last position, the one I had found Alyssa in multiple times throughout the two months that we shared an apartment. We lie completely on our backs, arms and legs lying idly at our sides.

"Let your head find a comfortable resting position, whether that be up towards the sky or falling heavy to one side. We will hold this for eight breaths," Talia murmurs around us.

I take this chance to let my head fall heavy towards Alyssa, and to my surprise her head has fallen heavy towards me. Her eyes remain closed, but I don't mind. It gives me the chance to notice her features the way I've thought about for months now.

Her dark brows are perfectly arched for her face, and give way to her large eyes. Eyes that if they were open are the focal point of her face. The caramel colored irises are the most unique shade of brown, making it impossible to look at anything else when you see them.

Just as I begin to admire the divot above her top lip, her eyes open, snapping mine back to them. To my surprise she doesn't look away when she sees me studying her. Instead her lips curve into a smile. Maybe the first she's shown me in months.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hi," she whispers back.

Talia doesn't speak again as she quickly exits the studio. I swear I didn't ask her to, but the simple act is enough to make me want to give her a big tip today.

"How was it?" I ask.

"Amazing," Alyssa begins before exhaling deeply. "I always feel so relaxed, so clear after I practice. What about you?" She questions.

"Same," I lie. Normally I do feel the same way as her, that's why I started adding this to my rotation of rituals. But having her next to me, wearing that outfit and looking at me the way she is now makes it impossible for me to relax. Not unless she climbs over here and straddles me, but I know that isn't going to happen.

We don't move. Instead, we continue to look at one another as if holding another eight breaths here, but in each other. I inhale her, she exhales me and vice versa until a small smile threatens to tug at her lips, forcing the same from me. Alyssa is the first to move, tugging her knees to her chest and rocking herself back to a seated position before standing and beginning to roll her mat up.

I offer to drive Alyssa home, but she refuses. Stating that she can easily walk from my apartment building. I try to hide my disappointment that I won't get to see where she lives, that there isn't a chance that she will invite me in and prolong our night together. But I also can't push it. She's finally acting like her normal self around me. I can't risk her rebuilding the wall she's obviously put around me, around the idea of us.

I pull back into my parking space, and turn the car off, but don't move. Neither does Alyssa. Instead she shifts in her seat until one knee is bent in and her body is facing mine.

She didn't stop talking on the entire drive home, but it was mostly about how she started her own practice with yoga. Her mom is a chiropractor and her father a functional medicine doctor so she was raised around holistic approaches to medicine. They stressed the importance of mind and body balance from a young age, sending Alyssa to a yoga retreat when she was only twelve. I want to ask her more about it, about her family and her childhood. But I don't get the chance because she speaks up again.

"So that night when you asked me to help you relax...you we're just messing with me? You already knew all the poses?" she asks. It's the first time she's actually verbalized a specific memory about that night.

"My tight as shit muscles making it impossible for me to lunge wasn't a lie... I may have just embellished a little," I say, holding up my fingers indicating just how small I lied. Hoping that she won't hold it against me. "I needed to feel your hands on me, sue me."

Alyssa swallows hard, her eyes moving from my eyes to my hands. I reach a hand between us and lay it on her cheek. She closes her eyes as she leans in. She's shaking slightly under my touch, telling me that she's fighting herself against it.

"I can't do this Callan, it's—Jake, I can't," she whispers. I hate the way she says his name. Her tone is sympathetic, not towards turning me down, but because of what she thinks it would do to him to see her like this with me.

"I know, Alyssa. But I'll still be here when you do want it," I say, letting my hand stay exactly where it is. Alyssa lets herself stay like that too. She lets my palm warm her cheeks, letting her eyes tell me all the things she really wants to say but is too scared too. She may be using Jake as a cover, but I hope soon enough he too will just become something else we don't talk about.