Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
What?! I know it’s not classy to fuck in a parking lot but like…I’ve always wanted to try it.
With the gym sign finally in sight, the thought I had earlier – pre-Mrs. Prescott – barrels back to me pushing me to bark, “Right!”
My passenger jumps in his seat, accidently hitting his elbow. “Fuck!” The brush off of the pain is immediate. “What? What is it? What’s to our right?!” He begins a frantic visual search. “Gunman? Sniper?”
“God, I hope not,” I reply and begin looking with him.
Archer angles his face my direction to showcase a small smile. “What made you scream?”
“You should be the one making me scream” damn near leaves my mouth instead of what actually does. “It was just an exclamation over a returned idea I had that I hadn’t gotten to express yet.”
He nods his comprehension. “Go on.”
“What if we get you a job application from the gym?” The light turns green indicating it’s time to accelerate. “And this isn’t me pushing you to get a job, to get you out, to force you to do something you’re not ready to do. This is simply just me…suggesting…we grab you some from nearby places that are easy for carpooling so that when you are ready you can apply.”
“I can just walk.”
His defensiveness is expected but the type isn’t.
“I’m used to walking.”
“And you walking along the highway in the dead of night or the ass crack of dawn or middle of traffic gives me A Bad Case of Stripes.”
Perplexity pierces his face. “Fucking what?”
The smallest cringe crosses my face as I pull into the parking lot. “Sorry, it’s a kid’s book by David Shannon.” Guilt graces itself next in my expression. “I should probably make less literary references, especially child-based ones.”
“No, you should just keep being you, and let others adjust if they want a place in your life.”
Swoon for me too, please.
“How about we focus on just getting applications first? Figure out the other bits like hours and carpooling or bussing later?”
Archer allows a small smile to slip onto his face. “Roger that, sweetheart.”
We park near the entrance, grab our gear, and hustle through the front doors with me determined to get a good spot. Getting Archer checked in as a guest, unfortunately, requires more effort than we were prepared for. His lack of ID requires them to take his photo and fill out additional liability paperwork. The whole process is long and tedious yet convinces me to just add him to my account as to skip all this shit in the future. On our way to the back studio where the class will be taking place, he expresses his displeasure with the situation. Gripes about being a charity case. Complains that I already do too much for him. However, all of his grievances are immediately lost upon me the instant my eyes set focus on a brown and white baby goat.
They’re so adorable!
Finding a place to toss my mat down is swiftly followed by a black and white creature wandering over to me. Its front two feet brace themselves on my thighs while it nudges against my sweatshirt covered chest in a silent demand to be petted.
Loved.
You know Archer is a lot like this baby goat. He basically just walked into my life and gently looked for attention.
Our instructor, Kirra, explains the very simple process of how class will unfold. We’re instructed to follow her guidance but to connect to the creatures however and whenever we see fit. The little farm friend wanders away to someone else when I move for the first position and by the time we’re taken on a third, it’s Archer who has a furry friend.
One that is a caramel brown color and directly in front of his face in our downward dog position.
Unsure what either will do, leads to me studying the situation rather than transitioning to the uttanasana pose like the other class members.
For just a moment, Archer seems annoyed.
Irked that the thing meant to bring him joy is standing in the way of completing his mission.
Yet one glance my direction and his demeanor shifts.
He lowers himself to his knees.
Keeps his attention on the four-legged friend until he realizes that I’m like the goat.
I’m not going anywhere.
You can be gruffy and huffy and scruffy, but I’m going to stick around and give you the love you need.
The love he needs.
Whether it’s reciprocated or not.
In a hushed voice, the man to my side playfully grumps, “She put you up to this, didn’t she?”
I lightly giggle and bend my body into the pose just as he begins to nuzzle the goat head-to-head.
“I like you. I really do,” my stubborn friend quietly states to the creature, eyes shutting during their continued nuzzling, “just like I really like her.”
Those pesky butterflies I can’t seem to permanently banish go wild in the pit of my tummy once more.