Pressing my lower back firmly against the mat, I tried to breathe through my chi or harness my inner sunrise or whatever the instructor was talking about on the video.
"Are we almost done?" I asked.
"Nope."
I sighed.
"You watch," she said, eyes still closed when I turned my head to look at her, "this'll be the season you break the sack record, and when you do, you better thank me."
I smiled and directed my gaze back up to the ceiling. "You got it."
My movements were jerky when we shifted position again, whereas Molly looked like her joints were made from water.
"You're terrible at this, Noah."
In the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of Marty smothering a smile.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm not terrible."
She folded her body in half. "Yes, you are."
"Fine, you come to practice tomorrow, and we'll see how you do in my world."
"No, thank you," she demurred. "Enough of my life is taken up by football. I don't need to add time on the field into it too."
"Too much football," I said quietly. I lifted my arms over my head and mimicked her movements. "Is there such a thing?"
"Maybe not when you're in the thick of it." She exhaled slowly through her mouth. "But you can't play forever. What are you going to do when you're done?"
A wry smile bent my lips as I straightened and propped my hands on my hips. Whatever the pose was in the video, my big ass body did not bend that way. "They'll have to drag me kicking and screaming off the field when they want me to retire."
"Yeah?"
"As long as my body cooperates," I said, "I'll be out there."
"Maybe you can set a new record. Oldest defensive player of the year."
She pointed at my mat, and I sighed, dropping down to do what she was doing. Cat or cow or cobra. I couldn't remember.
"Yeah, in ten years, maybe."
"You think you'll still be averaging a sack and a half per game in ten years?" she teased. "Yeah, right. You'll be limping around by that point unless you do some more of this."
I glared at her, but it didn't dim her smile. It got brighter. Everything else around her faded.
Why didn't that terrify me? That everything in the room except Molly's face became blurry and unimportant, but the way her lips stretched into a smile, how that smile lit up her eyes, was vital and precious. I didn't intimidate her in any way, and that suddenly felt like something I needed to protect. Something I should wrap my arms around and cocoon from the outside world so nothing and no one could change that about her.
It was the only reason I could think of for why I didn't see her reach out to tip me over.
Balancing like I had been, I fell like a freaking oak tree.
She collapsed into helpless laughter while I flopped onto my back.
"Dirty cheat," I groaned.
Molly wiped tears of mirth from under her eyes and balanced on her knees over me. "Are you okay?"
"Oh sure, pretend you care now. You could've injured me."
"Who knew The Machine was such a crybaby."
Narrowing my eyes, I felt my body tense to pounce, but she scrambled backward, laughter coming out in short puffs of air. Before I flipped around to my knees to take off after her, I froze. What was I doing?
Every second of this was on film. And if I laid my hands on her now, I'd be lost. Molly saw the change of mood on my face, and those bright blue eyes softened in understanding. How could she read me as well as she did? It made no sense.
"That was pretty good for your first lesson," she said quietly.
Standing, I stretched my arms over head, then held out my hand for her. She slid her palm against mine, and I pulled her up easily.
Her fingers didn't drop right away, and the impulse to tug her closer was almost overwhelming. I stepped back, and our hands dropped.
"Thanks for coming over to show me." I looked around. "And to see the house. I suppose we should clear out soon anyway."
She nodded and leaned down to roll up the yoga mat.
Marty flipped off both cameras and groaned like he'd just done the video with us. "That was great, guys. Rick will love it."
The way Molly fidgeted as she stood with the yoga mat and the way she didn't make eye contact with Marty meant she must have felt the same way I did after talking to my grandma. It was disconcerting to forget that he was there, but I still found myself doing it more and more.
"We didn't do that for show, Marty."
In surprise, I glanced over at the defensive tone in her voice.