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Arsen eases the car along the curb, taking his time straightening the wheels and altogether being relaxed in a way I’m no longer capable of. Least of all today.
“The test starts in—” I check the clock on the dash and my chest tightens. “—two hours.”
He kills the engine and pats my knee. “And we’re fifteen minutes away. I think you have time for a pitstop.”
“I just want to get there early. Just in case…”
“In case the parking lot opens up and swallows you whole on your way inside?” Arsen bites back a smirk. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll carry you inside myself if that will make you feel better.”
I almost regret telling him about my nightmare last night.
It was midday—sunny and bright—and I was crossing the asphalt parking lot to walk through the doors and take my certification test, but the building kept moving farther and farther away. I ran, but it was like my feet were encased in cement. I was practically crawling on all fours to make it, but I hadn’t even reached the doors before my classmates were pouring out with their test results in their hands, cheering and celebrating their success.
Then the parking lot opened up and swallowed me whole.
“It was very realistic,” I mumble.
Arsen ignores me, walking around the car to open my door. I try to pretend like I’ll resist and stay in my seat, but the moment he holds a hand out to me, I can’t stop myself from taking it.
He pulls me onto the sidewalk of a narrow street lined with small businesses. There’s a tailor, a used bookstore, a coffee shop, and a deli.
“Are we here for lunch?”
“Are you hungry?” He arches a brow as he looks down at me.
My stomach churns nervously. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I didn’t think so. Which is why I have something better in mind. Consider it motivation.”
I snort. “I have plenty of that. The threat of being a failure, disappointing my mother from beyond the grave, and having no future prospects is all pretty motivating.”
He squeezes my hand tighter. “Okay, then, consider this motivation that isn’t a massive bummer.”
So I might be a bit doomsday-ish about the yoga certification. It’s only because I’ve been training for months, and I spent countless hours away from Nina. If it was all for nothing, I’ll be embarrassed to show my face at home. Also, I’ll feel the need to pay my own husband back for the wasted investment.
Those are the thoughts swirling around my head as Arsen stops in front of a blank storefront.
The windows are papered over and a “For Lease” sign is hanging in the glass.
Before I can ask what we’re doing here or request again that we get back in the car so I can pace outside the academy for the next two hours, anxiously awaiting the start of the test, Arsen pulls out a key and unlocks the front door.
“What is this?”
“I already told you: motivation.” Arsen ushers me into the dark space.
I’m a few steps into the room when the lights flicker on. There’s a low hum coming from the fluorescents.
“I’m thinking we replace those with something softer,” he says, tipping his chin towards the lights. “Calming.Zen. Isn’t that what you yogis say?”
I pace across the shiny, hardwood floors. The walls are a dusty beige, torn remnants of wallpaper left behind. A few broken shelves are piled in one corner, along with what might be a rat trap, but I do my best to not think about that.
“What are you gonna do with it?” Between his sleek office at Adamov Industries, his office at the house, and now, Pobeda, I can’t imagine what this place would be used for.
“Me? Nothing.” He shrugs. “Giving it to you was my only plan.”
I spin towards him, my shoe squeaking on the hardwood. “What?”
“I figure once you pass your test, you’ll need a place to set up shop. This studio is on the smaller side, but I have eyes on a few other spaces in the city once you’re ready to expand.”
