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Whit
“What’s wrong with you?” Quilo smirks at me when I stagger back into my office at the rink. He’s sat in my chair, with his feet up on my desk. I scowl at him and then at Peewee too as the stupid mutt moves over to Quil’s side for a fuss.
“Who’s a good boy?” He coos, scratching under the mutt’s chin like he’s a damn cat. Stupid animal loves it though and starts to drool all over Quilo’s ripped jeans.
“Not that mutt,” I snap. “I’m pretty sure he’s put my back out.”
“How?”
“Standing on it.”
“How on earth did the dog end up on your back?”
“I was doing yoga—”
Quil bursts out laughing, taking his feet off my desk and slapping his thigh like he’s in a damn pantomime or something.
“What?” he manages to gasp between peaks of laughter. It’s not even funny. Asshole.
“Look, I’ve seen this girl around town. She’s…”
“Super hot? Banging? Totally fuckable?” He grins wickedly at me. He’s such a fucking playboy.
“Well, I wouldn’t describe her like that...but yeah,” I admit, thinking of the way her long braids swished in time to the gentle sway of her hips and the way her eyes glowed as she interacted with the class, clearly having a passion for her work. Fuck I had such a boner throughout that class it was a good thing I was hiding in the back. Only reason I held the pose when she came over to me was to make sure she didn’t see my straining dick and kick me out for being a pervert. “So I found out she’s a yoga instructor and I went to her class.”
“Okay mate, but I’m not getting where the dog fits into all this. Don’t tell me, you scored in the first class and took her back to your place and had coitus interruptus by Peewee here trying to get in on the action?!” Quil cackles.
“No. It was a doga class.”
“Doga?”
“Yoga with dogs.”
“Huh?”
“I know. It was mental. Like, absolute carnage when I arrived, but once the class started, all of these dogs just turned completely zen and went all peace and love bullshit.”
“Was she burning incense? Bet it was weed or some shit.”
“No. It was just...cool,” I insist, still lost in the memory of the instructor’s smile and the way her workout gear hugged her athletic body like a second skin. Fuck, that woman could bend for days. I’d like to bend her over my desk and really give her a workout.
“So what happened?” Quilo prompts.
“Oh. We were doing the plank, and the small dogs got on their owner’s backs…”
“And Peewee, thinking he’s a lap cat, tried to join in,” Quil finishes for me, laughing again though he’s cut off a moment later as Peewee hears the word ‘lap’ and takes it as an invite to climb onto Quilo. Fucker isn’t laughing now. The chair groans under their combined weight, but Quil doesn’t try to push him off. He’s such a soft touch.
“Yeah. And then she came over and I didn’t want to look weak so I held it as long as I could, but it’s fucking killing me now.”
“Go see Yas.”
“Is he here?”
“When isn’t he?” Quil shakes his head in exasperation, but it’s true that ever since the rink opened we’ve all been working too hard. Quilo included—not that he’d ever admit it. “Can I ask you something?”
“We all need a break...sure, shoot. What’s up?” I say, and Quilo half nods his head in thought. That’s as good as I’ll get from him. He won’t venture far from the protective wards of Silver Springs. For a world famous rockstar on the run, he’s managed surprisingly well to stay incognito in this town with a little spell help on the town’s wards. He wouldn’t want to risk that safety and anonymity.
“It doesn’t matter.”
