KICK IT | JENLISA

127

Jennie

The weight of one hundred and six eyes bored down on me in a thick, deafening silence. The sterile scent of bleach cleaner replaced Simi's cinnamon incense, and large, bulky muscles replaced my usual feminine crowd. A tickling sensation crept up the back of my neck, raising the hairs.

Some eyes glared with defiance, a side effect of forced participation. Several others were locked in work mode, ready for a new challenge. Only a couple of them blinked. One particular pair looked at me as if I was the only one here, not seventy-on-one. Heat burned in Lisa's gaze from the back row, and centre position.

"I know what you're all thinking." I avoided Lisa's smirk. "Yoga is for pussies. Do you know yoga helped rehabilitate your quarterback's shoulder and improved her ankle stabiliser strength and balance? That it can help with injury prevention, sharpen your mental focus, and proven to be a form of stress relief?"

"And getting to work out with me instead of Bambam for two hours a week is the icing on the cake." Hummed laughter pulled up the corners of my mouth. "But you might wish for him to come back on some days."

Lisa wasn't done with yoga after all. And neither was Houston's management and training staff, who approved my development class. Signing the one-year contract was surreal, and I was unworthy of the salary attached. Its gravity didn't grip me until I rolled my mat over the AstroTurf on Houston's practice field. The voluminous white ceiling overhead required the wireless microphone hitched over my ears.

My yoga instruction expanded beyond the limits of my life plan, but a thrill surged through my veins. A new challenge, almost a hundred new challenges, and I couldn't fucking wait to meet them head-on. 'Kick It: Yoga Strength & Flexibility Sessions with Jennie', was the class name, the sales pitch, and the words on the team calendars. But I had much more lined up for the bi-weekly class of fifty-three and a separate class for the team's coaches, trainers, and front office staff.

Yoga wasn't only body conditioning and stretching, but I tore out a few pages from Jackson's manipulation manuscript to convince them to accept yoga in their weekly schedules. Before changing their language, I first needed to use words that they understood.

Lisa taught me that.

Our one-on-one basement sessions continued, with a lot less serious yoga and a whole heap more fucking. I didn't mind the slack in her practice; Lisa kept up with the parts she needed. During pre-season camp, she endured enough pressure for the start of the upcoming season.

Words other than 'too much' couldn't express how I felt about Lisa's extended kindness in setting me up with an interview for this position, which included traveling with the team for road games. Simi was disappointed to see me give up most of my classes, but she understood. I returned every Tuesday and Thursday until my class found a new, and permanent home in Lisa's rehab centre.

Good thing I like a challenge.