Miriam thought yoga was supposed to relax a body, unfurl your muscles and unlock your mind, transporting you to a whole new plane. And yet, each week, she found herself a sweaty, panting mess by the time cool down began. Which was particularly embarrassing considering every week Wes entered the final phase awash with a healthy glow that served to enhance his serene smile. So perfectly perfect, Miriam half wanted to push him out of child's pose. Not so hard he broke something, but a little tumble would be good for her soul.
He cut her sideways glance as the thought of him in a crumpled heap flashed through her mind; the left corner of his mouth rose into a smile, and he winked before his eyes fluttered shut and his body slid into the next pose with such ease Miriam wondered if his joints were liquid gold. Hers, on the other hand, stuck, clunky and awkward, groaning as she followed his lead, sunk to the mat and prepared for the final ten minutes of class; also known as her favourite ten minutes of class, not only because it meant the end was in sight, but because she could finally buy into the whole relaxation ritual. For what was more relaxing than ten minutes of silence?
Unfortunately, the sound of bare feet pattering against vinyl flooring forced Miriam to open her eyes, one at a time, just as her body began to sink. She blinked twice and glanced at Wes. His hand was outstretched, hovering just above her nose. She curled her palm into his, tightening her grip as he hauled her into his chest, and threw her arms over his shoulders while his snaked around her waist.
"Why do we do this?" she moaned into his damp t-shirt.
"Because it's good for us."
"But I'm in more pain now than I was before I came to class."
"You'll get better."
"You get better," she muttered. "I get worse."
He laughed, the sound rich and comforting, and squeezed her shoulders before wrapping her up, pressing her against his side and leading her towards the changing rooms where they went their separate ways. Once alone, Miriam slumped against a bench and sighed. It should've been a wail, primal and raw, but at least two of the four showers were running, and the door opened, welcoming a flood of women in matching pink gym sets. Miriam took this as her cue and hauled herself to her feet. She unlocked the locker closest to her and grabbed her belongings, shrugging on a jumper before she left.
Wes was waiting in the foyer, phone in one hand, overstuffed gym bag in the other. He hiked it higher on his shoulder just as his eyes narrowed, flicking from left to right, scanning every inch of Miriam's person. So focused, for a moment, she felt like she was under a microscope, stretched bare on the freezing stage. "Is this mine?" he asked once she reached him.
Miriam looked at his hand, which had managed to barnacle itself around the hem of her hoodie, and licked her lips. "You don't mind, do you?"
"I—"
"Wesley." A tall man with a buzzcut and glinting nose ring slapped Wes on the back. "Where have you been?"
"Ryan." Wes smiled through gritted teeth. "How are you man?"
"Good." Ryan's eyes slunk towards Miriam. "Who's your friend?" he asked.
"I'm Miriam," she said, offering a hand.
"Right. I think I saw you last night. You were talking to my guy Ade." Ryan's brows, so thick they migrated onto his eyelids, wriggled while Wes stiffened beside Miriam, leaving her with the overwhelming need to smack Ryan's face and displace his eyebrows forever.
Unfortunately, Lydia's pending payment forced her to settle for a blank expression as she said, "Ade?"
"Adedayo," Ryan clarified.
Miriam glanced up at the ceiling, tracing the too bright spotlights until two options presented themselves. That is, one. The risky one. The fun one. The one which saw her continue this charade; cut through Ade's undoubted self-assurance in a single, biting swipe. For if Ryan seemed useful for anything, it was to be a vessel of bad news. He did, after all, seem like a gloater. But to continue knocking Ade back was to play a dangerous game, and Miriam was on the clock. One month. Four weeks. 30 something days. She didn't have time to dangle the carrot from afar. She needed an in. And although, an hour ago, Abi had been that window, Ryan, with all his cocky intrigue, was wide open, leaving Miriam with no choice but to step through and say, "Yeah, you probably did."
Wes was positively rigid, with an unyielding mouth set in a straight line and eyes that seemed to refuse to meet Miriam's. Even when she brushed a finger against the back of his hand, he remained still, stern, stringent. That is until he slid his palm against hers, the skin sticky with heat, and squeezed. "We've got to go," he said.
Ryan glanced at their fingers and quirked a fuzzy brow, smiling all the same. "Yeah of course. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm having a party tomorrow night. You guys should come through if you're not busy."
Wes looked down at Miriam. His eyes were hard, insisting, narrowing ever so slightly into the look. On any other occasion she wouldn't even need it, she was, after all, more antisocial than him, but success was pivotal. So she gulped and said, "What time?"
Wes' anger radiated in red hot waves, singing the edge of the hoodie.
"Come for seven," Ryan said, seemingly none the wiser to the building pressure. "Wes has the address."
"Cool." Miriam tried to catch Wes' eye; he looked away.
"So I'll see you tomorrow night?" Ryan asked.
"Sure." Miriam tried again; Wes wasn't having it. "See you tomorrow."
Ryan grinned and leaned forward to offer Wes another clap on the back which he returned, dropping Miriam's hand in the process. Ryan then ducked into the changing rooms, and, two seconds later, Wes began marching out of the building.
Miriam chased after him. Annoyingly, she made three steps to his one, leaving her trailing behind until he stopped mid-stride just outside the automatic doors and whipped around, eyes pinging like an unstable isotope. "Ade's a piece of shit," he growled. "He's the type of guy who will ruin you."
Miriam licked her lips and sighed. This was the hard part, but to be a successful avenging angel was to be a wolf in sheep's clothing, especially around the victim. And although Wes wasn't the victim per se, he was a man, a liability, a potential wrench in Miriam's well-oiled machine. And even if he wasn't, he wouldn't get it.
"He barely knows me," Miriam said with a whistle of unconcerned laughter. "How can he ruin me?"
"You don't know Ade," Wes insisted.
"And you do?"
Wes glared at her, eyes hard and unyielding, then turned on his heel and walked away.
"Do you?" Miriam shouted after him, earning herself a dozen side-eyes from passers-by.
"Yes," Wes said, slowing down to match her pace.
"How?"
"Doesn't matter, we met a long time ago. But everything I said still stands. He's a dick, Mer."
Part of her wanted to know more, to press on all of Wes' sore points until the truth came gushing out, but she knew better. Cared enough to let him keep his secret, for she had hers, and instead said, "Don't worry, I'm not interested."
Wes' body visibly decompressed. "You're not?"
"When am I ever?" She nudged his shoulder, and he glanced down, his dimples peeking out as she said, "You're the only guy in my life."
~*~
At the end of the last academic year, Miriam was forced to join Grace's campaign ticket. President of the Black Girl Book Club may not seem prestigious, but the fight was nasty, and while Miriam intended to keep well out of the drama, Grace managed to both drag her into it and get elected, leaving Miriam as the welfare officer. Fitting considering her side hustle, but a major pain in her ass.
It was her turn to host the weekly committee meeting Grace, in her all-knowing wisdom, insisted on. Her turn to bake, read buy, cookies and offer up tea like her life depended on it. Thankfully, she managed to wrangle Wes into helping her rearrange their already cramped living room before he left for the library. Chairs reorganised in a misshapen circle, he headed for the door and the bell rang.
"It's Abi," he said, bell still ringing.
"Let her up then."
Miriam swapped a few pillows, listening to the familiar crackle of their unpredictable intercom system and joined Wes in the hall just as Abi knocked. She opened the door and Abi hurtled inside, pink braids flying along with her backpack which landed beside a pair of grey slippers.
"Hey Wes," she said, throwing a careless arm around him. "I didn't think you'd be here."
"I'm not." He steps out of her grasp and into the landing, then turned and said, "Everyone better be out by ten o'clock, Mer. I mean it."
"Yes Dad." She rolled her eyes.
He shot her one last menacing glare then headed for the lift, leaving Miriam to lock the door behind him.
"Look at you." Abi pushed her shoulder. "Calling him Daddy already."
"Abisola."
"What? It's true."
"Just come help me in the kitchen," Miriam muttered.
Abi appeared a minute later with an extra box of cookies and a bottle of tequila. "For Grace," she said, dropping the cookies on the counter. "And for you." She handed the tequila over.
"You know me so well."
Laughing, Abi hoisted herself onto the granite countertop and tapped her heels against the cupboard door while Miriam plated up the cookies. "Sorry about this afternoon," she said while Miriam rummaged through the cupboard closet to the sink.
"Why?" Miriam grabbed two glasses from the top shelf and handed Abi one before opening the tequila.
"Ade," she said. "He's intense, but largely harmless."
"Largely?" Miriam poured herself a generous helping of tequila and topped it up with lemonade.
"Yeah," Abi said. "I mean, if I were him, I'd be more worried about you."
Miriam threw a dishcloth in her general direction.
"What?" she laughed, batting it away. "You're a beast."
"Yeah but that's business, not pleasure. It's different. Ade seems like the sort of guy who'd fuck you and your sister just for kicks."
Abi's slammed her glass against the counter. "He didn't do that, right?"
"No," Miriam laughed.
"Because I know he's capable of a lot, but that would be extreme."
"As opposed to leaving a girl in your flat after sleeping with her?"
Abi screwed her eyes shut. "You've got to be kidding me. Who?"
"Sorry." Miriam pretended to zip her mouth shut. "Client confidently."
Abi scowled so hard it was a wonder her brain didn't leak out from the pressure. "I hate when you do that," she said.
Miriam stuck her tongue out and collected the beautifully arranged cookies, along with her glass, and headed to the living room. "So how interested is Ade?" she asked, curling into the leftmost corner of the navy loveseat. "You know, on a scale from 1 to 10?"
Abi shook her head and tutted. "If you're not going to tell me who the girl is, I'm sure as hell not helping you."
"Surely you know who she is. I mean, you must spend time in his flat."
"It's impossible to keep up."
"That bad?" Miriam winced.
"Worse."
"And here you were saying he's harmless."
"To you," Abi said. "He's harmless to you, but the rest of Eastford's female population? Well, let's just say they're lucky if they escape unscathed."
The doorbell rang; Miriam and Abi let out a groan. "How much do you want to bet Grace turns down Faith's fundraiser idea?" Miriam asked as she rolled onto her feet, stalked towards the intercom, and buzzed Grace in.
"If she doesn't, I will. Bake sales are lame."
Miriam let out a bubble of laughter. "I'm pretty sure anything we come up with is going to be lame."
"True."
"And anyway, aren't the actual ACS running their own fundraiser for the stupid ball?"
"Next week," Abi said. "They've hired out Enigma, tickets are—how do you not know about this? It's been all over the group chat."
"I muted that months—"
There was a knock at the door.
"Sorry, sorry, s—Grace?" In the two years Miriam had known Grace, especially since she'd become president of the book club, Miriam had seen her tear through proposals, make a first-year cry and a grown man kneel. She had never, however, seen her so openly dejected. So worthy of pity and regret, what with her dangling swirl of snot and red-rimmed eyes.
"What's up?" Miriam asked, placing a gentle hand on her back and leading her into the living room.
"I-it's, my boyfriend."
Abi startled. "Grace, babe, what's wrong?"
Grace collapsed into the mismatched armchair in the corner of the room and appropriated Miriam's glass. "I've been dating this guy," she hiccuped.
"You have?" Abi's eyebrows flew into her forehead. Grace may not have seemed like the relationship type, but now wasn't the time to point it out. Thankfully, Abi seemed to get the message from Miriam's scowl alone and cleared her throat. "What I mean is," she said, "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."
"It's been kinda on the down low," Grace explained, "but we spoke about going to Paris for my birthday and he met my mum. It seemed serious."
"And?" Miriam perched on the armrest beside her and stroked her shoulder, brushing away a stray piece of curled hair.
"And I saw him with someone else."
"Like saw him or saw him?" Abi asked.
"Saw him!" she wailed. "They were in the basement of the library. Like, the fucking basement. It's nasty. And they weren't even in a side room or anything, he didn't care who saw."
"I'm so sorry." Miriam squeezed her shoulder. "If there's anything—"
"Are you still doing the whole revenge thing?" Grace asked abruptly. She placed the glass by her feet and turned to look at Miriam, desperation lining her features.
"Uh, yeah, I guess," Miriam said. "I mean, I'm currently working on someone, but I could probably get to your guy in a couple of weeks."
"No." Grace shook her head with so much vehemence, Miriam half expected it to pop off and bounce out the room. "You have to do this now," she said.
"I—"
"Who is it?" Abi shifted forwards, elbows on knees, mouth slightly ajar. If she'd seen Miriam's glare, she ignored it since there was nothing Abi liked more than sticking her nose where it didn't belong.
"Ade," Grace said, that is growled. "Ade-motherfucking-dayo."
~~~
Please vote, comment and share.
Misslaughalot_
xxx