Every Single Thing About You: A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3

by Hopkins, Faleena

  Every Single Thing About You

  A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3

  Faleena Hopkins

  Contents

  Tuck Yes Series Book 3

  About The Photographs

  1. Tempest Tuck

  2. Josh Arosio

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  28. Epilogue

  Tuck Yes Series

  Cocker Brothers

  Werewolves of New York

  Werewolves of Chicago

  About the Author

  Every Single Thing About You -

  An Enemies to Lovers, Single Dad romance.

  Ever since the night when Josh met Tempest he’s been rude, downright ignoring her at every turn. His best friends have fallen hard for her sister and cousin, so he’s stuck with having to see Tempest whenever the group gets together. She hates him now, and returns his treatment with equal fervor. But is something underneath that torment?

  For Book One - “Single You Out” - Go Here on Amazon.

  Tuck Yes was inspired while I lived in New York City, and I took photos for the series. They’re added to the chapters, purely for the Tucking fun of it.

  x, Faleena Hopkins

  Tempest Tuck

  I light the eleventh candle, blowing out a match. “Today we’re going to open those hips.”

  Over the sound of yoga mats unrolling behind me, students exhale. My class is about to begin, with New Yorkers trickling in for Yin Stretch yoga to release stress from their bodies and their minds. But most importantly, their spirits — the battery of life itself.

  Those who have been to my class before borrow blankets and yoga blocks from stacks on the south wall, bringing them to a space they’ll call their own for the next delicious hour. Those who haven’t, watch and follow their example, but their hesitation betrays an unspoken status of newbie.

  I notice all of them, but don’t point it out.

  If I shine a spotlight by directing them to our blocks and blankets myself, they travel inward and hide, energetically. Nobody likes to be singled out when they’ve joined a quiet group like this for the first time.

  My mission is to help my students shed self-consciousness, to connect them with themselves, their inner knowing, from which all self-confidence blossoms.

  Walking barefoot with toenails pale lavender, I cross to a stage-riser eleven inches higher than the rest of the room, voice as calming as the spa playlist I chose for today’s practice, “As you settle in, feel the rough skin of our outside world being shed from your body.”

  I pretend not to notice the delicate woman in her thirties tiptoeing to an open space, insecurity darting her eyes from this person to that for approval or judgment.

  “In this room your troubles don’t exist.”

  I pretend I don’t see the early-twenties computer-programmer-type dropping his blocks and scrambling to pick them back up, face flushing with embarrassment.

  “This is a safe place.”

  Beside my violet mat are three lit candles held by spherical iron, two of the five elements represented in the yoga studio. Wood grounds our energy and is found in the hardwood floors. Water is represented in a fountain on the east wall and in the water bottles we drink from. Air will be our focused breath.

  I glance to the clock one minute before seven, and sit with crossed legs, heels up on both thighs. “Let’s take a moment to check in with ourselves, sitting in Lotus position. Listen to what your body needs. If pain is telling you that is too much to stretch like this, rest your feet under your thighs.” Sunlight streams in as a cloud moves out of its way, making me smile. It feels like a blessing — a good class ahead. “Close your eyes and take a relaxed, deep breath in through your nose. Hold it. Now release it through your mouth. As you breathe in, imagine white light entering you, filling you up with light. As you breathe out…” In my periphery I see movement, and glance to the door to see Josh staring at me, a yoga mat rolled under his muscular arm, “…picture dark clouds leaving. I mean, picture dark energy, the stress you carry, leaving your lungs.”

  One of my regulars chuckles, “Dark clouds… that works, Tempest.”

  With a forced smile, I hurry to release myself from Lotus, rising to stop Josh from walking out. “Continue your breath work. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I’ve gotta go catch that student.”

  Wincing at the words I can’t take back, I speed-walk to the small hallway where shoes are tucked into cubbies, sign in sheet riddled with signatures of varying flow and weight. I nearly run into Josh, who has his back to me in stylish black joggers and form-fitting matching T, dark brown hair soft and touchable, body rigid and not.

  Thick tan fingers grip the doorknob, frozen.

  Keeping my volume quiet, I smile, “Come back inside, Josh.”

  He whispers, “If I had known this was your class I wouldn’t have come.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” I sigh. “You’re here now, and that must be for a reason. So come inside.”

  Over his shoulder, dark-chocolate eyes glint with anger at me. “What reason would that be?!”

  “You must have needed a class if you showed up to one, right?”

  He blinks, shoulders stiff as he turns to face me. “Oh.”

  Rolling my eyes wasn’t part of teacher-training, but I can’t help it. This guy is unbelievable! I’ve never met anyone more rude in my entire life.

  I point at the class, whisper, “Now get in there,” spin around and walk to my stage, voice smoothed to address the students, “Concentrate on your breath until what you breathe out is as bright as what you breathed in.” Josh finds a spot and rolls out his mat. “You may feel tingly. That’s your energy shifting, and that’s good.” What did he think I meant by reason? “You are opening yourself up to your truth.” That I thought he and I, specifically, were supposed to be brought together? “Releasing what is false.” He really believes I have a crush on him. An unrequited one! Like he’s some prize! “So that all of the good that is meant for you, has room to come into your life. Josh!” Startled by my harsh change of tone, every student opens their eyes to look from me to him.

  Josh growls, “What?!”

  “Grab two blocks and a blanket from the stack. We’re waiting for you!”

  Josh Arosio

  Of all the yoga studios in New York I had to walk into hers. Humphrey Bogart, I get it now.

  Avoiding curious strangers who are pretending to return to their meditation but are sitting straighter with ears perked in my direction, I grab two spongy blocks, a damn yoga blanket, and cut a scathing glance to Tempest on the way back to a fire-engine-red mat I bought on my way here.

  Tempest has continued guiding them through a breathing exercise, but that annoyed exhale from her nose isn’t part of it.

  I drop one block to bounce on a hardwood floor, do the same with the other but use more force, and toss my blanket next to them with a loud thump before locking eyes with Tempest, growling,
“Happy now?”

  Her full lips go razor thin, bare shoulders suddenly rigid in a lavender yoga top that showcases every curve of large breasts, nimble legs twisted like a purple pretzel with feet. “Take a seat. Close your eyes. And breathe!”

  “I could just go!”

  “You stay right there!!”

  The entire class stops breathing, looking from me to Tempest, not that I give a shit. I don’t know these people.

  I shout, “I need to relax!”

  “Don’t I know it!”

  “I mean I needed a class because I need to relax!”

  Tempest unhooks her legs and leaps up with the speed of a cheetah. “That’s why you’re not leaving! Now sit down!” She addresses her class, “I apologize, everyone. Josh and I know each other. My sister and my cousin are dating his best friends.” A collective reaction dominoes through the room as if what she just said solves everything.

  When it doesn’t.

  Not for me.

  It’s not the solution.

  It’s the problem!

  Turning my back to her I snatch back up the blocks and blanket. “I’m outta here!”

  Tempest counters, “You know what would be awe-inspiring? If you worked through that anger by staying put and letting me teach you how to relax despite it.”

  “You don’t have that skill.”

  “Try me!”

  We snarl at each other until I drop the blanket, the blocks, and sit down. “Give it your best shot. Shock me.”

  Taking a deep breath, she opens her full lips to speak, but this time, rather than snapping at me, the soothing melody I heard when I arrived — before I was spotted — returns for the benefit of her class and my challenge.

  She does not look at me, not once that I’m aware of, for the rest of the hour.

  I, however, am forced to watch the graceful twisting, extending, and unravelling of a body so limber it makes me angry I’m here. Long brown hair with slender braids pinned back from her relaxed face, floats like it’s under water as she demonstrates what we’re all meant to do. When Tempest bends over in a position she calls Downward Dog, my mind races to places I do not want it to.

  I Tucking hate this.

  I mean, fucking!

  I fucking hate this.

  Dammit! I’ve picked up that game the Tuck family plays where they substitute their surname for the curse word. After hearing my friends, Bennett and Nax, use it all the time it’s infiltrated my mind. I won’t let it.

  I get why they fell for Christina and Zia. The Tuck cousins bring out the best in my buddies, and that’s great.

  For them.

  I like the family, too. They’re very close and extremely chill. I took note of that at the single party I attended that was held at Tempest’s and Christina’s. That was the night we met, God help me.

  I kept away from her as much as I could, taking the first exit available from our group conversation, as soon as Bennett was invited to meet Christina’s family one by one as her official boyfriend. As soon as I got away from Tempest I had a good time. It was a diverse mix and all ages were welcome. Even their grandparents enjoyed hot dogs and burgers grilled on a rooftop deep in Brooklyn. Everywhere I looked people were enjoying themselves, laughing or enjoying a good debate. I was able to relax, when I wasn’t near Tempest. I told Nax that to me what they had is what family is supposed to be. I know my own isn’t like that. Parties were only for holidays that felt more like competition than connection.

  And that’s all great.

  For them.

  But Tempest Tuck rubs me the wrong way.

  And right now she’s making me hold positions for longer than seems possible, her silent footsteps traveling between mats to guide and touch those who need adjustments. If she touches me I’ll bite her head off.

  From this position I can’t see anything higher than her calves and lavender toenails as they come closer.

  Pause.

  Closer.

  Pause.

  Closer.

  She stops at the woman next to me, “That’s good, Joan. Your posture is improving.”

  Joan gasp-laughs, “Took me long enough,” struggling not to sway and tip.

  I’m expecting Tempest to come to me, next because my body is twisted like a rope that’s been cut. I tense, teeth gnawing themselves to nubs.

  I’m not getting the hang of this.

  It’s ridiculous.

  I’m a gym rat.

  A blue belt in Muay Tai.

  I expect more of myself.

  But sweat slides down my neck, my temples, the fabric drenched between my shoulder blades and pecs.

  When you workout with weights, it tears your muscles so that they grow, reshape, tighten. Stretching them like this is really rough.

  Lavender toenails pivot away.

  My jaw loosens and I shake my head.

  When the hour is finally up, Tempest says in a voice that’s probably soothing to others, “Very good, everyone. Now let’s lie down for our final pose, Shavasana. Use your blanket as a pillow if you’d like. Cover yourself to stay warm. Let gravity take over. Relax your ankles, your feet. That’s right. Let your arms go lax at your sides. Check in with your body. Notice the change in it since you arrived. Feel where you’re tingling. Where you’ve loosened up. If anything feels sore or tight, send light to it now.” She pauses. “Close your eyes. For the next three minutes, just be.”

  I do as she says, but at the sound of her footsteps leaving the stage, I peek to see her raising the volume on a New Age song, hair long over one shoulder. She straightens, turns, and locks eyes with me.

  I shut my eyes.

  For the next three minutes I don’t check in with my body — I check in with my life, because today’s irony is irritating me more with each passing second.

  The best thing I got out of college was a friendship with Nax Fisher and Bennett Powers so strong we’re like brothers. Back then we did everything together. That changed when we graduated, all three of us pairing off with wives none of us have anymore.

  Leah and I got pregnant with our son, Will, who’s now eleven. Shortly before he was born, we moved to Tribeca, arguably the hippest neighborhood in Lower Manhattan. We were happier than anyone has a right to be.

  Bennett moved into a place that fits his stoic style, just a few blocks from us, with Joy. They had Elliot, now ten. But he and Joy were too similar — cold from childhoods that lacked love. It was a combination that proved short-lived for their marriage. Elliot then lived with Joy for most of his life, so it’s only in the past year he’s had the chance to get to know my boy, Will.

  And Nax…we lost him to California where he and his now ex, Liz, returned shortly after graduation, to pursue a showbiz life as movie producers. Their son, Joe, age ten like Elliot, also didn’t get to know my son until just a few months ago. Nax hadn’t returned to New York for eight years, until Bennett called and told him I needed help.

  When my wife died I dug myself into a hole I’ve just begun to crawl out of. Nax coming here was an enormous help. Bennett falling in love with Christina Tuck, also helped in many ways because I’m helping her with a charity, and that sparked my interest in my own, again.

  Someone once said that helping others helps you, and I’d forgotten that until it punched me in the soul and got me out of a depression I thought I’d never escape.

  Having the three of us guys back together, and watching our sons become friends like we are, has been healing for all of us, though I hadn’t thought about it until now as I lie on a mat in forced silence, irritated by the ironic nature of this past hour.

  I wasn’t supposed to be here.

  Nax and Bennett went to Central Park today with their Tuck fiancés, and all three of our sons. Bennett’s dogs, too. I was meant to go, but at the last second changed my mind because I thought Tempest would be there.

  So I bought a yoga mat.

  Feeling pretty good.

  And came here.

  Ah, i
rony.

  “When you’re ready, gently roll onto your side and pause for a moment before laying your palm flat onto the ground and pushing yourselves up to sitting.”

  I do as I’m told, glancing around at a class crossing their legs, hands in prayer pose. I follow their lead, praying to get out of here.

  “As you go back into the world…” Tempest pauses as we lock eyes. In the same prayer pose, she closes hers, lips tight for a second before parting to gently say, “…take this peace you feel with you. Be centered in your decisions. Kind in your deeds. Patient in response. Just one person moving through the world, awake, can lift those sleeping around them. Thank you for letting me guide you to your center and to your truth. Peace be with you. Namaste.”

  The class repeats, “Namaste,” minus one voice.

  Mine.

  I gather my things and walk out without speaking to anyone or even looking at Tempest.

  Is she going to stop me?

  Try to talk?

  I wouldn’t advise it.

  Halfway down the block I look behind me, but she’s not there.

  Snatching a refilled Metro card from my pocket, I head for the subway, but think twice and decide to walk home instead, with Tempest Tuck the only thing on my mind.

  Chapter 3

  With the key I gave him Nax unlocks my front door, and lets the boys in first, Will and Joe running for Will’s bedroom to get back to their obsession — beating each other at video games.