So yeah, I guess I'm as big of a chicken shit as he is.

I drive to the plaza and park in the lot, then pull the drapes across the bus windows to change into my yoga clothes.

Rooftop yoga is the highlight of my week. Especially now that it's summer and we don't need the heaters anymore. I grab mats and start walking to the plaza, waving to my friends and students also converging.

Taos is a great community-a blend of three diverse cultures: descendants of the original Spanish settlers who still speak Spanish and hold all the government positions, the Native Americans, who own most of the land in the area, and the hippies who arrived in the sixties and opened the bohemian shops.

I love it, but I don't feel like I'll settle here forever. I'm holding my breath for grandchildren. If Foxfire gets pregnant, I'll move back to Arizona in a heartbeat.

I walk up the stairs to the rooftop where Tara, the cantina owner, is testing the sound equipment.

"Hi, girl, how's it going?" She holds out her hand for my phone, which she connects to the PA. She thought I was crazy when I pitched my idea for sunset yoga up on her rooftop patio last year, but now that she's seen it bring in a large crowd who stay for food and drink specials after, she bends over backwards to accommodate me.

"It's good, totally good."

She squints at me. "Yeah? You don't seem like your usual floaty self."

I force a laugh and rub my lips together. "There's a guy coming tonight."

"Ooh." She waggles her brows. "Which one?"

Yeah, Taos is that small. The joke is that once you've dated every guy on the list of eligible bachelors, you have no choice but to reboot and start again from the top.

I shake my head. "A guy from Arizona. We hooked up once, but… he doesn't like women much."

She purses her lips. "Sounds like a loser to me. Maybe skip this one."

Something tightens in my middle. Almost like I'm offended on his behalf. Titus is not a loser. He's a beautiful and flawed human being, like all of us. I have total acceptance of who he is. I just have to listen to my intuition to decide if it's in my best interest to get involved with him.

Tara cocks her head. "Aw, you do really like him, don't you? Well, is he around? I want to meet him."

"He is supposedly coming to yoga, although I can't imagine how he'll manage. He's built like a semi-truck and is about as flexible."

She lets out a laugh. "So that's how you like them. I wouldn't have guessed that. Would've pegged you for more of the scrawny yoga types. But then, we go for opposites, don't we?"

I shake my head. "I'm not going for this one," I say, like I've already made up my mind.

Some sliver of hope in the center of my chest withers when the words leave my mouth, though.

"Uh huh." She hands me my phone, which is now amplified to play my world beat playlist. I take the headset from her and put it on, testing the mic.

The community is filing in. Chas arrives and sets up his mat right in front. After that stupid display at the gorge, I can't even look at him.

The patio fills with at least twenty-five people. I get the full range of ages and abilities. I'm not egotistical enough to believe they come for me or my teaching-they love the atmosphere. The rooftop. The sunset. The music and the laidback but still genuine class format. There are young and old, mother-teen combos, super buff river raft guides, other yogis, and the conglomerate of friendly faces.

I wave to my friends, Adele, the chocolatier; Charlie, our postmistress; and Sadie, a kindergarten teacher as they roll their mats out in their habitual places.

I place my hands in front of my heart and bow. "Welcome, everyone. Namaste. Please sit in half lotus on your mat, if that's comfortable." I draw in a breath to give them my short suggestion for meditation tonight. I had a plan to talk about being in allowance of others, but it no longer feels relevant.

"Yoga is a practice with rhythm. There's a timing with breath and movement. You know when to move, when to hold, when to release, when to recover. So is life. Paying attention to timing makes all the difference. Don't push when something's not ready. Don't hesitate when something's ripe. This week, as you move through life, ask the question-is the timing right for this? Should I bide my time or should I pounce? When is time to release the old? When is time to bring in the new?"

I go quiet, allowing them a moment of silence to reflect on that.

"Close your eyes." I wait for them to comply. "We'll begin with three oms. Please release your breath. And after the inhale, we begin." I make the tone as Titus' huge form appears at the top of the stairs.

He's wearing a navy blue t-shirt that molds to his ripped muscles and a pair of sweat-shorts. He looks about as out of place and uncomfortable as a nun in a strip club, so I nod through my om and point to the mat I rolled out for him on the end of the front row.

His brows lower, but he lumbers to the spot and-hilarious-attempts to sit cross-legged. The poor man's lower back and hips are way too tight to allow his knees to open or his spine to straighten. I'd have a little more sympathy if he wasn't looking at me like I'm bat-shit crazy.

I know that look. I've been getting it my whole life.

And Taos-particularly this class-is a place I can be myself. So fuck him.

We finish the three oms.

"And now come to stand at the front of your mat in Tadasana, or mountain pose."

Titus' forehead furrows as he struggles to stand up. I avert my gaze for fear of wounding his pride too much.