Read Online The Anomaly by J.A. Cooper - Free Book Online
Authors: J.A. Cooper
Tags: romance novels, series, new adult, Romance fiction, new adult romance, new adult fiction, romantic thriller, Short Novel, novella series, series fiction
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is her “baby” and she would most likely disagree with my viewpoint anyway. So I leave her standing in the front hallway, tongue-tied, when I turn to walk out. “It’s over. That’s all I can say.”
Todd calls me repeatedly during the night when he comes to the apartment and can’t get in.
“You’ve changed the lock? I can’t believe you did that, Leigh. I thought I was at the wrong front door,” Todd says sarcastically in one of his messages. I hear the anger in his voice. He rambles on then abruptly hangs up midsentence. I mull over calling him back after listening, but instead, I refuse his calls and delete him from my Facebook and Twitter accounts. It’s time to move on and I’m ready for a clean slate.
Chapter 3
E motions are funny things. As much I don’t want to be with Todd, I miss having someone around when I get home. My apartment’s so noiseless that I’m sure I could hear a pin if it dropped on my bathroom tile. I walk around the rooms and realize how quiet it is without Todd, who always had the TV or radio on.
“Don’t waste time on that bum,” Amanda tells me over the phone. “You should sign up for a class or something...anything to get you out of the house and take your mind off this guy. I mean...it is summer, and all you have going on is your part-time gig.”
Amanda’s right. I need something else to do. I’m almost positive I don’t want to get back with Todd, but still―I need something to take my mind off the whole unpleasant ordeal.
The sign reads Yoga for Beginners .
It’s taped to the window of the small café in the building where I work. I’m an assistant to the administrative coordinator at a small printing company. I started as a part-time receptionist the summer before college, and even though my duties and responsibilities have increased lately, I’m not sure if I’m interested enough to continue working here after graduation.
I sign up for yoga.
The class takes place in the studio of a private gym. The gym’s owner greets me at the main entrance. I know he’s the owner because he’s telling another man that it’s taken him three years to get the place up and running. I hear him say that he wasn’t willing to “franchise his dreams,” and the other man nods his head eagerly.
The number of mirrors hanging on the walls makes the room sparkle. I tell the girl behind the desk my name, having paid the fee earlier during one of my lunch breaks. It’s kind of pricey—$150 for a three-week class held three times a week—but it’ll be worth it if my stress level’s down at the end of the session.
This should be interesting . I’ve never tried yoga before. Amanda once described it as “the good feeling you get after drinking really strong peppermint tea, versus the lethargic feeling you sometimes get after a cup of coffee,” and I’m excited to see if she’s right.
I’ve pulled my hair up, off my face, in a loose bun. I’m holding my pink yoga mat tucked under my left arm, and my car keys and a bottle of water in my right hand.
Soft, instrumental mood music plays in the studio, and I automatically feel relaxed. My shoulders even feel a little less tense.
I set up my space in the middle of the studio by rolling the yoga mat out on the floor. Being a beginner, I don’t want to be up front, or lost in the back. Nervousness takes over because I hope the class isn’t a mistake. I can feel the tension snaking up through my neck, so I bend my head to rub the achiest spot.
“Hello, everyone, I’m Carter, the instructor.”
I look up and I’m in awe. My eyes open widely as I try to take in every bit of the man. I sigh from a burst of desire before involuntarily shaking my head. Put yourself in check, Leigh, I tell myself. I look down, and my eyelids droop downward until my eyes are closed―again an involuntarily thing. But I’ve never seen a guy who has struck me so intensely nor immediately, like a thunderbolt. I want to capture the image of
Todd calls me repeatedly during the night when he comes to the apartment and can’t get in.
“You’ve changed the lock? I can’t believe you did that, Leigh. I thought I was at the wrong front door,” Todd says sarcastically in one of his messages. I hear the anger in his voice. He rambles on then abruptly hangs up midsentence. I mull over calling him back after listening, but instead, I refuse his calls and delete him from my Facebook and Twitter accounts. It’s time to move on and I’m ready for a clean slate.
Chapter 3
E motions are funny things. As much I don’t want to be with Todd, I miss having someone around when I get home. My apartment’s so noiseless that I’m sure I could hear a pin if it dropped on my bathroom tile. I walk around the rooms and realize how quiet it is without Todd, who always had the TV or radio on.
“Don’t waste time on that bum,” Amanda tells me over the phone. “You should sign up for a class or something...anything to get you out of the house and take your mind off this guy. I mean...it is summer, and all you have going on is your part-time gig.”
Amanda’s right. I need something else to do. I’m almost positive I don’t want to get back with Todd, but still―I need something to take my mind off the whole unpleasant ordeal.
The sign reads Yoga for Beginners .
It’s taped to the window of the small café in the building where I work. I’m an assistant to the administrative coordinator at a small printing company. I started as a part-time receptionist the summer before college, and even though my duties and responsibilities have increased lately, I’m not sure if I’m interested enough to continue working here after graduation.
I sign up for yoga.
The class takes place in the studio of a private gym. The gym’s owner greets me at the main entrance. I know he’s the owner because he’s telling another man that it’s taken him three years to get the place up and running. I hear him say that he wasn’t willing to “franchise his dreams,” and the other man nods his head eagerly.
The number of mirrors hanging on the walls makes the room sparkle. I tell the girl behind the desk my name, having paid the fee earlier during one of my lunch breaks. It’s kind of pricey—$150 for a three-week class held three times a week—but it’ll be worth it if my stress level’s down at the end of the session.
This should be interesting . I’ve never tried yoga before. Amanda once described it as “the good feeling you get after drinking really strong peppermint tea, versus the lethargic feeling you sometimes get after a cup of coffee,” and I’m excited to see if she’s right.
I’ve pulled my hair up, off my face, in a loose bun. I’m holding my pink yoga mat tucked under my left arm, and my car keys and a bottle of water in my right hand.
Soft, instrumental mood music plays in the studio, and I automatically feel relaxed. My shoulders even feel a little less tense.
I set up my space in the middle of the studio by rolling the yoga mat out on the floor. Being a beginner, I don’t want to be up front, or lost in the back. Nervousness takes over because I hope the class isn’t a mistake. I can feel the tension snaking up through my neck, so I bend my head to rub the achiest spot.
“Hello, everyone, I’m Carter, the instructor.”
I look up and I’m in awe. My eyes open widely as I try to take in every bit of the man. I sigh from a burst of desire before involuntarily shaking my head. Put yourself in check, Leigh, I tell myself. I look down, and my eyelids droop downward until my eyes are closed―again an involuntarily thing. But I’ve never seen a guy who has struck me so intensely nor immediately, like a thunderbolt. I want to capture the image of
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