“Yeah, it's a big pressure being responsible for someone in that way, Aaron. I can re-injure him.”
“You do it for yourself,” he argued, and he wasn't wrong there. “And you guys bonded last semester. I don’t get what happened.”
“Nothing. I know my own body; I don't know his. Bonding and hanging out is different than guiding him through this.”
“I mean, if it's my body you want to know, all you have to do is ask, babe.” Dex's deep, seductive voice sounded from behind me, and I had to school my features to not react. He probably knew I had a massive crush on him; every soccer girlfriend teased me about it last year. But I thought I was over it. Clearly, not.
I felt heat stain my cheeks as I turned to stare at him. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the blue of his Titans T-shirt making the blue of his eyes pop. I loved how his shirt molded onto his muscular arms and defined torso. He wasn't bulky, but he was strong.
“You're early,” Aaron scolded him. “I told you to come later.”
Oh, so they planned this.
I crossed my arms. “The answer is no. Sorry, but I'm not going to be responsible for his re-injury. You're better off with a qualified person.”
The truth was, I'd been avoiding everyone since July. Especially Derek.
After the re-injury, after realizing my body couldn't handle even gentle dancing without breaking down, I shut everyone out. Every text from Derek felt like a reminder of what I'd lost, again. He was recovering, getting stronger, preparing to return to soccer.
And I was breaking down in my childhood bedroom, icing a hip that would never be the same, crying into my pillow at 3 AM.
I couldn't face him. Couldn't face his pity. Couldn't face admitting that while he was healing, I was falling apart.
So, I stopped replying until the texts stopped coming.
It was easier than explaining. Easier than being vulnerable.
But now, looking at him, I realized what that distance had cost me. I'd lost my closest friend right when I needed him most.
“Rosie, you know what he's going through,” my brother said, his voice almost a whisper. A shiver worked its way up my spine, the reminder of my life taking a reroute I never planned on.
“It's different,” I muttered, slamming my coffee on the table with a shaking hand, before I glanced at Derek. “Sorry, but I can't help you. Please don't ask again.”
He stared at me, confusion clear on his beautiful face, and his blue eyes widened as he searched my face for any sign of why and what set me off the way it did. He deserved an explanation for my ghosting him, but I couldn’t give it to him.
I was miles from the Rosie he hung out with last year. But the longer I tried pretending I was just like everyone else, the harder it became. No one really understood the pain of giving up your dreams. No one.
Dex had his whole season in front of him. He didn't have to give up shit.
Standing, I grabbed my yoga mat and, without saying another word to either of them, walked away.
“I'm sorry,” I muttered to myself, because I would have loved spending time with Dex. I would have loved to help him get to know my new passion and teach him Pilates. But I couldn't be the one to bear full responsibility if anything happened to him and he truly lost everything he’d worked for over the past months.
CHAPTER THREE
DEREK
I dropped down onto the armchair Rosie vacated and glanced at Aaron. “That went well.”
Her brother scratched his chin and frowned. “I didn't think she would react the way she did. You guys were friends last semester…”
From where I was standing, it seemed like he hit her most painful nail right on the head. Not that I knew exactly what happened to Rosie over the summer. But whatever it was had triggered fight-or-flight, and she flew out faster than anyone anticipated.
“Is this about why she stopped dancing?” I asked carefully, not wanting to pry, but hating the thought of having to do anything with the pain I saw burn in her blue eyes.
Aaron sighed. “Yeah, I mean... I thought she was okay. It's been two years; she is fully into her Pilates and Barre era with her pink yoga mat and teacher training. I didn't think she still...”
“Grievedher old life?” I asked, my voice more accusatory than I planned. But fuck, he was her brother. He should have known better. I knew she was still grieving; that’s what brought us together. Maybe some old wounds got ripped open during the months apart.
