“Glad you like my eyes,” Dex grinned, making me bury my nose in my drink and taking another bigger sip. “Mine is actually red.”
I almost snorted. He didn't seem like the guy who would say that, but I was glad he moved on from teasing me.
“Interesting,” I muttered while looking around. “So, I got mydrink that doesn't make me want to hurl up everything I ate. Thank you”
A proud smile stretched on Dex's lip, and his eyes seemed to turn a shade lighter. “I'm glad.”
I watched his face, mesmerized, trying to read his expression. We used to be close last semester. I used to talk to him all the time about everything, bake for him, and make him laugh. How the tables have turned now that I am not my cheerful, bubbly self. It seemed like, while last semester he was moody and brooding over his injury, now he was finding his way back to himself. While I was losing myself even more.
“Funny,” Dex snorted, and I snapped out of staring at his face.
“What's funny?” I asked, opting for a sip to occupy my roaming gaze.
“Forgot how good it feels when people don’t look at me like they pity me or if I’m broken,” he sighed as his fingers drummed on the can. “You always looked at me differently.”
I winced at his words as my throat closed. Various emotions flooded my body, and I slowly shook my head. “You're not broken, Dex. You had an injury, and you're back in the game. There's nothing wrong with injuries; all athletes have them. It's what you do after them that defines you. I already told you this.”
He remained silent for a long moment, and we both resumed sipping our respective drinks, as the silence hung between us like a heavy blanket. Yet I didn't find it suffocating. I didn't have the need to fill. I simply enjoyed it.
“Guess, the vote is still out then... what will I do after it?”
I let out a low chuckle and bumped my shoulder against his, the tiny contact sending goosebumps down my arm. “There's nothing to vote on. You're doing everything in your power to get back on that field as a starter and be the star player everyone knows. Everything else you feel or think... It's just in your head. And you need to silence those voices, otherwise...”
Dex arched a brow and silently prompted me to continue, but instead I shook my head and downed my drink. A wave of hotness rushed over me, and I felt my cheeks burn from the amount of alcohol I just swallowed.
“What did little Derek want to be when he grew up?” I asked to change the topic to something lighter.
Derek laughed, a real one that crinkled his eyes, probably from the surprise of the steep topic change. “Honestly? A firefighter.”
“No way!”
“Yes way. I was obsessed. Had the full costume, the plastic axe, everything. I'd make my nanny time me running around the house, 'saving' my stuffed animals from imaginary fires.”
The image of tiny Derek in a firefighter costume made me grin. “What happened?”
“My dad.” His smile faded slightly. “He saw me playing one day and said, 'Firefighters don't make money, son. You're going to be a doctor or a lawyer. Maybe business if you're not smart enough for medical school.’” He shrugged. “I was seven.”
“That's horrible.”
“It is what it is.” He took a sip of his drink. “Soccer was the compromise. I liked it, I was good at it, and athletic scholarships could lead to good schools. My dad approved because it looked good on college applications. Win-win.”
“Except you never got to be a firefighter.”
“Except I never got to be a firefighter,” he agreed. “What about you? Before ballet took over your entire life, what did baby Rosie dream about?”
I thought back to being four, five, or six years old. “I wanted to be a veterinarian. I was obsessed with animals. I begged my parents for a dog for years.”
“Let me guess, your parents said you were too busy with ballet?”
“Worse. My ballet teacher said having a dog would interferewith my training. That I couldn't risk being scratched or bitten or developing allergies that might affect my breathing.” I stared into my drink. “So, I never got one. I convinced myself I didn't want one anymore. That ballet was enough.”
“Was it? Enough?”
“I thought it was. I told myself that giving up everything else was worth it because I was going to be a professional ballerina. I was going to dance with companies around the world. All the sacrifices would make sense eventually.” I swallowed hard. “But then my hip gave out, and suddenly all those sacrifices were just... losses. Things I'd given up for nothing.”
Derek's hand found mine. “Not for nothing. You became an incredible dancer. You developed discipline and artistry and…
“And now I teach Pilates in a tiny studio and live in a dorm with my roommate, and I never had a boyfriend.” I laughed bitterly. “Living the dream.”
