Please do.
My finger trembled slightly as I hit the call button. He picked up before the first ring finished.
“Hey,” his voice was rough with exhaustion, but alert. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong,” I said automatically, then paused. “Actually, that's a lie. I'm spiraling.”
“Tell me about it.” I could hear rustling on his end, like he was sitting up in bed. “What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
Despite everything, I smiled. “Did you just call my head beautiful?”
“Would you prefer I call your ass beautiful? Because I can dothat too, but I figured at 2 AM we should stick to the wholesome compliments.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, unexpected and desperately needed. “You're ridiculous.”
“And you're avoiding. Come on, Thorn. Talk to me.”
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my free arm around them. Daisy's bed across the room was empty. She was still at Jeremy's. The room felt too big, too quiet.
“Do you think I'm a bad friend?” The question came out smaller than I intended.
Derek was quiet for a beat. “Where is this coming from?”
“Daisy. Nova. Ivy. Everyone, basically.” I rested my chin on my knee. “They all keep pointing out that I'm terrible at staying in touch, that I don't text first, that I seem uninterested. And they're right. I am terrible at all of that.”
“Rosie.”
“No, let me finish.” I took a shaky breath. “I've been thinking about it all night. When I was dancing, I had this built-in social structure, you know? We rehearsed together, performed together, and suffered through barre together. I didn't have to text people because I saw them every single day for hours. Friendships just... happened by proximity.”
“Okay,” Derek said softly, encouraging me to continue.
“But then I lost ballet. And suddenly I didn't have that structure anymore. I came to college and everyone's texting, making plans, sliding into DMs, and I just... I don't know how to do that. It feels forced. Like I'm performing friendship instead of just having it.” My voice cracked slightly. “And now I'm realizing that maybe I've been so caught up in my own shit...my injury, my identity crisis, trying to figure out who I am without dance...that I've been a terrible friend to everyone.”
“That's not true,” Derek said firmly.
“But it is. Nova said she felt like she was texting a guy who wasn't interested. Those were her exact words. And Daisy...God,Daisy basically told me I'm self-absorbed and that I only reach out when I need something.”
“Did she actually say that?”
I thought back to the café, to her frustrated expression. “Not exactly. But that's what she meant. She was right to call me out.”
Derek sighed. “Okay, can I say something without you getting defensive?”
“That's a great way to start a sentence,” I muttered, but there was no real anger to my words. “Go ahead.”
“You're being too hard on yourself. Yes, you're not a big texter. Yes, you're more introverted than the girls you're hanging out with. But that doesn't make you a bad friend, Rosalie. It makes you different. And different isn't wrong.”
“But...”
“I'm not done.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You showed up to my recovery every single week last semester. You baked for me, kept me company, and made me laugh when I wanted to give up. You asked about my day, my progress, and my feelings. You were present.”
“That's different,” I protested. “You were injured. You needed...”
“I needed a friend. And you were one. The best one I've ever had, actually.” His voice softened. “You think I don't notice how you add songs to our playlist exactly when I need to hear them? How can you tell when I'm having a bad day just by the way I walk? How you push me in Pilates but know exactly when to back off?”
My throat tightened. “That's just... I don't know. Paying attention?”
“Exactly. That's being a good friend, Rosie. You pay attention in ways that matter. So what if you're not constantly texting? So what if you prefer quality time over constant digital connection? That doesn't make you self-absorbed. It makes you intentional.”
