But when I slowed the car in front of the white Victorian building being shaken by the bass, I saw her standing on the sidewalk.
Her light brown hair was fixed into messy curls that usually fell in a controlled way from the crazy amount of hairspray she used, but they were half straight. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, like there had been tears falling before, and she hugged her long arms around her slender body.
She had one of the finest bone structures I've ever seen. Paired with her height, she could have easily been a supermodel. Instead, she gave her heart to ballet.
Looking at her now, something was different. The easy smile she used to give me felt forced. The comfortable silence we'd shared had turned awkward.
Whatever we'd built during my recovery felt fragile, like I was meeting a stranger who wore Rosalie's face.
“Your Uber has arrived,” I announced as I rolled the window down andflashed her a calming smile.
“Thank God,” she sighed, dropping her arms, exposing her midriff that wasn't covered by her crop top and low-rise skinny jeans that hugged every inch of her long, toned legs. While she was dressed appropriately, nothing was hidden.
“Not God, just me,” I said, flashing her my cocky smile, expecting an eyeroll or a punch on the arm, like when we usually bickered. But my joke was met with empty blue eyes.
“Can we please just go?”
The fact that both Brines siblings used the word 'please' made me concerned.
“Your wish is my command,” I went on, determined to force a smile from her, but Rosie just sighed and slid deeper into the seat.
Her eyes scanned the quiet road as we passed, and sadness washed over me as I watched her.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I offered, unsure how to proceed. Rosie and I had an easy-going friendship last semester, but we drifted apart during the summer.
Plus, I wasn’t used to people being emotional around me. Everyone was usually cheerful when I was there, and my funny comments helped lighten the mood. This was a first, and I was way out of my depth.
For one, I never dealt with emotional girls, as I never in my life had a girlfriend. Hookups, yes, plenty. Girlfriends, never.
Secondly, I never had a younger sibling who needed to be cared for or who expressed any emotion I needed to learn to manage. When one of the guys was sad, we usually just got hammered. No big deal.
And thirdly, Rosalie didn’t fall into any of these categories. She was my friend and a great support system over the last semester when I was dealing with my ACL surgery. I cared about her, and I liked to think we were close. I knew she was dealing with her fair share of shitas well.
But then her body language shifted as she crossed her arms again and closed off.
“No thanks,” she shook her head, still not meeting my eyes.
A low sigh escaped me, and I was about to start begging or probing or coming up with any strategy to get her to tell me what the hell happened, when she turned to look at me.
Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Just… distract me, please,” she said, using that damned ‘please’ again. “Talk about something… anything.”
“I just talked to my doctor,” I told her the first thing that came to my mind without thinking too hard. “They told me I need to do some Pilates exercises to help with mobility and strengthening. So, I’m going to check out this studio in town and see if I can do 1-on-1 or something similar. I don't really want to do big group classes or anything like that. I have soccer practice, and I want to make sure I can do it on my own time. Plus, I’m sure it will be full of girls. Which is cool with me, but at the same time, I need to focus on getting better instead of flirting, so the safest option is a 1-on-1 class. I’m going to go there tomorrow and check it out. Want to come? You can be my emotional support.”
Rosalie let out the quietest chuckle. “Are you talking about Flex and Flow?”
“Is that what that place is called?” I gaped at her. “What a horrible name.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I go there, it’s amazing. I did my certification over the summer, and I’m going to start teaching there as well.”
“Nice,” I whistled. “Want to give me a 1-on-1 lesson? Also, didn’t you want to do that barre thing? The ballet workout…” I forced my brain to think about what she told me, but I came up short.
“Barre, yes,” she nodded. “I can’t believe you remember. I love barre. It’s a ballet-inspired workout, but Pilates is fun too.I’ve been doing it since I was doing ballet; it's great for cross-training, and most of the routines I make are half-ballet-inspired. I think they are going to call my class ‘Ballet Pilates’.”
“That’s exciting, Rosie.”
She offered me a sweet smile. I liked to see her face, and my racing heartbeat settled a bit. Things were returning to normal.
