“So, about that private lesson?” I wiggled my brows suggestively, and it did the trick because she let out a low chuckle.
“I can think about it, I’m not that experienced, so I’m worried about destroying you.”
“Don’t you worry, babe, I’m indestructible.”
She actually laughed this time, but there was no humor laced in her tone.
“Sure… that’s exactly how your injury looked.”
I grimaced, but I couldn’t even get upset with her. She was right and at least bringing me down helped her forget about her problems for a while.
“Ouch,” I rubbed my hand over my aching heart. “That hurt, Rosebud.”
“Sorry,” she shook her head and leaned her head onto the headrest. “I’m just not in the mood for jokes. Had enough of those for one night.”
Reaching out, I touched her arm gently, worried she might pull away, but instead she offered a faint smile.
“Will you tell me what’s happened?” I asked, lowering my voice.
“No,” she shook her head, her curls covering half of her expression. “You’ll laugh.”
“I would never do that, and you know it.”
“You make fun of everyone all the time,” she pointed out my biggest personality trait and fault.
I shrugged. “Everyone, except you.”
There it was: the famous eyeroll I had grown so accustomed to last year whenever I remotely tried flirting with her. The sideof my lip tipped up in satisfaction at watching her slowly become herself again.
“I'm serious, Thorn. I would never make fun of you.”
Rosie met my eyes, and I saw the heavy sadness within them. Her lip trembled as she forced herself to swallow hard and shook her head.
“I thought I could do this whole college thing, but I can't,” she muttered.
“You're doing great,” I encouraged her lightly. “I know you are. You party, you have friends.”
Rosalie scoffed. “The only 'friends' I have are the ones I met because of Aaron. I hate all the parties I go to, but I still go because that's what college is about. And the guys all suck here. All they want to do is hook up. Why can't I find a good guy like Liam?”
The mention of my teammate, who was still with his high school sweetheart, really hit me. We all wanted what he had: someone who was in his corner all the time.
“Like, I don't even drink,” Rosie went on.
“You're not 21,” I injected, and she rolled her eyes again. Two in a row, I must be doing something right.
“It has nothing to do with that. I hate the taste of beer; I feel like vomiting from the smell alone. Wine tastes like juice that went bad, and every hard liquor tastes like cleaning products.”
I let out a chuckle. “You must be well-versed in trying several household products or expired juices to make this assessment.” She gave me a long, murderous look. “But then again, you think regular Coke tastes like… what was that you said?”
Rosalie sighed. “Like dishwashing soap.”
“My point exactly.”
“I'm just picky... and have a sensitive taste and smell,” she quickly added, but I saw a small smile form on her lips.
“I can tell,” I grinned at her as I turned onto our street. “That's why when I went to get stuff for our not-party we are currently having, I made sure we had Diet Coke.”
Rosie let out a small moan. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
