“It’s cute,” she whispers, a yawn nearly interrupting her words. “Girls would go crazy over your ass in a pair of worn Wranglers.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep, baby. Try not to worry about all this. We’ll find a way to make it work, just like we always do. I think we’re both just exhausted. Call me tomorrow when you’re done with practice? Tell me more about where you want to apply.”
“Always,” she sings. “Goodnight, baby. Love you, miss you.”
“Love you, miss you, Mags. Always.”
CHAPTER 11
Magnolia
Ishake another bag of ice into the tub, hissing between my teeth as the cold snap nearly burns my feet. “Buck up, Banks,” I whisper under my breath, wincing as I adjust my feet so they are fully immersed in the ice water.
My head falls back, face tilted toward the bathroom ceiling as I puff out my cheeks.Fifteen minutes,I tell myself. Just fifteen minutes to calm the swelling, and then I can switch to warm socks and my heating pad.
As the seconds tick by, the sting of the ice starts to fade. I’d like to say that I'm used to it after all these years of ballet, but I’m not, my feet have just finally gone numb. There’s a pink tinge starting to mix with the water, the open sores on my heels making themselves known.
I remind myself this is all part of the gig. The effects of six hour practices during the day followed by back-to-back shows night after night.
Reaching for my phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen, hoping there’s a message from Lukas. Something, anything. I miss him so much my stomach hurts, and knowing that he’s packing up, ready to leave for boot camp any day has the sting moving from my feet to behind my eyes.
I’ve tried to keep the fears at bay. I don’t personally know anyone who is in the military. My grandpa had been, prior to my dad being born, but the teenager in me didn’t think to ask him what he went through. He’d offer a random story here or there, but what I wouldn’t give to be able to sit down with him as an adult and ask more.
A solitary tear glides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I pull up my photo album on my phone, swiping through picture after picture of Lukas and me.
My eyes blur as I look, going all the way back to high school. To junior prom where we somehow look like babies even though it was a little over five years ago.
What will the next five years look like for us?
Will we be together in five years?
I shake my head, needing to brush away those kinds of thoughts before they even take hold. I tell myself that it’s the fatigue, that I just need to lie in bed, curl up under the blankets, and sleep for the next ten hours, pretending that the uncertainty of mine and Lukas’s future isn’t lurking around the corner.
A knock on the bathroom door interrupts my thoughts. “Yeah?”
“Are you almost done?” my roommate, Stacy, asks. “I need to pee.”
I swirl my feet through the icy water, noting it’s starting to melt from the warmth of my body. “Yeah,” I call out, lifting my feet and resting them on the towel I had ready next to the tub.
My poor toes are red and torn apart. The callouses and bunions on the sides of my feet are beaten and raw from wearing old shoes. My feet are so numb I can’t tell when they are flat on the floor. I stretch my toes against the towel, wiggling them a few times, trying to get some of the blood to work its way back through.
I pop the drain on the tub, letting the ice water clear out. Taking a quick glance in the bathroom mirror at my tear-streaked face, I splash some cold water against my cheeks, trying not to look as pathetic as I feel.
Opening the door, I hobble through the cramped apartment I share with my roommate, Stacy, and she side-eyes me, giggling as I limp toward my bedroom. She holds up her wine glass. “You choose ice, I choose fruit juice.”
I manage a small laugh. “Fruit juice—is that what the kids call it these days?”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to have a glass? Maybe it’d make everything a little better…” she trails off, tilting her head to the side with a sad smile.
“No, thanks. I think I just need to go to bed.”
“Magnolia! It’s Saturday night! Some of the girls are coming over to celebrate. We don’t have to be at practice for, like…” She does the math in her head, flipping the fingers up on her opposite hand. “Like thirteen hours!”
I press my fingertips to my lips, blowing her a kiss. “That means thirteen hours to lie in bed and cry myself to sleep.”
She juts out her bottom lip in a pout. “Boo, you whore.” Then heaves her shoulders in a sigh. “Have you talked to him?” she asks softly, and I shake my head no.
“Left a message, waiting for a call back.”
