Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ROSALIE
I was in my element, explaining to Derek what he needed to do as I forced him to stand on the Reformer with one leg on the carriage.
I wanted to work on his balance by strengthening his knee, having him push the carriage out with one leg into a lunge.
He looked uncomfortable dressed in his Titan's blue shorts and matching T-shirt, his frown deepening.
I stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. His blue eyes glimmered under the LED lights surrounding the studio, and his confused expression made me turn towards him. “What? I can see the faces you're making in the mirror.”
He glanced over his shoulder, like a child being caught doing something wrong, before his eyes landed on me. “I'm just wondering if you're serious right now.”
“Yes?” I huffed out a frustrated breath and jumping on the reformer next to him I assumed the same position as I was telling him to do.
My hip screamed from protest, but I ignored it, just like I did this whole morning.
Some days, it just acted worse than others.
“You lunge and push the carriage out with your back leg, do fifteen and then pulse it.
You're on a red spring which is heavier, so you'll have stability. The lighter the spring the harder to balance.”
He watched me, and I could feel his gaze light fire on my skin.
I wasn't sure what compelled me to wear booty shorts and a sports bra only, but I regretted not having my sweater over me. Maybe I was bold as we kept texting the past couple of days and everything felt like it was before. We talked about the playlist I named ‘Songs You’ll Pretend Not to Like’, I offered to bake him again and we were suddenly friends again.
Minus the weird feeling in my stomach every time he looked at me.
Guess, I still wasn't fully over my crush on him.
“Ready?” I asked him as I carefully got off my reformer and stood next to him. “Don't forget to breathe.”
“Yes, I know,” Dex nodded, his messy hair flopping over his eyes. “Out when I push out, in when I come in. Got it.”
I rewarded him with a wide smile and turned up the music.
I let him count for himself as I observed his form and stared at his injured knee, watching the slight tremble as he used it as a supporting leg first. I lingered close by in case he lost his balance to catch him, but he was holding himself well.
“Try and track your knee over your toes,” I corrected him, and gently reached to touch the inside of his knee and guide it in the right path.
His eyes burned my hand as he stared at my fingers brushing against the faint scar on his knee.
I could tell he hated it, but it was very thin and faint from the summer spent under the sun, but I could still make it out. “Very good.”
He let out a louder breath, but didn't stop his movement, instead moved on to pulses, before changing legs. I remained next to him observing the way he bent his back leg and the way his calf flexed from pushing the carriage out.
“Good, you're going deep enough,” I praised him with a small smile, before my hand moved to his back with a gentle touch. “Just straighten up a bit more, don't allow yourself to collapse forward.”
Working with Derek was rewarding as he always applied corrections. I was just constantly panicking, making sure I was giving him the right workout and spring tension for his recovery. But the blind trust he placed in me was intoxicating.
“Are you sure this isn't some elaborate plot made up by Aaron to torture me?” Dex asked as he drank his water.
I let out a low laugh. “If it were, I'd make you do headstands by now.”
He made a face, and I playfully swatted his way. “What's next?”
“I want to try something,” I beamed at him, and his eyes widened in fear. “Nothing too crazy. Sit next to your headrest facing the mirror. Pull up your left leg and hug it to yourself, while straightening your right in front of you.”
He winced as he did it. “Can you make it straighter?” He did as request and I helped put the loop around his ex-injured leg’s ankle, before changing the spring to the lightest.
“What do I do now?” he looked at me, panic clear in his eyes. He was very uncomfortable.
“Just move your leg to the side.”
“No,” he said, reaching to remove the loop.
“Dex...”
“No,” he cut me off. “I don't want to do that.”
“You're on the lightest spring, but if you want, we can do without a loop, just move your leg to the side. Lock your knee.”
That seemed to calm him, I watched his shoulders slightly slump as I moved the loop off, and I saw his muscles tense before he moved his leg to the side and back.
The tremble and shake in his muscles were immediate because we were so focused on getting him strong that we never worked on lateral moves. But his comfort with the exercise was key. It was more of a mental challenge for him rather than a physical one.
“Very good,” I praised him as he turned around to work on his non-injured foot and reached for it. “No loop. We work both sides the same.”
He made a face, and I ruffled his hair in return, offering a calming smile. “You're doing well.”
“Thanks.”
I let him work in silence, letting the acoustic covers fill the studio, before I allowed him to work on his usual stretches and wiped down the equipment.
“I love this one,” Dex muttered as he carefully folded himself into a figure four stretch.
I beamed. “Right, it's so good! I found it yesterday when I was improving. It's called Bloom by The Paper Kites. Never heard of them, but I just loved it.”
“I haven't noticed you adding it to the playlist,” he muttered, his brows drawn together.
“Oh, I didn't add it to ours... It's on mine.” I felt my cheeks heat as Dex glanced at me in the mirror.
“No more gatekeeping, Thorn,” he muttered with a small grin. “If you find a cool acoustic cover you need to add it to our list, like I did it with the Ed Sheeran cover for Kiss Me.”
“That was an amazing find,” I squealed excitedly. “I did an amazing improv to it, thank you.”
“You're welcome,” he held my gaze with his soft smile, and I felt thousands of butterflies flap in my stomach.
The truth was, when I noticed he had added the song "Kiss Me," hope started to bloom in me that maybe he had noticed my crush, maybe he was reciprocating it. But then I remembered he was teaching me how to flirt so I could score other guys.
Plus, I was his teammate's little sister. There was no way he would betray his team even more than he already believes he did.
“I could use a Chai Latte and pain au chocolat,” Dex muttered, dragging me out of my thoughts as he laid on his mat stretching out his tight hamstrings.
I tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear and chuckled. He looked like he was struggling, especially the way he twisted his head to look at me. “I can't take you seriously when you're like that...”
Derek faked a gasp as he switched legs. “Yeah, well, my teacher stopped giving me instructions, so I needed to come up with things on my own.”
Placing my hands on my aching hips, I stared down at him with narrowed eyes. “You complained last time that you didn't hear the song from my instructions.”
“That was last time,” he smirked, and I rolled my eyes before bursting into a laugh. “There you go, I knew you had some sense of humor under all that ballerina seriousness.”
I almost winced at his words, at the reminder of what I should have been instead of where I currently was, but I knew he was just teasing.
Guilt swam around in his blue eyes as soon as the words left him and Him opened his mouth to apologize, but I cut him off.
“You know, you complain more than my 10-year-old students,” I muttered with a smirk. “So, you owe me a Chai and a Pain au chocolat.”
Relief had his shoulders sagging, and a cocky smirk pulled on his lips. “Deal.”
Why did that one word make my heart clench?
Instead, I turned away and focused on packing up the studio and closing up behind us. Sam wasn’t due to come back for a while and I was responsible.
“You're limping,” Derek said as he helped me put everything away.
“No, I'm not.” I kept my voice light, even though my hip was screaming.
“Rosie.” He stopped rolling up his mat and straightened. “I've watched you walk for months. You're limping.”
“It's just tight. I'll ice it when I get back to the dorm.”
“How long have you been dancing today?”
I avoided his burning gaze. “I don't know. A couple of hours?”
“Rosalie.” His voice was gentle but firm. “How long?”
“Six hours,” I admitted quietly. “Maybe seven. I lost track.”
“Jesus Christ.” He walked over to me, his hands settling on my shoulders. “Why?”
Because I needed to feel like myself. Because dance was the only time my brain shut up. Because if I stopped moving, I'd have to sit with the reality that I'd never be good enough for the dream I'd lost.
But I couldn't say any of that. It sounded pathetic even in my own head.
“Rosie, talk to me.”
“I hate my body,” I blurted out. The words hung in the air between us, raw and ugly.
“I hate that it betrayed me. I hate that I did everything right.
..every physical therapy session, every exercise, every modification.
..and it still wasn't enough. I hate that I look in the mirror and see a dancer's body, but I can't be a dancer anymore.”
Derek's hands moved from my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to look at him.
“I spend hours dancing because when I'm moving, I forget,” I continued, my voice breaking.
“I forget that my hip is artificial. I forget that my turnout is gone.
I forget that I'll never be Odette or Giselle or any of the roles I dreamed about since I was four years old.
When I'm dancing, I'm just... me. The me I was supposed to be.”