Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ROSALIE
I was panicking, preparing everything for Dex to meet me in the studio. I turned on the corner LED lights, laid out some blankets, and even ordered burgers, assuming he was starving.
My nerves were unusually jumpy, but I looked forward to some real one-on-one time with him that didn't involve a screen or us faking we weren't a couple. In the darkness of the night, we could always be together. But sometimes I wished it were easier.
I typed out one last message to my brother, who was annoyingly checking in to make sure I was fine and to find out why I didn't want to party. I went as far as snapping a pic of him sitting in my split, which pissed him off when he realized I was in the studio.
Just doing some stretching after the long car ride, not doing anything crazy. Chill. Gonna watch a movie after and cuddle with Yudi.
Yudi was my toy reindeer, and I never went anywhere without him. He came with me to every competition, every intensive, and summer camp.
Aaron
Please take it easy!
I rolled my eyes and swiped to check my message thread with Daisy, checking her new message. Things were still rocky, but we were sailing past it, and the fact that things with Jer went well helped.
Daisy
We need our Sunday roomie date back because I miss you! Thanks for giving me the room.
I liked her message, but didn't want to bother her with a reply. I told her I would come to the studio and maybe swing by the party, so there was no need for her to worry about me. I didn't feel comfortable telling her everything about my relationship with Dex. I loved keeping it all to myself.
“Hey, pretty girl,” someone hugged me from behind, and I was pulled against a hard chest and wrapped in a spicy leather scent.
“You're here!” I turned in his arms and laced my fingers behind his neck. “I'm so proud of you!”
Derek grinned down at me, his eyes shining happily, before he captured my lips.
Kissing him was dizzying. I loved the way my body shivered, how he woke up the thousand crazy butterflies in my stomach.
“Gosh,” he groaned against my lips, tilting his forehead to mine. “I couldn’t wait to hold you like this, without having to look over my shoulder and wonder if anyone would see us.”
I nuzzled closer to him, and he smiled. “It feels good.”
“I kept looking for you,” he murmured against my hair in a quiet confession. “In the stands. Every time I scored, every time something happened, I looked for you.”
“I was there. Screaming so loud, Nova threatened to kick me out.” I pulled back just enough to see his face. “I'm so proud of you.”
“I couldn't have done it without you.”
“You absolutely could have.”
“No.” His hands framed my face. “Thorn, you're the reason I'm still playing. You're the reason I didn't give up. You're the reason I believed I could do this.”
My throat closed up. “Derek...”
“I love you,” he said, his blue eyes intense and unwavering.
“I know it's way too early to say it, but I need you to understand.
I love you. Not because you helped me recover.
Not because you teach me Pilates. Not because you make me better at soccer.
I love you because you're you. Because you understand me.
Because when I'm with you, I feel like I can breathe again.”
Tears spilled over. “I love you too. So much. Sometimes it scares me how much.”
“Don't be scared.” His thumb wiped away my tears. “Be here. With me. Right now.”
“I am. I'm here.”
He kissed me slow and deep and full of everything we couldn't say during the game, during the past week of careful distance. His hands slid into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I grabbed his hoodie, pulling him closer.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, Derek rested his forehead against mine.
“Dance with me,” he whispered.
“Derek, you just played ninety minutes of soccer. You must be exhausted...”
“Dance with me,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “Please. I want to celebrate with you. Just you. The way we should have been able to celebrate all along.”
How could I say no to that?
I took his hand, leading him to the center of the studio. The song changed to something slow and romantic, all soft guitar and tender lyrics about finding home in someone.
“No technique tonight,” I said, positioning his hands at my waist, my arms around his neck. “Just feel.”
“I can do that.”
We swayed together, barely moving, just existing in the same space. His body was warm and solid against mine, and for the first time in weeks, I felt completely safe.
“Tell me what you were thinking,” I said softly. “When you scored that first goal.”
Derek's hands tightened on my waist. “Honestly? I thought about you. About that night we went stargazing, and you told me I was brave. I heard your voice in my head telling me to do it anyway.”
“And the second goal?”
“That one was pure instinct. But after?” He pulled back to look at me. “After, when everyone was celebrating, all I could think of was that I wanted to share it with you. Not just see you in the stands. I wanted to hold you, kiss you, tell you that we did it. Together.”
“We did it together.” I touched his face, feeling the slight stubble on his jaw. “I know I wasn't on the field...”
“You were with me every second. In my head. In my heart.” He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “You've been carrying me through this recovery for months. Tonight was just proof that it worked.”
We kept swaying, the music wrapping around us like a cocoon.
“Can I tell you something?” Derek asked after a moment.
“Always.”
“When I was lying on that field ten months ago, after the tackle, I thought my life was over. I thought I'd lost the only thing that mattered.”
I held my breath, knowing this was important.
“But I was wrong. Soccer wasn't the only thing that mattered. It was just the only thing I knew.” He stopped moving, his eyes locked on mine. “You taught me that I could be more than just an athlete. That I could be Derek, just Derek, and that would be enough.”
“It is enough. You are enough.”
“I want to show you something.” He stepped back, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I've been adding songs to a new playlist. Our new one, but I haven't shared it yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to wait for the right moment.” He pulled up Spotify and showed me the screen. “This is everything I want to say to you but don't have the words for.”
The playlist was titled: “You, Officially.”
My heart stopped. “Officially?”
“Yeah. Because I'm done with 'unofficially.
' I'm done hiding. I'm done pretending.” He set his phone down and took both my hands.
“After the championship game, I want to tell Aaron.
No more secrets. I want to take you on actual dates.
I want to hold your hand on campus. I want everyone to know you're mine.”
“Derek, are you sure? The team, Aaron...”
“I'm sure. I've never been sure of anything.” He squeezed my hands. “But only if you want it too. I won't push you. This is your choice.”
I thought about Aaron, about the team, about all the complications. But then I looked at Derek, really looked at him. At this beautiful, broken, brave man who'd fought through hell to stand here with me. Who loved me enough to risk everything.
“I want it too,” I whispered. “After the championship. We go public. Together.”
The smile that broke across his face was worth every moment of fear.
“Come here,” he said, pulling me back into his arms.
We danced for another song, then another, neither of us wanting the moment to end. Derek's hands roamed my back, not in a sexual way, just learning me, memorizing the feel of me against him.
“Your muscles are going to be so sore tomorrow,” I murmured against his chest.
“Worth it.”
“I should probably stretch you out. Properly. Before they tighten up.”
“Are you offering me a private Pilates session?” I could hear the grin in his voice.
“I'm offering you proper cool-down stretches so you don't hate yourself tomorrow.”
“How romantic.”
I pulled back, swatting his chest. “I'm being serious. Sit down.”
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
“I really do.”
Derek sat on the mat, legs extended in front of him. I knelt beside him, guiding him through gentle stretches: hamstrings, hip flexors, quads. My hands on his body were clinical but intimate, both of us hyperaware of every touch.
“You're tight here,” I observed, working on his left hip flexor, his injured side.
“It's been compensating all season.”
“I know. That's why we need to keep working on it.” I applied gentle pressure, my hands firm but careful. “Does this hurt?”
“No. Feels good actually.”
I worked through each muscle group methodically, my hands confident and sure. This I knew. This I understood. The language of bodies, movement, and healing.
When I pressed into his lower back, helping him fold forward over his extended legs, Derek let out a low groan.
“Good tight or bad tight?” I asked.
“Good tight. Really good.” His voice was muffled, face near his knees.
I smiled, working my thumbs along the tight muscles flanking his spine. “You played your heart out today. Your body needs this.”
“My body needs you,” he said, then immediately added, “That came out wrong. I meant...”
“I know what you meant.” I pressed a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades through his hoodie. “Your body needs care. And I like taking care of you.”
Derek turned his head to look at me, still folded over his legs. “I like taking care of you too.”
“I know. That's why we work.”
After another fifteen minutes of stretching, Derek was loose and relaxed, sprawled on his back on the mat.
“I could fall asleep right here,” he murmured, eyes closed.
“Food is on the way,” I smiled at him innocently. “And I made a blanket bed for us to chill on… we could have a sleepover…”