![]() ![]() A casual, That’s nice, your shorts are cute. WHY?! Why won’t he speak? Do you like my soul too? I’d settle for a compliment on my shirt. My heart pounds more and more aggressively the longer we sit staring at one another. Does he know how much his nearness affects me? Does he know I’m dying to dive through those beautiful eyes and see all his hidden thoughts? I need to know if there’s a chance he will ever love me like I love him. My skin prickles from my head to the tips of my toes. Our eyes collide for two twisting, drawn-out breaths. I lightly flick the lock of hair at the nape of his neck. ![]() His shoulders are rigid like he could plow through a mountain and knock it down, but the pressure of his finger lazily moving over my skin is a feather. The stern set of his brows hanging over his black eyes. ![]() “Bree, I would have sold my soul to be able to get your dreams back for you in that moment.” When you told me ballet was over for you and you cried over the phone…” He sounds anguished. It’s just something we avoid for reasons I don’t think either of us really know. We rarely ever talk about that time in life-though I’m not sure why. “I’ve never felt more terrified or helpless than I did that week.” His eyes snap to me. It’s just…seeing your knee bandaged brings back memories.” With my leg still in his lap, his index finger traces a soft line around the bandage. “What is it?” I ask cautiously, afraid I’m bleeding out or something and I just can’t see it. Once I’m completely bandaged, Nathan sits back and positions the ice pack over my wounded knee. My elbows get fixed up next, and now I look and feel like a clumsy, awkward child, wearing three ugly brown bandages with frizzy curls swelling rapidly around my head as they dry. Occasionally, his fingers glide over the healthy skin of my legs, and it sparks everywhere in my body. It stings as he doctors up my three-inch road burn, but I barely notice because I’m too busy staring at him. He takes my leg and gently pulls it into his lap. Nathan sits down beside me on the edge of the cushion and twists his hips to face me. He’s put on a clean white t-shirt, and I could swear I hear a choir of women around the world collectively groaning in annoyance. I won’t tease him when he’s like that.Ī few minutes later, he’s walking back into the living room carrying a first aid kit and an ice pack. I didn’t argue or point out the wastefulness of his statement because I’ve seen this look on Nathan before, and it’s the one he gets when he’s worried down to his bones. My knee was really bleeding and stung too bad to walk, so after Nathan whipped off his shirt and used it as my new favorite bandage, he piggybacked me all the way to his place where I was laid like a delicate porcelain doll on the sofa despite my protests of soaked clothing and bloody limbs ruining his furniture. Later, back at the apartment, I’m lying on the couch like Cleopatra (if she were sweaty, bleeding, and tearful). ![]()
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