🌹Rosalie🌹

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Casey asks as she stands in front of the full length mirror in our hotel room.

We won tonight, the buzz of the victory still floods my system. I never thought I'd care so much about football, that it would consume my nervous system. But being on that field, feeling the roar of the crowd, the adrenaline of every play, the thrill of every completed pass, it's indescribable.

But all that excitement has worn off and I've found comfort in oversized sweats and the prospect of a quiet hotel room. Something that feels far more compelling than the afterparty Casey, and the rest of the football and cheer team, are sneaking out to.

"I'm sure," I answer. I've already got my laptop open, my audition routine geared up and a notebook out beside me.

"It's going to be fun," she tries again.

I flick the pen between my fingers, studying the position of my frame on the screen and taking note of where I could extend just a bit further. "I'm good, Case. I'm just going to work on this."

She exhales before plopping down on the bed beside me. "Your routine is perfect."

"It's not perfect," I correct her. "But it will be."

She drops her head back, a smile across her face as she shakes her head. "I love you, but you're crazy."

"I'm thorough."

She looks over at me. "That you are. Just take it easy on yourself. The routine really is phenomenal and you truly dance it beautifully."

"Thank you. But I still have time to make improvements."

She smiles as she springs from the bed, adjusting the white dress she chose for tonight. It's cute, the way it flows playfully. "Okay, how do I look?"

"You look amazing," I say without hesitation.

"Is it too much? Too cute? Too Virgin Mary? Should I go for sexy? Or maybe I should change to casual? I do have a pair of jeans in my bag. Maybe our cheer sweatshirt?"

"Casey," I stop her. "You look beautiful."

She takes a deep breath as she looks at herself in the mirror. "I'm nervous," she pauses, glancing back over at me. "But I'm also kind of excited."

I think about our conversation in the van. About her plan to stay with Taylor tonight. I sit up, swinging my legs off the edge of the bed. "That sounds like a good place to be."

She smiles. "I think so too."

***

It's been an hour since Casey left. An hour of studying this damn routine. I've tried a few of the moves I think I can improve, spent some time stretching, and even more time evaluating each and every step. I know what Sierra has said about overthinking and not just dancing. I know what I felt when Nolan's hands grazed my skin as we danced together, and more so, what I felt after. Like I was completely free as I moved across the dance floor.

But I also know that there is still work to do, still pieces to perfect.

The quiet knock on my door has me jumping. I check the clock on the bed stand, the time showing just past eleven. I know Casey took her key in case things didn't go as planned tonight. Maybe she lost it?

I stand, slowly walking over to the door. I pause, glancing through the peephole to see an unexpected face. Nolan is on the other side. My heart skips, an excitement I'm not expecting fills my chest as I undo the added safety locks and pull the door open.

He smiles, his hand held out in front of him, a chocolate cupcake in one hand, a red rose in the other, one that looks an awful lot like the ones that lined the entrance to the hotel.

"Happy birthday, Red."

I'm smiling before I can stop it, a girlish blush across my cheeks. "Nolan," I begin, but the rest of the words are lost. I don't know what to say. No one, outside of my mom, has ever done something like this for me before. It may not seem like much, but in its own special way, it's the whole world.

I reach out a hand, grabbing the rose and bringing it to my nose to smell it. The fresh scent fills my senses as I smother my unspoken words behind the vibrant red petals. I don't miss the fact that he removed the thorns, the stem smooth along my fingertips.

"I couldn't let your birthday go by without a celebration. Can I come in?"

I step back, allowing him room to enter as I close the door behind him. We both walk further into the room. It's not until he reaches the end of the bed that he turns, the cupcake still within his hand. He's added something though. A single candle. Without pause, he pulls out a lighter, adding the spark of a flame as he holds it out between us.

"Make a wish."

I step forward, gently placing the rose down beneath the TV. As I plant myself in front of him, I bring my palm to the back of his hand, cupping his in mine as I look into the bluish tint of his eyes. He's watching me, peering through to the many wishes that swirl my mind.

I lift his hand with my own, bring the candle closer as I close my eyes and softly blow it out. When I open them, he's still watching me.

"You gonna tell me what you wished for?"

My smile grows as I shake my head from side to side. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

"Fair enough. Shall we eat, then?" I glance back down at the chocolate goddess within his hands. A weakness of mine, the rich and decadent aroma already filling the air. "I'm pretty sure there's some rule about having to actually eat the cake that holds your wish."

I look back up at him, a playful smirk across his lips that has me smiling. "And I'm pretty sure you're full of shit."

He laughs as he pulls back the wrapper. "Okay. But I did have to risk my ass sneaking out after curfew and finding a place open this late to bring this back. The least you can do is do me the honors of pretending you actually enjoy it."

"You snuck out just for me?"

His eyes catch mine, a question behind them. "I mean, I did score a touchdown just for you so..."

I playfully push his shoulder. "Oh, shut up."

"Come on," he laughs, handing me the cupcake as he sits at the end of the bed. I glance down, slowly bringing it to my mouth and taking a bite. "Are you doing homework?" he questions, looking over at my laptop and notebook along the bed.

I finish another bite, feeling the sugar slide down my throat. "No. Well, not for school anyway. It's my routine. I'm just studying where I can improve." I take another bite.

He nods, reaching for the screen and turning it his way. "I know I don't know ballet, but I'm pretty dang sure you have nothing left to fix."

I smile behind a mouth full of chocolate. Swallowing the slice of heaven, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "There's some places."

"What do you mean?"

I lean forward and reach for my laptop, rewinding it back ten seconds. I tap play, watching as I arch back. "Here," I say, pointing to the screen. "Do you see the way my fingers curve? They're forced when they should be more of a natural extension of the lines I'm creating. Every inch tells a story. And if I have to do this audition through a video submission, one where they can look just as closely as I am right now, then everything has to be perfect. It's why Sierra is so adamant about feeling the dance. It's going to be ten times harder to portray feeling through a screen, let alone hit every technical component to a tee."

"Why does it have to be a video submission?"

I take a breath. "The auditions are held in New York. The tickets are crazy expensive to fly, let alone stay the night in a hotel. I can't ask my mom to do that. It's why I told her they're only accepting video submissions this year."

"But the in-person audition would increase your chances of getting in?"

Yes. I shrug. "The video will work. I just have to get all the pieces working together. If I can nail the technicality of it and bring in the emotion in a way that reads through the screen, then it will be just as powerful as an in-person piece." I know there's a jaded truth to my words, that nothing will ever compare to standing on that stage, breathing the air of the room, bleeding my heart to the judges. But it's what I have to believe.

He turns his gaze to me, our faces close. "You really do want this, don't you?"

"More than anything," I whisper.

"I'm sure my dad would—"

"No," I shake my head, cutting him off. I know Darren would pay for the trip. He'd do it without batting an eye. But I can't ask that of him. He didn't bring us out here to take on our debt, our burden. "I'm not going to ask him for that. This is my dream. I'm going to make it work with what I have."

He nods. "Okay, then let's watch some film."

"What?"

"I've always found it most helpful when I have someone to analyze games with. When I can talk it out with Coach or one of the guys, it always seems to stick better than when I run through it myself. I know I can't offer advice but I can be a sounding board. I think that's something, right?"

"Isn't there a party you're supposed to be at?"

"I've been to a hundred parties. I'm where I want to be."

Genevieve's voice echoes my head. They had plans tonight. Or maybe she had plans tonight. But somehow I'm the one sitting in a room, Nolan mere inches away, a rose along the table, one he brought because he knows they're my favorite.

"You want to be watching a ballet routine on repeat and listen to me analyze moves you don't even know the names of instead of celebrating with your team?"

"Rosalie," he says my full name, one I've never preferred to be called before. But the way it falls so simply from his lips, the way it feels warm against my chest, makes me want to hear it a thousand times. "I'm where I want to be."

I nod. I don't fight him on it, or question what exactly it all means. Instead, I continue to play the video on my laptop, to analyze every area where I could have done something differently. And Nolan listens, he watches with so much interest, questions when it doesn't make sense, compliments when he feels consumed by something.

I've never shared this part of myself with someone. Sure, my mom has supported me. She's been to every recital, every competition. She's taken me to and from dance classes and watched me practice for hours at home. But I've never shed the layers, exposed myself so fully. He's seeing my flaws, the thorns that cover the stem.

But just like that rose that sits below the TV, maybe in some indescribable way, he's removing my thorns too.