🌹Rosalie🌹

The room is quiet, eerily so. I stretch my arm beneath the pillow beside me, taking in a deep breath before I slowly pull my eyes open. The spot beside me is empty. Nolan is gone.

I sit up slowly, reach for my phone along the bedside table, and pull it in front of me. The notification with Nolan's name has me smiling a smile I shouldn't be. But the fact he felt the need to leave me a message after he left this morning heats a piece of me.

Nolan: Hey. Didn't want to wake you but I had to get back before Coach realizes I'm not in my room. See you on the bus Red

The bus...as in, the football bus. I know that technically, the cheerleaders are allowed to mingle with the football players on the drive home, but I didn't plan on jumping ship and actually riding with the guys. I was perfectly satisfied in the small, quiet, quaintness of the cheer van. Especially since the majority of the girls are going to ride home on the bus. I would practically have the van to myself.

But the events of last night drift over me. The fact that Nolan came to my room, that he spent the night holding me against his chest, choosing me over a post-victory party. I still can't seem to wrap my head around why he'd choose the quiet of my room to the excitement of a party.

And then he heard me. He heard my demons surface. And he didn't run. He didn't laugh or try to convince me I'm crazy. He just...held me.

No one knows my secret, no one knows the things that haunt me. And in the span of just a few months, Nolan has seen more of me than I've allowed anyone to bear witness to. That's not the part that terrifies me, though. What scares me the most is that I actually like that he sees me.

The sound of the key card at the front door has me sitting up and dropping my phone to the bed. Casey comes sliding through, slowly and quietly closing the door behind her. When she sees I'm awake, her eyes light up as she flies across the room and falls flat to her back across the foot of my bed, her arms spread wide.

"So," I begin, a smile already spreading across my face. "I take it last night went good?"

"Last night was a dream," she practically sings. I'm about to ask for more before she turns to face me, her head resting on her hand. "It was truly perfect, Rosie. Taylor was so sweet, and he didn't want me to leave this morning." The sound of her phone chiming has her smile igniting. "He hasn't stopped texting me since I left."

My smile mimics hers. It's good to see her this happy, to know that someone with such a generous heart gets a piece of a happy ending.

"I'm really happy for you, Case," I say.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I had to leave you alone last night, though. Did you actually manage to enjoy the time you had or did you spend the entire night studying your audition piece?"

Nolan's bluish eyes drift across my thoughts, the warmth of his arms, the gentleness of his touch. "I didn't spend the whole night analyzing the audition."

"Good. So...I heard something interesting last night."

Her eyes are far too sparkly with gossip-glitter and I can't help but drop my gaze. "Do I even want to know?"

"I don't know, do you want to know that your soon to be stepbrother stood Genevieve up?"

My heart leaps in my chest, my hands a sudden clammy mess at the fact Nolan's whereabouts last night are apparently this morning's gossip.

"Oh," I gulp, the word dramatically obvious before I clear my throat and shrug my shoulders. "I don't really care what he and Genevieve do or don't do in their free time." Yeah, to say those words don't completely burn my throat on their way out would be a vast lie. Because the truth of the matter is, I do care. I care far more than I should.

"Uh huh," she smiles. "So, are we just ignoring the fact he winked at you after his touchdown last night?"

"That could have been to anyone, Case."

"Okay, so we are ignoring it. Got it. My lips are sealed my dear friend." She pulls an imaginary zipper across her mouth, smiling as she throws away the key and stands from the bed.

She's a few steps from the bathroom before I stop her. "Hey, Casey?" She turns, one hand on the door to the bathroom. "Thank you."

She smiles, a slight tilt to her head as she says, "You're my friend, Rosie. Your secrets are my secrets. That's how this works."

As she closes the bathroom door, her words rest against me. If only she knew the secrets I still carry. Because the thing is, I'd never pass the burden of their weight onto her. I'd never ask her to heave the heavy load. It's mine to bear, and now, it's Nolan's too.

***

There's a pulse in my chest, a buzz along my skin. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be stepping onto the football players' bus. Remind me again why I'm here? Right, Nolan said he'd see me on the bus, and now I'm standing at the base of the steps, staring up at a far too fancy bus while half alive teens saunter by in their tired, probably hungover, state.

Yeah, I definitely don't belong here.

"Come on," Casey says beside me, nudging my shoulder as she leans in. "It will be way better than the van."

I didn't tell Casey about last night, but I did tell her I wanted to take the bus back today. She didn't question why or even bat an eye at my sudden change of heart. I appreciate her for that.

Without a word, I follow her lead onto the bus. Most of the players are already here, half of them with headphones and hoods covering half their faces. My heart tenses, my hands shaking. When I spot Taylor, his eyes are already lit up, set directly on Casey in front of me. It's like his whole world just stepped into view and it has me fighting back a smile. Casey slides in next to him, his arm wrapped around her as she nuzzles into his side and he places a kiss on her forehead.

I step past the two of them, happy she's happy. And so damn thankful Taylor seems to light up just as much as she does when they're together. But now I'm left to walk the rest of the seats, looking for a spot, looking for Nolan. Does he even want to sit next to me? Is that what he meant in his text, or was it more of a generic see you?

As the worried thoughts sift through my mind, a hand is in mine, the warmth radiating my chest. I turn in the small space of the aisle, Nolan's eyes set on me as he smiles. Every frantic beat, every tensed muscle and erratic shake dissipates as he looks at me. The world around us falls away, him and I the only two in existence.

I turn back, looking at the occupied seats, searching for two empty ones side by side. When I come up short, my chest grows just a bit tighter. I'm about to slide into a seat next to one of my teammates when Nolan's hand tightens in mine. I look back as he leans over to one of his teammates and whispers something. In the next second, the seat is empty and Nolan is pulling me in beside him.

"Did you just make him move?" I whisper, leaning in as to not let my voice carry.

"He's not tied to anyone. He doesn't care where he sits."

"And you are?" I ask. "Tied to someone?"

He watches me, the smallest tilt of his mouth playing in the cutest smirk. "Yeah, Red. I'm tied to someone."

His hand is still in mine, and suddenly it feels a lot like a blanket of warmth, of strength. I know after last night, after the layer I shed, he probably feels a sense of protection, like letting me out of his sight could mean letting me spiral. But I like the way his hand feels in mine, I like the way his eyes make me feel safe.

"Is that okay with you?" he asks in my silence.

"Yeah," I whisper, unable to give myself permission to feel more.

"Good," he smiles. And just then, the coaches join the bus, sitting themselves in the first two rows. The doors close, the chatter around us picks up, and the bus lurches forward.

The seats are tall, not giving me much of a view of anyone in front or behind us. All I can seem to see is the guy beside us. I can't quite see who it is. All I can see is that he's fast asleep, hood pulled over his face, head buried against a pillow he has smashed up against the window.

Nolan shuffles beside me, slipping his hand from mine and pulling out his phone. "I want to show you something," he says, clicking open his camera roll. He pulls up a picture of the car he's been working on and my eyes nearly bulge from my face.

"Nolan," I gasp, reaching a hand for his phone and feeling the heat of his fingers against mine. "Is this the same car?"

He beams. "She's almost done."

I glance over at him, his eyes lit up as he looks back at me. "This is incredible. It's so different from when I last saw it."

"Yeah. I mean, there's still a lot that has to be done, but I'm going to get her painted this week."

"Really? That's so cool. What color are you thinking?"

"I haven't decided yet. Do you have any suggestions?"

I sit back in my seat, scanning the dull metal color and picturing a cool finish to match the masculine build of the car. "Maybe black? Or a really cool blue?"

"Yeah," he acknowledges. "But I was kind of thinking of making her stand out."

"Of course you are," I smile. "Then maybe yellow?"

"Like a banana?"

"Not like a banana." I laugh. "More badass. Like Bumblebee."

His brow forms the cutest curve as he looks over at me. "Did you just reference Transformers?"

I shrug, fighting back the light shade of pink that is surely filling my cheeks. "It's the only reference to cars that I have."

He laughs, glancing back at his phone to study the photo. "I'm not mad about a Bumblebee yellow. Although, I was more of an Optimus Prime guy myself."

"But you're such a Bumblebee."

There's a smile behind his eyes as he looks back at me, a lightness that surrounds him. "How am I a Bumblebee?" He questions, lowering his phone to his lap as he waits for my explanation.

I watch him, letting my eyes flit between his, that warmth across my cheeks and chest growing. "Bumblebee would give anything to save the ones he cares about," I say. "He's a protector."

He doesn't say anything as he watches me. Instead, his hand finds mine again, his fingers and mine intertwined as we hold one another's gaze. His eyes have changed, the lighthearted warmth now heavier. I know where his thoughts have gone, and I know he's swimming with my demons right now.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore, Red," he whispers, a painful truth behind his words.

The ache that pins my chest adds a layer of tears. I blink them away as I turn from him, but just as fast as I try to hide, his free hand is on my cheek, slowly pulling my eyes back to his. He doesn't say anything as he looks at me, my pain open and on display with nowhere to hide.

"I'm okay, Nolan," I whisper behind a set of words with so little power.

His thumb slides along my cheek as he whispers back, "I know you are."

I nod, thinking about all that has happened. About the worry behind his eyes, the fear that lingers there and the uncertainty of what this all means, of what comes next. "Are you going to tell my mom?" I ask, swallowing the words as I wait for his response.

He watches me, his hand still along my cheek as he holds me with him. "No." Relief washes over me. "But," he continues, taking a breath, his touch warm. "I am going to ask if you'll get help. Talk to someone who can help you sort through everything, who can mend the mirror."

"I don't need–"

"Red," he stops me. And that look in his eyes, the warmth, the care, the strength, it calms the rattled pieces of me. "Please. Just think about it."

"Nolan..." I say, shaking my head as the tears begin to build. I hate that I'm here, that he's seen the shattered pieces of me. I hate the person I see when I look in the mirror, and I hate even more that he now sees her too.

"Hey," he says. "Your secrets don't scare me, Red."

I let a breath fill my lungs, ease the pieces fighting to stay buried. "What if I can't be fixed?" I whisper, terrified to actually set the words free. "What if I can't change who I see when I look in the mirror?"

He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I let my cheek fall to his chest, the tears falling again without permission. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

I nod against him. "What if I get help and I still can't change this feeling inside me?"

"And what if you can?" he asks, so blunt and sure.

I lift my head from his chest to look up at him. He reaches a hand up, slowly brushing the fallen tears from my cheeks. There's hope behind his eyes, a tenderness in his grasp. "Okay," I whisper. "I'll talk to someone."

"Okay." He nods, pulling me back into his chest and wrapping his arms around me. "You aren't alone anymore, Red. I've got you."

"My very own Bumblebee," I mutter against his chest with a smile.

"Yeah," he whispers, placing a kiss against my head. "I'll be your Bumblebee."

And I'll be your Red.