🌹Rosalie🌹

The porcelain white of the hotel bathroom counter glows in the vibrant white light above the mirror. Darren paid extra for two separate hotel rooms, giving me an added ounce of privacy. Nolan and I slept separately last night, each in our own rooms, partly because of my audition today and partly because I'm scared to be that close to him, that vulnerable with him.

But I'm currently in his room, my bathroom bag on the counter. We've slept together before, on the football trip. But that wasn't planned. We weren't together then. This feels different.

The oversized sweatshirt swallows my frame. The checkered green pajama pants flow from my waist down to my ankles. I pull on a strand of hair, the lifeless texture bland against my skin. I bring my fingers to my cheeks, pulling at the skin and stretching it away from my eyes before pushing it back, searching for a way to balance out the disproportion.

My fingers grip the handle of the sink without thinking, flipping on the water before my heart lurches in my chest. I push the handle just as fast as I turned it on and shut the water off.

What am I doing?

A breath fills my lungs and I hold it tight within my chest, clinging to the wave of oxygen as I grip the counter. I fall back to the toilet, sitting on the lid, my hands on my thighs, my head bowed down as I breathe. I breathe in the highlights of today. The audition, the looks on the judges' faces. Nolan's arms wrapped around me, his smile when he looks at me, the fact that we're here together, alone.

There are so many things to be grateful for. So many things this mediocre body of mine has given me. I stand, ignoring the reflection to my right as I leave the toxicity of the bathroom.

Nolan sits on the bed, popped up against the headboard, his legs outstretched comfortably in a pair of sweats. The smooth rippled display of his abs shines under the dim light beside the bed. He's not wearing a shirt, and my eyes take full advantage of the view.

"Hey," he says, sitting up a tad more and effectively flexing every tiny muscle across his torso. There are muscles I wasn't even fully aware existed in the human body, but am internally grateful that they do.

"Hi," I say, pulling on the sleeve of my sweatshirt and trying my best not to turn bright red at the sight of him. "What are you doing?"

I take a few more steps forward, unsure if I should join him or sit on the couch beside the bed he's sprawled out on. I take another step and decide to sit on the edge of the bed, opting for a middle ground.

He sits up, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest. The act has me smiling as I curl into him, thankful that he read my hesitation and made the move for me.

"I was just thinking," he says, brushing my hair from my face as I lay against him.

"Oh, yeah? About what?"

"Next year."

I run my hand along his abs, allowing my fingers to play along each and every ripple. "Is New York officially on the table?"

His breath catches as I trail his stomach. "I don't know. It was never a true option. But being here, talking with the coach and seeing the field, it just kind of feels right."

I sit up, placing my hand on my jaw and propping myself on my elbow to get a better look at him. "Isn't that the most important thing? That it feels like the best fit?"

"It's part of it. But it's also about the best shot to the draft, about being seen and having opportunities to make a name for myself."

"And you can't do that in New York?"

"I don't know. I didn't think I could, but I think I was wrong about it here. I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. But Oregon has been the plan for as long as I can remember."

"Okay," I say. "So, what does Oregon have that New York doesn't?"

He takes a breath. "It's closer to home. They have a better record, Taylor will be there, and they unofficially promised me a starting position."

"Wow," I huff. "That sounds like a pretty sweet deal."

"Yeah. It is. It's also my dad's alma mater."

"Sounds pretty tough to beat. So, how about New York? What's here that Oregon doesn't have?"

He runs a hand along my side, hesitating before answering, "New York would have you."

My breath catches as I push myself up to look at him. His hand on my cheek, he tucks my hair from my face. "Nolan, that's not a reason to pick a school."

"You're a reason, Red," he whispers.

I shake my head, my heart a frenzy of everything bright and sparkly. "But I can't be the only reason. Besides, I don't even know if I'll get into the National Ballet Academy."

He smiles. "You're getting in. And you're not the only reason. The coach may not have offered me a starting spot, but he gave me something else." He pauses, his eyes held gently with mine. "He gave me my independence...from my dad."

My brow pinches. "What do you mean?"

"My whole life," he pauses to take a breath, letting his hand fall back to my side. "I've been chasing his dream. And don't get me wrong, I love football. I want to play in the NFL. But I feel like I've lost the boundary between this being my dream, and it being my dad's."

I let my hand cup his cheek now, offering the same form of comfort he just gave me. "Why do you feel the need to live his dream?"

"Because I'm the reason he lost it."

"Nolan–"

"I know," he cuts me off. "He made a choice to give up the NFL to raise me. He could have had both. My mom could have stuck around. There's a million different scenarios. But the fact of the matter is, I was born and my dad lost his dream. I just feel like...if I can achieve it, then maybe he didn't give it up for nothing."

"Nolan, I don't think it was for nothing."

He watches me, his eyes held so tightly with mine, my heart and his tied together. "He wants me to make it to the NFL. I think a part of him needs me to make it. It's why he pushes me so hard, why he doesn't want me wasting time with hobbies."

The car he's been rebuilding pops into my head. Everything makes sense. He doesn't want to be tied to one path, one chosen for him. But he also doesn't want to let his dad down. It's a debt he feels he owes.

I know that feeling. It's why I've never shared with my mom the things that tear me apart. She's done so much for me to make this dream a reality, she's sacrificed everything. I can't let her feel an ounce of my failures.

"Is that what you think?" I ask. "That your car is just a hobby?"

"I don't know," he answers, his voice quiet and unsure.

"I've seen you work on that car, Nolan." I slide my hand along his cheek, keeping him here with me.

"Right now, my focus is football. It has to be football. But maybe, somewhere down the line, there will be room for something else. Another dream."

"Okay." I nod. "So then for now, we focus on picking the best school. You mentioned this coach can give you independence. What did you mean by that?"

"He's not promising me a starting spot. He said I'll have to earn it. I can't remember the last time my last name meant nothing. It was kind of nice knowing I'd have to earn this one all on my own."

"That sounds pretty special."

His smile ignites, his hand along mine against his cheek. He pulls my hand away, sliding his fingers in mine as he pulls me in closer. "Yeah. It's pretty special here."

His eyes drop, tracing a path to my lips. Mine do the same, the heat between our chests radiating in a harmonious chorus. His grip along my waist tightens as I lean in, bringing  my mouth to his. His lips press against mine, the soft and tender touch flourishing down my spine. Arching into him, our chests collide, his tongue gliding along mine as I inhale all that he is.

He shifts, laying me back flat as he lifts himself above me. I don't stop, instead, I open my legs for him, pulling him in tighter as he presses against me. The kiss deepens, a low moan rattles his throat as his hand grips my side, slowly dipping beneath the bottom of my sweatshirt. I drink him in, lost in the movement of his tongue, in the rhythm of his breaths, in the slow and steady pressure of his body against my own.

His mouth leaves mine, slowly working its way to my neck. He licks, sucks, and pulls my skin between his teeth as he kisses down to my collar bone. I arch further into him, lost in the euphoric bliss of his mouth on me. I've never been kissed in such a way. So much passion and obsessive claim that has my head spinning just as fast as my heart. It's a heavy dose of ecstasy and I want more.

The soft touch of his fingertips graze my ribcage and everything inside me stops. Every flutter, every dazzling display of sparkle falls flat. My breath trapped within my throat, I reach my hand for his, halting his movement. His lips leave my skin barren and cold as his eyes pull back to mine.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, out of breath. "Too far?"

My chest rises and falls at a pace that has my hands shaking. "It's not that," I begin, the words released before I've given them thought.

His eyes search mine, seeking answers I'm not ready to give. "Okay," he says. "We can stop."

I shake my head, reaching my hand behind his neck and pulling him back to me. "No. I don't want to stop."

My lips are on his again, his chest back along mine, providing a warmth I crave. I deepen the kiss, taking the lead and pulling him into me. He kisses me back, slow and cautious as his tongue glides along mine. His hand continues, sliding along my side, up my sweatshirt, along my ribcage. He's feeling everything. Every groove, every layer. Every piece I've only ever kept hidden.

"Nolan," I breathe out, pushing him away and quickly sitting up from the bed. My breath is lost in a sea of frantic waves, my hands shaking. I can't look at him, I can't see the concern in his eyes, the guilt that he did something wrong. Instead, I keep my eyes on my hands, on the lines that stretch across my palms, focusing on every detail, as if looking close enough will stop them from trembling.

"Hey," he says, sitting beside me, the warmth of his eyes on me as a hand slides into mine. "What's wrong?"

The air slides through my lips, pulled deep into my lungs before I let it go. Slowly, my eyes find their way to his just like they always do. "This is a lot for me, Nolan."

"I know," he says, running his thumb along the back of my hand. "I'm sorry. I went too fast. We don't have to–"

I shake my head, bringing his words to a stop as he watches me. His eyes soften, his body still as he waits for me. "It's not the kissing, Nolan. I mean, yeah, that's new for me. But I really like kissing you." His smile tugs gently at the corner of his mouth and it warms my heart. "It's...the other stuff."

"The other stuff?"

I take another breath. "I've stayed hidden for so long," I admit, feeling the words release from my grasp. "Letting you touch me...it's hard for me. It's hard to let myself be seen."

He nods, taking a beat before he shifts, his body turns fully to mine. He brings a hand to my cheek, holding my eyes with his as he leans in. "I want nothing more than to see you, Rosalie. I want to worship every single piece of what makes you so incredibly beautiful. The way your freckles paint your cheeks, the way your hair glows so vibrantly, the way your eyes sparkle in the light, this most intoxicating shade of green. I want to discover the way your ribs move when you breathe, the way your chest glides with every heartbeat. But I want more than anything for you to see it too. To see how breathtakingly beautiful you really are. Until then, we'll take it slow."

A tear breaks free, rolling down my cheek as he catches it. "When I'm with you," I whisper through a veil of watery eyes. "I actually feel beautiful."

He kisses me, his lips soft against mine, my breath caught with his. "You are beautiful, Rosalie."

I nod against him. "Someday," I say, taking a breath. "Someday I'll see it. I'll see what you see. I promise."

His hand along my cheek, his chest inches from mine, I fall into the warmth of his embrace.

"Someday," he repeats, letting me fall into his chest as he wraps his arms around me and holds on with everything he has. "Until then, I'll be here to remind you."

I look up at him, seeing the truth behind his eyes. He doesn't see what I see. Somehow, despite every flaw, he sees anything but. Holding his eyes, I reach for the edge of my sweatshirt, slowly pulling it over my head.

He pauses, his breath pulled between his teeth as he slowly drops his eyes, taking in the deep red sports bra I have on. The skin along my ribs is cold, barren and exposed while my cheeks burn under his gaze.

He looks back at me, seeking permission. I nod, watching as he slowly raises a hand, sliding his fingers along my side. I suck in a breath, his touch tickling my skin as I watch him take in every detail with such precision. His fingers continue to glide, sliding along my breast, trailing up my collar bone and pausing at the base of my neck.

"I want to be seen by you, Nolan," I whisper. "That look in your eyes right now, it's everything to me."

He pulls me in. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now, Red."

I smile, running my hand along his chest. "I'm sorry I can't give you–"

His lips fall to mine, gently cutting me off. "You've given me all I need."

"But–"

"Hey," he stops me again. "You've given me all I need. Now, come here." He pulls me to him, laying us both back down within his bed, his skin and mine fused together. I press my back against his chest as he pulls the sheet over us both. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to spend our last night just like this."

He kisses my temple, laying back down behind me. We don't say much after that. Instead, we stay wrapped up with one another, my walls slowly thinning, and a confidence growing that I never dreamt possible.