Normally I’m impervious to what people say about me. At the end of the day, they don’tknowme, and that fact alone usually keeps me from feeling bad about myself.
Today, their words cut me in a way nothing has before.
Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I take one deep breath after another, willing the tears to stop.
The bathroom door opens with a bang, and I hold my breath.
“Rosie?”
Bertie.
“I had to pee.”
I cringe. Shit. If my rushed response wasn’t enough to make it obvious I’m upset, the thickness in my voice definitely is.
“Rosie,” she says softly, her voice directly behind me. “I’m sorry.”
I choke down a sob. The tenderness in her tone guts me. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because you don’t deserve to be talked about like that.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down. “Can you just give me a minute?”
“Sure, but after you dust yourself off, come back down there and show those bitches that they can’t touch you.”
“Thanks, B.”
“Anytime.”
She retreats, her steps getting quieter, then the door squeaks shut behind her.
It takes me a few minutes to fully pull myself together, then another couple to clean up my makeup.
I grab a Coke and popcorn before returning to my seat.
Bertie flashes me a smile. In contrast, the girls around us glare daggers, clearly less than pleased by my return. They can kiss my ass.
I flip my hair over my shoulder, doing my best to appear unbothered. Whether they believe it or not, I stick with the act and pay them no more attention the rest of the game, even though they practically beg for it.
When the game is over and the players file off the ice, Bertie and I begin the slow exit out of the arena. The girls gossip ahead of us, talking about the guys and who they’re dying to see.
Since I drove here, I plan to head straight to the dorms to drop off Bertie and then home. The rest of our furniture was delivered, and I’ve been enjoying every minute of my new mattress.
We’re almost to the exit when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and furrow my brows at the text from Daire.
“Daire wants me to wait for him outside the locker room.”
“Oh.” Bertie looks around. “Where’s that?”
“This way.”
I clasp her wrist, leading the way. I’ve waited in this hall an embarrassing number of times. But never have I waitedfor Daire—unless trying to catch a glimpse of him counts.
The group of girls who were being snotty during the game stand in a cluster. When they see me, they roll their eyes as a collective. It’s like watching a flock of birds mimic each other.
Bertie scans the hallway, taking everything in. With the way she’s worrying her bottom lip, it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable. She’s never come to the locker area with me before. In the past, when she did attend games with me, she usually met Tommy after.
She’s been doing well since the breakup. I’m hoping she’ll get out there and start dating again soon, but I won’t push her to move on if she’s not ready.