Page 80 of Fragile

I want to believe her, but the knot in my stomach tightens, the doubts swirling in my mind. “He doesn’t think my best is good enough,” I say, and the words taste bitter on my tongue. “He said if I don’t step up now, I’ll be stuck, and no one’s going to take a chance on me. I’ll be forgotten.”

She pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze steady and full of conviction. “You know he’s projecting onto you, right? Because he is. That’s what happened to him. He lost his chance to keep his job in the pros, so he’s pushing you to get what he wanted.”

She’s right. That’s exactly what’s happening here. I’ve known it my whole life.

“It doesn’t make what he’s doing okay, though. And when you make the pros, it’ll be because you have more talent in your pinky finger than he ever did.” She flushes with determination as her eyes lock onto mine.

“But what if he’s right?” I ask, my voice trembling. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are good enough,” she says, unwavering.

I nod, trying to let her words sink in, to let them erase the doubts. But it’s hard. My dad’s voice is still there, echoing in my mind, a constant reminder of the standards I’ve been trying so desperately to meet.

“I just don’t want to fail,” I admit. “Not him, not you, not myself.”

“You won’t,” she assures me. “And even if things don’t go the way you want, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’re finding your own path, in your own time.”

I want to believe her. I want there to be a switch that flips in my mind that can block out all the noise and just listen to her, let her ground me and keep my head on straight. But I don’t know how to get rid of his cold voice in my mind.

“You want a distraction?” she asks, pulling my face between her hands and keeping me absorbed in her green eyes.

“Yes,” I murmur, and before I know it, we’re dressed and she’s checking her phone.

“Indie says Seb left our dorm, like, three minutes ago to go into town.”

She cautiously opens the door as though he might pop out, but when she’s satisfied the coast is clear, she drags me out of my dorm. Being the source of sunshine I need.

Chapter thirty-seven

Quinn

When we step outside,the cooler air hits me, and I can’t help but shiver. The weather’s shifted over the last few weeks, and it’s clear that fall is in full swing. I’m just starting to feel the chill when Miles reaches behind his neck, whipping off his hoodie and draping it over my shoulders.

“Thanks, I forgot mine, or maybe Indie stole it,” I say with a smirk.

“Keep it,” he replies, like it’s nothing. “I like you in my clothes.” Even though it’s not one of his hoodies with his number on it—that only comes out for special occasions—it’s a CLU warmup hoodie, and I think I might just keep it.

I grin at him, boldly taking his hand and pulling him toward the studio where we usually have our yoga class, praying I’m doing the right thing. This place always helps me relax, so hopefully it’ll do the same for him.

When we get there, the place is completely empty, the usual scent of lavender and jasmine lingering in the space. The roomis bright, but the privacy blinds are activated over the glass windows framing the back wall, looking out over the lakes.

But the best part: No students, no teacher. Just us.

“Are we early?” Miles asks, checking his watch, but I know we’re right on time.

“Nope, class got canceled today. The teacher’s sick. But since the space was free, I thought we could still use it.” That, and I texted the teacher when we were getting dressed and she said it’s okay.

I walk over to the mirrors and set down my gym bag, then plug my phone into the sound system. As the sound of rain starts filling the room, I quickly gather my hair into a ponytail, adding my bow, a light blue one today. I feel Miles’s eyes on me as I slip off his hoodie, leaving me in just my tank top and yoga pants.

I turn to face him, suddenly feeling more naked than we were last night. I know he’s seen me like this a thousand times—cheering, working out—but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at me now. Like he’s seeing me all over again.

Grabbing a yoga mat, I toss it on the floor, then do the same for him.

He slowly drops his big body to the floor as I cross my legs and take a breath. “I need to re-center for a beat. Hope you don’t mind a little meditation?”

“I don’t mind,” he says cautiously, closing his eyes and crossing his legs.

We sit there for a few minutes, just breathing in and out, slow and steady. I can feel every muscle in my body starting to relax. When we’re done, I catch his eye in the mirror and smile. And when he smiles back, my heart skips a beat.

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