Page 54 of I Don't Need Your Love
“They look exactly the same.”
“Only to an ignoramus cretin like you.”
I expect a comeback, but he just laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I demand.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Here I am, trying to practice the dance routine, and I end up getting wet and nearly getting my head chopped off for sitting on two ballerinas named after two von Trapp children.” He continues to laugh.
I fold my arms over my chest, ready to tell him that this isn’t funny at all, but then I find myself joining in his laughter. I laugh so hard that my stomach hurts.
“Stop,” I say between chuckles.
But that only makes him laugh harder, which makes me laugh harder. I push his shoulder to get him to stop, but he pushes mine back.
I can’t help but stare at him as he continues his laughing fit. He’s always charming and charismatic, but I usually sensed a hint of pain in his eyes. As though no matter how much fun he tries to have, there’s something in his life that’s troubling him. But I don’t see a trace of any of that now. It seems that for the first time in a long time, he’s truly laughing one hundred percent. And that makes him appear…well, beautiful.
He catches me staring at him and the laughter starts to die down. “What?”
I snap out of it, quickly shaking my head. “Nothing.”
“No, what? You were staring at me.”
I turn my head and purse my lips. But then I face him again. “Why do you carry so much pain in your eyes?”
As soon as the words are out, I regret them. Because his whole face changes.
“We should get back to dance,” he says as he gets up.
“I’m sorry, Ryder. I didn’t mean to pry—”
“It’s okay.” He puts on a smile. “It’s all good. Or, at least it will be once I get this move down.”
I feel really bad. I don’t think Ryder expected me to see through the façade he always puts up. Maybe he does a good job hiding the pain from everyone else, but for some reason, I can see through it. Maybe because I’ve known him since I was a kid?
“Um, maybe we should take a break and try again tomorrow?” I suggest. “I don’t want you to put too much stress on your injured foot.”
“My foot is great, thanks. I want to get this right before tomorrow’s practice. I don’t want to fall behind and bring the rest of the team down.”
He has a point. We may not be able to move on if he can’t get this right. Maybe the best course of action is to remove it? It is harder than the other moves in the routine.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says as he gets into position. “But please don’t remove the move because of me. I’ll get it right. Promise. Even if it takes me all night.”
He spends about an hour practicing. I do the move along with him, encouraging him as he improves with each attempt. Then, when he’s drenched in sweat and looks like he’s ready to call it quits, it finally happens.
“I got it!” he cries.
“You got it!” I cheer.
He makes a move to throw his arms around me, and I do, too, but then we stop ourselves when we’re only a few inches apart.
With a grin, he holds out his hand. “Thanks, Captain. You have no idea how good I feel.”
I stare at his hand, knowing he deserves more than just a handshake. But I fight the urge to hug him and shake it instead. “You did really well, Ryder. Thanks for not giving up. I admire your tenacity.”
