Page 91 of I Don't Need Your Love
“Okay, I’m going to rush toward you,” I say as I let go of his hand and do a few spins toward the left. “Grab me by the waist and lift me high over your head.”
He swallows. “Are you sure? I’ll drop you on your head.”
“We need to go right in if we want to do this. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”
He looks unsure, but he nods and holds out his hands. He technically shouldn’t anticipate the next move until we’re up to it, but we can work on that later. I sprint toward him while still keeping a graceful form, trying to appear as though I’ve been separated from my love for an eternity and am finally reuniting with him. Ryder’s face registers panic as I bound toward him, but he miscalculates the distance and snatches my waist a few seconds too late. So when he tries to lift me in the air, he loses his grip and I sail in the air for a few seconds before plummeting to the floor.
“Ouch,” I mutter as I roll to my other side. Luckily, I wasn’t so high in the air, so it doesn’t hurt that much.
“Carly!” Ryder is on his knees before me in an instant, helping me sit up. “You okay? I didn’t drop you on your head, did I?”
“Dude, calm down,” I say with a laugh as I slug his shoulder. “I’m fine. I told you we’ll have tons of falls and bruises before we get this right. Let’s try again. But work on your timing. You were a little late.”
I rewind the music and then we get into position. I let go of his hand and spin a few feet to the left, then rush toward him. His face holds even more panic the closer I get, and he grabs my waist a little too hard and yanks me toward him. I slam right into his chest.
“Ouch,” I mutter, my lips kissing the fabric of his shirt.
“Darn it. Sorry again.” He gently pushes me back and looks into my face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m going to charge you a quarter every time you ask if I’m okay,” I warn.
He laughs lightly as he runs his hands through his hair. “Sorry. It just kills me when I hurt you.”
“I know, but you need to forget about that. Let’s try something different. Lift me in the air.”
“Okay.” He puts his hands on my waist and heaves me up in the air. He has no problem holding me in that position, but his arms quake when I ask him to raise me higher or try to change his position. It’s not that his arms are weak—he’s just not used to holding someone like this. So I ask him to do the same thing over and over again, hoping his muscles will get used to it.
Then we try that move again. He manages to catch me at the right time and lift me a few inches, but we both lose our balance and he drops me to the floor.
“Sorry.” He hangs his head. “I thought I would get it by now.”
“It’s okay. Let’s take a break.”
We grab our water bottles and sit on the bleachers. He seems upset with himself for failing the lift, and I want to tell him he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. Lifting another person isn’t easy and he’s doing a great job so far. But I know nothing I say will make him feel better, so instead, I slip my phone out of my backpack and say, “Want to see your awesome self on social media?”
He gapes at me. “Those are two things I never thought I’d hear from Carly Simmons’ lips. You called me awesome and you want to spend our break looking at photos ofme?”
“Just this once,” I say as I open the app. “Don’t get any ideas.”
I smile when I see a grin tickle his lips. Scooting closer to him, I find the Parker twins’ accounts and scroll through theirfeed. Most of the photos are of themselves and their friends, but there are quite a handful of Ryder, too. Especially from last night’s party.
“I thought they’d be mad at you for turning them down for the school dance,” I say.
“Something tells me they won’t give up, though.” He reaches for his bag and unzips it. “I know I told you I’d give you your surprise after practice, but I’m kind of itching to give it to you now.”
My curiosity is threatening to burst out of my body. “Whatisit?”
He smiles at my impatience and purposely moves as slowly as a snail as he plucks the item out of his bag. My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Is that a box of chocolates?”
“Not just any chocolates,” he says as he faces the box to me. “This, Miss Simmons, is premium Belgian chocolate. The smoothest ones you’ll find on the planet.”
I gape at him. “That must have been really expensive!”
He lifts his shoulders and throws me a smile. “You’re worth it.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he puts his finger over my lips. “Don’t even think about it, Captain. You’ve been working so hard on the routine, and I want to show you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me and the team. So please forget about the cost and accept it.” He holds it out to me.
I stare at him for a few seconds, loving the sweet smile on his face. After tucking some loose hair behind my ear, I say, “Thanks,” and accept the box. “But you have to share it with me.”
