Page 5 of Give In To Love
He leaned against the doorjamb, holding a white bakery bag in one hand and a paper cup of what I assumed was coffee in the other. “You’re still in bed?”
“Enjoying the quiet.” I raised an eyebrow pointedly.
“You trying to tell me something?”
“Nothing you aren’t already aware of.”
He stepped into the room, one corner of his mouth curving in a smile. He’d been doing that more often—smiling—since he’d sold one of his sculptures to billionaire Warren Buffett a couple of months ago. They said money couldn’t buy happiness, and it still hadn’t completely eradicated the haunted look in his eye that he’d worn since he’d broken up with his boyfriend Will nearly five years ago. But when you’d raised yourself and your brother from the ashes of poverty and abandonment, money like that certainly allowed you to breathe easier. It was nice to see the mantle of responsibility lighten for him, and I hoped he’d at least be able to find some peace in his life.
I pushed myself to a sitting position as he sat on the edge of my bed and handed me the coffee. I took a sip, appreciating that he’d remembered to have the barista add an extra pump of vanilla along with the creamer I favored. Those were indulgences I’d rarely partaken of just a couple of months ago. I was still getting used to the luxury of such things.
“Thank you,” I said as I took one more sip and set it on my nightstand.
“I don’t know how you can drink it with all that junk.”
“I don’t know how you can drinkwithoutall that junk.” I pulled a face.
“You’re ridiculous.” He reached out like he was going to ruffle my hair, but I dodged his hand, shooting him an annoyed look. He chuckled but let his hand fall to his side, offering the bag to me with his other hand. “You ready to move in today?”
I pulled a doughnut out of the bag and took a bite, trying not to drop crumbs all over my sheets. I looked around the room at the three boxes stacked neatly by the door and the ugly-as-fuck suitcase we’d found at the thrift store laying open in front of my closet. Sammy’d offered to buy me a new one now that he had some extra cash, but I’d refused. Ugly as it may be, it got the job done, and I didn’t see any point wasting money on something new. It wasn’t like I was going to be a world traveler. I was just moving into a dorm in Omaha, about an hour away.
“Yeah, I guess. I just need to shower and finish packing my toiletries. It’s not like I have a lot to take with me.”
His brow creased. “But you have everything you need, right? We got everything on your list last weekend.”
I stifled my eye roll at his worry. He’d been overprotective my entire life, always putting my needs before his own, which could be smothering sometimes, but I knew it came from a place of wanting what was best for me. We had a shitty home life growing up, and when even that little bit of security fell through, he stepped up, doing everything in his power to keep us afloat. I likely wouldn’t have survived without Sammy.
“Yeah, I’ve got everything I need.”
The tension in his body visibly relaxed and he pulled another doughnut out of the bag—a chocolate glazed—and took a bite. We ate our doughnuts in silence, each lost in our thoughts. I finished mine, licked my fingers clean, then took another sip of my coffee. “You don’t have to go with me today, you know. I’m sure you have other things to do.”
“You don’t want me to come?” I saw the hurt flash in his eyes and internally cringed.
“That’s not what I meant. I just know you’ve probably got shit to do. Welding stuff, or whatever. I’m twenty, Sammy. I take meds for my anxiety. I’m a big boy, and I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
He squinted his eyes at me, and I tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. He popped the last bite of his doughnut into his mouth, licking his fingers in quick, jerky movements. Shit. I’d pissed him off.
“First of all”—he held up one licked-clean finger—“you’re full of shit. I know you’re nervous, even though you try to hide it—which is totally normal, by the way. And second”—he held up the next finger—“my ‘welding stuff’ can wait. None of that shit is more important than you. You’ve worked your ass off at the community college for the last two years, and you deserve this opportunity. I’m not gonna bail on you now. Besides.” He stood, crossing over to the doorway before looking back at me. “I’ve gotta check out this roommate situation and make sure I’m not moving you in with some douche.”
I groaned. “Donotembarrass me, Sammy. Seriously. You know how hard it is for me to make friends.”
His expression softened. “Just be yourself. You made friends with two of the most popular girls in high school, right? You’ll be fine.” Becoming friends with Mandy and Drea had been a fluke. I still wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at whatever message was there before returning his gaze to me. “You still wanna leave at ten-thirty?”
“Yeah, that should give me enough time.”
“I’ll leave you to it.”
2
TJ
I walkedinto the dance studio lobby early on Saturday morning and locked the door behind me before heading toward one of the smaller studios in the back and flipping on the light. As I traded flip-flops for jazz shoes, I breathed deep, inhaling the stale scent of sweat and rosin mixed with the vanilla-scented air freshener Donna insisted on plugging in despite it doing little to mitigate the smell. Some might wrinkle their nose at the aroma, but for me, it was a comfort.
There was a special kind of peace in a quiet dance studio. No little ballerinas chattering away. No instructors calling out corrections over music blaring through speakers. No preteens shooting videos for TikTok, their phones propped up on the ballet barre, oblivious to the fact that they were in the way of everyone else using the space.
It was just me, the mirror, and the Marley floor.
I popped in my AirPods, not bothering to pair my phone to the sound system, and scrolled through my playlists, debating my options. Skipping past the upbeat pop I typically used in my jazz classes and the beat-heavy hip-hop tracks, I opted for something more mellow.
