Текст книги "Back to You "

Автор книги: Priscilla Glenn

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Lauren came into view then, gently lowering herself into one of the chairs on the other side of the glass wall. She looked calm—peaceful, even—as she watched him.

Del walked toward the table, positioning the goggles over his eyes before he reached over and took a small blue plate off the top of the pile.

He turned then, facing one of the metal walls. He looked over to where Lauren sat, shrugging his shoulders before he threw the plate against it.

It exploded with a sharp, crunching sound.

Del flexed his hand at his side. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t get the tiniest rush from it. Just the slightest flicker of adrenalin. Nothing like a shot of Jack, but decent enough.

He turned back toward the table, choosing one of the bigger plates. This time, he held it by its side, flinging it like a frisbee toward the wall.

It splintered into tiny white shards that scattered to the ground, and Del laughed, looking over at Lauren.

She was watching him, her expression even.

With a smile on his face, Del turned and grabbed one of the wine glasses. He brought his arm back, throwing it with a bit more force.

And then it happened.

As soon as it hit, as soon as the sound of glass shattering filled the tiny room, Del squeezed his eyes closed, bringing his clenched fists in front of them.

Glass shattering.

A grating shriek of metal.

His brother’s shout.

This night. Eleven years ago, but it could have been yesterday. He could still see it so clearly.

And now he could hear it, too.

Del made a small noise in the back of his throat as he tried to slow his breathing, but he could already feel his hands shaking. This was why he needed to be home. This was why he needed to drink tonight. Because the alcohol blurred the memories, made them comfortably fuzzy, so that they didn’t seem real anymore.

But he was seeing it now. And it was so real.

It was too real.

“Please. Please. Please,” he chanted through gritted teeth. He was breathing heavily now; a slight tingling began in his spine, and his stomach churned unpleasantly.

Why did he have to call him that night? Why the hell did he have to be so pathetic? Why couldn’t he have just learned to take care of himself?

And why couldn’t his brother have told him no? Just once, why couldn’t he have refused him?

“Goddamn it, Aaron!”

Del whirled suddenly, grabbing the first thing his hand landed on and launching it against the wall.

“I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

The bowl crashed against the metal as he brought his fists to his eyes again, shaking his head quickly.

shoulder>“But what if you forget you love me, like Daddy did?”

“Never. I’ll never forget.”

Del spun wildly, not even seeing what he pulled from the table as he whirled around and heaved it, and before it even made contact with the wall, he was reaching for the next object.

“It’s your fault your father is gone, and now you took your brother too.”

“Fuck you!” he shouted, grabbing an entire stack of plates from the table and flinging them at the wall with the full force of his body. “Fuck you!”

He spun back to the table, grabbing two wine glasses and throwing them both, stifling a sob in the back of his throat.

“I’m sorry I made you come get me when you were sick.”

Del groaned pathetically as he dropped onto the table, swiping his arm across it, sending half of what was there crashing to the floor.

Metal crunching.

A hideous squealing noise.

A flash of light.

He brought his fist down hard on the table, hearing the plates and glasses rattle as a few toppled over.

“No need for sorrys, Mike. You can always count on me.”

He grabbed the large crystal vase from the center of the table and brought it above his head.

“You promised!” he screamed as he turned and launched it across the room, stumbling forward with the force as the vase shattered against the far wall.

And then he dropped to his knees.

His whole body shook with tremors, and his ears rang with the sudden silence. Del fell forward onto his hands, exhaling in guttural grunts.

The shards of broken glass on the floor spun in a dizzy arc before his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, trying desperately to catch his breath.

Del had no idea how long he sat there attempting to get control over his body, but eventually he felt her presence. His eyes were still closed, but he knew she was beside him.

“Tell me what you need,” she said softly.

He was still trembling slightly, his breath unsteady. Slowly, he pushed off his hands and sat back on his heels. “A drink,” he rasped, looking up at her for the first time.

There was no disappointment in her expression. There was no sympathy either, which would have been worse in his eyes.

There was only understanding.

“It’s in the car,” she said gently. “Let’s get out of here.”

Del nodded, taking another second to get his bearings before he stood, and Lauren stepped back, giving him his space.

They walked to the car in silence, and Del was grateful in that moment that she knew him so well. She didn’t try to hold him, or talk to him, or console him in any way. She just let him be, which was exactly what he needed.

They got in the car, and Lauren reached behind her, pulling a brown paper bag out of the backseat and handing it to him.

Del reached inside and pulled out the bottle of whiskey, tossing the bag on the floor as he unscrewed the cap and took a shot of it. Lauren busied herself with putting on her seatbelt and starting the car, giving him whatever privacy she could in the confined space.

By the time they pulled out of the park { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: about rying lot, Del had taken a second shot; he rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth seep through his body as it started taking the tension out of his muscles.

His mind was deliciously empty now; behind his closed lids it was dark and serene, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

A few minutes passed before he felt her fingers on the back of his hand, tentative and gentle.

He cracked one eye and looked over at her.

“Home?” she asked softly.

He looked down to where her hand rested over the top of his, and he turned his slowly so that his palm was facing up before intertwining their fingers.

“Yeah,” he said, resting his head back on the seat as he closed his eyes again. Del lifted the bottle, taking a third shot.

She continued to drive in silence, her thumb making tiny passes over the back of his hand, and suddenly Del felt like he was melting into the seat. He wasn’t sure if it was the energy he’d just exerted, the trauma of reliving the accident, the third consecutive shot of whiskey, or the way she was touching him, but whatever was causing it, he just wanted to suspend time and feel this way for a while.

By the time they got back to his house, Del had taken his fourth and fifth shots, and his body was starting to succumb to the numbness he’d been craving all night.

Lauren pulled into his driveway, putting the car in park and letting the engine idle.

He remained where he was, his eyes still closed, and she sat there in silence, her hand in his, once again giving him exactly what he needed.

Finally he spoke, his husky voice rasping through the silence. “Stay with me for a while?”

When there was no answer, he opened his eyes and turned to look at her.

Her eyes were on him, gentle despite being unreadable.

“Of course.”

Lauren released his hand to turn off the car, and Del unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, walking around the side of the darkened house.

When he reached the tiny backyard, the motion light came on, casting a soft glow across the grass. He inhaled deeply before he lowered himself to the ground, resting his elbows on his knees.

A moment later Lauren came into the yard, and Del brought the bottle to his mouth again as she delicately folded her legs underneath her, sitting beside him.

The night air was heavy with the dewy scent of spring and the distant sound of crickets chirping.

“How did you know about that place?” he finally asked.

“Mr. Brennan was talking about stress reducers in psych class a couple of weeks ago. He said there were places like that. I just looked it up.”

Del nodded as he looked down at the bottle in his hand, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Well, thanks. I think,” he added with a tiny laugh.

Lauren shifted on the grass, crossing her legs in front of her. “Do you want to talk about Aaron?”

His smile fell. “No.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her look down. A beat of silence passed before she asked, “Will you anyway?”

He turned toward her, irritated. “What, is this part of your psych class too? I’m not an experiment, you know.”

She lifted her eyes then, looking at him.

And even in the dim light, he could see t@is"> shoulderhe hurt there, and he had to look away.

“I just…I know he was important to you,” she said, turning away from him and picking at the hem of her jeans. “I just wanted to know about him.”

Something pricked in Del’s chest at her tone of voice.

At the words she had spoken.

He hadn’t talked about Aaron in so long. And he realized then that one of the main reasons for that was because no one ever asked him to.

He inhaled slowly. “Aaron was my brother, my mother, my father, and my best friend. He took care of me. Maybe more than he should have. I wish I hadn’t needed him so much. And I miss him every day.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed. Maybe it was because he’d already dulled his raw emotions, but that hadn’t hurt as much as he’d expected it to.

“I bet he needed you too,” she whispered. “Probably more than you realized.” Lauren reached over, taking the bottle out of his hand.

Del thought she was cutting him off and he was about to protest, but then she surprised him by bringing the bottle to her lips.

She grimaced as the liquor hit her tongue, and Del watched in shock as she took two long pulls from the bottle. She was about to take a third when he reached over and yanked it away from her.

It splashed down her chin, and she brought the back of her hand to her mouth as she whipped toward him. “Hey!”

He looked at her wide-eyed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What, you’re the only one who’s allowed to take the edge off?” she asked, her voice thick with the burn of the alcohol.

“Just let that settle for a minute. Jesus.”

She swallowed and coughed, turning away from him, and Del could only imagine how much her throat must be burning.

A few minutes passed before she spoke again. “Thank you. For telling me all that,” she finally said.

He nudged her with his shoulder, and she turned back toward him. “Thank you for asking.”

She smiled softly. In the dim glow of the motion light, he could see that her eyes were glazed.

It already hit her. Of course it would have.

She looked down at the bottle and then back up at him, quirking her brow.

He had no idea what this was about, but who was he to deny her?

“Slow,” he said, handing her the bottle, and she nodded, bringing it to her mouth and taking a much smaller sip. She flinched again, shaking her head slightly as it went down.

“You know,” she said, her voice somewhat husky before she cleared her throat. “I was kind of jealous of you in there tonight.”

He smirked, looking over at her as she handed him back the bottle.

“You got a lot of built-up aggression, Red?”

She smiled, looking down as she shook her head. “No, not aggression. Frustration, maybe.”

He glanced at her. She was studying her thumbnail, and there was something about her expression that didn’t sit right with him.

“Come on,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Like you could have done any real damage anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I mean seriously, look at these things,” he said nd"> shoulder, reaching over to grab her bicep. He jiggled her arm, and it flapped lifelessly under his hold. “What were you gonna do?”

She whirled suddenly, attempting to grab his arm, and he pulled it out of her reach with a laugh, jumping back slightly.

She immediately followed him, lunging forward and gripping his wrist, trying to twist his arm behind his back. He laughed at her determination, but her attempt was pathetic. He let her maneuver his body for a minute, giving her the false impression of success, and then he shifted his weight, circling his wrist quickly so that he was the one gripping her arm.

Del brought his body forward suddenly, bringing her arm behind her back, and the shock combined with her fuzzy reflexes forced her backward onto the grass.

He landed on top of her, one of his hands trapped between her body and the ground and the other on the grass beside her, holding up some of his weight.

For a second, they both froze.

And then Lauren shifted her leg slightly, urging his body into the cradle of her thighs.

Instantly he pushed off of her, wrenching his hand out from underneath her as he sat up. Del looked down, brushing the grass from his pants before he reached for the bottle that was now lying in the grass between them.

As he righted the bottle, he could see her sit up slowly. Her eyes were forward, but there was a firm set to her jaw.

She said nothing.

Del focused his attention on wiping off the mouth of the bottle with his shirt, and then he looked straight ahead, taking another shot.

“You pick girls for sex.”

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows back on his knees as he swirled the bottle.

“You pick girls for sex, but they’re not good for you. They’re not nice girls.”

“Thanks for the news flash. I had been so confused as to what keeps going wrong.”

“I have a point, you know,” she said, matching his tone.

“Well then why don’t you stop stating the obvious and get to it?”

He heard her take a small breath, and when she spoke, her voice had softened significantly. “Did you ever think about a friends with benefits situation?”

Del froze with the bottle at his lips. He sat that way for a second before he resumed his movements, taking a long, slow sip.

Had he ever thought about it?

Jesus. Ever since they’d kissed a few months ago, all he’d been doing was fantasizing about her.

Sure, he’d fantasized about her before that a few times; after all, he was a guy, and she was a beautiful girl, and he was only human. But he never had any intentions of acting on it.

Then they’d made out on his bedroom floor.

And once he’d kissed her, really kissed her, felt the weight of her body moving against him, it was all he could do not to push her into the janitor’s closet every time he passed her in the halls.

And nights like this, nights they spent alone together, were always the hardest.

But he knew better than to sully her. So he continued to throw his efforts into other girls. Meaningless girls. Girls that were all wrong, of course, like she had said.

On the surface, their friendship had gone back to normal after his little slip-up. But underneath it all, he knew he wanted her. He had crossed a line, and now the craving he had for her@is"> shoulder was a living thing, gnawing at him all the time.

But the absolute worst part was that he knew it was more than just a physical desire. He didn’t just want her body. But he had been burying his emotions for most of his life, and emotional feelings were so much easier for him to ignore than physical ones.

That night in his room, he could see in her eyes that she wanted him too. And now the alcohol was making her brave enough to ask for it.

Del was aware that she was looking at him, that she was waiting for an answer, so he did the only thing he could think of to do.

He laughed it off.

“Enough of the sauce, Red.”

“I’m not drunk,” she snapped.

“Well, you’re not sober.”

She looked at him for a second before she rolled her eyes. “I was just asking, Michael,” she said, taking the bottle from his hands and turning forward again.

She took another slow sip, and for a second, Del thought she was going to drop it, but then she turned back toward him.

“You said it gets messy, but why does it have to?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“If you’re friends with someone,” she continued, “if you care about them and trust them, it shouldn’t get messy.”

“If you’re friends with someone, that’s the reason it gets messy,” he said tiredly, passing a hand over his eyes.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “You don’t think it would be so much more enjoyable if you cared about the person? Trusted the person?”

She turned further toward him, hopping up on her knees, growing more earnest as she argued her point. “Look, you told me once that I should use better judgment when it comes to guys, right? And clearly you need help in that area. We both care about each other, so why can’t we just be something a little more to each other instead of going to the wrong people for that kind of thing?”

She was making sense. Perfect sense. But his mind was already made up.

“Relationships get messy,” she continued. “But this?” she said, gesturing between them. “This could be great.”

She was quiet then, and Del knew he needed to respond. He was racking his brain, trying to think of a valid argument, but he couldn’t come up with anything. And not just because she had presented such a strong argument, but because deep down, he wanted exactly what she did.

He ran his hand down his face and made a desperate attempt at a defense. “You’re a virgin.”

“So?” she nearly yelled, her voice indignant as she whipped her head toward him. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he said quickly, trying to mollify her. “I think it’s great that you are.”

Her shoulders softened slightly, but her expression was still defensive.

“But…I’m not taking your virginity. That should be something special.”

“What’s more special than my best fr—”

“It’s out of the question, Lauren,” he said firmly, cutting her off.

Del saw her shoulders drop as she turned forward, the { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: about ry set returning to her jaw.

He’d used her real name, and she knew that meant he was serious.

Lauren closed her eyes, and he turned away from her, looking down at the grass as he picked at it with his fingers. There was a reason he went for the girls he did: because the good girls were too good for him.

And she was the best of them all.

He had to remember that he had a knack for ruining people’s lives. She’d regret him being the one, he reminded himself. It should be another guy.

Although the thought of another guy getting to touch her that way, getting to be that for her, was enough to make him want to put his fist through a wall.

“You know,” she said softly, pulling his attention back to the present, “for someone who’s supposed to be a tough guy, you’re a real chicken shit.”

He whipped his head toward her, his eyes wide with surprise before he laughed.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” he said through a smile, shaking his head as he reached over to take the bottle from her.

And even though Lauren never brought it up again, he thought about it all the time.

.

January 2012

It felt oddly comfortable to be back on the mats again.

Lauren looked around the gymnasium as she sat on the floor, stretching her legs. She hadn’t been inside a gymnastics studio in years, and yet she felt immediately at home. The smell of the mats, the sound of the vault springs clanging roughly, the repetitive patter and thuds of hands and feet hitting the mats as someone made a run.

She couldn’t believe she’d lived here all this time and didn’t know about this place. Then again, she’d never looked for one. When she’d first moved to Bellefonte and started teaching, there was hardly free time for anything, much less an old hobby.

Lauren stood and began stretching her quads, glancing at the door before she looked to the clock on the far wall. Five minutes to six. They should be here any minute now.

She smiled, realizing then just how excited she was about the evening.

Michael had called her earlier in the week, starting the conversation with, “I have a favor to ask you,” and immediately following it up with, “You can totally say no.”

He explained to her that Erin’s birthday was that weekend, and when he’d asked her what she wanted to do, she’d said, “I want Miss Lauren to teach me flips.” Lauren had told the class a few stories from her time as a gymnast, and apparently Erin was enthralled.

Michael assured Lauren that he’d made Erin no promises, so if she said no, it would be no big deal—she wouldn’t be letting anyone down. He would just find something else for them to do, and she’d be okay with it.

And in the middle of his rant, pardoning her for something she hadn’t yet declined, she laughed.

“Of course I will, Michael,” she’d interrupted, putting him out of his misery. “I’d love to, actually.”

And she meant it. She had grown so fond of Erin over the past few months; plus, teaching her gymnastics would be combining two of Lauren’s favorite things { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: 0si

Apparently, in the hopes of her saying yes, Michael had already done his homework. As soon as she agreed, he told her about this place, a mere fifteen minutes from where Lauren lived, and said they held “open gym” on Sunday nights from six to eight: for a small fee, gymnasts could come and use the facility to practice routines or fine-tune their skills.

So they’d agreed to meet at six, and when Michael cupped the phone and told Erin that Miss Lauren was going to teach her, she could hear the enthusiastic squeal through Michael’s hand.

A few minutes later, as Lauren was using the wall to get a good stretch on her ankles, she heard the door open, and that same excited peal echoed through the gym.

“Is she here yet, Daddy?”

“I’m not sure. Let me just talk to this man for a minute and then we’ll go look for her, okay?”

Lauren turned to see Michael approach the man at the front desk while Erin hopped from foot to foot, taking a few seconds to balance on each one. She glanced up, catching sight of Lauren, and grinned as she broke into a dead run.

Michael turned abruptly, reaching out for her, but he immediately relaxed when he saw where she was running. Lauren dropped to her knees and caught Erin in a hug, smiling over her tiny shoulder at Michael. He held up his finger and mouthed “one minute” to her, and she nodded, releasing Erin and leaning back to see her face.

“Happy birthday!”

Erin smiled broadly and danced in a circle, waving her hands over her head.

“Can we flip now?” she sang.

“Almost,” Lauren said. “First, let’s take off your jacket and shoes.”

Erin stopped her dance long enough to let Lauren help her remove her coat and sneakers as Michael approached them.

“Hey,” he said, reaching down to take Erin’s things out of Lauren’s hands. “Thanks again for doing this.”

“It’s no problem,” she said, looking down at Erin. “We’re gonna have fun, right?”

“Right!”

Michael smiled at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “I’m just gonna go put her stuff in one of the lockers.”

“Yep. We’ll be over on the mats,” said Lauren, reaching out for Erin’s hand.

While Michael put away her things, Lauren stretched Erin out a bit. She knew they wouldn’t be doing anything too intense tonight, but still, she wanted to show her the proper way to approach the sport.

Erin was an obedient student, just as she was at Learn and Grow, listening in earnest, picking up the stretching techniques Lauren showed her immediately.

By the time Michael made it back to them, they were about to start, and he took a seat up against the wall a few feet away.

“Okay, so we’re going to start with a cartwheel. I’m going to show you what it looks like, and then I’ll teach you how to do it, okay?”

Erin nodded, taking a step back, and Lauren took a few steps away from her before she lifted her arms gracefully. In one quick, fluid movement, she executed a perfect cartwheel, legs extended, toes pointed, coming up on the other side and finishing with her hands raised above her head, the same way she started.

“Ooooh,” Erin cooed, wide-eyed. “You’re good at that.”

“It looks fancy, but it’s easy. You ready to try?”

Erin nodded, and Lauren knelt down in front of her. “Okay, so what I want you to do is lunge forward a little bit. Bend this knee and put your weight on it, and leave this leg straight behind you.”

Lauren placed her hands on Erin’s waist, adjusting her weight distribution, and she smiled, casting a sly glance at Michael. “You know,” she said just loud enough for him to hear, “I tried to teach your daddy how to do this once.”

Michael looked over at her and smirked, shaking his head slowly.

“You did?” Erin asked, looking over at her father.

“Mm-hm.” Lauren cupped her hand in front of her mouth, feigning a whisper. “But he wasn’t very good.”

Michael looked down, and she could see his shoulders bounce with laughter.

Erin raised her eyebrows in surprise before she turned to Michael sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll teach you after I learn how.”

“Thank you, baby girl,” he called before he stuck his tongue out at Lauren, and she chuckled at his juvenile behavior before turning her attention back to Erin.

“Okay, now I want you to put your arms over your head, the way I did before. Good. Now you’re going to lean over and put your hands side by side on this line, right here, and when they touch the floor, I want your straight leg to come up behind you. Let’s just practice that a few times so you get the feel of it. I’m gonna hold on to you, okay?”

“‘Kay.” Erin nodded, determination taking over her little features.

They practiced the motion a few times until Erin was able to do it smoothly. At one point Lauren glanced at Michael, and when he winked at her, she felt heat instantly blooming on her cheeks. She heard him laugh shortly after that, but she had no way of knowing if it was in response to her silly, girlish reaction to such an innocent gesture.

“Can I try going over?” Erin asked, pulling Lauren’s attention back.

She cleared her throat. “Um, sure. If you’re ready. I’ll keep my hands on your waist to help you balance. Once your straight leg goes up like we practiced, you’re going to push off with your bent leg to send yourself over. Try to keep your toes pointed and your legs straight.”

Erin got in position, and Lauren knelt parallel to her, keeping her hands on Erin’s waist to give her a little extra support. The first few were shaky, her legs falling forward or back or bending awkwardly. But the more they did it, the sturdier she became, until finally Lauren was barely touching her waist at all.

“You want to try one on your own?” Lauren asked, and Erin looked up, somewhat hesitant. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here. I won’t let you fall. Promise.”

With a tiny breath to steel her resolve, Erin nodded and turned, raising her arms above her head. Lauren stood by, ready to grab her at the slightest signal, but she didn’t need to. Erin went over smoothly, landing on the other side with her arms extended like a pro. She whipped her head toward Lauren, grinning from ear to ear before she turned and ran toward her father.

“I did it! Daddy, I did it! Did you see me? Did you see me?”

“I saw!” he said, scooping her up. “You were awesome!”

Lauren watched them with a smile until suddenly, without warning, s { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: ing to ryhe was struck with a thought that caused a sharp pang in her chest.

Michael had been just one year older than Erin was right now when his father left. When his mother pretty much checked out on him.

So young.

She looked at Erin, her adoration for her father beaming from her eyes as she looked up at him. She was so vulnerable. So needy. And then she thought of Michael at that age, just as vulnerable, twice as needy, and completely forsaken.

And suddenly, she felt like crying.

Lauren wanted to cross the mats and hug him. Just wrap her arms around him and rock him side to side, even though it was years too late to give that little boy the comfort he deserved.

“Show me a fancy flip!” Erin called as she ran back toward Lauren, and with a quick intake of breath, she shook off the ache in her heart.

“A fancy flip?” she asked uneasily. “I haven’t done those in a long time.”

“You can still do it I bet,” Michael said as he followed Erin onto the mat. “Muscle memory.”

Lauren scrunched her nose at him, and he laughed. “Try something easy. I bet you anything you can still do it.”

She looked down at Erin, who was staring up at her expectantly, and she took a deep breath. “Okay. Something easy.”

Erin clapped her hands before taking a step back, pulling her father with her to give Lauren some room.

Lauren rolled her neck and took another deep breath before she brought her weight forward on her toes. With a little hop, she was off running, bringing her hands to the mat as her legs flipped up behind her, coming together in a perfect line above her head before she whipped them around together toward the mat. As she landed, she rebounded several inches off the floor before extending her hands.

She definitely had enough power to go over again.

“Wow!” Erin breathed. “What’s that called?”

“That’s called a round-off,” she said as she walked back toward them. “I think I’m gonna try one that’s a little fancier.”

Erin leaned into her father, her eyes pinned on Lauren in awe as she set herself up once more. She tightened her body, put her weight on her toes, and then she was off running again. This time, as her legs whipped around on the round-off, she threw her arms back over her head, executing a perfect back-handspring.

And because it felt so good, she immediately followed it with another before she hit her landing, arching her back slightly as she extended her arms overhead.

Erin’s gasp echoed off the walls of the gym. Her face was priceless, some combination of shock and complete worship as she watched Lauren walk back to them.

Michael was grinning at her. “See? What did I tell you? Muscle memory. That never fails to amaze me, by the way. Watching you do that.”

“What’s muscle memory?” Erin asked before Lauren could react to his comment.