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I look back over at where Tristan’s half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, hands gesticulating wildly as he watches the England match. He feels the weight of my stare and looks over at me, giving me a cocky grin that has my heart fluttering. It’s the one he gives me when I’m not standing next to him, the one that tells me I belong to him. He brings his index up to his mouth and kisses it, then points at me before tapping his nose a couple of times. That’s how he mimes kissing my nose from a distance.
I’m so in love with him, it shocks me. I didn’t think I was capable of feeling a positive emotion so emphatically, so wholeheartedly, but he pulls it easily out of me.
I turn back and look at Six. “I think I finally might be.”
She comes over and gives me a quick hug, pulling back but keeping her hands on my shoulders. “I'm so glad. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were struggling before.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t want to bother you.”
She gives me a disappointed look. “Nera…”
“No, it was more than that. I was ashamed. A part of me still is. On paper I have everything going for me, I’m privileged and successful and lucky in so many ways, luckier than most. It felt so selfish to admit that even with everything I have in my life I was deeply unhappy, you know?”
Her eyes soften and she rubs my arm gently. “Just because your struggles are different than others doesn’t mean they aren’t valid. Nor does it mean that you have to keep them to yourself and struggle in silence. I’m glad you have Tristan now, but I’ll always regret not being there for you when you needed me.”
It’s my turn to hug her. I hold her so tightly, wanting to communicate the depth of my affection for her, that I nearly crush her against me.
“Don’t spend another second thinking about it. I’m the one who kept it a secret from you and I was good at hiding it.”
“Not really,” she answers. I pull back, raising a brow at her in surprise. She explains, “Now that I see you like this, truly happy and in love, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. The difference is night and day. You’re literally glowing now,” she tells me, happily.
“I’m so in love with him, it scares me.”
She nods, understanding.
She knows better than anyone how painful loving someone can be.
“I get it. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. He can’t go more than a minute without looking back over here. You fell in love with a good one.”
???
“Good job today, Nera. Really well done on those footwork drills,” Coach Kelly tells me.
It’s been a couple of months since Krav ‘resigned’ and Coach Kelly stepped into his role. My fencing training has completely changed because of it. While Kelly is just as results oriented as Kravtsov, his methods are much less extreme.
He prioritizes active recovery and calisthenic type movements as much as pure weight lifting and cardio workouts. More importantly, he’s a believer in positive reinforcement to better athletes and the results have been clear. I can see improvements every day.
“Thanks, Coach,” I say, smiling happily.
“Rest up tomorrow, I’ll see you on Sunday for practice.”
“Sounds good, have a great weekend,” I reply, picking up my bag and heading out.
I check my phone and see I have no texts from Tristan. My brow furrows slightly. That’s weird. He usually texts me increasingly raunchy messages that have me blushing post-practice.
I try calling him but he doesn’t answer.
When we left my apartment this morning – me for practice, him for a workout – he told me to meet him at his place after so he could cook me lunch.
He must just be hands deep in dough or something and not checking his phone.
On my way to his place, I pick up some fresh flowers at a local market. I know he secretly likes them around the house and likes to see what kinds I’ll surprise him with. Today, I chose tulips in his favorite colors.
A couple weeks ago, I’d forgotten the keys to my apartment and accidentally been locked out because the girls were with their boyfriends. When I’d gotten to Tristan’s, he’d been standing at the top of his stairs, waiting for me. In his hand, he had a copy of his front key.
He’d clasped my hand and had gently placed the key in my palm, closing my fingers around it without a word.
Another step forward in our relationship, a small one but one that’d had my heart fluttering excitedly nonetheless.
