Page 15 of Every Move You Make

So what if I am eager? Iwantto help her. I want her to be happy. Friends help friends like this all the time, don’t they?

“Yeah,” she nods. “Saturday night works.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Now squat. Three sets of eight.”

“I think you put too much weight on.”

“Oh yeah? Show me how wrong I am.”

Chapter 7

Dating Lesson No. 1

Robyn

Tossing the eighth dress into the heap on my bed, I howl, falling on top of it all in nothing but my skivvies and sweat. I have no idea how to dress for this dating lesson with Dell tonight. We’re going to dinner at a trendy restaurant, but I don’t know if I should wear something casual because we’re just friends, or something sexy because this is a date… thing.

Ugh.

What have I done? Why did I agree to let Dell be my flirt coach? What good could possibly come of this? I guess the ability to get Isaiah to notice me as more than a friend. That is the goal, after all. It’s the dream. But achieving that with the help of my other crush?

He’s really taking personal training to a whole new level.

We’ve seen each other outside of training sessions a couple of times. Once, we ran into each other at the grocery store. Another time at a hockey game. But other than that, we’ve never hung out and for good reason. How am I supposed to keep it together when I don’t have anything like working out to distract me from…him?

I have to redirect my thoughts and focus on Isaiah. I need to learn how not to be a total fucking weirdo around him.

When he left to play rugby professionally in London, we lost our near-daily connection. Our communication suffered, partly because he was busy trying to make a name for himself, and partly because I was wrapped up in my ownstuff with school and rugby. From there, it only got worse. The more time passed, the more awkward it felt acting like the close friends we once were, and the harder it was to pick up where we left off. My more-than-friends feelings only caused more uncertainty. I’ve been a festering pit of nervousness about our relationship ever since.

A buzzing from my phone completely derails my thoughts, and I reach for it to see a text from my friend Angie, Isaiah’s older sister. It’s a picture of her infant twins wearing USA Valor onesies, and I instantly smile. My thumbs fly over the keyboard to reply.

They don't even need to try out. They’re on the team! I’m the captain, I can say that.

The dots come and go for a minute before a video call from Angie pops up.

“Hey, mama,” I smile, and Angie’s plump, heart-shaped face fills the screen.

“Are you naked?”

“Kinda,” I say, showing her my strapless bra and then panning back to my face.

“Hot. I was trying to type, but texting is nearly impossible with two babies these days.”

“You and Raf have your hands full.”

“Oh god, you have no idea. Anyway,” Angie drawls, “I need you to send me your new address so I can mail you a wedding invitation.”

“Yes!”

“Of course, you’ll have a plus one,” she smirks, her comment obviously fishing for a reaction.

I roll my eyes, but my gut drops. She has no idea about my feelings for her brother. I’ve been hanging around Angie and her family for years, but I’ve never told her about this. It’s not that I don’t think she would approve. She’s the matriarch of her family, and honestly, I think she’d be happy forus if we worked out. I’m just scared to make the effort—to put myself out there and be real with Isaiah. To finally tip the scales would be a huge change. But then there’s the very real possibility that it would crash and burn, and the friendship Isaiah and I have (if you can even call it that) would crumble.

“I’ll work on that plus one,” I sigh.

“Are you laying on a pile of clothes?”

“Oh, yeah. I have a thing tonight and I don’t know what to wear.”

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