“I mean…” I shrug. “You’re not wrong.”
“Trust me. I know.”
He starts to continue his climb up the stairs and I force my body to do the same without sucking in a breath when I put a little too much pressure on my bad side. I think I’m doing a pretty good job at faking it until I make it but after two more flights of stairs, Lucas’s pace slows down when he realizes I’m a little further behind him.
He looks over his shoulder, steps faltering. “You sure it’s just the bag that’s bothering you?”
I scoff. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on, Denise.” Lucas sighs, turning and stepping down so now he’s standing right above me, my eyes in direct line of sight with his abdomen. I force myself to look up at his face.
Lucas continues. “I like to think I know when a fellow athlete is struggling.”
“I’m not an athlete.” The words spill out faster than I intend.
He tilts his head to the side, eyes studying me like he’ll find the answer to why that’s the part of what he said that I’m stuck on. His features soften, making me feel sick to my stomach. I don’t need pity. I just need to get up these fucking stairs and into my bed.
“You used to be.”
My breath hitches and it’s now too hot to be wearing a jacket, despite how thin the fabric is. I don’t take it off, though. I play with the zipper instead, my eyes not meeting Lucas’s, focusing on his sneakers. “How would you know?”
He lifts my chin up with his fingers and I don’t fight him. I don’t know why but I don’t. “I heard Amiyah mention it a few times. Ballet, right? She said you were amazing.”
Wasamazing.
Didhave a future ahead of me.
“Yeah well, I don’t anymore.” I pull away and step to the side, gripping on the opposite railing and walking past Lucas, more determined to ignore the now annoying ache of my hip.
Lucas follows, pace matching mine and hand hovering over my back. Not enough to touch me but close enough to catch me if I fall.
“Yeah, she…uh told me about what happened.” Lucas sighs. “That shit fucking sucks. I’m sorry, Denise.”
I’m sorry.
I wouldn’t accept condolences when I was told I’d have to have surgery, or when I was informed that I had damaged my hip beyond repair because I pushed too hard after said surgery. Accepting apologies for what I had lost made it feel too real.
“It’s fine.” I refuse to start crying right now, deciding I’ve already done enough of that tonight. “It doesn’t matter.”
I guess something in my voice gives away how much of a load of crap that is because now Lucas’s hand rests gently on the small of my back, helping to guide my movements up the stairs.
“I don’t need help, Lucas,” I argue but I don’t even try to push him away.
“And I’m calling your bluff, Denise.” He chuckles. “How about this—” No. “I help you to your apartment—” No. “Therefore you don’t feel inclined to say no just because you’re too stubborn for your own good?” Absolutely not.
I open my mouth to tell him this, but he puts his hand out in front of me to stop me from walking and scoops me up without a warning. One hand on my back, the other hooked under my thighs. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to keep myself from falling, obviously.
“Lucas,” I scold him.
“I warned you that I wasn’t going to ask.” Lucas smiles. “Which I’m starting to think that you like.”
I slap his chest but that doesn’t deter him from beginning his ascent up the remaining three flights of stairs. I really should tell him that I’ve already made it halfway up without needing to be carried. Surely I can walk the rest of the way.
“You really don’t have to do this, Lucas. I’m almost on my floor anyways.”
“I know.”
“So you’re just going to carry me the rest of the way up there?”