His gaze levels with mine, a sense of seriousness undercutting the playful banter.
“Accepting everyone’s opinion and expectation, no matter how well-intentioned they are, is allowing yourself to get over-watered.”
Oh.
“Advocate for yourself. You’re not a fool, Alia. Don’t let anyone discourage you from going for what you want.”
I come to a slow stop but in actuality, my mind is reeling. My chest pumps blood furiously everywhere and my skin prickles as his advice washes over me with a caress that feels as visceral as his touch. His attention on me is pointed and, like a seedling yearning for his warmth, I stand taller.
What is this emotion that always seems to lodge itself in my chest when Cal is around? He looks at me like I can do anything I put mymind to. Like I’m the strongest person he’s ever met and yet the only one he wants to protect.
“You good?” Cal asks, just as Rohan slides over to us, forcing me to look away from the man who’s swept me off my feet.
“What’re you guys talking about?” my cousin asks, glancing between the two of us. Rohan tries to sound relaxed but curiosity, and possibly suspicion, laces his tone. His jaw is tight as he looks at his friend, then me, trying to ascertain if anything inappropriate is taking place.
His attention lands on my hand which is still clasped in Cal’s, and lines mar his forehead. Cal notices it at the same time I do and he releases his grip on me. Slowly.
The tips of his fingers brush against the underside of my palm as we let go of each other, the lingering touch leaving tingles in its wake and a deep sense of loss. If I could, I’d hold onto him, but I know this is for the best. Time moves differently when I’m with Cal and it’s clear we’ve been lost in our own world for longer than is prudent. Long enough that Rohan noticed and his overprotective sensors fired up.
“So?” he prods, pointing to my face. “You looked serious.”
“Plants,” I answer. Rohan’s brows draw low, like he’s about to call bullshit.
“He was teaching me how to make plants. . .thrive.“ I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help flicking a glance at my cousin’s teammate.
Something soft, almost intimate, lights up Cal’s eyes, quicksilver and warm, gone before it can fully take root.
“Plants?” Rohan mutters under his breath. His incredulity is obvious, and I take the opportunity to distract him by reaching for his support.
“C’mon. Help me get across the rink, big bro. I’ve annoyed Cal enough for today and I want to get these death blades off my feet.Thisis why I like cricket more.”
Cal grins, shaking his head at me and slapping Rohan on the back in that friendly, bro-move most men make. “Rein in your cousin, Moore. All this hating on hockey isn’t good for our morale.”
With a wink, he spins and skates away, joining his family nearby.
“Looks like you guys have gotten pretty friendly,” Rohan says as I shuffle forward, taking baby steps like Cal taught me.
“He’s easy to be friends with.”
Thankfully, Rohan doesn’t ask any more questions. For the rest of the afternoon, I spend my time surrounded by family and the team, many of whom willingly take turns to help me on the ice. With a start, I realize my friendships have begun to expand beyond my cousins and Cal, who I catch watching me with pride.
My chest expands with each breath as my mind replays our conversation. His words sink into my bones, displacing every heavy doubt and debilitating anxiety that has infected me to the marrow. Without fanfare, without show, he’s filled me with a buoyancy I’ve been missing for years.
Each step feels like I’m pirouetting on clouds.
You’re not a fool, Alia.
You’re not a fool, Alia.
You’re not a fool, Alia.
His assuredness of me alleviates a pressure I hadn’t even realized was stifling me. I’d gotten so used to worrying about not letting my family down that I never allowed myself the peace of believing in my success.
Cal’s faith in me boosts my own.
So, when Rohan asks me if I want to try skating around the rink just once more or if I’d had enough, I beam at him and say, “I’m not giving up yet.”
41