Laundry basket against one hip, Emily moved through the dorm room collecting dirty leotards strewn about the floor. (How she had managed to accumulate so much laundry in the time she'd been back on campus, she didn't know.)
She stooped down to pick up the sweatshirt she'd stolen from Derek, feeling a twinge in her chest – regret and heartache swelling up until she couldn't breathe. She brought the fabric to her nose, inhaling deeply, his cologne still lingering.
In that moment, the door swung open, JJ loudly announcing her presence by declaring, "Look who I found lurking outside..."
Derek stepped into the room after her with an awkward little wave. "I was, umm, just trying to work up the courage to knock," he admitted.
Emily dropped the hand holding his sweater. "I was just...doing laundry."
"Can we talk?" Derek asked, determinedly avoiding eye contact. JJ made a little squeak of interest at the obviously laden question, prompting Derek to add, "Alone..."
"Let's go to the laundry room," Emily suggested, giving JJ a pointed look.
Emily turned on the washing machine, then turned back to Derek. "Okay, go ahead...you can yell at me now."
"Yell at you?"
"Yeah..." she shrugged. "I assume that's why you're here."
"Oh, Em..." He sighed. "No, that's not... That's not why I'm here." He leaned back against one of the dryers, crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously keeping distance between them.
"Really?" She arched a brow in surprise. "Then why?"
He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I guess I just needed to hear your side of the story."
Her tongue flicked out over her lip. "What changed your mind?"
"Dave Rossi."
"The mob guy?" she asked incredulously. She shook her head then. "Nevermind. So, what do you want to know?"
"Was he telling the truth?" he asked. "Were you engaged?"
She let out a shaky breath. "Yes." Then, seeing the way his expression hardened, she rushed to explain, "You have to understand though... I didn't want to be – he gave me the ring without asking me what I wanted, just expecting that I'd say yes. It wasn't that he loved me, I think, but that he wanted to possess me."
"Why were you even with him in the first place?"
"I wish I could explain it..." She unconsciously chewed at a thumbnail. "When we met, I was thirteen – I'd spent the last half dozen years travelling across Europe to get the best training possible, I had no friends, no support, I was practically alone. And Ian, he cared about me. At least, I thought he did. Little by little, his friendliness turned into...something more. I could have stopped it, but it was so nice to have someone actually care about me."
"I cared about you, Em," Derek whispered.
"I know. And you helped me realize that what I had with Ian was...different. Wrong. But a little part of me – that lonely little thirteen year old part – still needed him to love me. I know that doesn't make any sense, but..." She shook her head.
"Wait," Derek said suddenly. "You were thirteen? But that would... I mean, did you two...?" He gestured vaguely.
She nodded, blinked back tears. She couldn't meet his gaze, staring at the floor as she scuffed the toe of her sneaker across the linoleum.
"That son of a bitch raped you?" he demanded.
"Derek, please," she urged, "Not so loud!"
"I'll fucking kill him!" he growled. "I'll kill that bastard for what he did to you!"
"No!" she cried, forcibly stopping his forward momentum with both hands on his chest. "You can't!"
"He can't just get away with it!"
"You have to let me do this, okay?" she begged. "I'll handle it – just...when I'm ready. Please, just trust me?"
For a moment, he seemed to debate whether he did trust her anymore, but eventually nodded once. "So, I guess this makes me a jerk, huh?"
"You had every right to break up with me," she insisted, even if her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I deserve every awful thing you've thought or said about me and I wouldn't blame you if you never want to speak to me again."
"Yet here I am..." he said, pointing out the obvious with a timid little shrug.
"Yeah," she agreed, teeth scraping across her bottom lip to hide her smile. "Thank you, by the way."
"Anytime." She had no doubt that he truly meant that.
A silence fell over the laundry room then, but for the humming of the washing machine, the tumble of clothes in the dryer. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, merely one that came of being unsure of their newfound footing. They took turns trying to say something, but unable to find any words that seemed quite right.
Finally, Emily let words come tumbling out without stopping to edit her thoughts. "I... I-I've missed you," she admitted, keeping her eyes locked on the spin of clothing in the washer.
"I know the feeling," he echoed, voice not quite a whisper.
She seemed surprise by his admission, but didn't say so. "Derek..." she started, stopped. "Do you want... Would it be asking too much...? I mean..."
"What are you trying to say?" he asked, laughing a little at her obvious tongue-tied awkwardness. It was all too easy to let himself get carried away by how easy things were between them, even as they tried to rebuild what they'd had with the ruins she'd made.
"Would you like to...do something one night? Like together?"
"Such as?" he prompted.
"Umm...dinner and a movie maybe?" She gestured vaguely, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.
"You mean like a date?" he asked, not wanting to get his hopes up (even if they were already sky high).
"Let's say an opportunity for reconciliation," she rephrased. "Sound good?"
"Good enough."
"Good enough," she repeated, smiling shyly. "Cool. How about Wednesday?" she proposed. "My mother's out of the country until Friday, so we'd have the house to ourselves...to talk. I mean, if that's not too presumptuous of me."
Unsure what to say, he gave her a comforting smile and nodded, brief, but sincere.
She gave an uncharacteristic giggle, cheeks immediately flushing with embarrassment.
Derek just smiled and shook his head. "You're cute when you're awkward," he informed her.
"I'm always awkward," she replied, brow raised.
"I know." He winked, then turned and bounded out of the laundry room, a new spring in his step.
