Slow It Down

Part 9 •REWRITTEN•

Then the door closes behind him with a quick click, leaving the apartment too quiet.

For a second, I consider just staying on the couch forever. I pull the blanket back up over my shoulders.

Natalie inhales slowly, then turns to me, eyebrows raised in a gentle challenge. "So," she says as she sits down beside me, "are we really going to spend the first game of the season watching Fixer Upper reruns?"

I tug the blanket up higher. "Maybe."

"Nope." She reaches over and yanks the blanket right off me. The warmth quickly evaporates, making goosebumps form on my legs."Up. We're going."

She stands to her feet, motioning with her hand for me to follow and get up.

"Natalie..."

She kneels in front of me, hands on her hips, voice low and careful. "Look. I know last time was... awful. And I know it messed with you for a long time." A pause. "But you're not that girl anymore. And this isn't that night."

My throat tightens like someone is suddenly squeezing it. I struggle to answer.

She softens even more, the fire in her eyes dimming. "I'd love nothing more than to go to these things with you. I just want to see you have fun again. Even if it's just a tiny bit."

That hits deeper than I expect. I swallow through the lump in my throat as I ponder it for a moment.

Natalie pats my knee gently, gaining my attention again. "I wouldn't be pushing you if I didn't think you were ready."

Her comment stops me in my tracks. I know she wouldn't do this unless she thought I was ready. She will never lead me into danger. I trust this girl to lead the way, even if I'm blind and can't see what's in front of me.

Deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, I ignore the nerves clawing at my throat and choose to let her lead me.

"Okay," I breathe quietly, finally answering. "I'll go."

Her face lights up instantly. "Good. Because if I had to carry you out of this apartment, we would've both died."

I let out a small laugh, and it feels like enough of a victory for her. She claps her hands once, triumphant.

"Perfect. Let's get ready."

Reaching her hand out, I quickly take it before I back out, and am lifted off the couch and pulled down the hall towards my room.

It takes us twenty minutes to change—mostly because Natalie treats my closet like a battlefield and half-charges into it, insisting I need to wear something "spirited but not desperate."

I end up in jeans, a hoodie in school colors, and my warmest coat. Natalie somehow emerges looking like she stepped out of a Pinterest board even though we're going to stand in freezing bleachers.

Before I know it, we're walking across campus together, our breath fogging in the cold, the sky already deepening into a cloudy purple. Students stream in the same direction—a river of faces, laughter, painted cheeks, jerseys, pom-poms.

I tuck my hands in my pockets, keeping my head down as we get closer.

"Hey," Natalie nudges me lightly, "it's okay to be excited, you know." She gives me an encouraging smile.

"I am," I say, but it feels like a half-truth.

Because the closer we get, the louder the crowd becomes, the more the air smells like turf and concession stand popcorn...the more something familiar starts tugging at me.