Every Move You Make (The Rugby Lovers)

by Sloan Spencer

“Are you hurt?” she asks, her eyes assessing my entire body. “Pain is subjective,” I mutter. “It’s not,” she says firmly. “Quit being an ass and tell me the truth.”

“You can push us away all you want, but no one in this family is gonna leave you.”

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” I shake my head again. “Well, I do, so buckle up, buttercup.”

“Dude,” he drawls, brows pinching together. “You shouldn't be playing if a three is your baseline pain level.” “I’m used to it.” Dell sighs. “Okay. One of my goals will be to teach you to listen to your body and not ignore pain.”

I’m twenty-eight, my whole prefrontal cortex is developed, and all I do is eat, sleep, and breathe rugby. That, and read romance, usually something of the unhinged or sporty variety.

But this man who looks like he’s carved from stone, waiting for the world to be placed on his shoulders so he can see how many reps he can squat? Oh yeah.

Here’s the thing about me: sometimes I dive in headfirst without checking how deep, clean, or safe the water is. But that’s how I go through life, and it’s worked out for the most part. I don’t usually second-guess myself.

Silence of the Lambs, huh? How’d that go?” “The review in our school newspaper read: Not everything can or should be a musical.” “I’m going to need to see footage someday.” “Nothing would make me more uncomfortable,”

If your date thinks you should be eating something smaller, then they’re a trash human, got it? And it wouldn’t matter if you were an athlete or a librarian, lean or fat, you should order what you want.”

My heart flutters, and I choke up—caught between feelings for two men, unable to decipher where to place my attention. But Dell’s words seep into my brain and flow straight to my heart.

“Do not change yourself. A good partner is someone who wants you to feel full, happy, and desired.”

“And I’d like to watch your chest flush when you catch me appreciating your body. Just. Like. That.”

While her inclination is to coax feelings from people, mine is to hide them.

“Well, you fit right in with the rugby community,” I chuckle. “Oh, you mean the community of fucking weirdos? Thanks,” she smiles and holds her beer up. “It’s a badge of honor.” “We are a strange bunch, aren’t we?”

The comfort of his friendship outweighs my struggle. For now.

I’ve never danced with a man. I’ve never had a man built like a Greek god look at me the way he is—like he wants to devour and punish me at the same time.

“You’re not my client tonight, Isaiah. You’re just mine.”

I’m not sorry this complicates things. I’m so tired of burying my feelings for her. For him. I’m the kind of man who dives in head-first and asks questions later. It has done nothing but gut me to ignore what my heart wants.

“You were it for me, Robyn. Until…” he eyes train on me, “until I fell for him too.”

“Of course you do,” I smile, smoothing my hand over her head, cradling it. “You’re this big strong athlete. Of course you crave softness.”

Did I have a thing for cowboys before today? I don’t think so. Do I now? Definitely.

“They believe in a God who loves all people. They believe in nature and science. They believe we were given brains and we’re supposed to use them and not blindly follow a book that was written by men.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do love her, but it’s my life. I have never and will never live it according to someone else’s standard for happiness.”

But hey,” she says, placing her hand on Dell’s arm, “help me convince your sister to pass out ouija boards as party favors at my funeral.”

My emotions are too big and too loud. They’re consuming me like a swarm of locusts or a flesh-eating bacteria.

With you is support when you need it most.

“Listen,” he sighs. “I don’t ask for much from you guys, mostly because I don’t know how. But, we don’t have anyone else we can be ourselves around. Not here.

“So you’re telling me, your career playing rugby ended, but your career in love had just begun?” Angie’s daydreaming face is a sight to behold.

“Turn around. I don’t wanna talk to your butt.” He should because I’m an ass.

Making a decision no matter how big or small and flinging himself into it with abandon? I thought it would be a lot more terrifying. Maybe it would have been if I was doing it alone, but I’m not.

They’re with me. They didn’t give up on me.

“I made, quite possibly, the dumbest decision to leave us. There’s no job more important than you two. I let fear take over, and it convinced me I was better off in the shadows. But I was a coward. So I… I took some inspiration from both of you.”

“I could hear your encouragement and feel your head-first energy.”

I promise to never let fear drive.” “Yes,” she swallows. “I’m not going to let it drive me either. Every hit will be worth it.”