Apriltello " Calculated risk"

Calculated risk,

HEY GUYS!! ok so yeah u will make this into an individual story cause I now realized that it's better that way

AND NOW: GOOD NEWS.. over the past few days I have not been updating my stories. . cause...I have been working on Apritello stories and honestly I wrote like 6!?! I was like these are pretty good, these ppl are ganna love them, 2 of them are comedy, 3 of them are Straight on romance and 1 of them is sad T^T so i will publish those once I'm done with this.. I will publish Chapter 2 in a few minutes

All right, man. You got this! One more!" Raph says, his voice near enough to a growl and his fingers hovering mere centimeters away from the bar. "Come on! Don't wimp out on me now!"

A growl of my own builds in my chest, a guttural, almost animalistic sound that ends in a deep cry followed by the clang of the weight bar hitting its mark. My hands slide from the metal bar and hang limp at my sides, brushing my fingertips along the floor. Raph lets out a whoop of encouragement and grabs hold of my wrist to heave me bodily up to sitting. He slaps me across the carapace with a dull thud and I can't help but grin back at the excited gleam in his eyes even though my arms are the consistency of jelly and every muscle in my chest and shoulders cries out from the abuse.

"Not too bad," I murmur, snagging the towel from the end of the bench to wipe the sweat from my brow. "Soon I'll be lifting more than you," I add with a smirk.

"You're doing good, D, but let's be realistic here," he replies with a snort, picking up a dumbbell for a few bicep curls as if to prove his point.

"Can't hurt to have goals," I mumble.

I clench my teeth as I pry open my fingers. An all-too-familiar bolt of pain shoots up towards my elbow and I open and close my hand until it dulls to a stubborn ache. The scars along my wrist and fingers are still tight and my grip nothing less than clumsy. I try not to focus on it, on any of the things I can't change. My hand is never going to have the dexterity it once did. I'd be lying to myself if I said otherwise. I can't change it, but I can change other things. I can lift weights with Raph. I can get my strength back and then some. No one is going to make me feel weak ever again.

You've got a long way to go. Raphael was shot and he can still lift more than you. You need to work harder.

"I think I've got another set in me," I say, draping the towel over my shoulders.

"I'll have to take a raincheck on that," Raph replies, dropping the dumbbell to the floor. "I'm supposed to meet Casey at the rink in an hour."

"For what?" I ask, trying not to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

He slowly tilts his head in my direction. I squirm awkwardly under his stare. He doesn't let up, leaning against the bar and narrowing his eyes with a smug smile that makes me want to punch him.

"What?" I snap, regretting it the instant the smile turns into a predatory grin.

"What's got you wound so tight?" he snickers, the sound of his laughter setting my teeth on edge. "Is this how you're going to be every time April isn't around, 'cause I'm not sure if I can stomach that."

Her name is like a strike to the chest and I recoil, not ready for the assault. I forget my annoyance and anger and roll my shoulders forward. It's a stance of weakness. He caught me off guard that's all. I straighten almost immediately. I grasp for a snarky reply or an aloof chuckle, as though it's some secret joke between the two of us, but only manage a half-hearted shrug. The noncommittal response pushes his smug grin into something just as loathsome; a concerned frown.