“But you’re a bodybuilder. Isn’t that the look you’re going for?” Meg lifted the hanger off the rack and held the dress against her chest, checking herself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. “Big muscles on display and all that?”
Alisha pulled a pillow into her lap. “Meg, we’ve had this conversation. I amnota bodybuilder. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I’m a powerlifter.”
“Tomayto, tomahto.” Meg went back to perusing the closet, but she kept the polka dot dress slung over her arm.
“No, not the same. Bodybuilders lift weights for aesthetics as well as strength. Bodybuilding competitions are about symmetry and well-developed muscles. They get onstage in bathing suits. But powerlifting has nothing to do with looks. When we compete, it’s all about who can lift the most weight at the meet. How we look is a side effect, not the goal.”
Meg pulled out another dress, and Alisha shrugged. “Sure, take it.”
After squinting at the garment, Meg returned it to the closet.
“But I’ve noticed my upper body is a lot bigger than even a couple years ago.” Alisha rubbed her hands up the outside of her arms, cupping her shoulders. “And most guys don’t like girls with muscles. Or at least not big muscles.”
“By ‘most guys,’ are you referring to Zachary, by any chance?”
Zachary Paxton was a guy she’d dated in college, for a whole month and a half, until he’d told her to choose him or powerlifting. No-brainer.
“Not just Whack Zach. I used to hear a lot of guys talk, back when I went to the gym, before I built my own setup.”
Meg choked out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Ali. But we’ve been down this road. Donottake Hawksburg as representative of the population at large. Guys here may love a thigh gap, but I guarantee not everyone does.”
Though she didn’t want to spell out her reasons to Meg, she latched on to any reason to stay out of the dating game. Once before, she’d opened her heart. Fell in love with a guy she’d met in Econ 201—Cole. And he was great, amazing, wonderful. Then Granny got sick, and she’d fled campus and never looked back. Her relationship became another casualty of her devotion to family.
Now Alisha never allowed anyone to get close. Built up defenses, physical and emotional, heck, even environmental—no guy was interested in coming home to an attic above her grandparents. All the walls kept her safe. But not only her. The walls protected those around her too.
Whenever feelings arose,realfeelings, she bailed. Opening her heart left her vulnerable to getting hurt. Or hurting someone else. Like Cole, who didn’t deserve to be left, even though she hadn’t had a choice. Like her grandparents, who needed her focus here, looking out for them.
Leaning into the depths of the closet, Meg said, “So, based on one jerk from undergrad and a handful of tools at the gym, you think Dr.Handsome Harris”—Alisha launched the pillow at her friend, but it bounced off the dresser, badly off target—“thinks you’re too jacked?”
“All I’m saying is, he didn’t seem interested Monday morning.” Her plan to keep him away bearing fruit, and yet ...
“Maybe because his colleague was right there, and your good ol’ grandad could’ve stepped out at any moment! I highly doubt he would’ve sexted you for months if he didn’t like what he saw back in March.”
“Meg, seriously, yuck. We’ve just been chatting. About food, our hobbies, random GIFs.” And okay, yes, a few totally G-rated pictures, which Meg didnotneed to know about.
“NakedGIFs.” Meg spun around and leered like a perv, shaking her eyebrows.
“Gross! There’s no such thing.”
“Is too—look it up,” said Meg.
“I will not.” Alisha tried to channel the dignity of Violet Crawley.
“Double-dare you.”
“Meg, we’re adults.”
In response, Meg pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She tapped a few times and tossed it onto the bed.
“Margaret Ophelia Anderson, I swear, if there’s a penis on this screen ...” Alisha picked up the phone like she would a venomous snake.
Peeking through one eye, Alisha spied the purple Forever Love logo and a short bio.Thank goodness—no genitals.She snorted out a laugh, then opened both eyes and pinched to zoom. “Oh, this is the guy you’re meeting tonight? Eric, huh? Where’s the picture?”
Meg sat on the foot of the bed. “There isn’t one.”
“What do you mean, ‘There isn’t one’?” Alisha asked.
“Like I said before, it’s an app for people who want to get married. We don’t use pictures because that’s superficial. We connect on a personal and emotional level first.” Meg sniffed and crossed her ankles like a charm school student.
