He glances up again, the corner of his mouth twitching, a mix of nerves and hope flickering in his eyes. "Did I... earn some of it back?" His voice is careful—almost shy—and it does something to my chest.
For a second, I want to mess with him, just to see what he'd do if I said no. But then I see his shoulders sag a little, like he's already bracing for rejection, and my teasing dies in my throat.
The truth is—he did.
More than I'd like to admit.
It's been a long time since I last thought about what he said to me three years ago. Back then, his words lived rent-free in my head, echoing every time I looked in the mirror—telling me I still wasn't enough, that I had to push harder, eat less, be better.
Now when I look in the mirror, it's just to see if my outfit looks good, make sure my hair isn't staging a full-on rebellion, or that my mascara hasn't started migrating south—not to pick myself apart.
I actually use it for what it's meant for. It feels strange—freeing, even—to not be haunted by old words that once held so much power.
And the weirdest part?
Zach's the reason why.
The irony isn't lost on me. He's the same guy whose words once wrecked my confidence so badly I could barely look in a mirror without flinching—and now, he's the reason I can.
There wasn't some sudden, dramatic turning point.
It's been gradual—messy, uneven—some days still harder than others.
But lately, the noise in my head has been quieter. The voice that used to tell me to skip meals or push harder at the gym doesn't talk as loud when he's around.
And in those moments—when he smiles, when he looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, like my imperfections are the very things that make me perfect—my heart forgets it's supposed to be guarded.
And yeah, maybe it's a little poetic—or karmic—that the same boy who once broke me is now helping me piece myself back together.
Slowly. Clumsily. But honestly? It's working.
"Yes."
The word slips out in a breathy but steady tone before I can second-guess it.
Zach's head snaps up. "Really?"
His face lights up instantly—like someone just switched the sun back on. His grin spreads so wide it's almost ridiculous, and my chest feels stupidly warm watching it.
I nod, biting back my own smile.
"Let's go on a date."
My lips twitch. "About time, Westbrook—I was starting to wonder if you'd ever get around to asking again."
He grins, "Well, excuse me for being thorough. Wanted to make sure I earned that 'yes' properly before cashing it in."
"Where are we going? And when?"
Maybe I sound a little too eager, but whatever. Subtlety's overrated.
Zach's lips twitch. "Someone's excited."
I roll my eyes. "Just trying to plan my schedule, Westbrook."
"Mhm." His tone is pure amusement. "Sure, that's what this is. Definitely not you dying to go out with me."
I scoff, but the corner of my mouth betrays me. "You wish."
