Grey
I pull into the apartment complex and spot Kari’s car parked near the management office. My chest tightens and I don’t bother fighting it. I slow, easing in behind her just as she opens her door and steps out, tugging her oversized hoodie down like a shield.
“Hey,” I call, rolling down the window. “I’m fresh from work. I need to change before we do anything remotely athletic.”
She glances over, surprised, then smiles. “I can smell you from here.”
“High praise,” I say. “Follow me?”
She nods and climbs back into her car. I lead the way to my building, park out front, and hop out as she’s doing the same.
“C’mon in,” I say as I reach the front door.
“You sure?” She hesitates at the curb, keys still in her hand. “I don’t want to invade your bachelor pad.”
It’s meant to be teasing—I can hear that—but there’s something else under it. An insecurity that wasn’t there the other night. I don’t call it out. Instead, I step closer and take her hand, casual, reassuring her she’s welcome inside my place anytime, day or night.
“Can’t have anyone thinking I’d leave my girlfriend stranded in the parking lot,” I say. “What if the manager’s watching?”
Her eyes dart over her shoulder, and I fight a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Occupational hazard of being male.”
Her stomach growls, loud and unapologetic. I chuckle without thinking.
“Easy,” I say. “Don’t get hangry on me.”
She laughs, but it fades fast. She starts tugging at her hoodie again, smoothing it down over her middle, shifting her weight like she’s suddenly aware of every inch of herself. Something protective in me snaps.
“When’s the last time you ate?” I ask.
Her head jerks up. “Doesn’t matter. I eat. I eat plenty.”
“It matters to me,” I say. “Why do you want to work out, Kari?”
She shrugs. “Same reason everyone does.”
“There are a lot of reasons,” I say. “Tell me yours.”
She pulls the hem of her hoodie again, stretching it like it might shield her from the question. Then the words tumble out.
“I don’t feel pretty,” she says. “Kelly showed me the wedding dresses she wants. I’ll never fit into mine.” Her stomach betraysher with another growl. “I need to get in shape for the wedding. If I don’t, I’ll be the joke. The fat one. The imperfect one. Like always.”
“That’s absurd—” I start, then stop myself. The last thing I want to do is invalidate her feelings. I take a breath. “What will make you feel pretty?”
I hate the question even as I ask it. She’s standing in front of me in sweats, hair pulled back, no makeup, and she’s a damn goddess. Real. Unfiltered.
“I’ll feel pretty when I lose weight,” she says quietly.
I step closer and squeeze her hand. “You know that isn’t true, right? Pretty’s superficial.” I tap my chest. “This is what matters.”
She mirrors the gesture, fingers pressing lightly over her own heart. For a second, neither of us moves.
“I hate to break it to you,” I say, lowering my voice, “but you’re a knockout exactly as you are.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and I feel reckless. I place her palm against my chest, right over my heart. It’s pounding hard enough that she can’t miss it.
“Feel that?” I ask.
