“Were you waiting for me?” he asks. My heart stutters. “Why were you sneaking into the gym?” His gaze sharpens. “Did Darby send you to check on me, too?”
I shake my head quickly. “No. God, no. She doesn’t know I’m here. I mean, she knows I’m back home, but not here, here. And what do you mean, too?”
“Nothing,” he says too quickly. Which makes it worse, somehow.
I cross my arms over my stomach without thinking, suddenly aware of the tight waistband cutting into my skin and the too tight leggings squeezing me like I'm sausage. I feel exposed, too visible. All the things I notice when I’m feeling judged or not good enough… not perfect. Oh, I’ve got the boobs and the butt, but too much of that, too.
I’ve heard that enough.
But there’s no point in lying to Grey. He would see through me in five seconds. So I rip off the bandage and expose my wounds, hoping I won’t hemorrhage out with pathetic self-loathing.
“My sister’s engaged,” I blurt. “She’s getting married.” I swallow hard. “I’m her maid of honor. And I can’t look like this.”
I gesture vaguely at myself. My sloppy hoodie, spandex leggings. Not to mention the messy ponytail I’ve sported for three days without a proper wash.
“I lost my job,” I continue, the words tumbling out faster now. “I had to move back home with my parents. Kelly’s thriving, living her best life, and I’m… here.” My laugh comes out thin. “Pathetic.”
Grey looks me up and down, slow and deliberate, like he’s taking inventory. The silence stretches until it’s heavy and uncomfortable causing my skin to prickle.
Just as I’m about to smell my pits, hoping I don’t reek, Grey shakes his head.
“Whoever told you that you need to lose weight is a moron.”
I blink.
“You look good,” he says simply. “I’ve always thought so.”
Something in my chest unravels, even though I don’t fully believe him. Not completely anyway. I mean, guys will say anything to keep a girl from crying. They’ll tell even bigger lies to get in a girl’s pants.
I am not that naive.
But this is Grey. He’s never done anything to make me doubt him or his intentions. Always good intentions. Never bad boy Grey with me.
I stop my thoughts before I stumble into a spiral, wishing his arms were around me. Wishing I’d risked more than a kiss on his cheek.
“Whatever, Mister Workout King,” I mutter. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Your muscles have muscles.” I squeeze his arm and he flexes. Rookie mistake on my part. I gulp. “I mean, if I had half of what you have—” I gesture at his body.
He lifts a brow. “You’d be a man?”
I laugh despite myself.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “I just want to feel good. Fit into my clothes without sucking anything in. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I thought I could figure things out here.”
He watches me like a hawk, his eyes fixed firmly on mine with an intensity that could melt panties.
Keep the conversation going before you jump his bones, Kari.
“I’ve watched a few videos,” I add quickly. I leave out the part about the Fans Only guy I’ve been sleuthing.
“You can’t trust everything you see on the internet,” he says.
Heat creeps up my neck. I definitely can’t tell him which videos I’ve been watching. That would be humiliating beyond recovery. And dangerous judging by Grey’s clinched jaw.
So if I’m not to believe the internet, that leaves me with one choice. Grey.
“Thenyouteach me,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. “Tone me up.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You’re serious?”
