“Like what?” I ask, surprised, pushing back the instinct to assume the worst.
“Like… what keeps you up at night? What do you want for your future? What’s your favorite food? What kind of sports do you like? Have you always wanted to be a baker?” He exhales lightly. “The list goes on, Gwen. I didn’t want things to end the way they did.”
I fall silent for a moment, trying to process everything he’s saying.
“Why do you want to know all of that about me?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can filter it.
Zane shifts slightly, as if gathering himself.
“I’m not great at this,” he admits. “So I’ll just say it.”
My breath stills.
“Ever since we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I like you, Gwen. I want to know you.”
The words hit me harder than I expect.
I’m completely caught off guard.
“Then what about the picture?” I ask immediately, because my mind refuses to accept anything positive. “You obviously didn’t want to be seen with me.”
Zane straightens, his expression sharpening.
“That’s what you thought?” he asks. “That I didn’t want to be seen with you, and that’s why I let go when they tried to take the picture?”
I nod.
“What else could it have been?” I ask, more defensively than I intend.
He exhales, dragging a hand over his face.
“It’s my life,” he says. “And I don’t want to complain about it, because I know how lucky I am. I’ve had incredible opportunities. But there’s a cost to it.”
He looks at me directly now.
“Once you’re in the media like I am, people recognize you. They watch you. They judge you. And they think they know you when they don’t know a single thing.”
His tone softens slightly.
“I was trying to protect you, Gwen. If a picture of me holding your hand ends up online, people will come after you.”
His words settle between us.
My eyes sting, and I hate that they do.
“You let go because you didn’t want people to see you with me,” I say quietly. “I’ve seen the girls you’ve dated. I’m nothing like them. I understand what you’re trying to say, Zane, but don’t treat me like I’m naive.”
I swallow.
“You can’t be seen with someone who’s my… size.”
Zane’s expression shifts instantly, his jaw tightens, his eyes darken.
“Are you serious?” he asks, his voice lower now, controlled but edged.
“An athlete and a fat girl don’t work together,” I continue, bracing myself for whatever comes next.
Zane steps closer.
