“You’ll look hot in it,” I said, shrugging like my heart wasn’t racing. “And I promise you, you’ll fit into it just fine.”
Still looking unconvinced, she let me pull the jersey over her head, arms slipping into the sleeves one at a time. The fabric fell around her like a curtain, loose and even slightly oversized, but somehow perfect.
She looked down at herself, wide-eyed. “It fits.”
Her voice was so soft, almost like she didn’t believe it. Like it was the first time something fit and didn’t make her feel small in all the wrong ways.
I laughed under my breath. “And it’s not even tight.”
Her cheeks flushed pink as her hands brushed down the hem. She didn’t look at me, but I couldn’t stop staring.
I wanted to tell her she looked beautiful. That she didn’t need to compare herself to anyone else. That I wanted her like this, always. Wearing my clothes, taking up space in my bed, and maybe even in my life.
But instead, I stepped back and let her sit with the moment.
She sat there in my jersey, flushed and unsure, her fingers tugging at the hem as if trying to make herself smaller. The way her shoulders curved inward, the way she avoided my gaze… it all felt too familiar. She looked beautiful and didn’t even know it.
I thought we were past this. I thought she finally accepted there was more to her than a stupid number on a scale. But I suppose we all circle back for a while eventually.
“Come here,” I said softly, holding out my hand.
Alana blinked. “Why?”
I didn’t answer with words. Just waited.
After a beat of hesitation, she placed her hand in mine. I laced our fingers together and led her a few steps toward the full-length mirror beside my closet. She tried to resist, stopping just short of the reflection, but I didn’t let go.
“Eden…”
“It’s okay. Just trust me.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine in the mirror, uncertain, guarded. I moved behind her, wrapping my arms gently around her waist and resting my chin on the top of her head. My jersey still hung loosely on her frame, just skimming the tops of her thighs.
“Look at yourself,” I said quietly.
She did, but only for a second before her gaze darted away.
I tightened my arms around her. “No. Really look.”
Her eyes flicked up again, hesitating. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Everything I see.”
Alana scoffed under her breath. “Yeah? And what do you see, Eden? A girl who takes up too much space in your clothes?”
My chest ached at the sound of her self-deprecation. I shook my head, meeting her eyes through the glass.
“No,” I said. “I see curves that make it impossible for me to look anywhere else. Hips I’ve held onto like lifelines. Shoulders that carry more than anyone ever gives you credit for. A belly soft enough for me to fall asleep on. Legs that could knock me flat if you wanted to. And a face that… honestlyruinsme.”
Her lips parted slightly, as if my words caught her off guard. She stared at the mirror but didn’t say anything.
I slid one hand slowly along her waist, feeling the curve of her body beneath the fabric. “You see everything your mind tellsyou is wrong. I seeyou. You see too much. I see everything that’s enough. Perfect even.”
“Eden—” she started, but I cut her off gently.
“I see a girl who walks into a room and doesn’t realize she’s the most beautiful one in it. I see someone so wrapped up in comparisons, she doesn’t even notice how she outshines every filtered photo she’s ever tried to compete with.”
Alana’s eyes shimmered, but she blinked quickly, swallowing hard.
