Second, I don’t trust “the flow.” Because letting go feels too much like losing.
Third, my version of “winging it” is practicing my spontaneous approach until it’s memorized.
My gaze drops before I can stop it. His abs, the plane of his chest, the line of his muscular forearms, all golden and solid and—
God.
Fourth, the literal biggest reason. I’m curvy.
Plus-sized girls like me do not get chosen first. We get chosen eventually, maybe, by the right person, after the Siennas of the world are scooped up.
We do not get chosen byhim.
“So, Stopwatch,” he says. “I’m gonna assume what we did all night in this room means you’re not dating anybody, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Simple question. No boyfriend, right? And you’re not secretly married to your iPad?”
“Do you have a filter?”
“Do you have an answer? Or should we discuss how long you’ve been staring at my forearms?”
“I am not—” My eyes dart down.Damn it.
“Uh-huh.” His mouth curves.
“Your muscles are obscene,” I blurt out, as heat creeps up my neck.
He huffs a laugh, flexing for effect. “Compliment accepted.”
“I meant unfair,” I add quickly. “They’re like cheat codes for attraction.”
“You can admit how much you enjoy them gripping you. I won’t tell.”
Ugh. That smirk. That stupid, perfect smirk.
“It’s genetics plus gym, Ivy. Repetition. Boring as hell. No magic involved. People obsess over packaging as if it’s the whole story? It’s laughable.”
My brow furrows. “Packaging?”
“Yeah.” He gestures vaguely to himself. “The outside. The shiny bullshit. Like that’s what matters.”
“So you don’t care about appearances?”
“I mean… clearly I care.”
His gaze slides down my body, touching everything without touching anything. My skin prickles.
“But that’s not the point,” he continues. “We’re all gonna turn into our grandparents eventually. My muscles? Limited-time only. And if my grandpa Milbert’s any indication, my eyebrows are gonna merge into one superbrow.”
I snort. “Hot.”
“Extremely. Real panty-dropper material.”
He waggles his eyebrows, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I care about the person,” he continues, “More than the wrapping. Fall in love with the gift wrap? That’s how you get blindsided. It’s what’s inside the box that matters.”
