Page 42 of Miss Treated

The bathroom door opened, and the sight of “my friend” shirtless had me staring. How could I not? He was a prime specimen with his broad shoulders, sculpted chest and—holy shit—a six-pack with the type of deep V I only saw in fitness magazines.

“Careful or I’ll start to think you only want me for my body,” he quipped.

My gaze reluctantly traveled north to his face, which boasted an egotistical smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hearing my voice crack with the lie, I flipped onto my back. Was it hot in here all of a sudden?

He came over and bounded on the bed like a puppy intent on getting attention. “Are you sure about that? Have a closer look.”

My lips twitched.

“You wanna touch my muscles? Most girls do.”

Ugh. I turned, irritated at the mention of “most girls,” only to come within inches of the most remarkable male body I’d ever seen. Dammit, of course most girls wanted to touch him. He was golden, smooth, muscled perfection. “Anyone ever tell you you’re very sure of yourself?”

He chuckled. “I was until I met you. You’ve certainly put a dent in my ego.”

I shook my head. “Right. I can tell how distraught you are.”

When he pulled me into his embrace, quietly inhaling my scent, I forgot how to breathe altogether.

“Honestly, I was small for my size when I was a kid because of my sickness. Into high school was the same. Didn’t help in meeting girls when I attended an all-boys school. In hindsight, it was a good decision to remove adolescent distractions. It wasn’t until college that I grew a few inches and started to fill out. I went to the gym and started running, and well, then the girls started paying attention. But it seemed like most wanted me for my body or my money more than anything else.”

The last words were said with genuine vulnerability.

“Then you came along and don’t want me for my body, my money, or my obvious charm. So what is a guy to do?”

It took everything I had not to rub my hand against his hard abs. This was not the moment to lust over his body. “I have no clue. What is he to do?”

He sat up and grinned, the effect panty melting. “He puts in the effort.”

“Ah, but what happens once the challenge is removed?”

He chuckled. “We live happily ever after, of course.”

Ask a silly question, get a silly answer.

He bounced on the bed like a child. “Know what your problem is, Kels?”

Good grief. As much as I was irritated with his cockiness, I was also amused. “Do tell.”

“You’re a pessimist.”

Was I? I’d certainly spent a lot of time with the negative voices in my head, but I didn’t try to be pessimistic in general. “Maybe I’m a realist?”

“Nah. But it’s okay. I’m optimistic enough to balance us out.”

When we boarded the plane bound for San Diego, I was still thinking about Dominic’s pronouncement. Was I pessimistic? Had I let my relationship with Joel make me a negative person? Sure, I hoped to be cautious in entering into a new relationship, but I didn’t want to be bitter or oppose the idea of ever attempting one again. It was bad enough my ex had taken my self-confidence; had he taken my ability to look on the bright side too?

“You all right?” Dominic asked, taking the seat next to me in first class.

“Yeah. Good. Wait, I should be asking you that question. Are you okay?”

He sighed. “I cheated and got a prescription delivered to the hotel so I could take a Xanax this morning. Sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry?”

“I don’t know. Feels like I should be able to man up and conquer this fear instead of relying on a pill.”