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“Are youabsolutelysure? These will make your thighs look great.”
“If you want to see my thighs, I’ll skate in my Calvin’s. Problem solved. Food?” She doesn’t even bother responding. “I’ll take that as a no then.”
Searching through a sea of black, non–animal print options, I find a handful in my size. She’s all grumbles and scowls as I pay for my “boring” outfits, and we exit the store.
I reach for her hand, immediately stopping myself and styling it into a stretch. Walking in silence toward the food court, I can see something bothering her by the unsettled look on her face. Just as I’m about to ask her, my phone rings again.
Dad. Reject.
We grab a table away from other people, where it’s quieter, and she still has the same look.
“What’s on your mind, grumpy?”
“The NHL.”
Unexpected. “I’m all for diversity in sport, Stas, but I think you’re a bit small to be a hockey player,” I tease. “Why are you thinking about the NHL?”
“I’m just thinking about how peaceful my senior year will be, since you’re going to Canada to fight moose or whatever.” She shrugs and forces a smile. “It’s silly; forget it.”
“I’m impressed you think I can fight a moose, but I’m not sure they tend to frequent downtown Vancouver.” I laugh. “I’m not sure you know this, but there are flights to Vancouver from LA. If you ever wanted to disturb your peace a little and visit.”
She’s about to answer and my fucking phone starts ringing again.Dadagain. I reject it,again. She drags a hand through her hair and sighs. “You can answer your phone in front of me.”
“I know.”
“I’m not going to freak out if you have a conversation with another girl.” She puts her elbows on the table and rests her head against her hands. “Just because you can’t fuck me doesn’t mean you can’t fuck anyone.”
Rolling my eyes, I push my phone across the table. “Three-Nine-Nine-Three.”
Immediately shaking her head, she tries to push the phone back to me. “Nathan, I don’t ne—”
I type the numbers myself, since she apparently wants to respect my privacy. I watch her fight herself before her eyes finally look at my phone screen, and she sees the wordDadlittering my call log over and over. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh, okay, well, uh,” she splutters. “I do mean it, by the way. Like, I don’t expect you to be celibate for two months.”
Snorting, I watch her eyes widen, uncertain. “We’re going to be spending so much time together, Anastasia. I’m about to cockblock you at every available opportunity. You can do what you want,obviously. But good luck trying to fuck someone that’s not me.”
Her eyes brighten, heat flushing her cheeks instantly. “Is that supposed to be endearing? Feels a little possessive and toxic.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up, loving that this is my day now. “Don’t give me that shit. I’ve seen what you have on your smutty bookshelf.” Her mouth falls open. “Now, what do you want to eat?”
“I’m good. I’ll eat when I get home, but you get whatever.”
“You got something against eating out?”
“No, but I need to stick to my diet.”
“Diet?” It’s clear to anyone who spends time with Anastasia that she has a complicated relationship with food. I swear half the time her bad moods are because she’s hungry.
“Aaron and I have a food plan. I do the food prep and stuff through the week; we have to be organized with it.”
“It’s cool you’re so disciplined,” I say carefully. “Nutrition is part of my course, so I do a lot on this kinda stuff. I’d love to look at your food plan if you’re cool with that?”
Reaching into her bag, she pulls out my enemy: her planner. She flicks through the pages until she finds a piece of paper, handing it to me. “Knock yourself out.”
Ohfuck. Vegetables. Vegetables. A small amount of protein. Vegetables. I get my phone and bring up the calculator, roughly working out the numbers. “Who designed this meal plan?”
“Aaron.”
