He makes a noise of concern. “They won’t give two shits. They’ll just be so happy to see you and love you.”
I bite into my lip to keep the sob in.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed by your appearance, because all I see is a girl who survived some shit and fought for herself and her career. I find that amazing, and I find you incredible.”
I look up as the tears fall, and he lets out a small sound of distress before reaching for me and pulling me into his lap. I go willingly because I need it. I need the comfort. As I cry, he holds me, kissing my forehead and temple. He whispers that he has me, and I know he does. I nuzzle my nose in his shoulder as the sobs rack my body. I hate that I am letting go like this, but I want so desperately to believe him. To know his statements are true. I want to see things the way he does. I want to love myself. I want to be loved by him, which is absolutely terrifying and I’ll never admit it, but I do.
As my tears subside, I stay in his lap, holding him as he holds me. “I’m gonna send your mom a fruit basket,” I say then in a whisper.
He chuckles. “Why?”
“For raising such a great guy.”
“Eh, I’m cocky.”
“You are.”
“And a showboater.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“I only have one dimple.”
“I happen to love your one dimple. It’s not your fault Evan took the other one.”
“That’s what I said,” he agrees, grinning against my temple. “But also, Owen just has to speak in the third person to inform everyone how amazing Owen is.”
I close my eyes as the laughter takes over, but we don’t let go of each other. We sit on the beach, the waves crashing against the shore, and we laugh from our souls. And I know, damn it, I know I’m in so much trouble.
But I don’t care.
Because for once, I actually feel as if I’m worthy of someone like him.
Chapter Fifteen
Angie
* * *
I think I may have fucked up left and right this last week.
Not in school or work—I’m killing it and doing wonderful. Even in the gym, I’ve been taking Owen’s advice and making some awesome strides. I’m really proud of myself, and I feel as if I’m getting stronger. I love working out with Owen, mainly because he’s so supportive and he doesn’t wear a shirt. He’s got one hell of a chest, and I love the hair around his belly button. But working out with him isn’t where I fucked up.
I fucked up by going home with him.
Not only did I bare my soul to him and cry all over him, but I enjoyed being in his arms. It was awesome being held by him, but the way he comforted me? I haven’t experienced that since the last time my dad comforted me. Owen is so kind, so loving. He listened to me, and he was very reassuring. So reassuring, I almost allowed myself to believe him. Problem is, when I got home, the first thing that happened after I opened the door was Leroy looked at me and laughed.
“Is it hard to find clothes your size? Is that why you only wear sweats?”
Before I could cuss his ass out, Owen called to make sure I got home all right. I wanted to tell him what Leroy said, but I knew that would be such a bad idea. Owen would go toe-to-toe with Leroy, and he’d catch a charge, and then it’d be my fault. I just wish it would all go away. I wish I hadn’t left the dorms. I wish I had a house on the beach that didn’t have fat-phobic people in it.
I wish I hadn’t said anything to London.
She hasn’t spoken much to me all week, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to tell her that I feel betrayed by her. I feel like she doesn’t have my back or even care about my feelings. I really thought she was a good friend, but she’s so in love with Leroy, she can’t even consider that he is a fat-phobic asshat and won’t tell him to go fuck himself. I mean, that’s what I’d do if the guy I was dating ever spoke to anyone I cared about the way Leroy speaks to me.
But like my mom says, “Not everyone was raised the way you were.”
That’s the least of my issues right now. I’m unsure if letting Owen in was a good idea. I knew from the jump that he was trouble. I’ve always known that. It’s the main reason, along with his cockiness, that I stayed away. I knew he had the ability to make me feel things I was never ready to feel. Though the difference is, back then, I thought he couldn’t live up to my standards.
Now, I’m terrified I don’t live up to his.
The pressure to make sure I’m everything he thinks I am is so frustrating. Like, I know I don’t need to do anything more than I am doing. He likes me, I like him, but it’s all going so well that it has to go to shit. It just has to. Daily, I can’t believe he texts me. He works out every morning for games, and he still comes to work out with me in the evening. I feel like I should do my hair or give him a blow job, but even though I don’t, he still shows up. Unfortunately, my mind won’t allow me to accept it for what it is. Instead, I ask myself, does he still like me? Does he still think I’m attractive? Shit, I took too long to text; he’ll be pissed.
But he never is.
For the first week of our relationship, if that’s even what we’re calling this, I’m overthinking the shit out of it, and it’s stressing me out. Not that I would ever tell him this. He would get on to my case and reassure me like the sweet guy he is. Oh my God, did I just think Owen Adler is a sweet guy?
I did.
He is.
Wow. This is all so crazy.
I walk along my plant area, misting and cleaning leaves as I speak lovingly to them. “I’m looking for another home for us. Don’t freak out. It’s okay. We’re all going to be great. We just need to grow somewhere else.”
When my phone rings on my bed, I jump in surprise. I glance at my clock by my bed, and it’s late-late. I walk over to my bed, worried, to find it’s Owen on FaceTime. My lips curve up first, but then I fix my hair, making sure I don’t look like something that belongs under a bridge. When I answer, I look as if I’m scared, and I instantly feel stupid.
He, of course, looks dreamy and so damn gorgeous. He’s lying on white sheets, freshly showered. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I draw out, unsure how to act. Do I look okay? Nope, still look like something that lives under a bridge. “It’s late. Aren’t you tired?”
He nods. “Yeah, but I wanted to call and see that gorgeous face before I go to bed. It was a rough game.”
“Oh, that stinks. I thought with you scoring, it wouldn’t be as bad.”
“I did. I hate losing,” he says with a grin. “So, you watched?”
“Only for you,” I say, and his grin grows. “Detroit was playing hard.”
“I know. I took a fucking blade in the mouth.”
“Ouch. You still have teeth?”
He flashes me his pearly whites. “Sure do.”
“Good. I like your smile.”
“I like yours too. Makes me all gooey inside.”
I snort. “Gooey? You freak.”
He laughs, turning onto his side. “So, how was your day?”
“Busy,” I say, going back to my plants. “Lots of classes today. But thankfully, it was just a data and filing day at work, so I got out early and then worked out before coming home.”