“Abbi!” Dean calls behind me. I hear him mutter a curse then, “I’ll be right back, Smith.”
I don’t stop. I keep going, pushing through the door and back out into the sticky, hot evening. I’m not built for Georgia summers, and I totally envy girls like Brinley who can deal with the heat by wearing thin, flowy dresses with nothing on under them. Those dresses make me feel terribly self-conscious. They show every roll at best. At worst, they make it look like I’m expecting a baby. So for me it’s T-shirts and leggings or cropped jeans, because I haven’t been brave enough to include shorts in my wardrobe since junior high. But tonight, my pants feel way too thick and tight on my skin. I’m burning all over from embarrassment.
“Abbi!” Dean calls again, catching up to me on the sidewalk. “I’m sorry, okay?”
It’s not until I see the tenderness in his eyes that I realize how close I am to tears. I walked here and my house is straight ahead, but I turn down the alley and lean against the side of the building, swallowing hard as if that’ll keep the tears at bay. I do not want to cry about this right now. Or ever.
I know my little problem can’t be all about my size. I know for a fact there are big women in this world whom men enjoy sleeping with. I just need to learn how to be one of them.
“Hey,” Dean whispers, propping one arm against the side of the building by my head. He leans forward and looks down into my eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty, and I’m sorry I handled that so badly.”
Dean’s almost a foot taller than me. I always dreamed I’d end up with a guy like him, someone built enough that I don’t feel massive next to him in bed—not that I ever gave those dreams much thought. There’s a food chain in dating, and I’ve known my place in it since puberty. But as he looks down at me with those deep brown eyes, I can almost imagine what it’d be like to be with him. I can almost imagine what it’d be like to have his flirty smiles directed at me.
The problem is I don’t want to imagine it. I don’t want to fool myself into thinking I’m something I’m not.
I press my palm against his hard chest, trying to nudge him back. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
Dean stays put for a long beat as he scans my face. When his phone buzzes, he sighs and retreats two steps. “But I think maybe you should.”
Never. “Just not right now,” I say, forcing a smile.
He nods. I expect him to walk away and drop it forever, so I’m surprised when he wraps his hand around my wrist as if he doesn’t want me to go yet. He searches my face. Is there something more than concern in those eyes? Do they study my lips longer than necessary?
He smells so good, like hickory and sage and a cool night bundled up by a fire, and I’m aware of every beat of my pulse against his fingertips. “What?” This moment isn’t what my mind wants to make it into, and I need one of us to say something that distracts me from the dark brown of his eyes and how soft his lips look.
“I’ve told you this before, but you deserve—”
“Dean? What are you doing out here?”
The sound of Amy’s voice is enough to make me jerk away—from his smell, from his touch, from those eyes that see too much. “Later,” I rasp. I duck under his arm and stride past Amy and toward my house, and when I hear her speak again, I pretend I don’t hear. But even when I’m home in the safe solitude of my apartment, her words echo in my mind like a punch to the gut.
“You can’t stand that close to a girl like Abbi,” she told Dean. “You’ll give her ideas and make her want things she can’t have.”
“Don’t worry, Amy,” I say, staring at my reflection in the foyer mirror, noting the pink flush in my puffy cheeks. “I know exactly what I can and can’t have.”
* * *
Dean
I’m a mess. Standing next to the woman I love, the one I just bared my soul to over text message, and watching the one I’ve wanted for way too long walk away.
Stella says it’s a form of self-sabotage, the way I latch on to women who don’t want me, who’ll never give me what she seems to think I “deserve.” Stella’s a good sister who only sees the best in me, but she doesn’t understand that a lot of women want better than a guy like me.