Page 63 of Body Shot

“Felix is a hypochondriac,” I respond. “Legit. He’s always worried about getting skin cancer or IBS or a brain tumor. If he gets an itch on his elbow, he’s immediately convinced it’s psoriasis or something. I love the guy—truly, he’s good people—but he’s a hot mess.”

“I think we’re all some version of a mess. I mean, my sexual trauma, your experience with your ex…we all have things from our pasts that shape the people we are today.”

“Do you think what happened with my ex has changed me?” I ask curiously.

“Well, I didn’t know you before, and I’m no psychologist, but realistically, it had to. Were you less inclined to date after it happened? Do you keep your condoms locked up in a safe place to avoid that happening again, when you bring women home now?”

“Well, just to be clear, I don’t bring women to my place unless we’re in a relationship, and I haven’t been in one since then, so I’m not sure about the condom thing. I always bring my own if I’m going to hook up with someone, but I did that before too. And I was probably a little less interested in dating in the aftermath, but I think that’s normal whenever you have a big breakup. Isn’t it?”

She shrugs. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’ve had one serious boyfriend, and I swore off men completely after what happened. I’m absolutely a little bit broken.”

“I don’t think you’re broken at all,” I say slowly, glancing over at her. “You’re nervous, which is completely understandable in your situation, but it feels like we’re getting past it. And while, yes, I’ve probably been a little more cautious than I was before, what happened with Martika isn’t going to keep me from getting involved with you.”

She’s quiet for what feels like a long time.

But then she smiles and squeezes my hand. “It’s like we were waiting for each other to help mend our broken pieces.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

She has to be part witch because not only can she read my mind, but it’s also been less than a week and I’m legit falling for her.

“Do you believe in instalove?” I ask, even as I mentally grimace at saying the wordinstaloveout loud. I’ll be laughed out of the locker room if the guys ever find out.

“Not really.” She shakes her head. “But this…well, you’re making me rethink a lot of things I thought I believed.”

She’s on the same page.

And it feels fucking amazing.

“Tell me about it.”

“Are we crazy?”

Probably, but I don’t give a shit so I’m not going to tell her that.

“For having feelings and throwing caution to the wind so we can fall in love? Maybe. But it feels too good to stop. At least it does for me.”

She’s quiet again, but it feels more thoughtful than anything else, like she’s mulling it over in that big, brilliant brain of hers.

“So…what do we do?” she asks after a while.

That might be a million-dollar question, but I opt to keep my answer simple.

“Enjoy the journey?”

“Have you been talking to Hana?” she asks playfully.

“Why? Is that the advice she’s given you?”

“Basically.”

“Maybe she’s right.”

“Okay, but no broken hearts, dammit. Promise?”

“Believe me, that’s not part of my plan.”

“Promise.”

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