Page 35 of Coincidentally Kismet

“It’ll never work, we have too much history, too many feelings. It’s best if we’re just cool with each other. That way once we leave, it’s no big deal,” I say around a mouthful of taco. I’m not about to open up and spill my heart out to these two town gossips anyway. It’s better if I downplay any feelings I may or may not be having. They wouldn’t understand where I’m coming from. They’ve never lost people, at least not in the way I have. Thatch was close with them for sure, but we were best friends. He was the first person I let in after my dad walked out and I dumped Cam. He was the only other person besides Cam that I let all the way in.

“Fine, if you say so, but let the record show that I think she’s exactly what you need. She makes you better. I even saw you smile at the race, and my dude, I haven’t seen those pearlywhites since long before our last deployment. I even poured one out on Thatch’s grave telling him about it. We all just want you to be happy,” Smith admonishes.

I chuckle and shake my head because while he means well, Smith is relentless. I’ve been happy and smiled prior to the race day with Cam. He’s just playing up the drama for his own enjoyment. Does she make me happy and want to be better? Yeah, of course! Is it possible for us to be together without one of us getting hurt? That’s still a big, fat no.

CHAPTER 17

CAM

“PRETTY” - LAUREN ALAINA

What is it about working out that makes you infinitely hungrier? You start this mission to become healthy, fit, in shape, sexy, whatever you want to call it. You’re dedicated, like seriously all in, killing yourself, and yet all you can think about is eating. It seems really counterintuitive, like my stomach should get the memo that we’re supposed to be eating less, not more.

It’s unfair! I think this is why people pay big bucks to get hypnotized into not wanting to eat. It’s got to be some sort of weird mind fuck that your brain is playing on you to keep the status quo. I don’t buy into the whole “you’re burning energy so your body wants more” bullcrap. My body has access to an assorted array of donuts, pastries, and french fries stored freely around my hips and thighs.

Since the fundraiser, I’ve been all in on getting fit. Doing the race gave me a good burn in my lungs and made my muscles feel that raw ache that hurts but also weirdly feels magnificent. I decided that night, while soaking in an Epsom salt bath in my too-small bathtub, that this was the push I’d been waiting for.Since Saturday, I’ve been getting up early and working out at the little gym in our complex. I don’t pretend to be an expert at the machines, but I’ve been trying to do at least thirty minutes on the treadmill and then some free weight exercises that I picked up from my mom’s old Cindy Crawford workout tapes in the nineties. Patricia would be proud.

Will seems excited by me working out. On one hand, it’s cute that he’s being supportive, sending me workout ideas and protein powder recommendations. On the other hand, it’s becoming pretty evident that he wants me to reshape my body. Last night he sent me one of those cliché thirty-day ab transformation challenges. I’ve been finding myself spending more time looking through our text thread trying to glean clues about his motivation than actually reading the messages for what they are—a friend trying to help.

Will

Hey, Wright . . . want to do this ab challenge with me?

Cam

Erm . . . I feel like those things don’t ever work.

Will

Trust me! They work...Smith and I did one a few months ago, and I spent weeks rolling out of bed because I couldn’t sit up fully.

Cam

You’re really not selling it the way you think you are, Rambo.

Will

Come on, it’ll be fun.

Cam

Said no one . . . EVER.

Will

I’ll buy you a milkshake if you make it further than I do.

Cam

Hmm . . . add in some french fries and you got a deal.

As far as food goes, it’s been all protein and salads for this girl, and let me tell you...Ihatesalad. It’s rabbit food! Anyone who tells you they love salad is lying to your face. Well, unless it’s doused in ranch dressing, then I suppose that’s fair. I could eat a ranch dressing–covered flip-flop if push came to shove. But seriously, I’ve been dedicated. It’s a real triumph in my opinion. I even turned down maple bacon sweet potato fries from Daveed at work, and he checked my temperature to see if I was coming down with something.Asshole.

For the most part, my friends at the salon have been supportive, and Lo is on board since she primarily eats healthy anyway. She’s been helping me by making sure I have a healthy dinner to come home to and encouraging my workouts by either coming with me (that’s if Smith didn’t spend the night, of course) or making me a post-workout protein smoothie when I’m finished.

The scale, however, is not my friend. Rationally, I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I still expected to see some progress. The amount I’m peeing should’ve at minimum reflected a pound gone. But nothing. Lo keeps telling me that it takes time and I’m building muscle, but I don’t like it. I want to see the fruits of my labor pay off, and quickly. This is why I’venever stuck to a fitness routine in the past. The process takes too long and it drives me crazy.

Did I mention Smith has been around...a lot? He’s at our apartment practically every night, coming in from work with all this swagger, wearing his uniform. He’s a great guy and he makes me laugh, but hearing Lo’s lovemaking sounds all night is not helping to boost my ego. Seriously, someone should get the girl a gag or something to make it stop. I’m happy she’s found someone who matches her over-the-top energy, but I’m starting to see cross-eyed from lack of sleep. Also, it feels kind of pervy for me to be listening, but my less-than-noise-canceling headphones aren’t a match for her.

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