Page 39 of Set on You

“I have. I don’t really hold grudges.” He treats me to a comforting smile.

I snort.

“What? Do you hold a mean grudge?”

“No.”

He eyes me leerily. “I have a feeling you hold on to things.”

“Nah. But my sister does. She found out a couple weeks ago her asshole ex was still using her Netflix. So instead of changing her password like a normal person, she messed with his account algorithm by watching the first three minutes of over twenty rom-coms. Then, she waited for him to be on the second-to-lastepisode ofStranger Thingsbefore switching his account’s maturity settings to G-rated.”

He tosses his head back in hearty laughter. “That is pure gold.”

“Oh yeah. He was pissed. That’s what I’d call a serious grudge.” I pause, smiling at the memory. “Are you aStranger Thingsfan?”

“Nope. I don’t really watch movies or TV at all, actually.”

I stop dead, slow-blinking. “At all?”

“Not really. I watch TV sometimes. Preferably twenty-minute shows.”

“But why not longer shows? Or movies? What do you have against them?”

He gives me a shy smile. “I fall asleep. Every time.”

As we resume walking, I picture him cuddled up on a couch watching a movie. His chest looks very inviting... “Maybe you just haven’t watched a good movie,” I say, snapping out of it.

“Nah. I just get comfortable and end up dozing off if I’m not moving. A girl once broke up with me because I fell asleep at the movie theater on a date.”

I let the sorbet melt on my tongue, savoring the taste almost as much as I’m savoring the sight of his adorable smile. “I can see why she had absolutely no choice but to dump you.”

“Hey, I took her to see some chick flick. Why should it matter whether I watched it or not? As long as she liked it.”

“It’s part of the moviegoing experience, Scotty. Otherwise, she might as well have gone to the movies alone and not had to share her snacks with you.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to force me to watch one,” he says with a sparkling grin.

I squint at him. “Do acquaintances watch movies together?”

“I don’t see why not.”

I throw my empty sorbet dish into a nearby trash can. Of course, he has to try to shoot his into the trash like he’s LeBron James.

“So you do the fitness and personal training thing full time?” he asks as we continue walking.

“Yup. I’ve been doing it since college.”

“It’s crazy how many followers you have. I’m really impressed.”

“Thanks.” I don’t love talking about my Instagram success, because I feel like a fraud. When people ask how I gained my following and how they can make money from Instagram as well, I never know how to properly respond. I don’t know what prompted my following, aside from a dash of luck, research, and hard work. It sounds lame to say “Just be yourself,” but it’s truly what worked for me.

“What made you want to start your account?” he asks.

“I was into sports growing up. Then I got really into the gym in college as a way to de-stress. Obviously, the gym life isn’t for everyone, but it was really therapeutic for me. When I realized how toxic the fitness industry can be, especially online, I wanted to set a positive example for other women.” I pause for a moment as we dodge a group of cyclists breezing by us. “Like... for me, my body type will never be skinny, so losing weight was never the goal. I just love lifting and pushing myself. And I wanted to help other women like me who don’t always feel so confident, or who don’t know where to start with the gym. Getting paid to promote brands I love isn’t too shabby either.”

I watch him, fully expecting him to launch into a well-meaningrant about how I’m not “big,” or worse, offer unsolicited advice on weight loss, like so many others I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with.

But he doesn’t. So I continue. “Society tells us women aren’t fit unless we’re a size two with washboard abs.”

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