Page 51 of Set on You

In the two weeks since our IKEA hangout, Scott and I have met at the gym at least four or five times a week, aside from the days he has double shifts. Sometimes he helps film my videos, or gives me new workout ideas to demo and share with my followers.

He takes up the majority of my weekends too. We spend hours together watching sports at his place, walking around Boston Common and the harbor with Albus, spending time with GrandmaFlo and Martin, or embarking on our strange new habit of browsing home décor stores.

Yesterday, he accompanied me to dinner at my parents’ place (Dad so kindly extended the invite), where he proceeded to make friends with Hillary. I’d warned him she’d probably pee all over him, but he scooped her into his big arms and let her lick his entire face with her repellent, lizard-like tongue. This act solidified him as “the perfect man,” according to Mom, who is the newest passenger on the Scott train, along with the rest of the family, who forcefully insist I date him ASAP.

“Fifty!” Mel slams the medicine ball to the floor one last time before leaning against the wall.

“Good job, girl. Your form was really good throughout.” I give her a high five as we start toward the changing room.

She grins with pride before chugging the remainder of her water bottle. A month ago, that circuit would have been far too difficult, and today, she crushed it like a boss. “Anyway, I get why you’re being cautious, especially with your families involved.”

I hold the changing room door open for her. “My thoughts exactly. I kind of rushed into my last relationship... if you can even call it a relationship. It’s nice to take things slow.” Admittedly, keeping my feelings for Scott at bay is increasingly more difficult with each interaction.

Mel gives me a serious expression as she slips past me toward a bench. “Speaking of which, you better not be a flaky twat at the end of all this and take it back. You need to date the shit out of him. He has serious BDE. You can’t let that slip between your fingers.”

“BDE?”

“Big dick energy,” she explains, to the shock and horror of a gray-haired lady with a perm generously applying her gel deodorant on the bench next to us.

“How can you gauge someone’s BDE?” I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper.

“It’s all in the gait. In the way he walks. Super cocky, like he could handle himself on the streets or among your dude friends at a barbeque. He’d be sweet to your mom and then ravish the shit out of you in the bedroom.” She pauses, still not bothering to lower her voice as she straddles the bench. “Like, take the guy fromTwilight, for example.”

“Robert Pattinson?”

“The man has no gait. Not an ounce of swagger, which is surprising considering he has the wholetortured novelist who has locked himself in a desolate cabin to overcome his writer’s blocklook going on.”

I used to feel some type of way about Robert Pattinson. Then again, I was fifteen years old and still sleeping with a stuffed animal. “I kind of see what you mean. He always looks like he’s on the cusp of emotional ruin.” I fight to suppress my guffaw as the permed lady storms off, away from our inappropriate discussion.

Mel opens her locker, chuckling. “By the way, did I tell you Berry Cloth & Co. reached out to me for a collab? They’re sending me some pieces for their fall Extended Collection.”

I flutter my hands, both shocked and elated. “Shut up. Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to get them to notice me for forever. Finally they did.”

“I’m so pumped for you. They have really nice stuff. Thoughtheir larger sizes are always more expensive. Which is the worst,” I say, shoulders slumping.

She scowls. “The Fat Tax. I know. It’s wrong. I actually brought that up when I spoke to the marketing girl, and she fully agreed.”

“There are hardly any brands out there for curvy people that don’t cost a fortune.”

She nods in thought before pursing her lips. “That’s exactly why I started my Instagram account. Hey, would you want to do a guest video showcasing your closet? Maybe some of your workout clothes?”

I register my current getup with revulsion—a baggy ripped Bruins T-shirt with holes in questionable places, my awful non-Align leggings that do absolutely nothing for my ass, and matted hair in a messy bun. “I doubtmom of two-year-old quintupletsis the aesthetic you want to promote.”

Mel rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen your closet. You have the cutest clothes. You don’t wear them, for whatever reason.”

I sigh, mentally recalling all the forgotten outfits that haven’t seen the light of day since the turmoil with Neil. “I-I don’t know.”

She gives me a sympathetic nod. “Okay, well, I don’t want to pressure you. I just thought it could be nice to switch it up. Do a collab or two.”

The guilt sets in immediately. Mel has promoted the crap out of my platform, even though she’s paying for my services. Because of her, I’ve gained multiple new clients and hundreds of followers. The least I can do is scratch her back too. “Okay. I’ll do it. I have some pieces that could work.”

She lights up. “It’s going to be great. I promise.”

TRANSCRIPT OFMELANIE_INTHECITY’S SPECIAL GUEST VIDEO FEATURING CRYSTAL CHEN (CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL):

MEL:Hi guys! Melanie_inthecity here with a very special guest, Crystal Chen, a role model in the body positivity movement. If you’re into fitness, you probably already follow her account, CurvyFitnessCrystal.

---