Page 22 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“Katie—” she growled.

“And I didn’t like it. I could feel the judgement coming off them in waves.”

“That’s their fat phobic bullshit, not yours.”

“But when he sat down and started teasing me about spilling drinks, I…” I let out a ragged sigh. “I didn’t care. It was just him and me.”

And that fact made me all the madder. It wasn’t hard to imagine meeting Rhys before I even set eyes on Dave, and what would that have been like? One long string of awesome dates, filled with laughter and good food?

“Look, I’m just still processing, y’know?” I waved my hand in their direction. “I’ll be fine. Time heals all wounds, right? This one is self-inflicted, so it’s probably taking a little longer than I hoped, but I’ll get there.” Mandie went to say something, but I got to my feet. “I need to get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

Havea shower and go to bed, that was the plan, but once I was inside my room, something changed. It wasn’t just me in my bedroom, but everything that had happened today. Emotions, thoughts, resolutions, they swirled around, threatening to take over, especially when I pulled my phone out.

Mum always said that when I was a little kid, I’d just collapse in a heap after a tantrum, utterly spent. What she missed was what came with it. A deep sense of shame that I’d lost my shit, that’s what hit me right now. I was too old to be throwing myself on the floor and holding my breath until I turned blue.

So what did I do instead?

Say sorry to anyone I’d wronged and make amends, that’s what Mum had hammered into us, which had my thumb scrolling through my contacts until I ended up at Rhys.

There was no way he wanted to hear from me. I was riding the hot mess express and there was nothing that turned men off more. I sucked in a breath and started to send a text anyway.

Sorry about this evening.Was that enough? Maybe, but apparently I had more to say.Everything’s still a bit raw. Turns out I’m good at dumping more than just smoothies on people.

I added a little smiley emoji, feeling like anything but, then hit send before I could analyse myself into oblivion. That done, I tossed the phone on the bed and walked into the ensuite built between Mandie’s and my rooms. I was pretty sure I could wash just about anything away if I scrubbed hard enough.

So why was I looking at my phone when I got back out?

Now dressed in my PJ’s, I climbed into bed and the minute the covers were over me, my phone started to ring. A strange feeling built in my chest as I slapped around, trying to find my phone. Hope, I realised. It flickered to life as my hand closed around my phone, my thumb tapping on the screen to answer the call.

“Hello?”

That came out way too breathy, but if I hoped Rhys had called me back, I was about to be disappointed.

“Katie?” The masculine voice was familiar, but entirely different to Rhys. “It’s Rhett. Just wanted to make sure we were still on to go to the pet shop tomorrow?”

Chapter12

Rhett

“I’ll see you after work.”

Katie’s voice rang through my head all damn night, forcing me to toss and turn, but I didn’t mind. When I rang her, I half expected her to not pick up, and when she did, I thought she’d blow me off. She’d have forgotten our date or changed her mind about going out with me. I braced myself for every kind of rejection, only to end up stunned when she didn’t. When my alarm went off the next morning, I bounced out of bed, claiming the first shower as I scrubbed everything with the shower gel the girl at the chemist said smelled nice, before grabbing a razor. I shaved my face clean of all stubble and stared into the mirror once I’d washed the foam away.

I needed to do this right.

This was my chance to sweep Katie off her feet and I couldn’t fuck it up. I’d spent half the night researching restaurants before putting in a reservation at a place that had a ton of good reviews. A quick look over their menu and I knew there were a bunch of dishes Katie would like. We’d order every single one of them and see what took her fancy.

I’d need to have a shower after work. Couldn’t go wandering into a fancy place still in my uniform. I walked across the hall and then started to paw through my shirts. That shitty short sleeve printed thing my gran gave me one Christmas? Garrett made clear I should’ve donated it years ago. White shirt and a tie? I’d look like a damn waiter. Maybe the blue or the grey… I pulled out the grey shirt and stared at it for just a second, unable to stop myself from seeing the last time I wore it.

Rhys, Garret, and me, we’d been so optimistic. We’d dressed up to the nines, ready to wow the girl we wanted to make our girlfriend. Stupidly, we’d thought we were all on the same page, that this would be what she wanted. Instead, she’d looked almost pained when we fronted up to the restaurant. She was already waiting at our table, an apologetic look on her face, right before she dropped a bomb on us. That this had been fun, but she wasn’t looking for anything long term. My hand crumpled the grey shirt, creasing the fibres, right before I tossed it halfway across the room. I did not need that shit in my head right now.

“Hey, I…” Garrett appeared at my door with a mug of coffee in his hand. His voice trailed away as he saw the mess I was making. I kept my room neat and tidy, austere is what he called it, so the mess was all the more noticeable. “What’s going on? Got a job interview? An award ceremony I don’t know about?”

I swallowed hard. This shouldn’t have been this awkward, but it was. It was beyond time for me to get back into dating. Something had held me back, though, and perhaps it was this? Garrett looked almost wary as he entered the room, scanning the mess and deducting the cause before his eyes met mine. Pain, just a little bit, that’s what I saw, even if he hid it quickly.

“A date.” I answered him honestly, so why did it feel so damn weird? His eyebrows jerked up in surprise, but he quickly mastered himself. “I’m going on a date after work. That girl, the one that was going out with that dickhead.”

“Dave’s ex? She finally dumped his arse?” He set his mug down on my desk. “You’re shooting your shot.” Those dark brown eyes grew focussed. He was assessing my wardrobe, weighing up my options and making decisions on what to keep and what to discard by the second. “Where are you taking her?”

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