Page 65 of Just a Friend for the Lion
“God help us all.”
“God’s busy,” Dina shoots back. “But I’m here. Eat.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I reach out, grab one of the little chocolate-dusted pillows, and immediately yelp as molten filling scorches my palm.
“Careful, they’re hot,” Dina scolds, snatching the plate just out of reach.
My eyes sting, but it’s not the burn that does it.
It’s Carter.
Stupid, lying, gorgeous, golden-eyed Lion.
“What if I wasn’t enough?” The whisper slips out before I can catch it, soft but sharp, like a blade against my own skin.
Both sisters still, their eyes flicking toward me.
I swallow hard and try to cover with a laugh, but it comes out broken. “I mean… what if that’s why he left? What if he realized, you know, I’m not?—”
The words stick, but the thoughts don’t stop.
It wouldn’t be the first time a guy walked away.
College boyfriends who just weren’t ready for commitment.
Random dates who ghosted after one night, leaving me wondering if my curves, my sass, my everything was too much or not enough.
And sure, I’ve always told myself it was their problem. That I deserved better.
But still. The doubt sits there.
Creeps in. Eats at me.
And Carter?
He isn’t just any guy. He’s Shifter-hot.
Like, annoyingly, unfairly hot.
Muscles on top of muscles, like he was designed in some cosmic gym for gods.
A face that looks like it was carved by Renaissance sculptors with way too much time on their hands.
That lazy swagger that makes every nerve ending in my body sit up and beg.
And those eyes. Those ridiculous, blazing gold eyes that look right through me.
He’s everything.
The whole damn package.
And me?
I’m still just me.
Flour-stained jeans. Tomato sauce under my nails. Hair usually in a top knot because I’m sweating over pizza ovens ten to twelve hours a day.
Not glamorous. Not mystical. Not magical.
