Page 11 of Burner Account

And every time I sat down or put something unhealthy in my mouth, that voice—the one that sounded suspiciously like my ex-fiancé’s voice—wormed its way into my head. How unattractive I was. How much I’d let myself go. How he wouldn’t have needed to cheat if he’d been with a hotter, more exciting man.

“Maybe if you took better care of yourself, I wouldn’t be so distracted by guys at the gym.”

“A guy like you is seriouslyluckyto have a man like me.”

“It’s like going to an expensive restaurant once in a while. It breaks up the monotony of having the same boring meal at home.”

I rolled my shoulders and tried to force his stupid voice out of my mind. I knew he was wrong. That was a dead horse I hadthoroughlybeaten. I wasn’t a model and I didn’t need to be, and me being an average, imperfect man was no excuse for my ex to cheat on me with anything that moved. It was all gaslighting and projecting, and I knew it.

But what could I say? Some of it stuck. I knew it was no excuse to cheat, but the grain of truth—the knowledge I couldn’t begin to compete with the men my ex screwed—prodded at me like a grain of sand in my shoe. It didn’t matter how much I knew I was worthy of love and friendship and just being treated like a goddamned human being—that single piece of sand still wore away at me.

And when it was time to meet someone new, I was always convinced they would see the version of me my ex had tried to sell me in order to excuse his infidelity. That I’d meet their gaze and see that hint of disappointment that most people tried valiantly to hide. The subtle but unmistakable,“Oh. I was expecting something… uh…”

I was restless now, so I started walking just to shake off some of this nervous energy. The Point Park fountain was at the center of a round pool that was about two hundred feet across, and I followed its edge, hands in my pockets and gaze down as I tried to quell these unwelcome nerves.

Another voice poked through the cacophony of my body-shaming ex:Does it even matter if Nick thinks I’m attractive?

That gave me pause. Because, really… it didn’t. Nick and I were friends. That was all we’d ever been and all we needed to be. If this connection started and stopped at the close friendship we’d had for the past four years, that was fine.

And maybe I wouldn’t be attracted to him either.

Huh. That was a thought.

Whatever the case, he’d still be the same man I’d been chatting with for the past four years, and I just hoped and hoped that meeting in person didn’t ruin that one way or another. What if we were awkward when we tried to talk face to face? What if one of us had an annoying habit that the other couldn’t deal with?

What if he takes one look at me, and I can see the disappointment in—

God. Stop. Just stop.

Yeah, right. I hadn’t been able to derail this train of thought with anyone before him. Why start now?

I halted beside the fountain and just gazed at it, watching the water shoot straight up at the center. The sight and the sound were soothing, and I took a few slow, deep breaths as I watched.

I was overthinking this. I was overthinking everything. Always did. Probably always would.

I closed my eyes and exhaled. Nick—whatever his name turned out to be—was my friend. There was no reason that couldn’t or wouldn’t continue just because we’d met face to face.

Which we were about to do.

Oh my God. I was about to…

A rush of excitement mingled with the nerves.

I wasn’t ready for this, but I was alsomorethan ready for it. I wondered for the millionth time what he looked like. What was the smile I’d imagine from here on out whenever he wroteLOLin a message? Was he as—

“Isaiah?”

The voice startled me, and I spun around, and—

Froze.

Because I immediately knew his real name, and yeah, he was right, I wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told me via text.

“You’re…” I blinked. “Am I hallucinating?”

Shaking his head, he laughed, though he was obviously being careful to avoid pulling at the stitches in his upper lip.

The stitches from the other night’s game.

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