“So it wasn’t because I was fat.”
“You weren’t ever fat.”
“I was.” She shakes her head, eyes distant with old pain. “You made sure I knew it.”
“I was wrong.”
“Doesn’t change that I was fat.” She meets my eyes, then. “Why do you think I started running? Because of you. Because I didn’t want to be Donuts Delia or Dino Delia anymore. I was already dieting all the time. I tried everything, every fad, every trend, every diet. I read every article in every magazine if it promised six ways to beat belly fat or whatever. Nothing ever worked.”
“Clearly, something did,” I say, gesturing at her. “Look at you now.”
“Yeah, look at me now.” She smacks her left ass cheek. “Still pear-shaped.”
“Delia, you’re not—”
“You know what worked? Not eating and running. No carbs. No treats. I only eat between noon and seven. There are no skip days, no cheat days. I run five miles, hard, every day but Sunday. And I’ve done it for six years.” She holds her arms out. “This is the result.”
“Pretty spectacular result, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” Her cerulean eyes are hard, icy. “Just like with the run time today, I have you to thank for the motivation to finally and truly lose the weight and keep it off. Every run, every mile, every day—hating you was my fuel. Your voice in my head, mocking me, calling me names. Asking Dell and your other asshole buddies if you were the only one seeing hippos every time I walked past. You, bringing cupcakes to class for no reason other than to mess with my head. I don’t evenlikecupcakes, Thai. Did you know that? I never have. I always preferred cookies and ice cream. Not that I’ve had either in years. One bite of a cookie and my ass balloons immediately. If I so much as look at ice cream, even the so-called healthy keto ice cream, I gain five pounds. But the point is…” She trails off, head shaking. “I don’t even know. I just know I ran to escape you. I fasted to get away from your voice in my head. It never worked. And just when I was starting to make progress, starting to feel okay in my own skin, finally able to get through a day without hearing your cruel, mocking voice in my head, finally able to look at myself in the mirror and go, hey, I look alright—that’s when you blow back into my life like a fucking tornado. You’ve set me back years of progress, Thai.Years. Because now I have to figure out how to be okay and be confident and like myselfwith you in my lifeon a daily basis.”
A long, tight, sharp silence.
But she’s not done. “And then—andthen, Thai Bristow, you have the big brass balls to crash my run, and tell me you like my ass, and that you think I’m sexy. What thefuckam I supposed to do with that? Huh? Answer me that, if you can.”
I have nothing. “Delia, I…”
She nods. “Right. Exactly. Nothing.” She pushes past me. “Why don’t we keep this to work only, okay? Don’t show up. Don’t run with me. Don’t give me the cute little chitchat in the office when it’s just us late at night. Just…leave me alone.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, just walks away and doesn’t look back.
Chapter Twelve
Delia
Apparently,I’d been lying all those years I’d spent telling myself that Thai Bristow had no more power over me. That I was stronger because of his torment. That if I could survive him, I could survive anything.
Right now, I feel weak.
I kept my back stiff and my head up as I walked away from him. But as soon as I’d closed my front door, I collapsed to the ground, back to the door, and sobbed.
You know what did feel good, though? Thai couldn’t keep up with me. I ran his ass into theground. Eat my dirt, Bristow.
Small comfort, but I’ll take what I can get.
I let myself cry for a few minutes, and then I force myself out of it. Like usual, I have to talk myself out of it out loud.
“Suck it up, Delia,” I growl. “Stand up and dry your eyes.”
I do it, working to my feet, scrubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms.
“Now take off your clothes and get in the shower. Anddo notthink about Thai Bristow.”
I begin the struggle of peeling off my tight, sweaty clothes, and when I’m finally naked, I twist the shower on and start taking my hair out of the braids and dragging a brush through them.
The bathroom is wreathed in steam. I grab a bottle of water from my fridge and suck half of it down at once, and I’m about to get into the shower when something unexpected and unwelcome happens:
Someone knocks on my door.
