Rocky
I munch on my burger in silence, mentally kicking myself. How could I have been so stupid? After everything Decker has been through?
I was trying to be flirty, but that misfired badly.
Now neither one of us is talking, and I have a sinking feeling I've ruined the whole evening.
I drop the burger onto my plate and push it away. "I'm sorry."
The sudden movement startles Decker. "For what?"
"For my comment before. It was inappropriate."
"Actually, it wasn't. I'm being overly sensitive."
Something isn't adding up. Is this the same guy who marched into a boardroom and kicked out a bunch of strangers in less than thirty seconds?
"I can maybe sort of kind of relate to what you went through," I admit. Decker might have done his homework and learned some private details about me, but I bet he doesn't know this. "I used to get bullied as a kid."
His eyes drop to my chest. "You did?"
"I didn't always look like this. As a kid I was…overweight. By quite a lot. My whole family was. No money and scant knowledge when it comes to nutrition and exercise is not a good combo."
Decker snatches another napkin from the chrome dispenser and begins twirling it between his slender fingers. "I bet."
"I used to just take it. The abuse. The insults. The punches."
"Why?"
I take a deep breath. "Because part of me agreed with the bullies and thought I deserved it. So when I came home from school, I'd lock myself in my room and…crochet."
"Ohhhh."
"My grandma taught me. She passed away when I was nine. I carried on doing it as a way of still feeling close to her. And it had the added bonus of relaxing me and preparing me for another nightmare day at school the following day."
Decker nods smoothly, like the unknown pieces of my puzzle are falling into place for him.
"So how did…" He waves his hand in front of me. "…all of this happen?"
I grin. He's trying so hard not to look at my body, but his gaze keeps slipping.
"In junior high, I met a girl. Mallory. We became best friends. Still are to this day, in fact. She rocked my world. She told me I was beautiful and special and that if anyone had a problem with me, it was their problem. She got me out of my shell big time."
"She sounds amazing."
"Truly, the best," I agree. "But self-belief wasn't enough.
Her older brother was on the powerlifting team.
He took me under his wing, and I started lifting.
My body just…responded. I loved it, and in the space of a year, I went from being soft and chubby to hard and muscular.
The transformation was incredible. I continued with it throughout high school, and when I graduated, a manager from MoM scouted me.
I moved to LA, and the rest is history."
"Quite a story."
"Is it, though?" I ask, picking up a fry. "Small-town boy comes to LA to make it. Suffers massive public humiliation. The end."
"Hey, that's not what's happening." Decker reaches across the table and places his small hand over my giant paw. "I won't let it. You've got my word."
I feel like I've been winded, staring at our joined hands on the table. Decker must notice because he pulls back sharply. "Sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"It's totally fine."
I look up. Turns out the guy I had pegged as a cutthroat operator is not only quite sensitive, but, judging by how his teeth are bothering his lower lip, nervous as hell right now that he's overstepped.
"Really, it's fine," I assure him.
"I normally avoid physical contact with clients."
"Well, then, maybe we can be more than just clients?" I say, watching as his chest rises and falls. "Maybe we could be friends?"
"Sure," he says, still wound up way tighter than I'd like him to be. "Friends."