33 - Jess
Jess
The metal teeth of the zipper closed with a smooth, effortless glide that lacked the usual morning wrestling match.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in a black sports bra and faded denim, a slow pivot to the left confirmed the anomaly.
These specific jeans spent the last twenty-four months buried at the bottom of the drawer, designated as the official monument to my pre-grad-school metabolism.
My palms coasted down over my hips, mapping the unfamiliar play in the fabric. The denim sat low on my hip bones, leaving a significant, visible gap around my middle where the waistband used to bite into my skin. A genuine smile crept onto my lips, cutting through the usual morning cynicism.
"Jess! Get in here!" David's voice echoed down the short hallway from his bedroom, full of malicious glee. "Amberleigh just posted her rehearsal dinner seating chart and the drama is delicious. Come help me dissect the bridesmaid hierarchy."
Ordinarily, a summons to dissect Amberleigh’s curated digital misery functioned as my oxygen. Today, the urge simply failed to materialize.
The door to his bedroom swung open with a soft click as my thumbs hooked into the denim waistband. A firm tug pulled the rigid cotton three inches away from my stomach, exposing the hollow space below my belly button. "Look at this, Dave."
David looked up from his pillows, his phone hovering inches from his nose.
His eyes widened as his gaze dropped to the loose denim.
A slow, theatrical grin split his face. "Well, well.
Look who finally reaped the benefits of all that extra cardio.
Turns out high-intensity interval training has excellent side effects. "
I snorted a laugh. The physical transformation staring back at me from his vanity mirror ran much deeper than a smaller waistline.
The girl who used to hide behind oversized sweaters and defensive barbs felt miles away, replaced by a woman who knew exactly what her body could do, and exactly how much power she held over three men who built their lives around strength.
David patted the edge of his mattress, his thumb already scrolling through Instagram. "Come on, sit. What better way to celebrate the success of our tactical restructuring than to troll Amberbitch? She put her cousin on the table near the kitchen door. The pettiness is unmatched."
"Pass," the word left my mouth before my brain could process the refusal.
The surprise on David's face mirrored the sudden realization in my own chest. Amberleigh’s digital theatre just felt incredibly small now.
"To my own shock, I find myself lacking the venom required for a takedown.
I'd much rather you whip up a batch of those fudgy brownies with the flaky salt on top. "
David stared at me for a beat, his jaw dropping in mock offense before he let out a dramatic sigh.
"Look at you, being the bigger person. Figuratively, of course, since you're clearly on your way to being more ripped than anyone in the tri-state area.
" He tossed his phone onto the duvet and slid out of bed, his slippers hitting the hardwood with a soft slap.
"But you also have the best ideas on a Saturday morning.
Make yourself respectable while I get the butter melting. "
The rich, bitter aroma of melting dark chocolate filled the small kitchen as the electric beaters whined against the glass mixing bowl. David stood by the counter in his silk pajamas, his posture full of an easy, domestic focus as he dumped a measuring cup of brown sugar straight into the vortex.
Leaning against the refrigerator door, the cool plastic felt grounding against my bare lower back.
This plain old hanging out routine functioned as our anchor, a quiet pocket of normalcy before the evening’s logistics claimed the calendar.
Tonight meant a high-stakes double date.
David with the guy he spent two weeks going gaga over, and me with the three-man security detail currently occupying my entire psychological landscape.
"I'll help you pick an outfit once we finish the batter," David announced over the din of the mixer, his eyes tracking the glossy ripples of chocolate. "We need something that says 'I have options' but keeps the upper hand."
"It's okay. I already have something in mind."
The beaters cut out with a definitive, mechanical click.
David slowly lowered the bowl to the granite counter, turning his head with a precision that signaled every radar flag in his possession just went straight to red.
He stared at me, his gaze scanning my face for signs of an alien abduction.
Since the day we signed the lease, he consistently dressed me for every major event in my life, treating my wardrobe like a long-term reclamation project.
"Who are you and what did you do with my friend?" his voice dropped into an accusatory tone. "Since when do you just have something in mind without a minimum of three panic attacks and a full inventory review?"
A casual shrug served as my defense as my index finger slid into the side of the bowl, swiping a thick dollop of fudge batter. "It's just a black silk top and some tailored pants, Dave. Don't make a federal case out of it."
"It is a federal case," David muttered, his usual theatrical flare draining out of his posture, leaving a rare, quiet seriousness in its place. His eyes softened as he looked across the small kitchen gap. "I know I haven't said it out loud, Jess, but that doesn't mean I haven't noticed."
The finger with the chocolate batter froze inside my mouth. The cynical retort died on my tongue under the weight of his unblinking honesty. The joking tone lay discarded on the floorboards between us.
"You grew so much in this short time, Jess," David murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "The difference is staggering. In a good way. The best way. You walk into a room now like you own the square footage, not like you're looking for the nearest exit."
A defense mechanism flared up automatically, the smart mouth kicking into gear to block the threat of actual sentimentality. "Well, growth is inevitable when you have three hot guys lusting after you at the same time. It's excellent for posture."
David shook his head, a small, knowing smile touching his lips.
He refused to buy into the deflection. "You think it's because of them, Jess.
But don't sell yourself short here. Brock, Hunter, and Dane didn't build that confidence.
They just gave you a sandbox to play in.
You get to take the credit for this transformation. "
Before the tear ducts could contemplate an escalation, his hand shot forward. His index finger, coated in a dark glob of brownie batter, booped me right on the tip of my nose.
"Hey!"
David laughed, the familiar, lighthearted humor snapping right back into the kitchen as he scooped the thick mix into a parchment-lined baking pan. The metal oven rack rattled as he popped the brownies inside, setting the timer with a sharp twist of the dial.
"The clock is ticking. Let's go see this mysterious outfit you claim to have under control."
The closet door scraped against the carpet as the hangers slid aside with a metallic rattle.
The black silk pants and tailored top went right back onto their hooks, discarded in favor of a heavy garment bag tucked into the far corner.
The teeth parted to reveal a stunning, forest green dress that fell against my shins in a cascade of rich, fluid jersey.
David leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes cataloged the choice.
"Okay, so I lied about the pants," the admission slipped out as my fingers smoothed down the off-the-shoulder neckline.
A small, self-deprecating smile touched my face as the strategic logic behind the fabric presented itself.
"It's Brock's favorite color. Hunter loses his mind when I show a little shoulder, says it makes him want to bite.
And the jersey fabric hugs my curves just enough to drive Dane crazy during dinner. "
My eyes remained glued to the dress on the hanger, admiring the way the bedroom light caught the deep weave of the green dye. The fabric felt cool and heavy in my hands, a tangible piece of armor for the evening ahead.
The silence from the doorway lasted a beat too long.
My head turned, expecting a sharp critique or a witty breakdown of the accessory requirements.
David stood perfectly still against the molding, his gaze locked square on my face, ignoring the green jersey.
His expression held zero amusement, stripped of the usual gossipy energy that defined our mornings.
He saw right through the tactical explanation, piercing straight to the center of the target.
David cleared his throat, saying the exact thing out loud that my own mind refused to formulate for weeks. "You're in love, aren't you?"
A hard swallow cleared the sudden tightness in my throat, a single beat skipping in my chest as the words hung in the space between us. The absolute truth of it stripped away the remaining layers of defense, leaving no room for a clever deflection or a cynical joke.
A stiff nod served as the answer. "With all of them."