I didn’t answer. I couldn’t breathe, let alone form words. Rhodes stayed there a moment, his body now firmly between my legs, his hands still grasping my neck. He swallowed, his fervent eyes falling to my lips briefly before he released his hold and backed away.
I exhaled the moment he did, oxygen finding me in a rush. It felt like my first breath and my last one, too.
“What if I did want those things?” I murmured, surprising myself more than him, I was sure. “It wouldn’t matter, would it? I’m not hot enough. I’m not skinny enough…” my voice trailed off. “I’m not like them.”
“Why don’t you get it?” he growled roughly, reaching into the cabinet above the stove before slamming it closed again. He turned to me then and his eyes were piercing, like the sharpest blade slicing right through my fragile defense. Suddenly, and for the first time in my life, I felt small. “You’re right. You’re not like my other clients. Them?” He gestured in the direction of the door, his voice raised. “They don’t have goals. They’re selfish, greedy, and entitled. They sign up for sessions with me so they have a solid excuse when they want to dip out on their rich ass husbands to come fuck me.” He slammed his hand against his chest when he referenced himself and I flinched at his honesty. Rhodes swallowed. He knew he’d struck a nerve, but he kept going.
“I’m not a good person, okay? I train and screw around with other people who are just as shitty as I am.” He moved closer, his palms flattening out on the counter in front of me as his eyes leveled with mine. “That’s why when you walked into the gym, I couldn’t figure out why.”
Breath was a fleeting thing.
“Why? Because I’m the only one who’s actually fat?” I whispered. I was certainly more overweight than those other women I’d seen him with. I waited for him to scold me, or roll his eyes, or sigh, but he just watched me. He studied me. And then, his eyes softened.
“You’re not, Natalie. You,” he paused, lifting his hat to run his hands through his hair before pulling it back on again. “You’re weightless. The world hasn’t touched you yet. You’re not heavy with the weight of pain, and guilt, and selfishness.” He shook his head, biting his lower lip in that same way that made my skin heat just moments before. “You’re light. Don’t ever lose that. Don’t let the world weigh you down like them.” He shifted, looking away. “Like me.”
With that, he turned back to the stove and finished plating our dinner, effectively ending our conversation while his words still swirled in my head. We moved back to the couch and again I found myself hugging the arm. I had so many questions. What had weighed him down? Why did he think this was his only path in life? How many women did he sleep with? Did he like it? But he was done talking about it, I knew that, so I changed the subject again.
“You made us muffins?” I asked when he clicked on the TV.
“They’re corn dog muffins. Eighty calories each.” I smiled at his thoughtfulness and he shrugged, the flickering light of the television dancing across his face. “You wanted fair food, so I’m giving it to you. Just modified.”
I just smiled harder, even though I knew I probably looked like an idiot. When I noticed a change in Rhodes’ breathing, my smile melted. His eyes flickered to my lips momentarily, but he looked away so fast I almost questioned if I’d seen it.
“Thank you, Rhodes. For tonight. For… everything, really.”
He shifted. “I didn’t do much.”
“It’s a lot, to me.”
I noticed his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, but he just nodded. We watched the sports channel he’d pulled up and ate our midnight snack in quiet. It was mouthwatering and delicious and I had a hard time not eating five-hundred calories worth of those low-calorie muffins. I made sure to tell him that at least eight times before we walked out to his bike. It was almost two in the morning, but I felt wide awake.
He drove slower on the way to my house than he had earlier on the way to his. The night air was warm, but the wind was cool, and the moon was bright enough to light our way without his headlight. I didn’t know what to make of what he’d said earlier or of what he’d done for me, so I tried not to dwell on it, but my mind was racing as fast as the bike. My heart was beating fast, my mouth was dry, and I felt myself leaning closer and closer to an edge I wasn’t sure I was prepared to fall over.
When we pulled up to my drive, he cut the engine and propped his bike up on the stand at the end of the road. My parents didn’t expect me until late, still, they certainly didn’t expect me to arrive on the back of a motorcycle, so I had him pull over by our brick mailbox. Rhodes pulled my helmet off and chuckled as I tried to tame my hair. When I sighed and gave up, he held his smirk.
“Can I ask you something before you go?”
He leaned back, half-sitting on his bike seat and crossing his arms over my helmet. His eyes took on an entirely new appearance in the light of the moon. They were darker, yet the green still shone through the night. “You and your questions.”
I blushed, but asked anyway. “Your sister…” He stiffened, and I almost didn’t ask, but I couldn’t hold the words back. “You said she was pretty. Is she… did they never… what does that mean?”
His jaw tensed. “She’s dead.”
Two words. He said them so unflinchingly, like they didn’t hold the weight that they did. I knew I probably should have said I was sorry for his loss, but Rhodes didn’t strike me as someone who would want to hear that. It wasn’t personal, it wasn’t sincere — it was laced with bullshit that I didn’t want to feed him. So, I asked another question.
“What happened?” I shook my head. “I mean, I know, kind of. I remember when she… when they said she was missing.”
Rhodes wouldn’t look at me. He would look up toward the sky, to the left down the road, down at his sneakers — but never at me. “She just disappeared. We drove to school together, I saw her at lunch, then again right before weightlifting practice, but she never came home that night.”
I gulped.
“What about your parents? Did they try looking for her?”
“I don’t have parents, Bug. We were in a home.”
My heart broke. It was all starting to make sense. “I know she disappeared, but how do you know she’s dead? Did they… did they find her?” I felt sick even asking, and I couldn’t bring myself to add body to the end of that question.
I exhaled the moment he did, oxygen finding me in a rush. It felt like my first breath and my last one, too.
“What if I did want those things?” I murmured, surprising myself more than him, I was sure. “It wouldn’t matter, would it? I’m not hot enough. I’m not skinny enough…” my voice trailed off. “I’m not like them.”
“Why don’t you get it?” he growled roughly, reaching into the cabinet above the stove before slamming it closed again. He turned to me then and his eyes were piercing, like the sharpest blade slicing right through my fragile defense. Suddenly, and for the first time in my life, I felt small. “You’re right. You’re not like my other clients. Them?” He gestured in the direction of the door, his voice raised. “They don’t have goals. They’re selfish, greedy, and entitled. They sign up for sessions with me so they have a solid excuse when they want to dip out on their rich ass husbands to come fuck me.” He slammed his hand against his chest when he referenced himself and I flinched at his honesty. Rhodes swallowed. He knew he’d struck a nerve, but he kept going.
“I’m not a good person, okay? I train and screw around with other people who are just as shitty as I am.” He moved closer, his palms flattening out on the counter in front of me as his eyes leveled with mine. “That’s why when you walked into the gym, I couldn’t figure out why.”
Breath was a fleeting thing.
“Why? Because I’m the only one who’s actually fat?” I whispered. I was certainly more overweight than those other women I’d seen him with. I waited for him to scold me, or roll his eyes, or sigh, but he just watched me. He studied me. And then, his eyes softened.
“You’re not, Natalie. You,” he paused, lifting his hat to run his hands through his hair before pulling it back on again. “You’re weightless. The world hasn’t touched you yet. You’re not heavy with the weight of pain, and guilt, and selfishness.” He shook his head, biting his lower lip in that same way that made my skin heat just moments before. “You’re light. Don’t ever lose that. Don’t let the world weigh you down like them.” He shifted, looking away. “Like me.”
With that, he turned back to the stove and finished plating our dinner, effectively ending our conversation while his words still swirled in my head. We moved back to the couch and again I found myself hugging the arm. I had so many questions. What had weighed him down? Why did he think this was his only path in life? How many women did he sleep with? Did he like it? But he was done talking about it, I knew that, so I changed the subject again.
“You made us muffins?” I asked when he clicked on the TV.
“They’re corn dog muffins. Eighty calories each.” I smiled at his thoughtfulness and he shrugged, the flickering light of the television dancing across his face. “You wanted fair food, so I’m giving it to you. Just modified.”
I just smiled harder, even though I knew I probably looked like an idiot. When I noticed a change in Rhodes’ breathing, my smile melted. His eyes flickered to my lips momentarily, but he looked away so fast I almost questioned if I’d seen it.
“Thank you, Rhodes. For tonight. For… everything, really.”
He shifted. “I didn’t do much.”
“It’s a lot, to me.”
I noticed his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, but he just nodded. We watched the sports channel he’d pulled up and ate our midnight snack in quiet. It was mouthwatering and delicious and I had a hard time not eating five-hundred calories worth of those low-calorie muffins. I made sure to tell him that at least eight times before we walked out to his bike. It was almost two in the morning, but I felt wide awake.
He drove slower on the way to my house than he had earlier on the way to his. The night air was warm, but the wind was cool, and the moon was bright enough to light our way without his headlight. I didn’t know what to make of what he’d said earlier or of what he’d done for me, so I tried not to dwell on it, but my mind was racing as fast as the bike. My heart was beating fast, my mouth was dry, and I felt myself leaning closer and closer to an edge I wasn’t sure I was prepared to fall over.
When we pulled up to my drive, he cut the engine and propped his bike up on the stand at the end of the road. My parents didn’t expect me until late, still, they certainly didn’t expect me to arrive on the back of a motorcycle, so I had him pull over by our brick mailbox. Rhodes pulled my helmet off and chuckled as I tried to tame my hair. When I sighed and gave up, he held his smirk.
“Can I ask you something before you go?”
He leaned back, half-sitting on his bike seat and crossing his arms over my helmet. His eyes took on an entirely new appearance in the light of the moon. They were darker, yet the green still shone through the night. “You and your questions.”
I blushed, but asked anyway. “Your sister…” He stiffened, and I almost didn’t ask, but I couldn’t hold the words back. “You said she was pretty. Is she… did they never… what does that mean?”
His jaw tensed. “She’s dead.”
Two words. He said them so unflinchingly, like they didn’t hold the weight that they did. I knew I probably should have said I was sorry for his loss, but Rhodes didn’t strike me as someone who would want to hear that. It wasn’t personal, it wasn’t sincere — it was laced with bullshit that I didn’t want to feed him. So, I asked another question.
“What happened?” I shook my head. “I mean, I know, kind of. I remember when she… when they said she was missing.”
Rhodes wouldn’t look at me. He would look up toward the sky, to the left down the road, down at his sneakers — but never at me. “She just disappeared. We drove to school together, I saw her at lunch, then again right before weightlifting practice, but she never came home that night.”
I gulped.
“What about your parents? Did they try looking for her?”
“I don’t have parents, Bug. We were in a home.”
My heart broke. It was all starting to make sense. “I know she disappeared, but how do you know she’s dead? Did they… did they find her?” I felt sick even asking, and I couldn’t bring myself to add body to the end of that question.
