Set on You (The Influencer #1)

by Amy Lea

“Well, I said you were stubborn, self-righteous, territorial, especially at the gym . . .” he says, pretending to list my flaws. “Generally, a little unhinged. Your dad fully agreed. Said you’d always been that way and there was little chance of changing you. He practically begged me to take you off his plate.” I give him a playful whack on the chest. “God, your ego really is the size of Boston.” He squeezes my thigh under the table, a knowing grin spreading over his lips.

Mom nods in agreement as she bounces Hillary on her lap, the dog occupied happily licking the crumbs on the edge of the table with her lizard tongue. This has to be a violation of the health code.

“I don’t like soup.” He snorts. “Yes, you do, you liar. You eat it all the time when we go for lunch.”

. . . Anyway, he leaped out of the way and I went knee-first onto the pavement.” She grimaces at her knee again. “Did you at least get his name?” She shakes her head vehemently. “No. By the time all was said and done, he looked at me like I was a lunatic and ran into the store. And I awkwardly had to limp in behind him to get more soup.”

SCOTT: Okay. Get some rest. Also, don’t ask me how I know this because it’s embarrassing, but those leggings you like at Lululemon are on sale.

It’s been a day since Scott left, albeit reluctantly. If I’m being honest, my stomach bottomed out the moment he walked out the door. But the shock of having gone viral, combined with his I-must-fix-you attitude, was overwhelming, almost suffocating.

How can he be in love with me if I’m not even sure I’m in love with me anymore?

“There were some nasty comments about him too, you know. Why is he not allowed to stand up for himself, if not you? It’s not all about you.”

“You don’t need to be so strong and confident at all times, Crystal. Even if you’re a trainer. The curvy community doesn’t need you to defend them. We’re perfectly fine. What we need is you to be the best you can be.” I sigh. “And that’s the worst part. After all is said and done, I don’t feel my best. And it feels like I’m living a lie. How can you be so positive all the time, Mel? It’s like you don’t let anything bother you, ever.”

but I still have days where I don’t love everything about myself. It’s normal.”

“I don’t think confidence and self-worth is something you magically attain. And you don’t simply hold on to it forever like a tangible object. It’s fluid. You can be confident in every aspect except one. Or something could happen and all your confidence can be shattered in an instant. Like the Instagram photo. It doesn’t mean you don’t inherently love yourself to the core.” I take in her words for a moment. “How do I get my confidence back?” “You’ve gotta find it on your own terms. You rediscover things you love about yourself and nourish them. And not just the things society tells you that you should love. Beauty isn’t objective, you know, as much as society tells us it is.”

His expression is one of focus and confusion as he studies the wall. The projection takes up the majority of the far wall with the picture. The picture that ruined everything. The picture of us on the beach. The picture that made national news.

“Stop being an asshole and watch,” Trevor orders, quickly losing patience.

What I didn’t know at the time, which he later admitted, was how much he wanted to continue talking to me. “I had no clue how to continue the conversation without sounding like a massive creep and embarrassing myself beyond repair. So I walked away,”

kneeling in front of me with that cocky grin.

He turns in my direction when I crack the closet door open. At that precise moment, the broom falls, whacking me on the head yet again as I emerge from my hiding spot.

“Hey, that day I claimed it fair and square,” I remind him with a teasing poke to the chest. “It’s not my fault you didn’t see my stuff.” He tries to suppress his amusement. “Okay, confession time. I might have seen your stuff there and stolen it anyway.” I clap a hand over my mouth, half vindicated, half scandalized at the revelation. “I knew it!”

But it’s too late for me. I saw it. The penis belonging to my new roommate, Trevor Metcalfe.

Besides, Trevor is Scott’s best friend and coworker at the fire hall. I figured it was safe to trust my soon-to-be brother-in-law, but apparently you can’t trust family.

“I take it you’re gonna hide in there until the end of time?” “Yes. I think I’ll just rot in here.”

“Do you regularly have sex in communal living areas?” “Well, not anymore.”

But I got mugged on the subway,” I admit through a crunch, “by a guy with some serious soul mate potential. The meet-cute was going so well until he stole my purse.”

His effortlessly tussled mop of dark hair juxtaposes the short, neatly trimmed sides.

Nonfictional feelings for fictional men in Times New Roman font.

“Should I trust you, deliriously handsome stranger?” His mouth shapes into a crooked smile as he stands, towering over me on the bathroom floor. “Nah. Probably not.”