Page 16 of Big Girl Panties

"Ready for what? A new friend? A good fuck? A good time?" I shrugged. "You guys agreed to be just friends."

"When he kissed me…" I paused, searching for the right words, but couldn't find them. "I don't know." I shook my head. Even saying the words in my head sounded stupid. I felt something pass between us… A spark. Chemistry. I couldn't tell, but I knew I'd never felt that before, and I didn't want to fall for someone I could never have.

Sucking in a deep breath, I exhaled slowly. The worst part about all of this was that I was never this girl, but now I was so self-conscious of my weight. The first time Chris asked me out, I didn't hesitate to say yes, but that was then, and this was now.

My gaze dropped to the dress lying on the floor. Chris's voice echoed in my head: Dresses like that aren't made for your body type. I shook my head, pushing the memory away, but the doubt lingered like a bad aftertaste. I'd let all of his harsh words define me, and I hated that, but building back confidence didn't happen overnight.

"Davina, I love you, but I'm just not ready for this. I think I'm going to watch a movie and eat ice cream."

"Okay, if that's really what you want." She forced a smile. "Call me tomorrow."

"Text me when you get home, and have fun tonight." She had a date tonight. "I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

I ended the call with a sigh.

I padded to the kitchen, and there was Karen, sitting primly by her empty food bowl, tail twitching with barely contained indignation.

"Don't look at me like that," I muttered, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer. "You literally ate an hour ago."

She meowed, a long, dramatic sound that somehow managed to convey both accusation and betrayal.

"Oh, so now you're judging my life choices too?" I waved my spoon at her. "At least I'm not the one who got stuck in a paper bag yesterday and needed a rescue mission."

Karen blinked slowly, then sat down and began grooming her paw with exaggerated dignity.

"Really? You're going to pretend that didn't happen?" I shoved a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. "I have photographic evidence, ma'am."

She paused mid-lick and fixed me with those green eyes that somehow always made me feel like I was the pet in this relationship.

"Fine, you want to know why I'm eating ice cream in my pajamas instead of getting dressed up for a gorgeous man?" I gestured with my spoon. "Because I have the confidence of a deflated balloon, and you," I pointed at her, "have more game than I do. Remember when you charmed Mrs. Peterson into giving you treats every morning? That's some next-level flirting."

Karen chirped, a sound I'd learned meant either yes, I'm fabulous, or feed me now, human.

"Don't get cocky," I warned. "You also spent twenty minutes yesterday trying to catch your tail."

She stood, stretched with theatrical flair, and sauntered over to brush against my legs, her version of a consolation hug.

"Thanks, buddy." I reached down to scratch behind her ears. "At least one of us knows how to handle insecurities. You just knock things off tables and move on."

Karen purred, then promptly knocked my phone off the coffee table.

"Point taken." I curled up on the couch, spoon in one hand, remote in the other. Mindlessly, I flipped through the channels. Rom-com? No. Nature documentary? Pass. My thumb hovered over Wrestling Live. Matt would be on soon. I shouldn't. I held my breath. Click. The ring exploded onto my screen.

I wasn't a wrestling fan. I wasn't really into sports at all, but I didn't need to like wrestling to admire him doing what he obviously loved.

As Matt entered the ring, I found myself leaning closer to the screen. His dark hair, usually pulled back, now fell in loose waves around his face. Lights glistened off his skin, highlighting the determined set of his jaw. He moved with a fluid grace, each motion precise and controlled. When he grappled with his opponent, I could see the tension in his forearms, the focus in his eyes. It wasn't just raw power. There was strategy in every shift of his weight, every twist of his body.

As I watched Matt in the ring, memories of our kiss flooded back. My hand unconsciously rose to my lips, remembering the soft pressure, his gentle but firm touch. A mix of excitement and nervousness swirled in my stomach as I bit down on my bottom lip.

When the camera caught Matt's face after his victory, something twisted in my chest. Not regret exactly, but a hollow ache for the parallel universe where I'd chosen differently.

I pulled the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders. The apartment felt too quiet after the roar of the crowd on TV. Even Karen seemed to sense my gloom, padding over to settle against my side with a rumbling purr.

"You could still text him," I whispered to the empty room. "Congratulate him. Explain why you didn't show."

But my phone stayed on the coffee table, screen dark. Instead, I let my eyes drift closed, imagining a different ending to this night, one where courage won over fear, where I was sitting in those bright arena lights instead of hiding in my dim living room.

Sleep took me slowly, my last conscious thought a half-formed wish that dreams might be kinder than reality.