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I look over to my stovetop and see that the water is finally boiling. I toss in my broccoli for a couple of minutes and set my phone down on the counter to finish the chicken.
I pop open a jar of organic tomato sauce and pour it over the chicken and garlic, stirring it around. My broccoli looks done about the time I finish it so I strain it and shock it in some cold water over at the sink before I pour it in with the rest of the dish.
I grab some rice I prepped from the fridge and heat it up and pour that in too.
Voila. Dinner. I’ve got my protein, my veggies, and a starch.
A well-balanced meal, perfect for after a long day of working out with my best friend and a hot chick.
I throw a good portion into a bowl and grab a fork. I make my way over to my couch and sit with my food. Back to my marketing plan. We’re so far in development that I need to start advertising as soon as possible.
As my thumb pushes Shake ‘Em Ups up and out of my view, a picture that has been reposted by a page called “Fitness Junkies” catches my eye. Not because it has anything to do with my strategy, but because I know exactly who’s in it.
Kara. Why would Fitness Junkies have Kara on their featured posts? I’m too curious.
Repost after repost, I trace the picture back as far as I can, which lands me to Kara’s personal account. She has over a million followers.
What the shit?
As I peruse her public photos, I can’t even believe it’s the same girl. The rest of her pictures are at least two years old.
She’s still hot as hell in them, but I don’t recognize her. With that much internet fame, I feel like I’m supposed to.
Her curves back then were as phenomenal then as they are now. Anyone would be lucky to fuck her at any size. I can fucking say that with a smile.
But my curiosity is piqued. I scroll even further into her gallery.
My god, this girl used to be a plus-sized model. No fucking wonder people follow the fuck out of her.
I take a heaping spoonful of my dinner. Goddamn, that’s good. See, just like I said.
When you’ve been starving all day, that first bite tastes so much better than it would have had you not waited for it.
I wonder what made Kara decide to lose all of that weight. Seriously, she’d be perfect at any size. She’s got such a gorgeous face and such delectable proportions…more of her just means that there’d be more of her to love.
She’s gorgeous now, too, of course—and with a little training, she’ll look even healthier. But the world isn’t always kind to women with curves like that, no matter how fucking stunning they are.
It takes me a second to realize it, but I’m actually fucking worrying about this girl. I’m the kind of man who usually pumps and dumps, but Kara has me all concerned about her well-being and shit. Probably because, judging by the way she was trying to lift today before Chase and I came along, it’s obvious that someone needs to take care of this girl.
It’s not just me being over-protective, though. I’ve never been so intrigued by someone, especially someone I just met. And now I have all of this empathy for her, and I want to get in her head.
Huh. I genuinely want to help this girl be happy.
And I think I have a good start to how I can do that.
I return to my feed, littered with Miss Sexy Universe ads.
I think Chase and I can mold her into our model. We can sponsor her with Protein Plus, enter her into the competition, and make her the face of our brand.
She has the model strut, she has the looks, and she definitely has the right backstory to melt hearts in our name. We’ll just need to get her on board.
And with a little convincing, I think we can have that in the bag, too. I take another heaping bite of my food and wash it down with a full glass of water.
I pull up my text conversations and find Chase’s thread.
I have a plan, I send him.
He responds, not even a minute later, What else is new?
