Strong Enough

He made a noise. “Why?”

“Because it makes you wiser and more mature and more experienced. You’ve done things. You’ve made mistakes and learned from them. You’re not some stupid twenty-year-old who doesn’t know shit about life and doesn’t care because he just wants to get through the day, get drunk, get laid, whatever.”

“You’re not like that either,” he said.

“No, I’m not. But I don’t think I’m a typical twenty-four-year-old. Another reason I came here was because I felt like I’d outgrown my friends. They didn’t seem to have any ambition. It’s not entirely their fault, because there isn’t opportunity there like there is here, but I found myself bored and restless a lot of the time. I wanted something better.”

“You’re going to get it. It might take some time, but you’ll be a success story here. I know it.”

I gave him a squeeze. “Hush. You’ll jinx me. But thank you.”

We fell asleep just like that.

When I woke up the next morning, Derek was gone. For a moment, I was nervous he regretted asking me to stay the night in his bed and was off somewhere punishing himself for it. But then I saw the note on his nightstand, written in black ink on a white notepad. His handwriting made me smile—perfectly formed, angular letters, all caps. The paper had no lines, but his words didn’t slant in any direction.

At the gym. Didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast when I get back?

P.S. You’re cute when you’re sleeping.

My heart thumped happily, and I smiled as I stretched out in his bed again. The sheets smelled like him, like us, and I loved it. I loved the memory of last night, how passionate and powerful he’d been—and how vulnerable, too. He’d shown me he’d missed me, even if he hadn’t said it. I loved that he’d asked me to stay with him and the way we’d held each other as we’d gone to sleep.

I really hoped he felt the same. At the same time, I also thought it was important to stick to the plan—I would rent my own apartment as soon as possible. In fact, I had appointments to visit two complexes this afternoon before work. The sooner I wasn’t dependent on Derek for things, the better. I wanted to stand on equal footing—well, as equal as possible. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be equal to someone like him. But I had to try.

After a shower, I got dressed and went downstairs as Derek was coming in the back door. In the kitchen, our eyes met, and we both smiled. Relief—he wasn’t sorry. And God, he looked good, even sweaty and windblown.

> “Morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. You?”

“Great.”

“How was your workout?”

He groaned. “Tough. But good. I need to clean up.”

“Okay. I could make breakfast if you’d like.”

“Syrniki?” His face lit up like a kid about to blow out the candles on his birthday cake.

I laughed. “Sure.”

As he passed me on his way to the stairs, he gave me a quick kiss. “Sorry, I’m sweaty.”

“I like you sweaty.”

He grinned and left me alone in the kitchen, where I put on some coffee and got started on the pancakes. It was ridiculous how much I enjoyed cooking for him. After I moved out, I would invite him to my new apartment so I could continue to do it.

He came down about thirty minutes later, inhaling deeply. “God, that smells so good.”

I poured him a cup of coffee. “Perfect timing,” I said, handing him the mug. “Everything is almost ready.”

He sipped the coffee and sat down at the table, which I’d already set. When I put his plate in front of him a moment later, he moaned. “Good thing I did a few extra sets this morning at the gym. How the hell do you eat like this and stay in such good shape?”

“I don’t eat like this all the time,” I explained, taking the seat across from him. “And I do like to work out, I just haven’t had time here yet. But I’ve always had a fast…” The word wasn’t coming to me, and I looked at him for help. “You know, what your body does to burn what you eat.”

“Metabolism,” he supplied.

“Yes. A fast metabolism.”