All the Sauce (IceCats 4)

But why do I want to believe him so badly? More than anything in this world.

I go to turn to get into my car when he calls out. “Oh. And, Angie?”

I look over at him, trying to blink back my tears.

“I don’t sling weight around for nothing. Not only am I built to throw guys into the boards—I’m built to flip you, lift you, and bend you over any surface imaginable.”

Yup, I came.

“And not in a ‘nice’ way,” he adds with air quotes before turning and heading inside like he didn’t just turn my fucking world upside down. I watch as he walks away, his ass ever so thick in those shorts. I’ve never wanted to squeeze a man’s ass in my life, but I want to squeeze Owen’s. The realness of his words and his actions plays over and over in my head, leaving me paralyzed in place as he heads inside. Tears fall down my face, not because I’m sad but because I want so desperately to believe him. To trust what he says. His body language told me he was being truthful. So did his eyes. I can ignore words, but those eyes, they’re hard to ignore.

So what in the living hell am I to think now?

What am I going to do?

And more than that, how do I let go of my insecurities so I can be flipped, lifted, and bent over the nearest surface?

By Owen Adler.

Chapter Eleven

Owen

* * *

I’m fucking pissed.

Beyond pissed, really.

I think the last time I was this angry was during my high school championship and I got hit in the mouth with a stick—twice, with no call. Dude almost broke my nose before they finally called him. It was beyond frustrating, but nothing can compare to the frustration I feel right now. I have known Angela Paxton most of my life. I have been attracted to and into her for years, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day. I finally get her to give me some attention, and then I get my mouth on hers, and bam! She slams the brakes on so damn hard, I basically have whiplash.

Livid. Yes, I am livid.

She wanted to kiss me; I could see it in her eyes. When I finally got to those lips, I could feel her wanting me. There was no denying it. So how in the hell did she go from being right there with me to feeling like she wasn’t enough? I have half a mind to cuss out the table behind me. Those girls are nothing compared to Paxy. I honestly don’t know how she can’t see that. Has she put on weight? Yes, but so have I! So has anyone who’s aged. We aren’t meant to stay in our child-size bodies. That’s what makes us adults. Some chunk? Fucking hell!

She’s infuriating, and fuck, I want more. Who has made her feel differently about herself? Is it truly all in her head? Because I know her family. They are like us; you love yourself because you’re a badass. They wouldn’t judge her, only love her and…

Wait. Is that why she hasn’t spoken to her mom on FaceTime or seen her?

What in the ever-loving hell is going on with that girl? Did she have a crappy boyfriend? Or a friend who made her feel like she is less than perfect? Don’t get me wrong; I’m not naïve to the fact that the world holds women to a different standard and forces them to think they need to be a size that is acceptable to them, but I was raised by Elli Adler. She’s always been thicker than other moms, but no matter what, everyone knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Everyone knew my mom was more than her size. Even my sister Posey is on the thicker side, and depending on the week, Shelli can be too. I see nothing wrong with this. Our bodies change to adapt.

Hell, if I don’t take a good shit every day, I look pregnant. I don’t care, because at the end of the day, my body is eventually going to be old and rotten. I refuse to regret anything. As long as I’m able to do my job and stay healthy, then my weight will level out. Why is it that I, a twenty-year-old dude, can realize this, but not a twenty-one-year-old female who has the power to bring me to my knees?

Why am I sitting here pissed off because a girl I like doesn’t see her worth?

Damn it.

I eat angrily until the bartender comes over, and then he points to Angie’s plate. “Did she leave?” I nod, not wanting to answer him. He grimaces. “Sorry, dude.”

I scoff. “Not because of me but because of the judgmental bitches behind us.”

He makes a face, looking past me, and I hope they heard me. It may be rude and I’m being petty, but I can’t shake this anger. “Yeah, they’re only in here to find a sugar daddy.”