His smile fell. “Hardly.”

Rhodes looked around the room, as if it weren’t safe for us to speak, then he nodded toward the back office. “Come on, let’s check your numbers.”

I frowned. “But it’s only Thursday.”

He gave me a pointed look that told me not to ask any more questions before leading me back. Once the door was closed behind us, he motioned to the scale and I stepped up. Rhodes sidled up beside me, looking at the numbers on the scale that I refused to acknowledge. I just looked at him, instead.

“Did you forget everything I said to you the other night?”

I laughed, but Rhodes didn’t. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget anything about that night.” I blushed at the admission, but Rhodes just offered a soft smile.

He leaned in closer, but paused, resting his hand on my lower back so lightly I thought I might be imagining it. “You are beautiful, Natalie,” he whispered. A chill sparked where his hand touched my skin and traveled in all directions until it covered my entire body. “I can’t touch you the way I want to while we’re here, the way I did two nights ago, to show you that. So, I need you to just start believing it.”

I nodded, though I was far from believing I was beautiful. Rhodes clearly had on goggles I wasn’t yet accustomed to. Still, hearing his words, I wanted to believe him — I wanted to feel beautiful.

Rhodes cleared his throat and removed his hand quickly. “Good. Come on, we have work to do. Only two more workouts until weigh-in day.”

He didn’t tell me what the numbers were on the scale and I was grateful. The rest of my life was such a mess — I needed something scheduled, something reliable and stable. Weigh-in day was Sunday. I needed that to look forward to and dread all at the same time.

Rhodes worked me just as hard that day as he usually did. It almost felt like normal, except his hands touched me more, his eyes almost never left me, and the energy between us caught fire.

When our session ended and I all but limped to my gym bag, I waited for Rhodes’ next move. I half expected him to dismiss me like usual, but the other half of me was anxiously awaiting something — anything — that meant I wouldn’t have to say goodbye yet.

Rhodes held up his hand for a high five and it took more energy than I cared to admit to meet his hand with my own.

“Nice job today. See you same time tomorrow?”

I was smiling, but I couldn’t help the disappointment I felt when I realized the first half of me was correct. “Okay.”

He grinned, a sexy, not-safe-for-the-gym grin, and then turned toward the men’s locker room. It was when his hand left mine that I realized he’d replaced it with a small, folded piece of notebook paper.

Dinner. My place. 8 o’clock.

Bring your camera.

Biting my lower lip, I shoved the note into my bag and made my way out of the gym. The workout was over, but the heartrate on my watch display only climbed higher. It took eight words to send my body into overdrive. Just eight words scribbled on an off-white sheet of paper.

Rhodes was better cardio than a marathon.

“Did you bring your camera?” Rhodes asked as he hand-washed our dishes from dinner. I was full and sore and exhausted, but being with Rhodes somehow made me feel like I could run miles.

Nodding, I slid up next to him, grabbing the soft blue towel hanging from the oven and using it to dry each dish as he finished. “I did. Why?”

“Do you have the photos you took at the fair still on it?”

“Yes?” I said the word almost as a question.

He nodded. “Go grab it.”

Rhodes took the last dish from my hands and finished drying it before dabbing his own hands on the towel and following me over to the couch. He fell down onto it easily, propping his feet on the table as I rummaged through my bag for my camera. When I had it powered on and pulled up to the photos he referenced, I sat down carefully on the middle cushion of the small couch. Though I wasn’t hugging the opposite arm like usual, I was still nervous to sit too close to Rhodes. I felt like he was a caged animal. One wrong move might send him running or cause him to attack. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

But as soon as I sat, Rhodes pulled me into him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I stiffened before easing into him, focusing on my breaths. He was dressed in relaxed sleep pants and another Poxton High School weightlifting t-shirt. His hair was still damp from his shower, mussed, and sexy. He was always so sexy.

Am I just now noticing that? Or just now admitting it?

“Show me the photos you took that night.”

“I hate all of them, just so you know,” I prefaced, scrolling through the photos with him looking over my shoulder. “I couldn’t capture what it felt like to be there.”

Rhodes studied each photo carefully, stopping me if I scrolled through too quickly. When we reached the end, I watched his face with curiosity. His brows were furrowed, his eyes contemplative.

“You don’t feel in control of your life.”

He said the words as a statement, not as a question, and so I didn’t answer. I kept my eyes fixed on his, though suddenly it was difficult to swallow.

“Looking at the pictures on your wall and at those you just showed me, there’s so much control in the shot. It’s almost too by the book, like photography is the only thing you think you can fully control and follow a manual to figure out.”

His words hit me square in the gut and I had to fight the urge to double over from the weight of them.

“It’s not that you don’t shoot beautiful photos, because you do,” he clarified, sitting up straighter. His arm left my shoulder in the process and I reached out to touch his leg, desperate to be connected. “But I see what you don’t see, Natalie. I see the beauty in the imperfections of the world. I think you need to look a little closer.”

My breaths were loud, my voice hoarse. “You don’t see the beauty in you.”

Rhodes’ face hardened and he pulled away from my grasp, propping his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. He stared forward at the television, though it wasn’t powered on. “There’s nothing beautiful about me.”

My heart ached, and I reached for him once more. He flinched when my fingers found his back, and he remained still — almost statuesque — as I trailed them lightly up until I found his neck, his hair, and I pulled him close.