“How so?” I ask.
“Well, for starters, people’s metabolisms vary, and underlying conditions can make you more or less likely to put on weight in certain areas. Demonizing specific nutrients in favor of others isn’t helpful across the board. Your body needs a little bit of everything to be healthy. But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all that... I mean, look at you.”
Stopped at a red light, I glance in her direction, brow cocked.
“What about me?”
She bites her lip. “You look like someone who knows exactly what his body needs, down to the last gram.”
Heat and desire flood my veins as I watch her top teeth scrape over her bottom lip. In the literal sense, she’s absolutely right. I’m as disciplined when it comes to my diet as I am about the other aspects of my life, down to the last gram of protein. But if you asked what my body needs most right now, the answer wouldn’t be chicken breast. It would be the redhead seated beside me with a glint of mischief in her hazel eyes.
The car behind us honks, alerting me to the fresh green light.
I death-grip the steering wheel, resisting the urge to trace my thumb across her curved lip, as we continue through the intersection.
“I keep a close watch on my macros,” I say. “It helps that I eat the same thing every day.”
“Seriously? But doesn’t that get boring after a while?”
“Not really. As far as I’m concerned, food is workout fuel. Keeping the menu simple means I don’t have to think about it.”
“So, you never eat for pleasure?”
I shake my head. “Not unless you count an obligatory slice of birthday cake every year.”
“I don’t.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine approaching food that way. To me, savoring a meal is just as important as eating healthy. You can’t quantify the benefits the same way you add up calories, but health isn’t just about fitness. It’s about happiness, too.”
“You don’t think I can be happy eating chicken breast and kale salad for dinner every night?”
“I think you can be happy in spite of all that. But answer me honestly, when was the last time you looked forward to sitting down to dinner?”
I turn onto her street, more than a little in awe of Skyler’s passion for her field of study. I’m tempted to miss the next turn into her complex just to give us an excuse to keep driving and talking.
“Can’t say I remember,” I tell her honestly. She frowns in my peripheral vision. “What?”
“That’s so sad, Ben.”
I snicker.
“No need to feel sorry for me, sweetheart. I’ll be fine with my baked chicken and protein shakes. ...Wait a sec,” I say, as a realization floats to the front of my mind. “Nutrition sciences. I’m pretty sure that’s my niece’s major. Maybe you’ve met her in one of your classes, Crystal Faber?”
Skyler’s posture stiffens. She doesn’t respond right away.
“Yeah, I’ve met Crystal,” she says, then points to a driveway coming up on the left. “Turn in here.”
I make the turn into the parking lot and wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. She directs me to a line of empty spaces in front of a side door leading into a five-story apartment building.
She pulls her keys from her bag, unbuckles her seatbelt, then turns toward me.
“Thanks again for the ride. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” I say, my voice like gravel. She’s so fucking close, I can see the rain droplets that have yet to dry on her forehead.
My head swims with the scent of her light, sweet perfume, and I inhale deeply. I’m not thinking when I reach up to slide a damp curl of her hair from her face. The gesture is intimate, not something a boss should ever think to do for their employee. But I can’t help myself, not when her eyes are practically begging me to touch her.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say.
Her throat shifts as she gulps.