more of a, Uh oh, is Colt cracking up? kind of look.
Sucking down a water bottle, my chest still heaving as my breathing and heart rate slow, I eye her back in the same way. “What?”
She shakes her head, her feet curled under her on the couch, the scarf she wears when she doesn’t feel like doing her hair tied around her head, wearing a black tank and bright purple booty shorts. She taps her pen on the notebook balanced on her legs. “You’ve been running a lot.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yeah.” I have been. That’s not exactly news. I lift the bottom of my shirt and wipe the sweat off my forehead. Alexis’s eyes flare wide, which is funny, because it’s not like she hasn’t seen my abs before.
When her pink lips part, I’m expecting a comment on my body. But what she says isn’t what I expect. “You’re losing weight.”
Holding up my shirt, I look down at my abs and flex, ignoring the strangled sound Alexis makes. I’m not even sure she realizes she did that. Huh. She’s right. My abs are more cut. I’ve been doing more cardio and haven’t upped my calories to take that into account.
Dropping my shirt, I meet her eyes. “So are you.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You didn’t need to lose anything, though.”
With a shrug, I stroll into the kitchen to refill my water bottle. “You didn’t either,” I call back over the sound of the faucet.
“Colt,” she warns. “We’ve discussed this.”
“Oh, so you get to be concerned about me losing weight, which I’ve only done by increasing my activity level, and I’m not showing signs of overtraining, so I’m clearly okay. But when you starve yourself to meet a moving goal post, I don’t get to be concerned? That’s how we’re playing this?”
I lean in the kitchen doorway awaiting her response, but the look on her face has me reconsidering my stance. Just a little.
She looks murderous. “Yes,” she spits. “That’s exactly how we’re going to play this. Because you and I both know that the standards for women are way different than the standards for men. I have to be hot and skinny and perfect twenty-four seven or I become a thing of the past. Since I’m already on my way there, I have to work extra hard to take myself seriously. And once I get signed and start working on a new album, I’ll have to completely reinvent myself. Because haven’t you noticed? Female artists reinvent themselves every few years if they want to stay on top. But even with that, I have to fit the standard. I can’t just eat whatever I want and wear whatever I want and look however I want. Not when I’m climbing out of a hole I didn’t even create.”
I let out a slow breath, taking my time to process everything she’s said. Finally, I nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Our situations aren’t the same.” And once again I bite my tongue on the rest of what I want to say. I want to tell her that Charlotte James faces the same pressures, but she still maintains a healthy weight and a healthy diet. I want to tell her that building muscle mass will allow her to eat more calories while still looking fit and thin. I want to tell her that I care about her and I don’t like watching her look longingly at my salad dressing or cheese or fucking bread because she’s cut out processed carbs and most fats.
But I can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.
Her face relaxes and the tension drains out of her shoulders. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her attention back on her notebook.
“What are you working on?” I ask, looking for a neutral subject change.
She shrugs one shoulder. “Another song. Just the lyrics and some chord ideas. I didn’t feel like getting out my guitar. Obviously it won’t be ready for tomorrow. But the words were there, so I wanted to capture them before they left.”
“That’s great.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it again and shakes her head, her brows drawn together and a little of her tension back in the way her shoulders creep closer to her ears.
“What is it?” I prompt. “You were about to say something. What?”
She glances at me and looks away again, offering another shrug. “I don’t … I mean, I’m not trying to criticize. I’m just wondering … are you worried? About