In the Zone (Portland Storm 5) (18 page)

She shook her head.

“I knew who you were before you moved out here. When you showed up in my studio and I saw how much strength you still have, the long lines and grace… There was no chance I wanted to do this with anyone but you, especially because I could see the fire you still have in your eyes. You live and breathe for this—for dance. Your body is like a canvas, and I want to create a work of art with it.”

“But if you try to lift me, I’d break your back,” she sputtered, finally spitting out what had clearly been eating her alive.

I could hear the grin in his voice when he said, “You calling me weak?” and I imagined him winking at her.

He wasn’t anywhere close to weak. I could see it, plain as day; she’d have to be blind to miss it. His muscles were different from my own, each suited to the different forms of movement we employed, but they were toned and perfectly primed for the task at hand.

“That’s not—”

He closed the distance between them, putting both hands on her waist. “Trust me, Brie.” And before she could argue further, he lifted her up above his head and held her there while he spun a few circles. When he brought her down, he returned her to her feet as though she weighed no more than a feather.

The glower on her face was priceless. I wished I was closer so I could snap a picture of it with my camera.

“Told you,” he said, laughing gently.

“So you did it once without killing yourself.”

“I’ll do it again and again.” He hit a button on the sound system. “Love Runs Out” started playing again, and he led her back out to the center of the studio, taking her into hold. “Let’s do it from the top, and I’m going to do a straight lift like that when we get to that chorus. We’ll improvise from there.”

Just like that, they were dancing again, stealing my breath and making me wish—for the first time ever—that I could dance like Garrett had been able to. I decided then and there that I liked this Devin, if for no other reason than he was likely to do as much good for Brie’s opinion of herself as anyone could.

T
HE PURPLE SLIP
of paper bearing my measurements that Tanya had shoved toward me as I was leaving for the day was burning a hole in my hand as Keith and I walked through the doors of a Lane Bryant store. I’d never stepped foot in one before, thinking that all plus-size clothes must be the same boring, shapeless masses of fabric. Why bother spending more money on them if they were still going to look as bad as everything else I put on? After all, nothing I could wear externally would change my internal shape. Or at least that was what I’d always assumed. Maybe I was wrong, though. He definitely seemed to think so.

“Can I help you find something today?” a woman asked when we’d barely taken three steps inside the door. She was about my size, I thought, and had on jeans, boots, and a bright camisole underneath a fitted, long-sleeved blouse. A pink measuring tape was draped over her shoulders and around her neck so that it looked almost like a piece of jewelry. “Looking for something special?”

I was shaking my head to turn down her assistance, but Keith said, “Actually, we’d love your help. We need to figure out what size Brie should be wearing.”

She winked at me and started to pull the measuring tape free. “That’s what we’re here for. Let me just—”

“I’ve, uh. I already have measurements,” I said feebly, holding out Tanya’s sticky note. It didn’t seem like Keith was going to be deterred, so I might as well go along with it. Maybe there really were unicorns in the world. I wasn’t going to hold my breath, but I wouldn’t gloat when he proved to be wrong, either. “Pretty sure I’m an eighteen these days. I’ve been up and down a bit.”

“Don’t I know all about changing sizes,” she said, laughing as she took the paper. “Come with me. Let’s take a look.” She led us up to the check-out area and pulled out a notebook. After flipping through a few pages, she came to the one she’d been looking for and compared my sticky note numbers to the ones in her book. “Eighteen, you said?” she murmured. “Is that what you’re wearing right now?” Her eyes flicked over to me, looking me up and down.

I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling. “Yeah, for about the last six or eight months.” I’d been working my butt off, trying to lose more weight, but the scale refused to budge in all that time.

“Well, if these measurements and my eyes are right, you’re much closer to a fourteen. Let’s see what we can find you to try on, and we’ll go from there.”

Fourteen
? This chick was crazy. Either that or the numbers were wrong—hers, Tanya’s,
someone’s
.

She was already moving, though, handing my sticky note back to me before heading to the nearest rack of slacks and thumbing through them until she found the pair she was looking for. I followed numbly behind her, and Keith came along, too, his hand resting almost casually on my waist. “How tall are you?” she asked as she pulled a pair out, holding the hanger up to my waist.

“Five foot seven,” I spluttered. “Or maybe five eight.” Heck, if she thought I was a fourteen, maybe I had no clue about anything to do with myself, height included.

She grabbed a second pair of slacks and headed toward a changing room. “Try both the average and the tall, then, just to be sure, but I think you’ll need the tall. And once you get them on, come out so we can see.” She hung them on a hook in one of the rooms and nudged me inside, closing the door behind me.

There was no denying I was still in a moderate amount of discomfort over this entire situation as I lowered my skirt to the floor and toed off my shoes. Still, I forced myself to go along with it.

“While she’s doing that,” I heard the saleswoman say, “let’s you and I find a few more things for her to try. We got this adorable dress in this week, and I think she’d look amazing in it…” Her voice faded off into the distance.

I took a breath. Or maybe I huffed. Whichever. But then I unhooked the first pair of slacks from the hanger and started to put them on, sure that at any moment the seams were going to rip because my thighs were too big or my butt was too fat.

That didn’t happen, though. They pulled up easily, and I didn’t have to fight with the buttons or the zipper. They…they fit me. I looked at myself in the mirror, my jaw hanging slack. I turned to the side, expecting to see a massive rip in the backside, but all I saw was my butt looking cute and curvy. She must have given me an eighteen and lied to me about the size. There was no chance these were fourteens.

They were about an inch too short, though, so I whipped them off. I stole a glance at the tag before putting them back on the hanger.
Fourteen average.
Huh.

I took the other pair down and slid them on. This pair fit me as well in the waist and hips as the other pair had, but they were definitely long enough in the leg. I slipped my heels back on and stole another look in the mirror before tentatively opening the door.

Keith and the saleswoman were back, both with their arms laden with clothes. It looked as though, combined, they held about half the store. She looked me over, nodding as she went into the changing room and hung her load of garments on the hooks.

“Those are the tall pair?” she asked before turning around to face me again.

“Yes.”

She put her hands on my shoulders and held me so she could see my back side. “Gather up the hem of your shirt and hold it tight around your waist.”

I felt heat rushing to my cheeks as I did what she’d told me to, all the while keeping my eyes on Keith because I didn’t know where else to look. His lips had turned up slightly, and I felt even hotter when his gaze raked over me.

“How do they feel?” she asked. Before I could answer, she put pressure on my shoulders so I’d turn around. “Are they tight at all?” One of her hands came down to the waistband and tugged at a couple of places.

“No, they seem fine.”

“And they aren’t hanging off you like that skirt was,” she said, smiling. “I bet it feels even better to realize you’ve lost so much weight. Congratulations.”

“I…” I snapped my mouth shut because I didn’t know what I could possibly say to that.

She backed away from me, her eyes still taking everything in. At this angle, a mirror was in front of me. I could see Keith eyeing me even more intently.

“All right,” she said at last. “So now we know your size. Let’s get you some clothes.” She crossed over to Keith and relieved him of all that he still held. Then she carried it all into the dressing room and spent a few minutes hanging the clothing on the hooks, taking a few pieces out as she did so. “Some of these were average, not tall,” she said by way of explanation.

I could only stare at it all. That dressing room was filled with bright colors, clothes that had defined shapes—tons of things I would never dream of wearing.

Keith moved up behind me, putting a hand on my waist. Only then did I realize that I was still holding the hem of my shirt bunched up. I dropped my grip on it, and the material fell down over his hand.

“Just try it on and see,” he murmured in my ear, as though he knew all the thoughts racing through my mind. “If you don’t like something, we’ll put it back. But you might like it.”

“Why are you doing this, Keith?”

“Because of the look on your face when you came out of that dressing room a minute ago.”

“What look was that?”

He shrugged, but that grin hadn’t left his lips. “I don’t know. Like maybe you were starting to see what I see. Maybe a little bit.”

“In you go,” the saleswoman said, giving my shoulder a little nudge. She had about a half dozen pieces in her hands that she was taking away, including the first pair of slacks I’d tried on. “And we want to see you in everything you put on, so be sure you come out to show us.” She moved to close the door but stopped and dropped her voice. “Start with the blue dress I hung at the front. I think it’ll look really nice with your eyes.” She gave me a wink and then shut the door. “You might as well settle in,” she said to Keith. “She’ll be at this a while.”

“I’m ready for the show,” he replied, his voice eager.

The show
. Good grief. I couldn’t imagine what he thought he was going to see, particularly since he’d already seen me naked as the day I was born. That didn’t stop a smile from curving my mouth, though. Despite the fact that I didn’t want to be smiling at all.

W
E SPENT OVER
an hour and several hundred dollars buying Brie new clothes, but in the end she came away with several overly full bags and the beginnings of a decent wardrobe of clothes that fit her like a glove—and wouldn’t leave her hidden in the background.

Every time she’d come out wearing something that hugged her curves instead of billowing over her body, I couldn’t help but appreciate the view. There were definitely a few items that hadn’t suited her, but for the most part she came out of that changing room looking as delectable as anything I’d ever seen every time. My cock had appreciated the way she looked, too, particularly the shy smiles and brightened eyes that had become more and more frequent with each outfit she’d tried on. That was sexier to me than anything—her growing confidence. I was very glad that it was winter so I could lay my coat over my lap as I sat enjoying the fashion show, hiding the evidence of my hard on.