A week had passed since Elliot confessed his feelings over French toast, and just like that, we were officially dating.

It felt effortless, like slipping into a favorite pair of jeans that fit just right after years of awkward tugging. Great, right? I thought so every time I caught him looking at me across the kitchen, that soft smile pulling at his lips. The gym sessions had transformed me in ways I hadn’t expected—four times a week, starting slow like he promised, no leg days at ...